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Reviews

April '14 Digital Week IV

Blu-rays of the Week
Alice
(First Run)
Surreal Czech animator Jan Svankmajer’s thrilling 1988 take onAlice in Wonderland is crammed with his singular visual inventiveness, showcasing his genius for dazzling stop-motion images.
 
Although it might be too offbeat for children, it’s a must-see for anyone who ODed on Disney’s more sanitized version. Although the movie looks enticing on Blu-ray, First Run dropped the ball by omitting the original Czech audio and forcing the child-friendly English track on viewers. There are also no extras, unlike the British Film Institute release.
 
 
The Bletchley Circle—Season 2
(PBS)
Our quintet of intrepid female code breakers—who cracked Nazi spy codes to turn the tide of WWII—return for more post-war London sleuthing in these two entertaining full-length features.
 
Although the plotting is only intermittently arresting, it’s the women themselves—played by Anna Maxwell Martin, Rachael Sterling, Hattie Morahan, Sophie Rundle and Julie Graham—that hold our interest throughout. The Blu-ray image looks solid if a little soft; extras include interviews.
 
Copperhead
(Warners)
A lesser-known Civil War conflict is featured in Ron Maxwell’s static, occasionally gripping study of men on opposite sides of Lincoln’s declaration of war against the Southern states: Copperheads (named after the snakes) were against this obviously “just” war.
 
Although a handsomely mounted account of an obscure bit of American history, the movie creeps along for many of its 120 minutes, often undermining its potential power with derivative direction and lackluster performances. The hi-def transfer is first-rate.
 
Death in Venice
(Opus Arte)
Porgy and Bess
(Euroarts)
Benjamin Britten’s final opera, 1973’s Death in Venice, receives a musically accomplished if dramatically inert 2013 revival by director Deborah Warner in London for the composer’s birth centenary; John Graham-Hall is persuasive as Aschenbach, the dying writer.
 
In San Francisco Opera’s 2013 staging of the Gershwins’ immortal Porgy and Bess, Eric Owens and Laquita Mitchell are histrionically and vocally imposing in the iconic title roles, highlights being “Bess, You Is My Woman” and “I Loves You, Porgy.” Both Blu-ray look impressive and sound even better; Porgy’s extras are interviews.
 
The Invisible Woman
(Sony Classics)
Ralph Fiennes plays novelist Charles Dickens as a Victorian-era rock star: an incredibly popular writer and speaker, Dickens lives for the adoration of his (mostly female) fans, and—even though he’s contentedly married with ten children—he embarks on an affair with a tempestuous young teacher, played with gusto by Felicity Jones.
 
Although Fiennes’ direction tends toward the undistinguished, the lush physical production surrounding two meaty lead performances helps make this unexciting soap opera watchable. The Blu-ray’s visuals look superb; extras include Fiennes’ and Jones’ commentary, interviews and Toronto Film Festival press conference.
 
The Pawnbroker
(Olive Films)
In Sidney Lumet’s heavily symbolic but powerful 1965 character study of a Jewish concentration camp survivor struggling in his new life as a Harlem pawnbroker—as he deals with people as emotionally adrift as he—Rod Steiger gives an understated performance, surprising coming from an actor not known for subtlety.
 
But despite Lumet’s uneven directing that culminates in a forced series of false climaxes, Steiger creates a psychologically credible portrait. Boris Kaufman’s moody B&W photography retains its grittiness on Blu-ray.
 
Sorcerer
(Warners)
William Friedkin’s 1977 adventure has received a critical reappraisal as a lost classic, but it’s anything but: instead it’s a wrongheaded if technically accomplished remake of  H.G. Clouzot’s classic The Wages of Fear (Friedkin even dedicates his film to Clouzot).
 
There are tension-filled sequences, especially with the truck on a bridge, but since the characters all remain ciphers, there’s no one to root for in this this two-hour slog through the jungle. Tangerine Dream’s electronic soundtrack is alternately effective and overdone, like the film itself. On Blu-ray, the movie looks stunning.
 
