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.
It’s easy to complain – and your correspondent is certainly guilty of it – that we have nothing but superhero movies to go see these days, and it certainly feels like that’s true (in terms of cultural and commercial dominance). But it’s also worth noting that this week’s new releases include exactly the kind of movies-for-grown-ups that we agnostics long for, along with a crackerjack new entry in a horror series. And the catalogue selection this time around is particularly attractive, including an all-time classic on 4K, a handful of genre classics getting similarly shiny HD upgrades, four worthy new entries in the Criterion Collection, three W.C. Fields favorites, and much, much more.
And yes, there are even a couple of superhero movies. And, sigh, they’re pretty good.
PICK OF THE WEEK:
“Singin’ in the Rain”: Arguably the greatest of all movie musicals, one of the great movie romances (don’t forget, the entire reason for that iconic title number is Gene Kelly’s total swooning over Debbie Reynolds), and one of the most delightful film satires of all time – combined in one colorful, toe-tapping, delightful package. WB’s glorious new 70th anniversary 4K release captures the vivid images and unforgettable musical numbers with striking clarity; I’m afraid this is one of those releases where, even if you already own it, on multiple other formats even, it’s worth picking up again. (Includes audio commentary, featurette, and trailer.)
ON HBO MAX
“The Batman”: The look and feel of Matt Reeves’ take on the Dark Knight isn’t exactly fresh, and you can play “spot the influence” pretty easily. But the aesthetic is new to the (now dominant) superhero genre, and the contrast makes for a sharp reminder of how staid and formulaic these movies have become. Reeves is doing some genuinely inventive things with his camera (both in terms of framing and focus), and he’s willing to engage with the character specifically as a vigilante; particularly in his early scenes, we have a real sense of how he’s using violence (brutal violence, often) to work out his issues. Robert Pattinson’s emo take is surprisingly effective, Paul Dano’s Riddler is properly creepy, and Zoe Kravitz finds exactly the right note for her Catwoman – it’s a (gasp) sexy superhero movie, if you can imagine such a thing.
ON 4K / BLU-RAY / DVD / VOD:
“Spider-Man: No Way Home”: And yes, the homogeny of the current Marvel cycle is one of the things “The Batman” so effectively counters – a point driven home with particular pointedness by the appearance, in last year’s smash, of so many characters from the Sam Raimi movies, a reminder of the high style that was once the cornerstone of this series. But there’s no denying the pleasures they bring with them; Willem Dafoe and Alfred Molina bite into their roles with everything they’ve got, relishing the opportunities for both evil and pathos, and the midpoint meet-up between the three Spider-Men is affecting and well-acted, even if their patter has the self-congratulatory smarm of a Must See TV crossover night. (It’s bizarre and fascinating that Andrew Garfield, star of the two absolute worst films in the series, comes off best here.) The Marvel housekeeping is tiresome, and there are too many teary goodbyes. But when it cooks, it really cooks. (Includes featurettes, bloopers, and gag reel.)
ON BLU-RAY / DVD / VOD:
“V/H/S/94”: Four new horror shorts and a wraparound story continue the surprisingly durable indie franchise, with this one veering into period-piece territory, per the title; it opens with the familiar ephemera of the analog video experience – the blue screen, the tracking lines, blocky “PLAY” text in the upper left corner – we lean in. There is something about the format that just easily veers into creepy territory, mainly the baggage it has acquired from its less reputable uses (crime scene videos, sex tapes, “Faces of Death” bootlegs). Those grainy, imperfect images often reveal shocking depravity, especially if you spend too long peering into their impenetrable, blurry darkness (which, bonus, comes in handy on a low budget). Omnibus movies are always tricky to review and recommend – the nature of the enterprise lends itself to unevenness, and there are bound to be segments that shine over others. But even its weakest pieces are still entertaining, and the good stuff is exceptionally so. (Includes audio commentary, panel, deleted and extended scenes, and featurettes.)
