Although some would have you believe the grim reaper is ready to sign their death certificate, DVDs still represent your best opportunity to see films—old and new, domestic and foreign. Streaming and on-demand services are becoming more and more prevalent, but they still have a ways to go before they turn my collection into stacks of shiny coasters. For every title I own available by alternative methods, I have ten others that aren’t. Short of having your own stockpile, now may be the time to adopt your local video store. As the ubiquitous red envelope delivery service starts slowly phasing out physical DVDs and Blu-rays in favor of streaming movies, many releases will not be available on Netflix and not yet available for streaming, as is the case with many of the selections below. Hunkering down for the next phase of home distribution most likely means that the dedicated cinephile will have to be savvy at navigating all the options, including slapping down some cash for the likes of an imported Mizoguchi box set, or a pristine Blu-ray of Visconti’s “Senso,” or simply a plain old DVD of the Swedish film “The Girl” that you can’t find anywhere else. Kathie Smith

Pick of the Month

DVD/Blu-ray: Senso (1954)

Distributor: Criterion

Director(s): Luchino Visconti

Amazon Price: $25.99

I mentioned in our Home Movies ‘Year in Review’ column recently that the Blu-Ray format was all but made for films such as the Powell & Pressburger mid-'50s Technicolor productions, but now I’m happy to report that this is only relative to the high definition marvel of Luchino Visconti’s lavish melodramas, which are pushing the 1080p format to new heights. Last year, Criterion gave us a gift with their Blu-Ray upgrade of “The Leopard,” and not to slight that film (which has been in relatively steady availability), but their resurrection of Visconti’s seething 1954 classic “Senso” is cause for even greater praise. Previously available as only a wonky OOP Korean import, “Senso” arrives in the Collection looking as lush as it ever has, perhaps matched in vibrancy only by the film’s electric third act volley of revelations.

Telling a tale of doomed love between an Italian countess (Alida Valli) and an Austrian Army officer (Farley Granger, probably recognizable to most as Hitchcock’s put-upon pawn in both “Strangers On a Train” and “Rope”), a societal no-no in 19th century Italy, the film offers plenty of opportunities for Visconti to revel in the country’s extravagant period design and turbulent political landscape. It was also the Italian master’s first look into his homeland’s past after a series of neorealist experiments, an impulse he indulged more or less consistently from here on out, that for better or worse solidified our current perspective on Visconti as a practitioner of the period film. I do have a problem with this shortsighted designation, but in the case of “Senso,” arguably Visconti’s greatest achievement, it feels all but preordained that the genre would play such an integral role in the man’s maturation as a filmmaker.

The new Blu-Ray is equally sumptuous, with almost four hours of bonus material supplementing the film. An hour and a half of that is given over to a rarely-seen English version of the film (known as “The Wanton Countess” to an American audience who may have seen it on television over the years), which exists in slightly rougher form than the Italian print, but is interesting if only to hear Valli and Granger deliver their dialogue in English before being dubbed for the final version. There are also two documentaries—one a making-of and one exploring Visconti’s roots in the world of Opera—featuring interviews with co-cinematographer Giuseppe Rotunno and assistant director Francesco Rosi, among many others associated with Visconti and the film. Rounding out the disc is an illuminating “visual essay” on the film by Bergman biographer Peter Cowie, and a 1966 BBC program devoted to Visconti’s reach across three different mediums: theater, film and opera. Coupled with one of Criterion’s always detailed and beautifully designed booklets, you’ve got one of 2011’s first essential Blu-Ray purchases and one sure to be talked about as one of the years defining releases. Jordan Cronk

DVD/Blu-ray: The Double Life of Veronique (1991)

