Every Tuesday, discriminating viewers are confronted with a flurry of choices: new releases on disc and on demand, vintage and original movies on any number of streaming platforms, catalogue titles making a splash on Blu-ray or 4K. This twice-monthly column sifts through all of those choices to pluck out the movies most worth your time, no matter how you’re watching.
PICK OF THE WEEK:
Risky Business: Though lumped in with the giggly losing-it sex comedies of the time, Paul Brickman’s 1983 smash was no ordinary teen movie, in spite of its logline (high school kid turns his house into a brothel while his folks are away) and most iconographic imagery. The complicated morality of Brickman’s script, the dreamy vibe of his direction, and the moody score by Tangerine Dream combine to give it the feel of an ‘80s arthouse picture, and its approach to the material is thankfully even-keeled—you never get a sense that the filmmaker is snickering or sneering, or taking the easy route through any of his thorny scenes. It’s one of the best movies of its moment, and in retrospect, one of the most scathing indictments of the ethos of the era. (Includes audio commentary, interviews, screen tests, trailer, and essay by Dave Kehr.)
ON MUBI:
This Closeness: Writer/director/star Kit Zauhar’s follow-up to her expertly crafted, minutely detailed 2021 feature Actual People feels like the right kind of step forward from that picture, which was a bit of a one-woman show; every character here is written and played with complexities that belie your initial impressions. Zauhar is easy to put into a kind of nu-mumblecore box – she’s a Brooklynite, making brutally honest relationship movies on low budgets – but she reminds me more of Cassavetes, putting her thorny characters into long and sometimes genuinely uncomfortable scenes of social situations gone awry, and refusing to let the viewer out of them. It’s a picture that zigs when you expect it to zag, and confirms that Zauhar is one of our most exciting young filmmakers.
ON NETFLIX:
The Inspection: It sounds like Oscar bait, an inspired-by-true-events story of a young gay man, tossed from his evangelical Christian home at 16, who goes into the Marines for the structure, camaraderie, and skills (and, y’know, steady room and board) promised by their ads – only to find that he’s still an outcast due to his sexual orientation. But there’s real blood and life in this one, thanks primarily to the intensity of the performances; Jeremy Pope is both fierce and vulnerable in the leading role, Bokeem Woodbine is downright upsetting as his sadistic drill sergeant, and Gabrielle Union all but disappears into the role of his hard-edged, unforgiving mother; there’s a whole life lived in the way she holds her omnipresent cigarette.
ON AMAZON PRIME:
Mission: Impossible – Dead Reckoning: The most recent installment in Tom Cruise’s long-running franchise is the weakest of its contributions by writer/director Christopher McQuarrie — it eliminates a regular character with irritating predictability (and cavalierness), and feels like it’s short on the big set pieces we’ve come to expect from these titles. But it still has a good one (a handcuffed car chase) and an all-timer, an intricate bit with a train car that recalls both The Gold Rush and Spielberg’s tribute to it in The Lost World: Jurassic Park. Best of all, it adds the shot of electricity that is Hayley Atwell, who brings a playful sense of screwball comedy to her role as a gifted pickpocket who stumbles charmingly into the latest of Ethan Hunt and company’s very big adventures.
ON 4K / BLU-RAY / DVD / VOD:
The Fall Guy: There may not be language in existence that can fully summarize the low expectations I brought into David Leitch’s film adaptation of a TV show that no one remembers with any particular fondness. That resistance lasted roughly through the end credits; by their conclusion, I was leaning forward in my seat, with a big goofy grin plastered across my face. The Fall Guy may be head-scratching IP exploitation, but the pronounced lack of enthusiasm around the Fall Guy brand (if such a thing even exists) means that Leitch was able to just use the title and protagonist as cover to make a fun, throwback action/comedy/romance. It’s entertaining from the first frame to the last — a great big stupid beautiful valentine to great big stupid beautiful movies. (Includes extended cut and theatrical version, alternate takes, gag reel, and featurettes.)
The Zone of Interest: Jonathan Glazer’s latest caused a stir at Cannes (it won the Grand Prix), and it’s easy to see why — the subject is Rudolf Höss (Christian Friedel), the longest-serving commandant of Auschwitz. Yet Glazer’s focus is not on the horrors of that concentration and extermination camp, which his cameras do not penetrate; he spends his time in the adjoining, picturesque home and gardens of Höss’s family. So it’s real Banality of Evil shit: wife Hedwig (Hüller) fussing with a new fur coat as distant gunshots are heard, ash and smoke filling the sky as Rudolpf enjoys his post-dinner cig, unnoted distant screaming as an engineer sits in the parlor and goes over his blueprints for a streamlined gas chamber (“So burn, cool, unload, reload”). Any filmmaker who works with this kind of meticulous precision is going to get compared to Kubrick, and Glazer earns it; the crispness of the visuals, the sharpness of the compositions, and the blunt force of the sound design really do a number on you. (Also streaming on Max.) (Includes featurettes.)
