Quality, not quantity. Home Movies comes to you a little late this month, but not without a flimsy excuse: distracted by my hometown festival in April, I saw plenty of movies, but none at home. Jordan Cronk picks up my slack, and together we offer reviews of nine Blu-rays (not a single DVD in here, people) with an unapologetic bias for must-have 1080p re-releases. Even though the most recent film in the bunch is from 1989, we nonetheless represent films from four decades, ending with a pair of Michelangelo Antonioni imports from Masters of Cinema. But the crown for the month, at least in our world, goes to the king of kings, Brian DePalma, for Criterion’s Blu-ray release of “Blow Out.” Kathie Smith

Pick of the Month

DVD/Blu-ray: Blow Out (1981)

Distributor: Criterion

Director(s): Brian DePalma

Amazon Price: $27.99

It’s rather fascinating to consider “Blow Out's” rise from the lull between Brian DePalma’s hugely popular “Dressed to Kill” and the unfortunately influential “Scarface.” Perhaps it’s simply an outgrowth of the film’s availability in the digital age, but “Blow Out's” ascent in stature has seemed to curiously coincide with the establishment of a new generation of cinephiles, those weaned on Tarantino and the like, but also those still hung up on the riches that ‘80s genre cinema apparently yielded on a yearly basis. In 2011, “Blow Out” is pretty widely considered DePalma’s masterpiece, and I’m certainly not going to contend with the claim (though “Carlito’s Way” is still a glorious coke-high of a film).

By any measure, the film is a master class in pure technique: carefully framed and exploited tension; hypnotic visual diopters and split-screen narrative doubling; and, above all, a sound mix as detailed and effective as any crafted during the era. Above the line, however, are a handful of great performances to sell DePalma’s blatant conflation of Hitchcock and Antonioni: Nancy Allen, Dennis Franz, and an extremely effective John Lithgow play off the inquisitive, controlled paranoia of John Travolta’s lead. Along with his work in “Saturday Night Fever” and his revival role in “Pulp Fiction” (not coincidentally, Tarantino has on many occasions named “Blow Out” amongst his favorite American films, which arguably helped spark a bit of reconsideration for the film in the first place), this is Travolta’s best performance, and certainly the most identifiable, natural role he ever embodied. As a sound-effects man who unwittingly uncovers evidence in a political assassination case, Travolta is all probing curiosity and everyman charm, and as his life careens towards the film’s climatic showdown amidst Philadelphia’s Liberty Day Parade and beneath a sky painted with patriotism, he offers a palpable humanity uncommon in a lot of DePalma’s best work.

Criterion has now debuted "Blow Out" on Blu-Ray, updating MGM’s old, barebones disc that offered little worthy of praise besides availability—and now rendered totally irrelevant in light of this outstanding new package. Criterion's presents the film in a pristine, un-tampered with transfer, accentuating its natural grain while tightening contrast and more accurately rendering its color scheme. Beyond the film itself, the extras included should officially mark this as one of the year’s most essential purchases thus far. Of most interest to me personally—and to anyone remotely interested in the process, inspirations, and techniques behind the film—is the one-hour conversation between director Noah Baumbach (“Kicking and Screaming,” “The Squid and the Whale”) and DePalma, which touches on everything from casting to reception to Hitchcock. There are also lengthy and informative new interviews with Allen and cameraman Garrett Brown, a gallery of on-set photos shot during the film’s production, and the entirety of DePalma’s rare 1967 experimental feature “Murder à la Mod.” Rounding out the package is a beautifully collated booklet featuring a new essay by Michael Sragow, alongside Pauline Kael’s original review of the film. It’s an appropriately adorned release for a film that continues to gather the respect that eluded it back in the early ‘80s. Jordan Cronk

DVD/Blu-ray: Taxi Driver (1976)

Distributor: Sony

Director(s): Martin Scorsese

Amazon Price: $12.99

The brilliance of “Taxi Driver” is very much the sum of its unique parts: a visionary director, a charismatic young actor, and a fearless screenwriter. But upon recent re-viewing for the umpteenth time, both on a newly discovered 35mm print and this recently released Blu-ray, the component that struck me like a ton of brass horns was Bernard Herrmann’s oxymoronic score, both graceful and apocalyptic. The snares and horns that open the film with a quick crescendo as the taxi moves through the steam-filled streets foreshadows the battle yet to come for God’s lonely man. Yet it just as quickly swoops into the sultry casual saxophone. The same dynamic occurs throughout the film, especially after the shootout—the sequence plays out in silence, then withdraws to survey the aftermath. Horns quaver somewhere between alarm and swing and a harp elegantly runs the scales. The energy built between these two opposing ambient moods is palpable, and Herrmann’s amazing career came to an end after “Taxi Driver,” literally dying in his sleep the night after finishing the score with a slate of projects scheduled (including Brian DePalma’s “Carrie”). The character of Travis Bickle, played by Robert De Niro, so iconic in American film and subsequent culture, is creatively molded with Martin Scorsese’s keen camerawork and Herrmann’s visionary music.

35 years later, “Taxi Driver” feels like a time capsule—a New York City that I never knew. Gritty, bursting at the seams with life, both bright and dark, '70s New York comes alive through Scorsese’s color saturated lens. The tricky moral conundrum of violence begetting either a madman or a hero, however, is as relevant today as ever. The moral compass that eventually champions Travis as a hero is a reflection of his own high ground that he uses to judge the city streets. His anger and delusion, a portrait that scriptwriter Paul Schrader supposedly made of himself, portends and certainly sympathizes with an era dominated by the so-called disempowerment of the American white male. Travis purges his frustration with an explosive convulsion of violence leaving an impression of resolution, but his sociopathic tendencies merely lay dormant. The end is foreboding. His interest in romantic companionship has evaporated and he dismisses Betsy with the reset of his fare meter. And as he drives away, the film ends just as it began, sending Travis, with eyes searing, into another cycle.