Distributor: Criterion

Director(s): Krzysztof Kieslowski

Amazon Price: $25.99

I have a certain amount of nostalgia for late '80s/early '90s foreign films. I was working in an independent movie theater around that time, and my experience at that theater and the films I saw had a much more lasting effect than my fledgling higher education. Polish director Krzysztof Kieslowski and “The Double Life of Veronique” could easily symbolize a certain zeitgeist of European films hitting screens around that time: mysterious, romantic, earnest and, above all, beautiful. Bookended by Kieslowski’s overwhelming masterworks “The Decalogue” and 'The Three Colors Trilogy,' “The Double Life of Veronique” is a glowing bridge between the two with one foot clearly planted in Poland with his early work and the other in France with the promise of something new. Kieslowski’s first French/Polish co-production, ‘Veronique’ explores the mysterious and melancholic connection between two women: Weronika in Poland and her doppelgänger Véronique in France, both wonderfully played by the youthful Irène Jacob. Weronika is a young soprano on the verge of being discovered, but struck down by the portentous hand of destiny at a pivotal moment. As the film shifts to France, Véronique bares the invisible and subconscious burden of Weronika’s fate. Kieslowski and co-writer Krysztof Piesiewicz allow the enigmatic forces of Weronika’s presence to propel Véronique through her own music career, her romantic pursuits and her elusive emotional intuitions that drive the film towards its ambiguously elegant end. (An end that was not so ironically edited by Mr. fuckedy-fuck Harvey Weinstein for the U.S. release so many years ago.) With the aid of cinematographer Slawomir Idziak and composer Zbigniew Preisner, “The Double Life of Veronique” seems to overflow with baroque beauty. Idziak’s use of filters creates a golden hue that surrounds Irène Jacob in both her manifestations as Weronika and Véronique. It’s an aura that helps extend the story, and all its mystique, far beyond the restrictive borders of a traditional narrative. As expected, Criterion’s Blu-ray is second to none with an immaculate transfer and a bundle of extras. Chief among the supplements are four short documentaries: one made by Kieslowski’s teacher Kazimierz Karabasz entitled “The Musicians,” and three from Kieslowski himself: 1970's “Factory,” 1973's “Hospital,” and 1980's “Railway Station.” These films speak to the frank nature of his early feature films, a style that he has clearly moved away from in ‘Veronique.’ Also included is a fascinating hour-long making-of shot in 1991, featuring extensive interviews with Kieslowski and a peek at his working habits as a director. Whether a discovery or a rediscovery, Criterion’s “The Double Life of Veronique” is a release to treasure. KS

DVD/Blu-ray: William S. Burroughs: A Man Within (2010)

Distributor: Oscilloscope

Director(s): Yony Leyser

Amazon Price: $27.49

William Burroughs was always a rock star, right up until his death in 1997, at the age of 83, and a rockstar documentary in his name is long overdue. Yony Leyser’s film “William S. Burroughs: A Man Within” dodges the compulsion to lionize this great artist, and provides a much more straightforward talking-head document of this flawed but enigmatic man. Through a series of interviews and archive footage, Leyser stirs the demons that made Burroughs an icon and brandishes the labels that he helped stereotype: poet, rebel, queer, junkie, sociopath, iconoclast and certified gun nut. Burroughs’s audacity both in his personal life and his artistic life inspired a generation of writers, musicians, artists and filmmakers who knew him, and many more who simply read his work. The godfather of the Beat Generation was also the godfather of punk. But ‘A Man Within’ is flatfooted and seems to be more enthralled with the counterculture stars interviewed than the subject at hand. Lesyer rolls out some interesting anecdotes from the likes of Peter Weller, John Waters, Iggy Pop, Patti Smith, Laurie Anderson, Thurston Moore, Lee Ranaldo, Jello Biafra, Gus Van Sant, and David Cronenberg, but in most cases they end up talking about themselves loosely caged in the context of Burroughs. Much more revealing are the interviews with the people who knew him more intimately, both friends and lovers. As much as I enjoyed the visual contrast of the drunken old man swaggering around with firearms and the droll yet wicked social critic that ‘A Man Within’ provides us, this is not the William Burroughs documentary I had hoped for. It lacks some focus and allows the interviewees to guide the trajectory far too much. Burroughs influenced many people, some of them famous, but that doesn’t even begin to define this paradoxical genius. Oscilloscope packages the DVD in a nice cardboard case with a slip cover of sepia tone photos and two short essays by David Byrne and Richard Hell. The special features feel cursory, and include some outtakes from the documentary itself as well as some archive footage of Burroughs that was no doubt used in research for the film. But even after exhausting the special features, ‘A Man Within’ still keeps me longing for more. KS