ON 3D BLU-RAY / BLU-RAY / DVD / VOD:
Anselm: One of the great triumphs of Wim Wenders’s late career was Pina, his 3-D documentary celebration of dancer and choreographer Pina Bausch, so it makes sense that he would return to the form with his portrait of visual artist and provocateur Anselm Kiefer. It doesn’t unfold via any traditional bio-doc structure; instead, Wenders sifts through Kiefer’s work, words, and memories in something like a stream-of-consciousness style. That’s the right call — it’s an art film! Quite literally! — but the footage of the artist at work is fascinating, the interview snippets are enlightening, and (as with Pina) the 3-D effects transcend the typical gimmickry to become something uniquely immersive and transporting. (Also streaming on the Criterion Channel.) (Includes interview and trailer.)
ON 4K:
Farewell My Concubine: Chen Kaige’s 1993 Palme d’Or winner joins the Criterion Collection in its most complete form to date: a 171-minute cut that restores the 14 minutes trimmed by Harvey Scissorhands, as well as material cut by the Chinese government shortly after its initial release. Seen in its full, uncut form, it’s a staggering, decade-spanning epic — not some innocuous, ornate period piece, but a physically and emotionally brutal tale of two young men who are subjected to the intense and cruel physical training of the Peking opera, and hang on to each other as ports in a storm. Leslie Cheung and Zhang Fengyi are terrific in the leading roles, which they play with both ferocity and vulnerability, but the show-stealer is Gong Li, who can do more in a single close-up here than most actors can do in a full film. (Also streaming on the Criterion Channel.) (Includes new and archival interviews, feauturette, trailer, and essay by Pauline Chen.)
Twister: I’ll admit it: I was a bit of a snob about Jan De Bont’s tornado thriller when it first touched down back in 1996, sneering at its dopey, Michael Crichton-penned screenplay and the obviousness of its audience-pandering. Well, friends, a lot of time has passed, and in this era of lowest-common-denominator fan service, Twister plays like a breath of fresh air. Bill Paxton and Helen Hunt lend their characters far more weight and wisdom than the paper-thin script offers, the supporting cast of goofy weirdos (including an absurdly young Philip Seymour Hoffman) is a gift, and the early-digital-era effects hold up surprisingly well, even in 4K. It’s a good time (“a perfect Saturday afternoon movie,” per our friend Roxana Hadadi), and that’s all it needs to be. (Includes audio commentary, featurettes, interviews, and music video.)
Rocky: Ultimate Knockout Collection: Sure, Warner Bros. just put the first four Rocky movies out on 4K last year, but this new iteration of the ultimate Rocky collection adds Rocky V and Rocky Balboa (including a new director’s cut of the latter), and, most importantly, corrects the A/V issues that gave the last set an immediate bad reputation. Taken together, they’re a fascinating snapshot of a series (and its figurehead) in ongoing transition; the Rocky movies were popular, which often translates to “influential,” but these films followed trends rather than setting them. Its first two entries are in the moody, character-driven style of ‘70s cinema (even as their feel-good endings were subverting those norms), while Rocky III and especially Rocky IV lean into the bombast of ‘80s movies — the latter seeming to owe more to the previous summer’s flag-waving Rambo: First Blood Part II than anything in the Balboa canon — and the last two films reflect the “back to basics” minimalism of ‘90s indie film and mid-00s, mid-budget filmmaking On one hand, it’s a dispiriting experience; it’s like you’re watching Sylvester Stallone choose, in real time, to be a movie star rather than an actor (and the first Rocky is an indisputably great piece of acting, as evidenced by his deserved Oscar nomination for the job). But as a social and cultural document, you can’t beat it. (Includes the Rocky vs. Drago: The Ultimate Director’s Cut version of Rocky IV, hour-long documentary on its making, audio commentaries, featurettes, behind-the-scenes footage, and trailers.)
In & Out: Fact transformed into entertaining fiction when Tom Hanks thanked his gay drama teacher while accepting the Oscar for Philadelphia; what if, Paul Rudnick’s witty script supposes, said drama teacher (Kevin Kline, perfect) was not out? What if he wasn’t even sure if he was gay? What if, in fact, he was about to marry a very nice lady (Joan Cusack, better than perfect). Frank Oz orchestrates it all with his customary delicate touch, marshaling a cast of top-tier character actors into a silly, sweet, yet pointed comedy of manners, and KL Studio Classics’ 4K presentation is bright and crisp. (Includes audio commentary, new and archival interviews, behind-the-scenes footage, and trailer.)