DVDs of the Week
La Maison de la Radio
(Kino Lorber)
Nicholas Philibert’s latest fly-on-the-wall documentary follows the daily interactions of dozens of employees at Radio France, the state-run Gallic equivalent of the BBC or NPR.
 
Talk-show hosts, news readers, weather forecasters, sports announcers, singers and performers, technicians and people behind the scenes are seen informing, entertaining and giving the news to millions of listeners, and Philibert films it all in his inimitable way, showing the teaming mass of humanity inside the radio conglomerate’s recognizably circular headquarters in the heart of Paris.
 
Russia’s Open Book—Writing in the Age of Putin
(PBS)
Juliet Stevenson narrates this hour-long account of Russian authors surviving and even thriving despite the black marks on their reputations in Vladimir Putin’s supposedly democratic Russian regime.
 
Instead of criticizing their fearless leader outright, Russian’s Open Book allows writers from Anna Starobinets to Vladimir Sorokin to speak for themselves, both in interviews and in excerpts from their provocative books, read here by the show’s host, British actor Stephen Fry.
 
The Trials of Muhammad Ali
(Kino Lorber)
In Bill Siegel’s arresting documentary, the world’s most famous man—known as much for his brash mouth as his pummeling fists—is shown as a polarizing cultural and political figure: from changing his name to joining the Nation of Islam, Ali’s very public mistakes and successes outside the ring are as important as his boxing achievements.
 
Interviews with Ali’s brother, daughter and ex-wife are touching, while others like Louis Farrakhan come off as self-serving: but all paint a fuller portrait of a complicated man. Extras are four deleted scenes, audio commentaries and a mock trial by school students.
 
Wrong Cops
(IFC Midnight)
Writer-director Quentin Dupieux’s heavy-handed, ineffectual comedy about cops abusing their standing in the community—we see them sell drugs and force a woman to provide her phone number in the first few minutes alone—is the kind of unfunny spoof that might have the crew in stitches on the set, but does little for an audience.
 
Good performers like Agnes Bruckner and Roxane Mesquida are mercilessly wasted; when Marilyn Manson doesn’t even register onscreen, it’s hopeless. Lone extra is a Manson featurette.
 
CDs of the Week
Joyce Yang—Wild Dreams(Avie)
and Tchaikovsky (Bridge)
Exuberant pianist Joyce Yang demonstrates a prodigious keyboard talent on these discs. On Wild Dreams, her easy facility for a wide range of solo piano music from Robert Schumann to Bela Bartok is highlighted by her impassioned playing of two Sergei Rachmaninoff works and Paul Hindemith's deceptively difficult passages.
 
On the Tchaikovsky orchestral disc, Yang dispatches one of the concerto genre’s true warhorses by showcasing the composer’s generous lyricism. Conductor Alexander Lazarev and the Odense Symphony Orchestra provide solid support and give an appropriately stormy reading of the tone poem The Tempest.
 
Shani Diluka—Road 66
(Mirare)

Sri Lankan pianist Shani Diluka’s programming idea for this recital disc is to play various pieces by American composers as complements to Jack Kerouac’s fragmented writings.

That Kerouac’s work directly correlates with the music is questionable, but Diluka’s tremendously precise playing—particularly on unheralded gems like Copland’s Piano Blues No. 1, Samuel Barber’s Pas de Deux and even Philip Glass's Etude No. 9—makes the program secondary to the glorious musicmaking. She’s also joined by soprano Natalie Dessay for the bittersweet finale: Cole Porter’s “What is This Thing Is Love?"

Marco Bellocchio Retrospective @ MOMA

Marco Bellocchio: A Retrospective
April 16–May 7, 2014
Museum of Modern Art
 
Italian director Marco Bellocchio, now 74, has been making highly charged dramas that take the social, moral and political pulse of his native country for nearly 50 years, and shows no signs of slowing down. Although Bellocchio remains highly respected on the international festival circuit—three of his recent films were shown at the New York Film Festival in 2002, 2003 and 2009—he has fallen prey to that strangely mysterious disease that seems to afflict veteran directors considered past their prime in that it’s no longer a given that his films will distributed or released on DVD and Blu-ray.

