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, catalog titles making a splash on Blu-ray or 4K. This biweekly column sifts through all of those choices to pluck out the movies most worth your time, no matter how you’re watching.
It’s the end of the year, so the streamers are pushing out their awards hopefuls, the home video distributors are hawking their holiday wares, and as a result, we have the most jam-packed edition of this column in its history – with an assortment of excellent new dramas, 4K upgrades of action classics, and catalog classics and art movies getting shiny new Blu-ray treatments. Settle in, we’re gonna be here a while:
ON NETFLIX:
“Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom”: August Wilson’s 1984 Pulitzer-Prize winner follows “Fences” to cinematic immortality, with that film’s Oscar winner Viola Davis in tow as the legendary blues singer whose 1927 recording session provides the setting for Wilson’s customary explorations of race, class, work, and art. Director George C. Wolfe centers the music just enough – he puts across the earthiness, rowdiness, and ribaldry of this iteration of the blues – and then uses her band’s byplay (rehearsing, boasting, joking, playing the dozens) to dig into the pertinent themes. Davis is, unsurprisingly, marvelous as Ma Rainey, a tough cookie who’s been doing this long enough to know which buttons to push, and win; Chadwick Boseman is the band’s standout, hinting at the kind of richly complicated characters his untimely death robbed us of. (Streaming December 18.)
ON AMAZON PRIME VIDEO:
“Sound of Metal”: There is a scene about two-thirds of the way into Darius Marder’s drama in which two men sit at a table and talk, openly and honestly, and it’s maybe the most thrilling motion picture scene of the year – muted but scorching, quiet but indescribably moving. The two men are Ruben (Riz Ahmed), a heavy metal drummer who has recently lost most of his hearing, and Joe (Paul Raci), who runs a school for the deaf where Ruben has spent some time learning to sign, and more importantly, learning to cope. He’s spent so much of his life surrounded by noise that he’s become afraid of silence, but Marder (who also wrote the script) suffers from no such fear. This is a modestly drawn movie that hits you like a thunderbolt; that scene, and the movie around it, left this viewer thinking, listening, and feeling with as much urgency as any movie in recent memory.
“I’m Your Woman”: The on- and off-screen team of director/co-writer Julia Hart and producer/co-writer Jordan Horowitz, who previously gave us “Miss Stevens” and “Fast Color,” reteam for this Amazon original – with that platform’s star Rachel Brosnahan (“The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel”) as a crook’s wife who goes on the run, with their new baby, when he goes missing. She first hides out in the suburbs and then in a remote cabin before taking her fate in her hands, and Hart wonderfully shifts the tone and pace to match the changes in narrative and location; it’s like three good movies for the price of one. The crime elements are enjoyable (thanks in no small part to the ‘70s setting), but Hart and Horowitz aren’t just doing homage or quotation. They’re telling a real story about a real woman, and the rest is just window dressing.
ON HBO MAX:
“Let Them All Talk”: Meryl Streep stars in Steven Soderbergh’s latest, as a brilliant and beloved (among readers, anyway) author whose agent sends her on a cruise ship to England to collect a prestigious award, so she brings her two best college friends (Candace Bergen and Dianne Wiest) and her nephew (Lucas Hedges) along for the trip. What sounds – even from the title – like a good-time reunion turns into a surprisingly fraught airing of old tensions and tending of old wounds, concluding in a manner closer to life than drama. Soderbergh’s direction and cinematography are, per usual, terrific, but the real joy here are the performances; all are solid, but Bergen is the most delightful of the bunch, both leaning into the brazenness of her broad character, and slyly revealing the pain that brought her to it.
ON BLU-RAY / DVD / VOD:
“Tenet”: Christopher Nolan’s latest opens with a great deal of rousing if unclear action, and that’s a fairly apt description of the subsequent two-and-a-half hours as well. But those who complain that it’s plot is impenetrable are missing the point; in a movie like this (a snazzy, stylish spy thriller with extra, existential/metaphysical flourishes), this viewer is less concerned with following the plot than with feeling like somewhere along the line, someone worked it out. All the talk of grandfather paradoxes, parallel timelines, dead drops, and temporal pincer movements carry less weight than the attractiveness of the players (check) and the skill of the big set pieces (double-check); the man can put a motion picture together, and as long as that’s what you’re looking for, that’s what you’ll get. As an attempt to one-up “Inception” – and that’s what it clearly is – “Tenet” fails, never engaging on a comparable emotional level. But it’s a compelling entertainment nonetheless, well-executed and fun to watch. (Includes featurettes.)
