For his return as private detective Lew Harper (see Harper below), Paul Newman is once again his usual laconic self as Harper investigates a threat made against one of his former flings (who happens to be played by Newman’s ow wife Joanne Woodward).

 

 

 

Director Stuart Rosenberg’s 1975 sequel is better than the original, even if it has its share of missteps—especially in the long and implausible sequence that gives the movie its title. But the cast is in fine form, from Newman and Woodward to Murray Hamilton, Richard Jaeckel and underrated ‘70s actresses Gail Strickland and Linda Haynes. There’s a solid hi-def transfer; lone extra is a vintage on-set featurette.

 

In his first go-round as Lew Harper—based on Ross Macdonald’s novel—Paul Newman makes an engaging PI in a case involving the disappearance of an eccentric multi-millionaire. This overlong, occasionally entertaining 1966 feature was directed by Jack Smight and written by William Goldman, who can’t decide whether this is a spoof or a straight drama.

 

 

 

Several able actresses—Lauren Bacall, Julie Harris, Janet Leigh, Pamela Tiffin and Shelley Winters—are left adrift. The film looks excellent on Blu-ray; lone extra is a Goldman commentary.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Frank Henenlotter—who went on to make Frankenhooker—made his directing debut in 1982 with this bizarre cult item about a young man whose homicidal ex-conjoined twin is kept in a wicker basket, which—naturally enough—can’t keep murders at bay for long.

 

 

 

Shot for little money in scuzzy Manhattan neighborhoods, the movie is ridiculously cheap-looking and borderline inept, but the audacity of the premise and how victims are offed—including the grandly gory finale—makes this a worthwhile entry into early 80s gore. The film looks as good as can be expected in hi-def; plentiful extras include Henenlotter’s commentary, interviews, featurettes and outtakes.

 

One of Mozart’s classic operas is given an intelligent 2004 staging in Paris by director Jean-Louis Martinoty, who understands that Mozart’s characters are anything but cardboard, and that his singers must also be more than capable of plumbing their psychological depths.

 

 

 

That they do—led by Austrian mezzo Angelika Kirchschlager’s funny but touching Cherubino—makes this one of the best recent Figaros on the market; the orchestra and chorus, led by conductor Rene Jacobs, are also equal to the task. Hi-def audio and video are first-rate.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The still-dazzling Nathalie Baye (age 67 when she made this) makes an especially alluring monster in this pulse-pounding 2015 Hitchcockian thriller by directors Christophe Ali and Nicolas Bonilauri about a still-grieving mother who becomes an indispensable assistant to a hotshot young exec who caused her beloved son’s death.

 

 

 

While there’s nothing here that no one hasn’t seen before, Ali and Bonilauri keep this twisty melodrama percolating nicely as Baye weaves her diabolical web.

 

This labored 1967 comedy—originally released in the U.S. as On the Way to the Crusades, I Met a Girl Who—follows a knight (a bemused Tony Curtis) and his new bride (an even more bemused Monica Vitti) whose wedding night is interrupted when he’s called to fight the Crusades—and supposed hijinks ensue.

 

 

 

Director Pasquale Festa Campanile lost his comic touch on this one: even a game supporting cast that includes Hugh Griffith is well-nigh invisible. Worst of all is that the two stars have zero chemistry: comic, dramatic and romantic.