Luckily for us, some of Bellocchio’s most trenchant films are screening at the Museum of Modern Art through May 6. AlthoughMarco Bellocchio: A Retrospective is sadly incomplete, comprising only 18 of some 40 features, it does include some of his most important works, from his still-remarkable debut, 1965’s Fists in the Pocket, and the even more assured follow-up, 1967’s China is Near, to his latest provocative feature. 2012’s Dormant Beauty, an intelligent and thought-provoking exploration of Italy’s right to life debate (Terri Schiavo was the U.S. equivalent), informs the personal, professional and religious lives of several characters, played splendidly by Isabelle Huppert, Toni Servillo, Maya Sansa, Alba Rohrwacher and the director’s son Pier Giorgio.
 
Maya Sansa in Dormant Beauty (photo: Francesca Fago)
Accompanying the MOMA retro is a gorgeous hardcover book about Bellocchio. Morality and Beauty, edited by Italian cinema scholar Sergio Toffetti, contains essays and appreciations by critics, collaborators, actors and actresses and other directors about Bellochio’s lengthy cinematic career. The book itself is worth it not only for its insights into his artistry but also for its presentation: there are rare stills from many films, a complete filmography, and even Bellocchio’s own paintings and storyboards for several films. Morality and Beauty is an essential volume for anyone with an interest in one of our greatest filmmakers.

In Bellocchio’s films, from Fists to Dormant Beauty, there are no innocent bystanders: after his first two features, the director himself joined the radical Communist Union in 1968, and the characters populating his dramas are equally committed individuals, in every sense of the word. Bellocchio keeps returning to variations on his themes of obsessive love affairs or relationships often based on abuses of power. As often as he tackles the incendiary worlds of political, economic and social status—which, in these films, are one and the same—Bellocchio often pushes the envelope even further. 1990’s The Conviction is the movie David Mamet’s Oleanna wishes it were: a professor hides from a young woman he was intimate with in a locked museum overnight the fact that he had the keys all along. Angered, she accuses him of raping her; Bellocchio raises pertinent—and unsettling—questions that remain difficult to answer.Bellocchio’s most recent films are among his most refined, even as they unfold as hysterically fever-pitched melodramas hinging on notions of faith, idealism and mortality. My Mother’s Smile (2002) takes on the Roman Catholic Church in the form of an atheistic artist horrified to find his deceased mother on the fast track to canonization. Bellocchio shows no mercy depicting a church more concerned with public relations than saving souls.
 
Good Morning, Night (2003) is a dreamlike retelling of the 1975 kidnapping of Italian Prime Minister Aldo Moro, told from the point of view of terrorist group’s lone woman. Bellocchio, who expertly shows how even radical causes can become domesticated, saturates his film with hallucinatory colors which match the strains of Pink Floyd’s atmospheric music.
 
Marco Bellocchio on the set of Vincere (photo: Daniele Musso)
2009’s Vincere, another stunning re-examination of Italian history, tells the little-known true story of Ida Dalser, Mussolini’s beautiful, intelligent lover who bore him a son before he became the fascist leader of Italy—whereupon both she and the boy were erased from Il Duce’s life and, consequently, history itself. Intense, gregarious, and thought-provoking from its opening credits, Vincere finds Bellocchio in his most freely expressionist mode, intercutting actual newsreel footage of Mussolini alongside this riveting tale of a real-life heroine fighting against all odds for her and her son’s lives.
 
Vincere’s frequent, jarring and extreme tonal shifts are reminiscent of Lina Wertmuller’s audacious Seven Beauties (1976), a similarly go-for-baroque masterpiece. Like Seven Beauties, which was anchored by Giancarlo Giannini’s superlative performance, Vincere works so marvelously because Giovanna Mezzogiorno leads us through Ida’s tragic tale. This fabulously expressive actress—whose face is illuminated by the most dazzling pair of hazel eyes in cinema—is the prime focus of Bellocchio’s camera, and her brave, emotionally naked piece of acting is the ultimate collaboration with Italy’s most fearless and fiery filmmaker.
 
