Francesco Cilea’s tragic romance was a huge operatic hit when first performed in 1904—and David McVicar’s staging at London’s Covent Garden is the first time it’s been performed there since 1906!

Despite its long absence, several arias are among the most popular and memorable in the repertory, and Angela Gheorghiu and Jonas Kaufmann sing them passionately. The orchestra and chorus—led by conductor Mark Elder—are in good form. Visually, McVicar’s production has its peculiarities, with sets and costumes not of the period; the sound blasts out of the speakers. The lone extra is a making-of featurette.

In 1977, Robert M. Young directed this honest exploration of our “immigrant problem,” focusing on a Mexican laborer who, after sneaking over the border, hopes to earn enough for his family back home; nothing goes as planned, as the heartbreaking result shows.

The Criterion Collection deserves accolades for bringing back this modest masterpiece: perhaps its subtle politics will register where didacticism won’t. The low-budget film looks excellent on Blu-ray; extras comprise Young and producer Michael Hausman’s commentary, a new interview with Edward James Olmos (who has a small role) and a short 1973 documentary by Young, Children of the Fields.

Even by the standards of its day (1932), this David O. Selznick-King Vidor super-spectacular has badly dated and often risible. Still, compensations are the star power of Joel McCrea as a sailor and intoxicating Dolores del Rio as the gorgeous island native he falls in love with.

Their chemistry—and some del Rio skin—help the bumpy 82-minute ride. The original 35mm print, courtesy of Rochester’s George Eastman House, has been satisfactorily upgraded, although there are inevitable visual blemishes.

In its final season, the “everyman” spy comedy-drama faced an inevitable decline in quality, but there were more than enough moments when the semi-spoof/semi-serious show hit its bull’s-eyes.

The cast is in top form throughout, there are solid one-liners and enough guest stars (Linda Hamilton and Carrie Ann Moss, most obviously) to make the 13 hit-or-miss episodes endurable. On Blu-ray, the series shines; extras include featurettes, deleted scenes and audio commentaries.

If joyful noise is what you want, then watch this shameless display of melodramatic uplift. Even with rousing gospel numbers and good solo turns from Dolly Parton and Jeremy Jordan, the story is nothing much—it ends at a big choir contest that might end badly for our guys and gals—but when the singers break into tunes every few minutes, including a gospel-inflected “Maybe I’m Amazed” by Jordan and the wonderful Keke Palmer, no one will mind.

The movie has a decent hi-def transfer; extras include on-set featurettes.

Humor is relative, but I doubt I so much as cracked a smile during this unnecessary 95-minute moviemaking spoof.

Tim Heidecker and Eric Wareheim are tastes I’ve yet to—and probably won’t—acquire, and despite the fact that one of my favorite singers, Aimee Man, loves them, and despite cameos from the likes of Will Farrell, John C. Reilly, Robert Loggia and William Atherton, this ill-conceived vanity project is DOA. On Blu-ray, the movie looks better than it deserves; extras include a commentary, deleted/extended scenes, interviews and featurettes.

In the fourth installment of Underworld(it only feels like many more), Kate Beckinsale again dons her skintight outfit as sexy vampires Selene—and thank goodness, since the movie is a by-the-numbers affair, despite appearances by Charles Dance and Stephen Rea, among others.

Directors Marlind and Stein’s action sequences have occasional visual pop, but the belabored attempts to make these characters mythic weighs down the plot. The extravagant set pieces translate well to Blu-ray; extras include music video, making-of featurettes, bloopers and a picture-in-picture accompaniment to the film.

In Madonna’s whitewash of the relationship between abdicating King Edward and American lover Wallis Simpson, these Hitler admirers become misunderstood celebrities, while a ridiculous non-story of a contemporary lonely married woman who admires Wallis is typical of Madonna and co-screenwriter Alek Keshishian’s ineptitude.

Andrea Riseborough and especially Abbie Cornish completely outclass their material, but aside from savvy art direction and Oscar-nominated costuming (both come off best in hi-def), there’s little else to recommend here. The lone extra is a 20-minute featurette.