“The Godfather Coda: The Death of Michael Corleone”: In its new form, Francis Ford Coppola’s new edit of “The Godfather Part III” is still not a masterpiece. But it’s a fine film and worthy conclusion, and its alterations – the repositioning of several scenes, the cutting of others, and a new opening closing – genuinely improve the final product. Those who intensely dislike “Godfather III,” who find it an unwatchable mess or a betrayal of the originals, will likely not have their minds changed by “Coda.” But those who recognized both the flaws and virtues of that film, who saw it as a messy, ambitious, but ultimately affecting attempt to expand on the themes and ideas of those earlier masterpieces, will find even more to admire in this reimagined work. (Includes an introduction by Coppola.)
ON 4K UHD:
“Collateral”: Michael Mann’s 2004 crime movie does all of the things we expect a Mann film to do: it features a coldly efficient, nattily dressed criminal (Tom Cruise); it pairs him with a regular-guy antagonist (Jamie Foxx) and examines both their similarities and differences; it gives us crisply-executed set pieces in L.A.’s streets and underground nightclubs; it peers with style into the inky California night. But this one’s opening is what gives it its kick, with an extended meet-cute between Foxx and Jada Pinkett Smith that’s like its own, standalone short film about character and attraction. It establishes his character and sets the stakes for the film’s tense climax, but even more than that, it reminds us that there’s a lot more to Michael Mann than his trademarks. (Includes audio commentary, deleted scene, featurette, rehearsal footage, and trailers.)
“Total Recall”: One of the unexpected pleasures of ultra high-def releases is the opportunity to freshly appreciate the final days of pre-CG special effects – since the old-school tools of matte paintings, opticals, miniatures, and other practical effects have aged so much better than their computerized successors. Such is the case with Lionsgate’s new 4K upgrade of Paul Verhoeven’s 1990 sci-fi actioner, which sends Arnold Schwarzenegger to Mars – or, perhaps, merely deeper into his warped mind. The picture remains, as ever, a hoot, with Verhoeven embracing the silliness of his star without short-changing the thoughtfulness of his plot (inspired by Philip K. Dick’s short story “We Can Remember It For You Wholesale”). It was an excellent popcorn entertainment 30 years ago; it’s even better now. (Includes audio commentary, featurettes, a new documentary on Carolco Pictures, and trailer.)
“Leon: The Professional”: Director Luc Besson followed up the international success of “La Femme Nikita” with this, his first American production – and carefully kept close to the template, with another story of a brutally effective contract killer (Jean Reno), here paired with an innocent ingénue (Natalie Portman, in her film debut) who wants him to kill the dirty cop (Gary Oldman) that offed her family. Besson mounts some of the best action sequences of his filmography (particularly the all-hands-on-deck conclusion), and they still play like gangbusters – and look great in 4K. But the performances are still the draw: Reno with his marvelous mixture of innocence and skill, Portman displaying the charisma she’d build a career on, and Oldman doing some of his very best scenery-chewing (and that’s saying something). (Includes theatrical and extended cuts, featurettes, and trailer.)
ON BLU-RAY:
“Amores Perros”: Director Alejandro Gonzales Iñárritu and screenwriter Guillermo Arriaga got their first taste of international success with this 2000 Oscar nominee – new to the Criterion Collection – for Best Foreign Language film, a triptych of stories loosely connected by themes of love, loss, and dogs. It sounds like one of the million “Pulp Fiction” rip-offs that invaded the art house in the late 1990s, but if the structure was familiar, the style was new and refreshing, pulsing with vibrancy and humanity that both filmmakers would spend the rest of their careers attempting to top. (Includes interviews, documentary, music videos, rehearsal footage, a video essay by Paul Julian Smith, and essays by Fernanda Solórzano and Juan Villoro.)