“Cyrano”: Joe Wright is one of our most innately theatrical directors, so it’s a bit of a surprise that it took him this long to make a full-on musical – in this case, a stage rock musical adaptation (with songs by the National) of the classic story of Cyrano de Bergerac. It takes a while to get up to speed; the songs at first fit in oddly, all elbows in an already graceful narrative. But once Wright gets up to the operatic romanticism of the key courtship, the movie starts to work; the emotions are so big that it feels like they can only be expressed in song, and his performers are so devoted to the cause that they win you over. And that’s especially true of Peter Dinklage’s wrenching turn as the title character; I know it’s tiresome to get all worked up about who “should have been nominated,” but if there’s a single soul who can look at this performance and Javier Bardem’s turn in “Being the Ricardos” and determine the latter to be superior, I don’t want to know them. (Includes featurette.)
“The Humans”: Writer/director Stephen Karam’s adaptation of his one-act play is extremely theatrical – in the best possible way. Set at a family Thanksgiving in the newly rented and somewhat shoddy New York apartment of the do-good daughter (Beanie Feldstein), the claustrophobia of the setting works to its advantage, not only amplifying the little flare-ups and loaded interactions that conceal years of ugliness and resentment, but hinting at even darker currents underneath. The ensemble – which also includes Richard Jenkins, Amy Schumer, Steven Yeun, Jayne Houdyshell, and June Squibb – is stellar, each creating characters that seem alternately honorable and flawed, as Karam quietly builds to an inevitable but still devastating implosion. (Includes audio commentary, outtakes, and featurette.)
ON 4K:
“Heavy Metal”: “Stripes” collaborators Daniel Goldberg, Len Blum, and Ivan Reitman made another movie in 1981, and that connection is key to understanding this film adaptation of the popular adult fantasy magazine. The custom-van cover art and title make it sound like a dead-serious bout of “adult animation” for the horny acne set, and make no mistake, the style and music and very specific idea of the feminine ideal make it a film very much of its moment. But Goldberg and Blum’s screenplay (and producer Reitman’s assemblage of comic voice talents, including “SCTV” regulars John Candy, Harold Ramis, Eugene Levy, and Joe Flaherty) adds some much-needed levity to the proceedings, resulting in a goofy lark and an energetic anthology. (Includes feature-length rough-cut with commentary, alternate framing story with commentary, new and archival featurettes, and “Heavy Metal 2000” sequel.)
“For All Mankind”: Al Reinert’s 1989 documentary covers well-trod ground – there’s not exactly a shortage of films on the Apollo space program – but in its own specific style, using NASA’s own images and the words of its astronauts. It’s a film less about historical exhaustiveness than about visual and aural poetry (the music is by Brian Eno, because of course it is), which makes Criterion’s 4K upgrade an especially welcome one. (Includes audio commentary, making-of documentary, interview excerpts, featurettes, and essay by Terrence Rafferty.)
“Death Wish II”: Let’s be very clear here: Michael Winner’s 1982 sequel to his 1974 trendsetter is, by most reasonable standards, not good – sloppily assembled, gleefully offensive, reveling in its endless rape scenes (in other words, the Winner Touch). But it also aptly encapsulates a specific era and type of exploitation movie, a grimy L.A. sleaze that you all but have to wipe off the screen, particularly in this painstakingly restored 4K edition from Vinegar Syndrome. Charles Bronson hadn’t quite entered the sleepwalking phase of his career just yet, so he puts some juice into his encore performance as pacifist-turned-fascist Paul Kersey, while his longtime love and frequent co-star Jill Ireland provides a welcome bit of human interest. And keep an eye out for Laurence Fishburne as one of the cackling gang that unwisely targets Kersey and his family. (Includes audio commentary, unrated version, television version, interviews, and trailer.)
“Flesheater: Revenge of the Living Dead”: This 1988 horror thriller (also new on 4K from Vinegar Syndrome) starts as a typical – subpar, even – slasher flick, with a Halloween hayride of late-‘80s dirtbags sharing urban legends, engaging in long and awkward foreplay scenes, and setting themselves up for offing. But the effects are jaw-droppingly good, even in 4K, impressively grisly and convincing. And it eventually becomes more than a gore show, descending into a kill-crazy free-for-all before moving into its grim, borderline nihilistic closing scenes, which both lift from the title inspiration and do it proud. (Includes audio commentary, interviews, and featurettes.)