Wide-ranging 21^stcentury art is dissected in this four-part, four-hour series about artists in different media—from sculpture to performance art to video—and their relevance today.

Among those profiled are Chinese artist Ai Weiwei, who could not attend the unveiling of his sculptures in Manhattan because he was jailed as a dissident; Serbian performance artist Marina Abramovic; and British painter Rackstraw Downes. All of the artists discuss how their provocative art challenges their audiences.

The quartet of documentaries in this valuable boxed set reminds us of Hitler and the Nazis’ destruction of Germany and much of Europe.

The Architecture of Doom brilliantly dismantles the Nazi ideology of art, which was followed to its fatal end; Dear Uncle Adolf recounts ordinary Germans’ affection for their Fuhrer with an illuminating look at letters written to him; Hitler: A Career succinctly sums up his life and politics in 150 minutes; and The Top Secret Trial of the Third Reich unveils the show trial of those conspirators in the failed assassination attempt of Hitler on July 20, 1944. 

Bernard Rose, who made the Beethoven biopic Immortal Beloved,returns to the composer’s title work, along with Tolstoy’s short story, which is the basis for this tale of a man raging impotently—and with unjustified jealousy—over his wife’s possible adultery.

Danny Huston is not bad as the narrating anti-hero, but Elisabeth Rohm is simply outstanding as the wife, giving a rare American film performance filled of naked—in many ways—eroticism. She transforms this cardboard character into a full-blooded woman; all that matches her are excerpts of Beethoven’s chamber music.

Jane Campion’s sister Anna directed this heavy-handed 1995 thriller that tries to be sexy and scary at the same time, but despite a top-notch cast of then-attractive actors and actresses—including Thandie Newton and Catherine McCormack at the beginning of their careers—Anna’s movie is too ludicrous to be enjoyable.

If you’re in the right mood, you might get a brief scare, but most viewers will be patently bored: and happy that several of the performers went on to bigger and better things.

This obscure 1978 Italian sex comedy is heavy on the sex, not so much on the comedy. Its main claim to fame is as the only starring role for Ursula Heinle, who disrobes early and often as a lecherous old man’s sexy niece.

Since she never appeared in another movie, having only this on her resume is nothing to crow about. Still, collectors of soft-core flicks will find something here to sate their appetite.

Morgan Jon Fox’s impassioned documentary shows religious extremists “curing” gay young men of their “disease.” Their “Love in Action” rehabilitation program was mentioned by teen Zach Stark on his blog after his parents forced him to go.

Soon, thanks to grassroots campaigns and bad publicity, it all fell apart for awhile. The director talks with former “patients” and leaders of the program, letting them have their say; extras include a post-Memphis Film Festival screening panel and Fox’s onstage marriage proposal to his partner.

Czech mezzo Magdalena Kozena displays her intimate side and authoritative command of three languages with these exuberantly-sung 20^th century cycles. Gustav Mahler’s Ruckert Lieder (German), Maurice Ravel’s Scheherazade (French) and Antonin Dvorak’s rarely done Biblical Songs(her native Czech) make a musically eloquent program that’s perfect for Kozena’s lustrous voice.

Accompanied with equal parts finesse and power by Kozena’s husband, conductor Simon Rattle, and the Berlin Philharmonic, this live recording is crystalline-sounding.

Sergei Rachmaninov’s last orchestral work isn’t as popular as his piano concertos and symphonies, but it may be his summit achievement: witty quotes from his own pieces are only one part of a brilliantly imaginative score.

In the hands of conductor Valery Gergiev, the London Symphony Orchestra plays it for all its worth in a truly dazzling performance. Scarcely less good is their traversal through Igor Stravinsky’s pungent Symphony in Three Movements. Too bad another substantial work didn’t round out this excellent but too short (58 minutes) disc, whose Super Audio CD surround sound is impressive.

Ignore the dubious notion that black and Latino actors in A Streetcar Named Desire provide some sort of extra illumination (they don’t) and Emily Mann’s new production is not without interest. Terence Blanchard’s music is appropriately dusky and sexy, while Eugene Lee’s set nicely evokes New Orleans’ French Quarter.