Marco Bellocchio: A Retrospective
MOMA, 11 West 53rd Street, New York, NY
moma.org

Broadway Theater Roundup—‘The Realistic Joneses’ and ‘Mothers and Sons’

The Realistic Joneses
Written by Will Eno; directed by Sam Gold
Previews began March l3, 2014; opened April 6
 
Mothers and Sons
Written by Terrence McNally; directed by Sheryl Kaller
Previews began February 23, 2014; opened March 24
 
Letts and Tomei in The Realistic Joneses (photo: Joan Marcus)
Will Eno’s brand of absurdism is an acquired taste. His promising short works nod to Beckett and Albee, but his full-length playsMiddletown, Thom Pain and The Realistic Joneses are stretched unbearably thin. Although some find profundity and insight in his work, that seems like wishful thinking: his cascading lines of dialogue, instead of exploding into meaning, too often fizzle into meaninglessness.
 
 
The Realistic Joneses introduces two couples, both improbably named Jones, which are neighbors in a bucolic mountain area. Stable long-timers Jennifer and Bob welcome the slightly daffy newcomers John and Pony; at the start, John’s non-sequiturs and inappropriate outbursts are mocked by an incredulous Bob, whose wife Jennifer is the epitome of levelheadedness, especially when compared to the airheaded Pony.
 
Soon, however, John insinuates himself, in a rather unlikely fashion, into Jennifer’s good graces, while—even more ludicrously—Bob and Pony begin an affair. That’s about the extent of the plot: the play has been constructed as a series of blackouts featuring two, three or all four Joneses. And Eno’s epigrammatic dialogue repeatedly falls flat, whether it concerns a dead squirrel in the backyard, a fictional disease both men suffer from or even John mocking the dullness of Bob’s name, to which Jennifer quickly shoots back a riposte about dyslexics liking it—a quip more clever than funny.
 
By the time we reach the would-be deep finale showing the Jones quartet (the title’s “realistic” is another Eno joke) idly chatting, Eno’s shallow exploration of humanity has very little of import to impart. On David Zinn’s aptly cluttered set, director Sam Gold artfully paces this disjointed  sitcom, while the cast—Toni Collette (Jennifer), Michael C. Hall (John), Marisa Tomei (Pony) and especially Tracy Letts (Bob)—works hard, and at times effectively, to make it all seem more pointed than pointless.
 
Weller and Daly in Mothers and Sons (photo: Joan Marcus)
That Mothers and Sons is one of Terrence McNally’s most personal plays is obvious, dealing as it does with the AIDS crisis, gay marriage and clueless parents of homosexuals; its strengths and weaknesses stem directly from wearing its heart on its sleeve.
 
 
McNally’s schematic set-up—while visiting her long-dead son Andre’s lover Cal on the Upper West Side to get some closure, grand dame Katharine meets Cal’s husband Will and their adopted young son Bud—is merely an excuse for him to pontificate about subjects still near to his heart and own life. The no-nonsense, take-no-prisoners Katharine barks nastily at Cal upon her arrival, hiding her own fear and anger over her son’s death from AIDS 20 years earlier: her outbursts, while sometimes funny, are nearly always vitriolic. And McNally stacks his dramatic deck by making Cal, Will and Bud too good to be true—especially young Bud, a sentimental figure of vindication and love who singlehandedly transforms Katharine from nasty old lady to caring “grandmother.”
 
Mothers and Sons is preachy and didactic, but McNally doesn’t care; he wants to emphasize to audiences that the AIDS era was recent history that shouldn’t be repeated and that the current battle for gay equality is a clear next step for a cultured society. True, there are cheap shots at Dallas and Port Chester, and Katharine herself is self-contradictory: if she grew up in a NYC suburb, why was/is she so obtuse about her gay son? It’s obviously so that McNally can have it both ways, letting Katharine simultaneously raging against right-wing Texan rubes and be ignorant of her son’s sexuality, insisting that it was New York that turned him gay when he moved there at age 18.
 
Whatever its faults, McNally’s topical play has well-earned laughs and tears. Sheryl Kaller directs persuasively on John Lee Beatty’s gorgeous set—who wouldn’t want to live in this well-appointed apartment that overlooks Central Park?—and the acting quartet is beyond reproach. Grayson Taylor’s Bud is as adorable as written, Bobby Steggert ensures Will’s niceness doesn’t equal blandness, and Frederick Weller makes a strong, full-blooded character out of the stick figure of Cal.
 