DVD/Blu-ray: The Lady Hermit (1971)

Distributor: Funimation

Director(s): Ho Meng Hua

Amazon Price: $15.49

Nine years ago, Celestial Pictures acquired the 760-film Shaw Brothers library and started the arduous task of remastering and distributing some of the most revered and spectacular films in Hong Kong’s history. For fans who already have hundreds of Celestial’s candy-colored imports lining their shelves, this is old news. But the U.S. rights for these films have been bouncing around like ping-pong balls at a lottery pick, and single releases get little to none of the fanfare they deserve. “The Lady Hermit,” quietly released by Funimation in February, is a prime example of the Shaw Bothers at the peak of their game. Directed by the multi-talented Ho Meng Hua, “The Lady Hermit” is a unique Shaw martial arts film dominated by two strong female leads: Cheng Pei-Pei (her last Shaw Brothers appearance) and Shih Szu (her debut). Shih plays Cui Ping, a talented but undisciplined young fighter searching for the fabled martial arts master “Lady Hermit,” who has been in hiding since she was defeated by the Black Demon. Cui’s search leads her to the house of Master Wang, his modest housemaid Leng (Cheng), and their handsome servant Changchun (Lo Lieh). When Cui stirs up some trouble with the Black Demon himself, Leng must expose herself as the Lady Hermit to save Cui Ping. The dynamic duo team up and vow to defeat the corrupt Black Demon, but first Cui must learn the “Flying Tiger” style (that Leng brilliantly demonstrates by throwing her pet cat in the air…twice.) Although the two women are equally smitten with Changchun, they must keep their eyes on the prize: a final fight to the death with the Black Demon! Cheng Pei-Pei’s self-assured onscreen presence as the Lady Hermit is equally matched by Shih Szu’s plucky and occasionally pouty kinetic dynamism. The fight scenes are top notch, as the two women waylay hundreds of armed and unarmed men by slicing, stabbing, and decapitating as well as tossing them from suspension bridges and impaling both their eyes with chopsticks. At 92 minutes, “The Lady Hermit” perfectly balances a well-paced story with stylish bar-none action. Funimation’s DVD is no frills and its picture quality has minor issues, but combine “The Lady Hermit” with 1970's “The Heroic Ones” or 1978's “The 36th Chamber of Shaolin” and you have a Shaw triple feature that can’t be beat. KS

DVD/Blu-ray: The Stranger (1946)

Distributor: HD Cinema Classics

Director(s): Orson Welles

Amazon Price: $12.99

Orson Welles’s “The Stranger” presents something of a case study on the differentiations and limitations of certain digital mastering practices. The inherent grain in black & white Hollywood productions of the ‘30s, ‘40s and ‘50s is one of their great charms, and one at odds with modern cleaning methods such as digital noise reduction, which basically wipes clean said layer of grain to produce a glossy and sharp picture. There’s a fine line, however, between reducing visual noise and sapping a film of its aesthetic palette. So technically, “The Stranger” looks neat and sharp on Blu-ray from HD Cinema Classics, but it’s also a false picture to some extent, stripped of director Orson Welles’s rich, full bodied cinematographic intention. I don’t want to make too big a deal over this since “The Stranger” isn’t exactly a Welles masterpiece; in fact, this represents the only time that Welles would buckle to the studio system, turning in a fairly traditional film lacking in the virtuoso stylistic displays that still managed to make their way through the hatchet job inflicted on his previous film, 1942's “The Magnificent Ambersons.”