If Mitch and Stella are played without much nuance by Wood Harris and Daphne Rubin-Vega, at least there are sparks between Stanley—never identified as Kowalski here, for obvious reasons—and Blanche Dubois: Blair Underwood and Nicole Ari Parker.

Underwood has charismatic appeal, and he’s a decent enough Stanley; if he can’t compare with Brando…well, who can? The breathtakingly beautiful Parker, meanwhile, is almost too delicate for Blanche, but she invests her with an empathy missing from an otherwise respectable production.

After so many inferior Streetcars on New York stages over the years—Alec Baldwin/Jessica Lange, John C. Reilly/Natasha Richardson, the Cate Blanchett import—respectability is just what Blanche’s doctor ordered.

For a few gloriously giddy minutes, Tony Speciale’s misguided A Midsummer Night’s Dreambasks in its (and Shakespeare’s) element. Right before intermission, the quartet of mismatched lovers runs around in a physically demanding romp that underlines rather than overwhelms the fast-moving text.

The four nimble performers—Christina Ricci, Halley Wegryn Gross, Nick Gehlfuss and Jordan Dean—aren’t top-notch Shakespeare speakers, but they are able to convey (with a great assist from George De La Pena’s frolicsome choreography) the hilarious and bittersweet absurdities that the relationships in Dream abound in.

The rest of the time—with the exceptions of a well-spoken Oberon (and Theseus) by Anthony Heald and Mark Wendland’s eye-popping set dominated by a wall-sized mirror that reflects the magical goings-on—this Dreamis a campy nightmare: especially ludicrous are Taylor Mac’s Puck and David Greenspan’s Flute.

Steven Skybell’s Bottom occasionally amuses, Bebe Neuwirth’s Titiana looks smashing in a black leather outfit, and Erin Hill sings pleasingly while accompanied herself on harp. But Speciale’s Dream is nothing special.

Nicky Silver’s The Lyons (which should be The Lyonses), a superficial comic study of the ultimate dysfunctional family, has enough nastily funny lines to make for a tolerable couple of hours.

As patriarch Ben lies dying in his hospital bed, his wife Rita is giddy with excitement that she’ll finally start a new life, while their children—gay, unattached Curtis and straight, alcoholic, divorced Lisa—helplessly look on.

Silver gives many of the best (or, at least, nastiest) dialogue to Rita, whom Linda Lavin plays to the hilt in an unself-consciously hammy performance that’s the show’s highlight. Dick Latessa is a fine Ben, although his foul-mouthed outbursts aren’t as gut-busting as Silver apparently thinks they are, while Kate Jennings Grant and John Wernke (the understudy was at the performance I attended) are capable as the cardboard Curtis and Lisa.

Mark Brokaw directs with brio, but The Lyons is as undernourished as Silver’s others. And why, for the sake of a bad pun, does he mistitle his own play?

David Staller’s adaptation of Bernard Shaw’s mammoth masterpiece should be called Scenes from Man and Superman: although worthy of the master, enough has been shorn to make one long for what’s missing.

In this typically witty and erudite exploration of the relationship between eternal bachelor Jack and his ward Ann, who has her designs on him, Shaw has written a play massive in scale, including one act, Don Juan in Hell, that’s often presented separately—or deleted entirely from Superman stagings.

Director Staller includes everything, but his cuts and dialogue changes (including unnecessary scene changes) are questionable.

Still—as it always does—Shavian wit saves the day, the actors (particularly Brian Murray’s blustering Ramsden) are fine individually and as an ensemble, and the Irish Rep’s tiny stage is used adroitly by Staller and set designer James Noone. It’s not a perfect Man and Superman, but can there be?

Although the scenes between Danny and Karen (played with authenticity and directness by Theo Stockman and Claire van der Boom) are beautifully written, Rabe has trouble with the other characters, which are mere tangents to the central relationship; and his reliance on obvious pop culture markers (JD Salinger! Jack Kerouac! Elvis!) preclude any fresh statements at this late date. '

But Jo Bonney’s compact staging and the fine cast of seven are able to convey the outlines of real lives anyway.

