This is clearly a week to thank your favorite higher power of choice for the existence of a company called Criterion. If you had to rely on the standard studio DVD decision makers, you’d get nothing but second tier theatrical titles and usually unnecessary ‘special edition’ cash grabs. Since their inception almost two decades ago, the cinematic artform’s number one advocate has been doing its best to preserve important films while introducing unknown and forgotten movies to the post-modern audience. More importantly, they understand the value of context and do their best to fill out their packages with as many explanatory extras as possible. On 19 June, this dynamic distributor will deliver three prime examples of their production policy. One is a renowned work of ‘60s social commentary. The other two introduce a new voice to the ever increasing motion picture mix. In all cases, the results defy standard digital convention and provide an approach to film rarely seen in your standard release.
The English boarding school system is a setting ripe for motion picture allegory. Therefore it’s no surprise that Lindsay Anderson’s class conscious metaphor of youthful rebellion taken to extremes remains a strong socio-political statement. In fact, it more or less fell out of circulation once the awful events of Colombine suggested a vague, virtually indirect connection. But no matter the pundits’ position, this is one incredibly strong motion picture. Trading on star Malcolm McDowell’s inherent wickedness (it was something that moved Stanley Kubrick to cast him in A Clockwork Orange
) and the closed knit, good old boy network nature of British education, Anderson argued that the sins of the father – or in this case, the Establishment – will always come back to revisit him/them. It also complains that pain, not power, is the instigator for most violence. Thanks to Criterion’s insight-heavy treatment, the real intention of the film can be debated for decades to come.
Disney, ever desperate to jumpstart their waning live action fortunes, teamed up with former animation giant Gabor Csupo (Rugrats
, The Wild Thornberrys
) for this mostly successful adaptation of Katherine Paterson’s award winning children’s book. It’s not just the fantasy sequences that work here – and they’re indeed magical. This is the rare family film that has both heart and head to spare, resulting in a richly rewarding experience for young and old alike.
When did Renée Zellweger become the mock Brit du jour? Granted, her work in the Bridget Jones films proves she can pull off the proper UK accent, but do the English really appreciate a born and bred Texan taking over their favorite female leads. Case in point – this rather syrupy story of Beatrix Potter, famed author of the Peter Rabbit books. Thankfully, Chris Babe
Noonan makes it all go down with minimal schmaltz.
The list of successful small screen (TV) to big screen (film) translations is minute, to say the least. In the case of this Comedy Central COPS
parody, the jury is still out. True fans will enjoy seeing their favorite characters cavorting in and around the South Florida setting, unencumbered by the burden of basic cable censorship. Others will wonder why efforts that manage to perfectly conform to one medium try to broach another.
Those preservationist experts at Criterion are apparently desperate to introduce the work of Yugoslavian surrealist Dusan Makavejev to the uninformed segment of world cinephiles. In one of two releases available, we are drawn into his world of weird juxtapositions, interpersonal propaganda, and outrageous irrelevance. Be prepared for hardcore imagery, narrative indecipherability, and self-important postulating. Clearly, these will be ‘love it or hate it’ offerings, even for the most adventurous film fan. div>
W.R.: Mysteries of the Organism – The Criterion Collection
It’s supposedly about sex. It also claims to be about politics and imperialism as well. Somewhere inside Dusan Makavejev’s half fact/half fiction take on female genitalia and fascism is a really evocative take on how we allow ideology – personal and political – to thwart our basic humanity. Or it could all be just some elaborate in-joke on the part of the director. Perhaps Criterion can clear it all up. Or perhaps not.
And Now for Something Completely Different
To call the 8 Films to Die For
After Dark Horrorfest a hit or miss affair is to state the stunningly obvious. At least four of the films were outright rejects (Wicked Little Things
, Dark Ride
, and Penny Dreadful
) while the other four offered varying levels of cinematic success. This visually dazzling offering from Spanish wunderkind Nacho Cerdà (famed for his necrophilia short Aftermath
) may not be the best (that right is reserved for Grudge helmer Takashi Shimizu’s Reincarnation
), but it definitely builds on the basic delights of The Gravedancers
and The Hamiltons
. In this tale of an American movie producer haunted by her past, we get mountains of atmosphere and dread. Too bad then that the story is little more than a movie macabre molehill. What could have been epic ends up simply eerie. However, in a genre desperate for anything remotely terrifying, Cerdà’s semi-success is greatly appreciated.