Nevertheless, this is an Orson Welles film, and the only one he made during his Hollywood run other than "Citizen Kane" that remains in totally unaltered form. Personally, I’ve always had a soft spot for “The Stranger”: the brio with which Welles dives into his portrayal of a Nazi fugitive on the lam in suburban Connecticut is just cheeky enough to be endearing; the supporting players, from Edward G. Robinson to Loretta Lynn, are believable and well-developed (from an Oscar-nominated screenplay by a team of writers no doubt ghosted and kneaded by Welles); and the climatic clock tower sequence still remains one of Welles’s most impressive set-pieces. Therefore, it comes down to this: If you own the DVD, there’s no need to upgrade as the picture quality is solid and more importantly, accurate (and the Blu-Ray offers no extras to tilt in its favor either). But if you’re looking to add “The Stranger” to your digital library for the first time, then the Blu-ray wouldn’t be a bad purchase, though the film being public domain leaves the possibility open that a more competent rendering will one day surface. JC

DVD/Blu-ray: Fish Tank (2010)

Distributor: Criterion

Director(s): Andrea Arnold

Amazon Price: $25.99

Tossing Andrea Arnold’s remarkable “Fish Tank” into the kitchen sink of dramas would be selling the film short. Arnold’s second feature does owe a great debt to the traditions of the British New Wave and Tony Richardson, Lindsay Anderson and Ken Loach. But there is an edge to Arnold’s work that sets it apart, much like Shane Meadows's brutal “This Is England,” and much more grounded in the world of Andrea Dunbar's amazing fiction/documentary hybrid “The Arbor.” This assessment is far easier to make with Criterion’s recent release of “Fish Tank,” which includes three short films from Arnold of bruising honesty: 1998's “Milk,” 2001's “Dog,” and 2003's “Wasp.” (The latter won an Oscar for best live-action short film.) These shorts distill Arnold’s dark and sometimes sinister nature to a heartbreaking perfection. In long form, as with 2006' s“Red Road,” and now “Fish Tank,” themes and tones become more complex and sometimes a little convoluted. And such is the case with “Fish Tank,” a tour de force that gets caught up in being both unforgiving and incredibly indulgent. Katie Jarvis gives a ferocious and unapologetic performance as Mia, a street-wise 15-year-old ready to take on the world as soon as she knows what she wants from it. She and her younger sister live with their single mother, largely unsupervised with little parental guidance or compassion. Mia spends her time swigging booze and practicing her dance moves in an empty apartment in her tenement complex. But when her mother takes up with the handsome and friendly Connor (a lithe Michael Fassbender), she is privately subdued by his charms both as the father she never had and as the mature lover she longs for. Mia’s bristly personality softens, but only for a moment, before reality pushes her over the edge. In the care of Jarvis, Mia is a vibrant character full of unpredictable impulses, but Arnold manufactures circumstances that nearly derail the film. Nearly: a subdued finale thankfully pulls “Fish Tank” back from the brink. The supplements on Criterion’s newer films often pale in comparison to their restoration of rep titles, but the three short films included here are an invaluable reference. Although there's a video interview with actress Kierston Wareing, who plays Mia’s mother, and an audio interview with Fassbender, one has to wonder: where are the interview and/or commentary with Jarvis and Arnold? KS

DVD/Blu-ray: Two in the Wave (2010)