“Symbiopsychotaxiplasm”: William Greaves’ 1968 film “Symbiopsychotaxiplasm Take One” is a legendary meta-text, in which the filmmaker and his crew take over Central Park to make a movie, or perhaps make a movie about making a movie, or perhaps something else entirely. It plays now as a refreshing interrogation of the director-as-genius mindset, and of the (perhaps impossible) contradictions of mass media and counterculture; it’s also just a great watch, funny and strange and thoughtful. Criterion’s HD upgrade pairs the film with “Symbiopsychotaxiplasm Take 2½,” the 2005 follow-up that is, true to the original, anything but a conventional sequel. (Includes Greaves documentary, Steve Buscemi interview, trailer, and an essay by Amy Taubin.)
“Mouchette”: Now and ever, what’s most striking about the works of Robert Bresson is their sheer quiet – these films barely speak above a whisper, figuratively and sometimes literally. This stark 1967 drama is so muted and reserved that its moments of violence and bloodshed feel especially savage, as a teenage girl experiences a parade of indignities that escalate from harassment and bullying to assault and death. It is, as you might guess, not exactly a pleasurable viewing experience, but Bresson’s style and the shell-shocked work of his performers (particularly Nadine Nortier in the title role) maintain their considerable power. (Includes audio commentary, Bresson documentary, archival interviews, theatrical trailer, and an essay by Robert Polito.)
“Diary of a Mad Housewife”: This searing 1970 drama from the writing and directing (respectively) team of Frank and Eleanor Perry has long been all but impossible to see, at least legally, so KL Studio Classics’ Blu-ray release is an especially welcome one. Carrie Snodgress is a revelation as the depressed wife of a New York social climber (Richard Benjamin, perfectly punchable) who embarks on a doomed affair with a self-important ladies man (Frank Langella, also excellent) and finds it just as unfulfilling as her “real” life. The screenplay is piercingly intelligent, seeing through all of these people with refreshing clarity, and the filmmaking is stunning – particularly the quietly brilliant cutting, which overlaps and juxtaposes scenes in startling, unexpected ways. It’s truly one of the undiscovered gems of the 1970s, so this long-overdue release will hopefully help it find the audience it deserves. (Includes audio commentary and trailer.)
“Ladybug Ladybug”: Six years before “Housewife,” the Perrys collaborated on this drama of Cold War fear in a remote elementary school – a kind of small scale “Fail Safe,” offset by small, verite-style flourishes. An alarm error sends said school into evacuation mode, with teachers and staff (including Nancy Marchand and William Daniels, both absurdly young) attempting to grapple with the unthinkable, while their charges veer into “Lord of the Flies” territory. It gets a tad didactic, as such pictures invariably did then, but the film’s overwhelming sense of paranoia and existential dread still lands with bleak, brute force. (Includes audio commentary and trailer.)
“Puzzle of a Downfall Child”: Jerry Schatzberg would make his name with gritty street stories like “Panic in Needle Park” and “Street Smart,” but his background was in the sleek world of celebrity and fashion photography, and he brought that knowledge to this, his feature debut. Faye Dunaway shines as a top model looking back on her rise and fall, and all of the degradation, sexism, and abuse she encountered along the way; Roy Scheider is especially good as one of the most egregious offenders. (Includes audio commentary, Schatzberg interview, an alternate opening, and trailers.)
“Go West” / “College”: Kino Lorber continues its Cohen Film Collection series of Buster Keaton reissues with this doubleheader of features from 1925 and 1927, respectively. And they’re good ones – not top-tier, not “The General” or “Sherlock Jr.,” but solid, well-constructed persona-driven comedies with the expected Keaton combination of ingenious gag work, charming characterizations, and fleeting poignancy. “Go West” is a marvelous addition to the tradition of screen comics sending up oaters (see Marx Brothers’ film of the same title and Laurel & Hardy’s “Way Out West”), with Keaton’s warm relationship with a dairy cow providing both laughs and pathos. “College” suffers a bit from its clear aspiration to ape Harold Lloyd (the highest-grossing of the silent clowns), but that’s a minor nitpick; it’s constructed as a series of sports vignettes, which manage to both get laughs and showcase Keaton’s startling athleticism. (Includes short film, featurette, and trailers.)