Christopher Morahan’s claustrophobic production, played out on Eileen Diss’s exceptionally scattered mess of a set, solidly grounds the constantly shifting power plays among this motley trio.

But despite Pryce’s, Alan Cox’s and Alex Hassell’s heroic efforts, The Caretaker never amounts to much; whether it’s because the play itself lacks gravitas or because we’ve become numbed to Pinter’s rug-pulling is hard to say. Later Pinter works like The Homecoming and Celebration, for all their exaggerated nastiness, have characters worth dissecting: not so The Caretaker.

A trio of forgettable thrillers comes to Blu-ray: David Cronenberg’s mad eXistenZ (1999) stars Jennifer Jason Leigh and Jude Law in a convoluted ride through a lethal video game; Malevolent (2002) is a mild cop flick with Lou Diamond Phillips and the always welcome Kari Wuhrer (whatever happened to??) as a detective and an exotic dancer caught up in a murder spree; Michael Radford’s B Monkey(1999) is a vehicle for Asia Argento as a sexy thief—but her irritating, smug presence is a fatal drawback.

The movies have been decently transferred to hi-def.

The Innkeepers

Ti West’s shaky psychological thriller is definitely not The Shining reborn: two employees of an historic inn about to close its doors for good are beset by terrors of the mental kind, but when it’s been painstakingly established that the young woman has been gravely damaged, West pulls out the rug from under his own movie by ending it with a crude shock effect a la Paranormal Activity.

It’s too bad, for Sara Paxton and Pat Healy give solid performances, and there’s a palpable sense of dread—for awhile, at least. A good Blu-ray transfer helps; extras include a making-of featurette and two commentaries.

The Man Nobody Knew

Carl Colby’s very personal documentary about his dad William—CIA head during a volatile era—is an impactful account of a man variously considered hero or warmonger. Interviews with Carl’s mother and William’s colleagues Seymour Hersh, Donald Rumsfeld, Bob Woodward and more make the case for this complicated character.

That he died under mysterious circumstances only adds to the legend of a man whose career is a microcosm of our nation’s foreign policy for the past half-century. Since the movie comprises talking-head interviews, it’s a surprise First Run released it on Blu-ray, but it does look excellent; extras include additional interviews and scenes.

The Mystery of Edwin Drood

Charles Dickens’ unfinished novel was once turned into a marathon Broadway musical; this new PBS “Masterpiece” adaptation runs a mere two hours, but a committed cast brings across much of the flavor of this final work.

Matthew Rhys (Jasper), Freddie Fox (Edwin), Tamzin Merchant (Rosa) and Rory Kinnear (the Reverend) all jump off the page onto the screen, how persuasively they nestle in director Diarmuid Lawrence’s sumptuous Victorian-era setting, splendidly recreated on Blu-ray, while the multi-layered story (adapted by Gwyneth Jones) has been equally well-realized.

New Year’s Eve

Garry Marshall hit it big with his crude ensemble romantic comedy, 2010’s Valentine’s Day, so he’s at it again with an even larger ensemble in another crude romantic comedy set in Times Square on December 31.

Despite its cast—led by a bevy of actresses from Michelle Pfeiffer and Halle Berry to Jessica Biel and Lea Michele—the movie has little humor and even less romance, as stars and director go through the motions. Pfeiffer’s role is particularly embarrassing; this resourceful actress can do little with it. Manhattan glistens, however, on Blu-ray; extras include a gag reel, deleted scenes and interviews.

The Organizer

Mario Monicelli’s 1963 account of late 19^thcentury Italian laborers striking for better working conditions is a rediscovered classic. A finely wrought, subtle Marcello Mastroianni as a socialist professor who eggs on the workers in their fight against their bosses—which devolves into tragedy when one of their own is killed—is the center of this intelligent piece of agit-prop.

The Criterion Collection edition, while skimpy on extras (Monicelli’s 2006 introduction predates his death in 2010 at age 95), gives the black and white film its due with a superlative, grainy hi-def transfer.

The Wicker Tree

Nearly 40 years after The Wicker Man,director Robin Hardy returns to the story that made his reputation, but his belated and misbegotten sequel has nothing on the original—and still-shocking—film.