Distributor: Fox Lorber

Director(s): Emmanuel Laurent

Amazon Price: $20.99

There has never been a camaraderie-turned-rivalry quite like the one that existed between François Truffaut and Jean-Luc Godard. The two filmmakers not only changed the landscape of film in France, but also the trajectory of film, filmmaking and all the rhetoric that would follow. Although Truffaut and Godard were early and fast friends and eventually shared the La Nouvelle Vague throne, an irreparable rift abruptly ended their friendship with an exchange of nasty letters in 1973. Or was it abrupt? “Two in the Wave” director Emmanuel Laurent creates a very succinct just-the-facts profile of the two icons that emphasizes the amazing road they paved for the French New Wave while easing into their subtle differences and divergences. The documentary opens with the incredible splash that Truffaut’s “The 400 Blows” made at the 12th Cannes Film Festival in 1959. With news reels, interviews and quotes from critics, “Two in the Wave” eludes to the fact that Truffaut and his young star Jean-Pierre Léaud were actually the first in the Wave while Godard was back in Paris. Of course, it wasn’t long after the debut of '400 Blows' that Godard made his own landmark with “Breathless.” These two films will forever be locked together in history, but this studious doc shows the subtlety of separation that started with '400 Blows' and lead up to the controversial dismissal of Henri Langlois from the Cinémathèque Française, the protests of May 1968, and Godard’s political bent that turned into a fervor. In the end it was Godard’s politics and Truffaut’s lack thereof that caused an exchange so hurtful that the two never spoke again. The personal conflict is ripe for tabloid treatment, yet “Two in the Wave” is anything but. Fascinating from start to finish, the film plays an even hand, telling the story of Godard and Truffaut’s relationship and their concurrent impact on the film world at large. Isild Le Besco acts as a sort of guide to this history, silently looking though news clippings and photos. Her presence in the film is odd, but she may be an apt symbol of the subconscious legacy of the French New Wave. The revelations of “Two in the Wave” are neither grand nor new, but it is hard to deny the gravity of this snapshot in time. Laurent packs his film with clips and interviews that will likely make even the youngest cinephile feel nostalgic. If you're looking for swag beyond the documentary itself, however, you’ve come to the wrong DVD: perhaps I overestimate how easy it would be to throw some interviews in with this release, but its surprising that nothing is included to supplement what is a very well made documentary. KS

DVD/Blu-ray: The Girl (2010)

Distributor: Olive Films

Director(s): Fredrik Edfeldt

Amazon Price: $26.99

Despite an accumulation of positive festival reviews, Fredrik Edfeldt’s debut “The Girl” failed to gather the momentum it deserved. The same could be said for kindred films such as “Ratcatcher,” “Treeless Mountain,” Nobody Knows” and “Innocence”—all subtle films that rely on the quiet certitude of young actors portraying less than perfect circumstances. These are films that reject the heavy-handed clichés of coming-of-age in favor of gentle observation, and “The Girl,” too, fits that bill. The film boldly puts young waifish Blanca Engström front and center as the Girl (her name is never revealed). At nine-and-a-half, the Girl is too young to accompany her parents and older brother on a summer humanitarian sojourn to Africa; instead, she's left in the care of her aunt, who's more concerned about booze and men than looking after an introspective niece. The Girl cleverly devises a plan to railroad her aunt into leaving for a weekend, but that weekend turns into the entire summer. The Girl discovers freedom and adventure, but also the difficult task of fending for herself. Facing the manipulations of friendly strangers and malicious friends, the Girl traverses the slippery path of social independence and relishes the secrecy of anti-social seclusion. Still a kid, merely curious about being a woman, the Girl has no one telling her to comb her hair and eat her vegetables, and, as time passes, that has an effect. Engström is a minor force to be reckoned with as the Girl; her unique and quirky character carries the film from start to finish. Her experiences rarely skew farther than expected, but the clear-eyed stoic tenacity embodied by the pale carrot-toped kid, even in the most onerous moments, is disarming. Cinematographer Hoyte Van Hoytema (“Let the Right One In”) lends a quiet hand to the poetic silences and languid pace of “The Girl.” The exteriors are awash in the buttery light of the summertime sun and the interiors are cloaked in hushed shadows. Olive Films should be applauded for giving an extended life to “The Girl,” a film that would otherwise be way off most's radars. KS

Import of the Month

DVD/Blu-ray: Late Mizoguchi - Eight Films (1951-56)

Distributor: Masters of Cinema (Region 2)