Then there’s Tyne Daly, who makes Katharine as big a diva prowling the stage as the actress was as Maria Callas in McNally’s Master Class. Daly gives her lines more bite, an added dollop of bitterness tinged with sadness, that gives Katharine an extra dimension not found in the script. If the play itself is a bumpy, manipulative ride, at least a master navigator is at the controls.
 
The Realistic Joneses
Lyceum Theatre, 149 West 45th Street, New York, NY
therealisticjoneses.com
 
Mothers and Sons
Golden Theatre, 252 West 45th Street, New York, NY
mothersandsonsbroadway.com

April '14 Digital Week III

Blu-rays of the Week
Best Night Ever
Cocaine Cowboys Revisited
(Magnet)
Best Night Ever could be called a female Hangover, except that there are actually scattered laughs in this inane attempt to ape that unfunny blockbuster—it also tries to be a found-footage movie, as one of the Vegas bachelorette party gals records everything. Game actresses are defeated by increasingly desperate material.
 
An extended version of a documentary, Cocaine Cowboys Revisited is a thorough expose of Miami as the bloody battleground for violent drug dealers in the ‘70s-‘80s. Interviews with participants and archival footage bring viewers closer to what happened and why. Both discs have good hi-def transfers; extras include deleted scenes and, on Best, interviews.
 
Black Jack
(Cohen Media)
Ken Loach’s 1979 costume drama—an anomaly in his long career of politically aware films—is a pleasantly minor adaptation of a children’s adventure novel about a gruff adventurer and two children in mid-18th century England.
 
Though made on a shoestring, Chris Menges’ low-key 16mm photography glistens, thanks to Loach’s fastidious eye for detail, which helps overcome variable acting from mostly unknowns. The grainy Blu-ray image is soft but palatable; extras are a Loach commentary and deleted scenes.
 
 
 
Earthflight
(BBC)
With so many nature documentaries proliferating on TV and the big screen, new ones must distinguish themselves from the others—all of which have gorgeously-looking HD-photography—and the six-part Earthflight does just that.
 
By putting tiny HD cameras on the backs of actual birds and showing them in flight all around the world, the programs find a new way to astonish viewers by giving a literal bird’s-eye view of the marvels in our world, both natural and man-made. Of course, the hi-def images look absolutely stunning, whether taken in Asia, Antarctica, Europe or North and South America.
 
Forgetting the Girl
(Ram Releasing)
What begins as a mildly intriguing portrait of a Manhattan photographer doing headshots for aspiring actresses—and who fails to personally connect with any of them, despite his efforts—turns into an unsatisfying slasher flick. For awhile, this study of a loner and loser with unresolved issues nods seems psychologically acute, then descends into routine blood and gore.
 
Christopher Denham is extremely good as the protagonist, and Anna Camp—who appears in far too few movies and plays—is delectable as the one female who responds to him. The Blu-ray image is decent; extras include deleted scenes, director commentary and web videos.
 
 
The Making of a Lady
Murder on the Home Front
(PBS)
From a story by Frances Hodgson Burnett (who wroteThe Secret Garden), Ladyfollows a young woman marrying a widower who immediately leaves home—she soon must deal with his cousin who decides he wants to take over the estate. Director Richard Curson Smith’s tidy 90-minute mystery, which slowly builds in tension, has slyly restrained performances by Linus Roache and Lydia Wilson.
 
Murder—a slow-moving WWII drama about another young woman (a very good Tamzin Merchant) who works with a pathologist to solve murders in a London preoccupied with German bombings—is a handsomely mounted if unexceptional mystery. Both films have fine hi-def transfers; Murder extras comprise cast and crew interviews.
 