Despite a few scenes of frisky sexuality and black humor, Tree has none of the unsettling horror of Man, and the brief appearance of Christopher Lee is a sad reminder of what’s missing from the new film. The picturesque Scottish locations are enticing on Blu-ray; extras include a making-of featurette and deleted scenes.

DVDs of the Week

Bosnian director Danis Tanovic, who returned to his homeland to explore the days before post-Communist Yugoslavia was torn apart by a devastating civil war, deals unflinchingly with how petty personal vendettas metastasized into lethal nationalism.

Working from his and novelist Ivica Djikic’s script, Tanovic has created a pungent metaphor for how quickly tiny frictions blow up into outright killing and the worst atrocities since Hitler. The title refers to a local “circus”—more a cheap amusement park with beat-up children’s rides—whose temporary youthful idyll is replaced by the sight and sound of shells exploding as the war finally arrives.

The Double Hour

Giuseppe Capotondi’s sexy thriller is set in photogenic but not overused Turin: widower Guido meets mysterious Sonia at a singles club and falls for her, unaware of her secret past and present.

With true chemistry between leads Filippo Timi and Ksenia Rappoport, the movie moves through many twists and turns, and if Capotondi loses his way (devolving into a semi-twist ending), his movie retains its adultness and interest. Extras include a making-of featurette and deleted scenes.

From the Other Side/South

Belgian director Chantal Ackerman uses are interest in other cultures to make these chronicles of lives beset by inherent difficulties. 2002’s From the Other Side is an account of desperate existences in a Mexican border town and dreams of life in America; 1999’s South presents the meager lives of inhabitants of small-town America.

Akerman’s directorial eye is better than her ear, as there are precious few piercing truths about her subjects that we haven’t heard before.

Phil Collins: Live at Montreux

In 2004, Phil Collins performed at Switzerland’s fabled Montreux Jazz Festival for two hours of hits and progressive rock-cum-jazzy forays. The show begins with a smashing drum duet-turned-trio, then moves through radio smashes “Against All Odds,” “Don’t Lose My Number,” “In the Air Tonight” and “Take Me Home.”

A second disc houses Collins’ 1996 Montreux concert, a big band affair in which his crack band plays revamped versions of his songs and even “The Los Endos Suite” by Genesis; he welcomes special guest stars Tony Bennett, saxophonist David Sanborn and conductor Quincy Jones.

Who Do You Think You Are—Season 2

This NBC reality series, based on a British program of the same name and similar to PBS’ Faces of America,hosted by Henry Louis Gates Jr., chronicles several celebrities’ ancestries to uncover surprising—and even shocking—episodes from their families’ past.

Included in this two-disc set’s eight episodes are Vanessa Williams, Kim Cattrall, Gwyneth Paltrow, Lionel Richie, Tim McGraw, Rosie O’Donnell, Ashley Judd and Steve Buscemi, all reduced to silence and even tears at the revelations they discover.

CDs of the Week

Although primarily associated with Mozart and Richard Strauss operatic roles, reigning American soprano Renée Fleming also sings contemporary music, as the works by 96-year-old master Henri Dutilleux on this all-French disc show. Dutilleux’s modern but accessible idiom is on display in his early Deux Sonnets de Jean Cassou (1954) and more recent Le Temps L’Horloge(2007), both of which sound exhilarating sung by Fleming.

Two other cycles—Ravel’s Sheherazade (1904) and Messaien’s Poemes pour mi (1936)—are also excitingly performed by Fleming and the Orchestre Philharmonique de Radio France, led by Alan Gilbert, and Orchestre National de France, led by Seiji Ozawa.

The Soviet Experience, Volume 2: Pacifica Quartet

The 15 string quartets of Russian composer Dmitri Shostakovich are the 20^thcentury’s most important chamber music cycle and the Pacifica Quartet continues its traversal of them with exacting performances of the four earliest.

The quartets’ juxtaposition of real emotion and bitter sarcasm needs to balance the bombast and subtlety, and the Pacifica’s members come through in spades. Rounding out this excellent set is fellow Soviet master Sergei Prokofiev’s second quartet, sounding as personal and painful as Shostakovich.