Director(s): Kenji Mizoguchi

Amazon Price: £35.99

The rate of production being what it is today in American cinema, I’m personally ecstatic when a worthwhile filmmaker returns with a new film in under three years. The Japanese, being some of the most productive people in just about every facet of life compared to us, have cultivated a film industry as productive as nearly any in the history of the medium. The golden age of Japanese cinema—roughly, I’d say, from the 1920s through the ‘50s—was a breeding ground for some of the greatest directors the world has ever seen. There are therefore many candidates for the crown: Kurosawa, Ozu, and Kobayashi from the canon, Imamura, Naruse, and (from what little survives) Yamanaka from the pool of influence. But the classification for the most substantial 20th century Japanese export is, as much as any other, Kenji Mizoguchi (he of over 85 films, less than 30 of which still survive).

I hesitate to delineate any stretch of a filmmaker’s career as their best, let alone from a man so productive and wide-ranging, but the twilight years of Mizoguchi’s career—and the period covered in Masters of Cinema’s overwhelming new 'Late Mizoguchi' boxset—unquestionably produced his most popular and endearing films (at least in America). The one-shot, one-cut sequences of his early films had by this time been curbed to some degree—though there are still fascinating examples of the technique sprinkled throughout this set—while the cloistered, geisha-centered narratives are, if not absent by any stretch of the imagination, expounded upon and patterned alongside a handful of his most narratively ambitious pictures. In all, there are eight films included here (each packaged two-to-a-case, all of which have been previously available, but only last month received the box set treatment), all made over a period of just six years. And this isn't even the whole of his output during that time: Mizoguchi, in fact, made three more films during this late-career flourish—1951's “Lady of Musashino,” the 1952 masterpiece “The Life of Oharu,” and a solid penultimate feature, “Taira Clan Saga” in 1955—but for competing studios, thus they aren’t represented in this Daiei-exclusive set. What’s more interesting to note is how, even at the tail end of Mizoguchi's career—before passing away the year of his final film, 1956's great “Street of Shame”—Mizoguchi was still beholden to the demands of his home studio (unlike, say, Kurosawa, who by this time was working relatively freely after a period of propaganda efforts in the ‘40s). Thus, the set alternates between lesser, hamstrung studio-mandated films—1954's “The Woman in the Rumor” and 1955's “Princess Yang Kwei-Fei"—and unimpeachable masterpieces like 1953's “Ugestsu” and 1954's “Sansho the Baliff,” both on a very short list of the best films ever made.

This would seem to evidence an inconsistency in regards to the quality of these films, but out of the eight, at least two qualify as masterpieces, while a handful of the remaining six are all but essential viewing. Only the aforementioned “Princess Yang Kwei-Fei” is lacking for superlatives, and is in fact as lifeless as its cinematography is bold (this representing one of only two times Mizoguchi would work with color). The way Mizoguchi emboldens a few of these films that he reportedly had little inherent affinity for—particularly the exquisite “A Geisha” and the gutting “Crucified Lovers”—speaks to his mastery and affection for the medium. Those predisposed to this set probably even own “Ugetsu” and “Sansho the Baliff” (as I personally did), but it’s the remaining films in this set which paint a near complete picture of late-period Mizoguchi—without them, the kaidan permutations of “Ugetsu” and the epic familial disperse of 'Sansho' want for the grounded characterization of Mizoguchi’s self-contained societal studies.

Plus, Masters of Cinema deck out the box with contextual supplements, including lengthy film specific introductions by Japanese film scholar Tony Rayns, who also provides a commentary track for “Street of Shame,” which is great for those looking for more background on the film after viewing the barebones disc included in Criterion’s Mizoguchi Eclipse set. Also included are generously annotated and decorated booklets for each two-film set, with essays about the particulars of production and the legacy of each picture. Needless to say, this is a cornerstone collection for any serious cinephile, further evidence that if you aren’t watching in region-free than you’re hindering your exposure to some of the most interesting works in world cinema, and perhaps a vote of confidence that the extended Mizoguchi filmography will one day see the light of day in a digital format. JC

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Feature by:
Kathie Smith

Jordan Cronk