Paths Through the Labyrinth
(C Major)
Polish composer Krzysztof Penderecki, a 1950s avant-gardist now one of our most renowned classical composers, is still going strong at age 80, with an astonishing array of orchestral works, operas, chamber music and film scores. Director Anna Schmidt’s superb documentary follows Penderecki for a year, still composing, conducting and living life as a major artist, along with admiring interviews with his wife; director Andrzej Wajda; and musicians Anne Sophie Mutter, Janine Jansen and Radiohead’s Jonny Greenwood (whose own classical forays ape Penderecki).
 
Well-chosen clips from Kubrick’s The Shining and Wajda’s Katyn illustrate how cinematic Penderecki’s own music really is. The hi-def image is stellar; extras are Greenwood and conductor Lorin Maazel interviews.
 
Philomena
(Weinstein/Anchor Bay)
This heart-tugging drama about an Irish woman’s search for the son she gave up 50 years ago while among the Magdalene Sisters in a Catholic convent stars a marvelously understated Judi Dench and an amusingly bitter Steve Coogan as journalist Martin Sixsmith, who wrote the brilliant book about her quest.
 
Stephen Frears’ economical direction and Dench and Coogan’s interplay are the main draws of this mere skimming of Sixsmith’s account, in which Philomena’s son’s rich, varied and surprising life is developed in 420 pages—perhaps a sequel, Michael, will do justice to his life story? The Blu-ray image is first-rate; extras are Coogan and cowriter Jeff Pope’s commentary, interviews with Dench and the real Philomena Lee, and a Coogan Q&A.
 
DVDs of the Week
Bastards
(IFC)
In Claire Denis’ fragmented, convoluted attempt at film noir, a sea captain must deal with his brother-in-law’s suicide and the disappearances of his weak, estranged sister and niece, all while carrying on an affair with a woman married to a terrifyingly evil corporate capitalist.
 
Although Denis’ eye remains unerring—her cinematographer is, as usual, the great Agnes Godard—her narrative sense has never been her strong suit, and the movie’s central mysteries are slowly, unsatisfyingly brought to a close. Still, a solid cast led by the always watchable Vincent Lindon and the amazing young actress Lola Creton helps smooth over many bumps.
 
 
The Children Nobody Wanted
Life According to Sam
(Warner Archive)
Children, an earnest, honorable 1981 movie about Tom Butterfield’s efforts to create a home for mistreated young boys in the small Missouri town where he attends college, gains credibility from Fred Lehne’s lively Tom and a young Michelle Pfeiffer as his lovely girlfriend.
 
The difficult to watch Life, a documentary about children with the incurable disease  progeria, which causes rapid—and fatal—aging, focuses on Sam Berns (who sadly died last fall at age 17), a sparkplug who put a brave face on the disease. Sam extras include Berns’ speech and a PSA with Berns and Dave Matthews.
 
The Curse of the Gothic Symphony
(First Run)
Wherein a determined group eventually puts together a performance of British composer Havergal Brian’s Gothic Symphony, all 120 minutes, 400 choristers and 200 musicians’ worth!
 
I find Brian’s music even more bloated than Bruckner, but kudos to those loyal fans who persevered and finally saw their dream come to fruition. Director Randall Wood presents their story engagingly, even including biographical tidbits of Brian himself, although the reenactments of events in the composer’s life are ludicrously staged.
 
 
 
 
In the Name of
(Film Movement)
In Malgoska Szumowska’s engrossing melodrama, a closeted priest hides his sexual proclivities while mentoring young men and resisting the advances of an attractive young local woman.
 
Although contrivances start to creep in after an interesting opening, the natural performances help ground it in a credible reality that keep the film from going off the melodramatic rails. Lone extra is an Israeli short with a similar theme,Summer Vacation.
 
The Last Time I Saw Macao
(Cinema Guild)

This sleight-of-hand film combines documentary, mystery and visual essay to create a fascinating hybrid: beginning as a reverie about the disappearance of the protagonist’s close friend, it morphs ever more cleverly and ends up an illuminating if occasionally mystifying drama.

Co-directors Joao Pedro Rodrigues and Joao Rui Guerra da Mata—who narrates his return to the Portuguese Pacific colony where he grew up to find his friend—provide beautiful imagery amid their narrative misdirection. Extras include an interview with the Joaos and a pair of their shorts, Red Dawn and Mahjong.

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