ON BLU-RAY:
“The Girl Can’t Help It”: The fourth wall-breaking pre-title sequence of Frank Tashlin’s 1956 satire (new to the Criterion Collection), trumpeting its widescreen “DeLuxe Color” photography, plays like a manifesto: this is a big, colorful, splashy rock musical, not some cheapo black-and-white jukebox movie. And few comic filmmakers of the era used that wide frame like animator-turned-director Tashlin did, creating zany, bouncy tableaux for his cartoon gags and musical numbers. The plot is just a clothesline for both – has-been talent agent Tom Ewell is hired by a tough gangster to turn his bombshell girlfriend (Jayne Mansfield) into a star – but Mansfield has real charisma and screen presence, their relationship is genuinely sweet, and the music, of course, is miraculous. (Includes audio commentary, new and archival interviews, video essay, “You Must Remember This” episode, Trailer, and essay by by Rachel Syme and Ethan de Seife.)
“Miracle in Milan”: This 1951 comedy-drama (also new to Criterion) was director Vittorio De Sica’s follow-up to “Bicycle Thieves,” and it pulls the neat trick of combining that Italian neorealist form with a fable’s sense of fantasy, magic, and whimsy. Francesco Golisano stars as a resourceful orphan who takes up “residence” in a shantytown and becomes something of a leader of the vagabonds when greedy businessmen target the community for clearing. (“Who are these folk?” “Poor people.” “What are they doing here?”) It takes a deft touch to keep such material from toppling under the weight of its social implications, or to take it all too lightly. But “Miracle” is a likable and frequently charming piece of work, and Golisano is a wonderful protagonist. (Includes new and archival interviews, feature-length documentary on screenwriter Cesare Zavattini, trailers, and essay by Christina Newland.)
“Round Midnight”: It’s been said that everyone has at least one great performance in them – playing themselves – and that, at the very least, seems to be the case with Dexter Gordon’s work in Bertrand Tavernier’s 1986 drama, also new to the Criterion Collection. Real-life jazz great Gordon plays fictional jazz great Dale Turner (inspired by Lester Young and Bud Powell), a hopelessly addicted and unreliable American saxophonist in Parisian exile who finds himself spending more and more time with a young, white fan (François Cluzet). Their relationship is fascinating; the fan’s side stories less so, and the film is unfortunately of that subset of ‘80s movies that could only see a complex black character through the eyes of a white protagonist. But Gordon is terrific, the music is magnificent, and Tavernier is particularly skilled at capturing the way it feels to hang out in a jazz club and soak it all up. (Includes new interviews, archival featurette and discussion, archival Gordon performance, and essay by Mark Anthony Neal.)
“Eyimofe (This is My Desire)”: If anyone ever tries to mount an argument that 16mm film isn’t evocative, simply show them this 2020 Nigerian drama from directors Arie and Chuko Esiri; I had to pause and check the release date a few minute in, so certain was I that it was some kind of hidden gem of 1980s international indie cinema. Telling two stories that capture the seemingly endless struggles of everyday life and financial insecurity, the Esiris work in an observational and emotionally complex style that treats these transactions and interactions with the end-of-the-world stakes felt by those that live them. (Includes interviews, deleted scenes with audio commentary, short films, trailer, and essay by Maryam Kazeem.)
“Alien Private Eye”: Those of us who love bad movies – earnestly bad movies, made by people who seem to honestly believe they’re making the coolest flick of all time – have been quixotically searching for years for the next “Miami Connection.” Well, friends, I’ve found it. This 1989 cheesefest gives you exactly what its title promises, a kickboxing alien making his way on earth as a big city P.I., and so much more: goofball dialogue, unconvincing fights, uncomfortable sex scenes, hilarious dialogue about intergalactic currency, and a supporting player doing the worst Peter Lorre impression you’ve ever heard. It comes to us via “Viktor” (you wouldn’t use your full name either), who produces, writes, directed, edits, and casts. It’s a singular vision of cinema unlike any you’ll see again. (Includes audio commentary and interviews.)