Brokeback Mountain: Ang Lee’s 2005 tearjerker, also new to 4K from KL, is the simple yet elegant tale of two cowboys who fall deeply in love, and spend the rest of their lives pretending that it didn’t happen. It’s full of arresting moments, but its final image—of a mourning Heath Ledger looking at the postcard, buttoning Jack’s shirt, and muttering, “Jack, I swear…”— remains one of the most heartbreaking in all of cinema. It’s a quiet moment of genuine love and longing, and speaks volumes about his character and what he’s lost. (Includes audio commentary, featurettes, interviews, trailer, and TV spots.)
Nightmare Beach: Italian grindhouse director Umberto Lenzi combined two of the most profitable (and ubiquitous) subsets of ‘80s exploitation, the slasher movie and the Spring Break sex comedy, to work up this absolute sleaze-fest, new on 4K from Kino Cult. It gives you everything you’d want from both: an abundance of gory kills (whose practical effects withstand 4K scrutiny quite nicely) and plenty of hot babes and decent character actors doing their best with what could be politely described as a serviceable screenplay. The leads are a little wooden and Lenzi sometimes lets the seams of his low budget show, but if you pop this one in, you’ll get what you came for. (Includes audio commentary, interview, and trailer.)
UHF: “Weird Al” Yankovic’s sole stab at big-screen stardom was this scattershot media satire, which came and went from theaters quickly in the summer of 1989. But it eventually found the rabid home video cult it was destined for, one willing to forgive the amateurishness of Jay Levey’s filmmaking and the less-than-stellar thespian skills of Mr. Yankovic because it offers such a pure, uncut version of the Weird Al worldview; it’s utterly goofy, absolutely harmless, and when it hits its targets, it makes a meal of them. Shout!’s 4K bump isn’t exactly a showcase for the format, but it looks as good as it’s ever going to. (Includes audio commentary, retrospective panel, deleted scenes, behind-the-scenes footage, easter eggs, and music video.)
Invasion U.S.A.: Vinegar Syndrome gives the 4K treatment to what may be the quintessential Cannon Films release: a Joseph Zito-helmed, Chuck Norris-fronted (and co-scripted!) pure right-wing fantasy, in which our heartland is overtaken by foreign invaders who literally hate us for our freedom. But there’s no denying that it delivers what it promises: straighforward storytelling, loathsome villains, a quippy hero, Christmas carnage, gunfire and explosions galore, and an ending that arrives not a single moment too soon. (Includes audio commentaries, new and archival interviews, and trailer.)
China O’Brien 1 & 2: God bless whoever the prodigious Cynthia Rothrock fan is over at Vinegar Syndrome; they’re lavishing loving 4K restorations on pictures that most of us remember as ‘90s video shelf-fillers, and in the process, spotlighting their no-nonsense craftsmanship and the endless charisma (not to mention fighting skills) of their leading lady. Shot and released basically back-to-back, using much of the same cast and crew (including Enter the Dragon director Robert Clause), they’re basically a gender-swapped Walking Tall, with Rothrock as a big-city cop who returns to her hometown and ends up taking on the city’s violent, corrupt sheriff and the criminals he empowers. Clause doesn’t always rise to the occasion—some of his staging is surprisingly lackluster—but Rothrock is the real deal, and her fight scenes are as bone-crunching and jaw-dropping as ever. (Includes audio commentaries, new and archival interviews and featurettes, and trailers.)
ON BLU-RAY:
The Linguini Incident: Director Richard Shepard made his solo feature debut with this New York-set indie back in 1992, but it was taken from him in post-production and released in a cut he’s always disliked. A few years back, he reacquired the rights, tracked down a 35mm interpositive, did a 4K scan, and recut it more to his liking. It still has its issues—even trimmed down, the pacing lags in the middle stretch—but there’s a lot to like here, primarily a rare romantic comedy turn from David Bowie and a Rosanna Arquette performance that feels like a natural progression from her kooky turns in After Hours and Desperately Seeking Susan. It’s a quirky little treat, and essential for fans of either of these icons. (Includes original theatrical version, audio commentaries, introduction, feature-length documentary, and trailers.)
Black God, White Devil: Brazilian Cinema Novo practitioner Glauber Rocha’s 1964 social drama, new to the Criterion Collection, is the kind of movie you probably have to read a few books to fully get; it’s deeply rooted in the politics and history of that particular time and place, so some of the references are bound to fly past the typical American viewer. But it’s worth seeing even on a purely aesthetic level — it’s a film of stunning compositions and eye-widening black-and-white photography, and its influence on the acid Westerns of the following decade (particularly El Topo) is unmistakable. (Includes audio commentary, interviews, documentaries and featurettes, trailer, and essay by Fabio Andrade.)