“The Return of the Musketeers”: In the early 1970s, Richard Lester and an all-star cast made a pair of adaptations of Alexandre Dumas’ beloved book, and they remain unmatched (particularly by the subsequent film adaptations). This 1989 follow-up, also new from KL, is more of a footnote, clouded by mishandling, ill-feeling, and tragedy; co-star Roy Kinnear was killed in an on-set accident, and Lester (Kinnear’s longtime collaborator and friend) would never direct another fiction feature. Make no mistake, “Return” is not up to the high standards of its predecessors. But it has its charms: the jokes land, the swashbuckling set pieces are fun, the high spirits are infectious, and it’s fun to see this cast do their thing one more time. (Includes audio commentary and trailer.)
“The Shop Around the Corner”: Just in time for the holidays, Warner Archive is giving the Blu-ray treatment to a pair of Christmas favorites – chief among them this 1940 charmer from director Ernst Lubitsch, best known to contemporary audiences as the inspiration for “You’ve Got Mail.” But there’s much more to this one than its love/hate pen pal narrative, or the snowy charm of its Christmas scenes; Samson Raphaelson’s smart screenplay surrounds stars James Stewart and Margaret Sullavan with tricky, nuanced supporting characters, and Lubitsch (like Frank Capra in Stewart’s later “It’s a Wonderful Life”) isn’t afraid to sully his holiday light with a bit of darkness. (Includes featurette, two radio versions, and trailer.)
“It Happened on Fifth Avenue”: Holiday vibes are also in abundance in this clever, Depression-era screwball comedy in the “My Man Godfrey” mold, in which a group of likable homeless rogues takes over the mansion of a snowbirding Fifth Avenue millionaire, only to find out that one of them has a secret. The premise is juicy enough, but screenwriter Everett Freeman and director Roy Del Ruth wind this thing like a Swiss watch, working out a series of inventive secrets, deceptions, double-crosses, and reveals. It’s a real treat, with laughs and heart from end to end. (Includes radio version.)
“Mister Roberts”: This 1955 adaptation of the stage hit was a notoriously troubled production – original director John Ford was replaced after clashing, badly, with star Henry Fonda – but the seams barely show; this is a rowdy, funny service comedy, set in the waning days of WWII, with Fonda and James Cagney sparring memorably as a stubborn Lieutenant and Captain, while Jack Lemmon steals scenes by the handful as the ship’s resident wiseguy. It gets a bit broad and silly in spots, but the performers keep it grounded – and make the unexpected pathos of the conclusion land with grace. (Includes audio commentary and trailer.)
“Young Man with a Horn”: This 1950 drama from director Michael Curtiz is one of those films that’s saying more than it thinks it is – about appropriation (its hero, a jazz musician, learns the craft from a Black legend who cannot, of course, gain his fame and fortune with it), about sexism (he resents his wife wanting a career of her own), about masculinity (the lesbian overtones are, to put it mildly, not subtle). Yet those undertones, intentional or not, add complexity and texture to what could have been a simplistic romantic melodrama, and augment the pleasures of the picture, including Kirk Douglas’ rough-edged lead performance, and his rocket fuel chemistry with Lauren Bacall. The music is lovely and the production design is gorgeous, and its final message (of working to be a human being first and artist second) resonates even louder these days. (Includes radio version, cartoons, and trailer.)
“Rio Grande”: Olive Films adds this 1950 classic to its Signature Series, showcasing one of the many fine collaborations between director John Ford and star John Wayne – and co-star Maureen O’Hara, who would reteam with the Duke four more times (including in Ford’s “The Quiet Man”). This Cavalry adventure, in the spirit of Ford and Wayne’s “Fort Apache” and “She Wore a Yellow Ribbon,” finds Wayne working at maximum gravitas, generating ample chemistry with not only O’Hara but the regular Ford company; the black-and-white cinematography, by “Stagecoach” shooter Bert Glennon, is especially striking in this sharp restoration. (Includes audio commentary, featurettes, video essay, trailer, and an essay by Paul Andrew Hutton.)