“The Abominable Dr. Phibes” / “Dr. Phibes Rises Again”: KL Studio Classics gives us a double feature of these two Gothic horror classics, directed by Robert Fuest and starring Vincent Price in a nearly wordless turn as a mad doctor who we first meet as he goes about dispatching, in grisly fashion, the members of the surgical team that failed to save his beloved wife. It’s a crackling picture, loaded with atmosphere and inventive black comedy, and if the makers of the “Saw” movies didn’t study this one in depth, they should’ve. The following year’s follow-up widens the scope and changes the scenery (to Egypt), but it suffers from a bit of sequel-itis; it’s more of the same, and often well-executed, yet with far less urgency. But it’s still worth a look, and the first film is something of a genre masterpiece. (Includes audio commentaries, radio and TV spots, and trailers.)
“Grand Slam”: A schoolteacher of modest means (a game Edward G. Robinson) approaches an old friend of the criminal persuasion with a proposal: he’s figured out how to steal $10 million in diamonds, if he only has the right crew to do it. Giuliano Montaldo’s 1967 heist movie checks all the boxes – putting together the colorful team, battling the last-second complications, executing the heist with clockwork precision, twists and turns galore, all against a picturesque background (Rio de Janeiro during Carnival) with the musical accompaniment of Ennio Morricone. “Grand Slam” doesn’t do anything particularly exciting – but it does it all quite well. (Includes audio commentary and trailer.)
“The Violent Breed”: This 1984 Cannon action flick – which looks a good five years older than it is – starts out like a low-rent “Apocalypse Now” and turns into a dry run for Cannon’s lucrative “Missing in Action” franchise. The plotting isn’t terribly convincing, and the casting isn’t much better (Woody Strode makes for rather an elderly ‘nam grunt, though Henry Silva is marvelously sleazy, as ever), but Italian exploitation king Fernando Di Leo blows stuff up real good, and his screenplay (penned with Nino Marino) has a handful of good quips. My favorite: a corrupt priest is told, just before he’s blown away, “Hey, God wants you.” (Includes trailer.)
“You’re Telling Me!”: KL Studio Classics continues God’s work in their ongoing Blu-ray releases of classic W.C. Fields comedies, starting with this 1934 treat from his Paramount era. A sound remake of his 1926 silent vehicle “So’s Your Old Man,” this one finds Fields playing an ambitious amateur inventor whose act of kindness to an incognito princess (Adrienne Ames) turns his miserable life upside down. The Fields character was well established by this time, and he gets laughs not even from his reactions, but the promise of them. Director Erle C. Kenton keeps things moving at a good clip, and the inclusion of Fields’ classic golf routine is worth the price of purchase alone. (Includes vintage documentary and trailer.)
“Man on the Flying Trapeze”: This 1935 Fields vehicle was also a remake of one of his silents – this time, the roughhouse 1927 farce “Running Wild.” He again plays a henpecked husband (a bit of a specialty, that) who attempts to escape from his responsibilities for what we would now call a day of “self-care,” and ends up striking back against those who’ve kept him down. Featuring several members of Fields’ stock company (including “The Bank Dick” co-star Grady Sutton, regular sidekick Tammany Young, and the lovely Mary Brian reprising her “Running Wild” role as his daughter), and directed with flair by the great Clyde Bruckman, it’s one of Fields’ finest mid-period efforts. (Includes vintage documentary and trailer.)
“You Can’t Cheat an Honest Man”: Jumping ahead a bit, Fields kicked off his final, four-film run at Universal with this 1939 comedy, which mined his popular radio appearances with Edgar Bergen and Charlie McCarthy into a fast-paced story set in one of Fields’ favorite environments: the circus. It’s a little thin, even at a mere 79 minutes, feeling a bit like it was backwards-engineered from the Fields and Bergen bits (which is likely was). But it’s nevertheless quite funny, and particularly loaded with memorable Fields dialogue. (Includes audio commentary and trailer.)
ON DVD:
“From the Journals of Jean Seberg”: Mark Rappaport fans truly are eating this spring, as Kino Classics follows up last month’s release of “Rock Hudson’s Home Movies” with another of his insightful deconstructionist essay films. This one focuses on international sensation Seberg, seen in copious clips and played in to-camera confessional monologues by Mary Beth Hurt (like Seberg, a gifted actress originally from Iowa). It’s witty, sly, and smart, full of enlightening detours and sidebars, yet tightly focused on this fascinating figure and the personal tragedy that she ultimately could not overcome. (Includes bonus Rappaport films.)