Storytelling: Todd Solondz followed up the one-two punch of Welcome to the Dollhouse and Happiness with another scathing exploration of the American middle class, this time throwing his fellow writers and filmmakers into the pyre. Its reception at the time was relatively muted; it can’t quite equal the wit or emotional devastation of the earlier pictures, and the stories of uncertainty behind-the-scenes (an entire story, featuring James Van Der Beek as a closeted football player, was dropped in the edit) made this one seem a relative disappointment. But approached anew, via Shout! Select’s excellent new Blu, reveals a tricky work, both organically and self-consciously provocative, and Paul Giamatti’s prickly turn as an opportunistic documentarian is one of his unsung best. (Includes interviews, alternate censored scene, and theatrical trailer.)
Who’s That Girl: James Foley’s 1987 Madonna vehicle, another new addition to the Shout! Selects line, is a blatant mash-up of Bringing Up Baby (bespectacled intellectual, dizzy dame, jungle cat), Scorsese’s After Hours (with Griffin Dunne reprising the role of a button-up type who spends one long night being chased through NYC), and the previous year’s Something Wild (in which a sexy free spirit meets uptight yuppie), but PG-13. It’s not a great movie, make no mistake, but it’s a lot of fun, a classic one-long-day/night-in-NYC movie full of zany characters, car chases galore (up to and including one, yes, down a sidewalk, knocking over vendors), plenty of gunfire, and our heroes leaping from rooftop to rooftop. It’s easy to see why Madonna took on Who’s That Girl, especially after the loud misfire of Shanghai Surprise: it’s a movie that presents her, through action, photography, and explicit references in dialogue, as tough, funny, street-smart, and sexually irresistible. Which, y’know, if the shoe fits… (Includes audio commentary and trailer.)
Bwana Devil: The first feature-length color film to be released in 3D, this 1952 jungle adventure from director Arch Oboler is, unsurprisingly, hella colonialist, with British workers building a railway through Kenya and finding their progress unexpectedly slowed by some very hungry lions. But if you can look past that unsurprising element, you’ve got a hot young Robert Stack as a charming rogue, Nigel Bruce doing his bumbling-but-likable Dr. Watston schtick, some entertaining rakish Americans vs. stuffy Brits stuff, and all the cheap 3D gags (spears galore!) you could ask for. (Includes featurette, original prologue, and trailers.)
Red Line 7000: This 1965 racing drama is widely shrugged off as one of the later and lesser efforts from director Howard Hawks, and to be sure, it’s mighty old-fashioned for a film released the same year as Thunderball and What’s New, Pussycat (Edith Head does costumes, Nelson Riddle does the music, you get the drift). But it’s easy to see what drew him to this material; it has all the hallmarks of a Hawks picture, telling the tale of a group of thrill-chasing men’s-men, and the interpersonal dynamics that both bind and rupture over the course of the narrative. The pace drags in spots (a frequent issue for Hawks in this era), the melodrama of the closing is a bit much, and young ingenue John Robert Crawford is something of a block of balsa wood. But James Caan is an exemplary Hawks protagonist, equally tough and torn, and he carries this one over its rougher patches. (Includes audio commentary, interview, and featurettes.)
Nuts!: John R. Brinkley was an early 20th century radio pioneer, gubernatorial candidate, and world-famous doctor who made waves for a controversial procedure implanting goat testicles into impotent men. He was also entirely full of shit, a con artist and snake-oil salesman whose fame is either a sad testament to the gullibility of John Q. Public, or the definitive American success story. (And yes, the decision not to include any proper nouns in that sentence is purposeful.) Director Penny Lane (Hail, Satan?) ingeniously tells his story like the folk tale it was, supplementing the usual archival materials with original animation and narration, a clever stylistic device that brilliantly ties in to the film’s overarching concerns about how we consider “truth,” and who we trust to tell it. (Includes newly restored Brinkley films and extensive footnotes database.)
Criminally Insane / Satan’s Black Wedding: Regional filmmaker Nick Mallard pivoted, in the mid-1970s, from adult entertainment to low-budget horror; this Blu-ray double-feature from Vinegar Syndrome features his two best-known works, wildly trashy, deeply bizarre, and breathlessly entertaining stews of strange behavior and gore galore. Criminally Insane features Priscilla Alden—an actor whose unhinged, go-for-broke style would’ve fit her right into the John Waters stock company—as a longtime inmate who is released into the care of her grandmother and immediately starts hacking everyone she meets into pieces. Satan’s Black Wedding is equally deranged, a moody thriller in which a young man tries to puzzle out his sister’s suicide and discovers that her small town is overrun with vampires. Mallard’s movies feel like genuine outsider art; they’re not the work of a visitor, but someone who lives among the same fringes as his characters. (Includes audio commentaries, new and archival featurettes and interviews, and trailers.)