Sony’s Blu-ray comes just a month after the digitally restored 35mm print hit screens in New York and LA. Although I'll always wax poetically about the theater experience first and foremost, Sony has outfitted this particular Blu-ray so that the home experience and the theater experience are equally singular. The oscillations of Herrmann’s score are rich with texture in the remastered audio and the hi-def image was as well projected on my 8-foot screen as it was in the theater from 35m, save the nostalgia and group experience. Add to that the replay value in three different commentaries: one recorded in 1986 for Criterion’s special edition laserdisc with Scorsese and Schrader; a new commentary with Schrader; and a commentary with film scholar Robert Kolker. The 1986 commentary is by far the most interesting, but it is a great companion to the more recent reflections of Schrader’s standalone musings. You also have the option to watch the film as the script roles onscreen—a very nice touch. Nine featurettes offer a full exploration of “Taxi Driver,” and more than one can digest in one sitting. But the real beauty of this release is the simplicity of its packaging. Everything is on one disc in an understated but well-designed foldout cardboard case with 12 postcards, all for just 15 bucks. I’ll let someone else critique the BD Live and Movie IQ features, but Sony has raised the bar on bang-for-your-buck Blu-rays. Everyone that has a Blu-ray player should own this release of “Taxi Driver.” And if you don’t have a player, this is a great excuse to get one. KS

DVD/Blu-ray: Kes (1969)

Distributor: Criterion

Director(s): Ken Loach

Amazon Price: $19.99

DVD being only a little over a decade old at this point, it’s not uncommon for a film to still make its Region A digital debut. What’s very rare in 2011, however, is for a film to make its official bow on American home video, whether that be VHS, Laserdisc, DVD, or Blu-ray. That’s exactly how “Kes” arrives with this new Criterion edition of Ken Loach’s beloved 1969 debut. Previously only available on what is said to be a pretty inferior Region B import, “Kes” is quietly revelatory in its new incarnation on 1080p Blu-Ray. Set against a backdrop of working class Northern England, the film centers on a young boy disenchanted with school and sports and family, but who finds an unlikely connection with an indigenous kestrel which nests around the rain soaked landscapes of the boy’s hometown.  Mixing a neo-realist aesthetic with coming of age dramatics pays emotional dividends for Loach, who captures moments of daily activity and intimate conversation with a documentarian’s flair. The film’s stark, foreboding horizons explode with familial and fraternal rage, and fifteen year-old David Bradley’s stunning performance as Billy grounds the dynamic at play between nature, society, and the inherent stress on the family unit. In the forty years since the release of “Kes,” Loach has carved out a solid, well respected career, but he arguably never topped his debut. Billy’s rite of passage from restless young boy to disillusioned-yet-ever-more-mature young man is as timeless a theme as the movies have given us, and “Kes” hums with a vibrancy undiminished by age or technical limitations.

Criterion’s Blu-ray smoothes out more of these limitations than many probably thought possible, revealing a rich picture hidden within “Kes's” original film stock—what once looked muddy and dank now registers as natural and detailed. To be sure, “Kes” wears its rough hewn quality like a badge of honor, but colors now pop with renewed texture while contrast tightens dramatically. It’s enough to present the film in a manner that many may find akin to a completely fresh viewing. Supplements come appropriately supplied for such an acclaimed film only now arriving on our shores, with an in-depth 45-minute interview between Loach, Bradley, producer Tony Garnett, and cinematographer Chris Menges covering a majority of the film’s production. Loach is profiled elsewhere in a 1993 “Southbank Show” episode dedicated to the director, while the entirety of his 1966 television drama “Cathy Come Home” is included in an effort to contextualize this early period of Loach’s career. Film writer Graham Fuller also provides a 12-minute interview and an essay in the film’s 20-page booklet. There’s a good chance “Kes” remains one of the major discoveries of the year for many American viewers, and while the wait can hardly be justified in this day and age, Criterion have done right by Loach and his collaborators and presented the film to us in its definitive new form. JC

DVD/Blu-ray: Le cercle rouge (1970)

Distributor: Criterion

Director(s): Jean-Pierre Melville

Amazon Price: $19.99

While one hardly needs an excuse to revisit Jean-Pierre Melville’s 1970 crime masterpiece “Le cercle rouge,” Criterion have nonetheless provided a convenient opportunity to reevaluate the film’s place within the genre with their Blu-ray upgrade of a previous standard-definition DVD. A lot of what makes “Le cercle rouge” such a special film, particularly in light of where the genre has gone in the new millennium, is its uncommon patience and dedication to character development and procedure. Essentially a 140-minute heist film that gives a majority of its runtime over to conversation and strategizing, “Le cercle rouge” arrives at its centerpiece heist sequence coldly and methodically—and when it does arrive, it plays out in near total silence. By 1970, Melville was an established master of mood and tension, having crafted two of the finest films of the late ‘60s—the calculated hit man saga “Le samouraï” and the provocative French Resistance thriller “Army of Shadows”—but “Le cercle rouge” evidences a filmmaker at the height of his powers, utilizing every trick he’d picked up along the way in service of a sprawling, effortless display of technical proficiency and precise mise-en-scène. Melville’s camera rarely sits still, roaming around between his motley crew of characters—which include a hallucinating, alcoholic ex-cop, a cunning thief fresh out of prison, and an escaped con—as they move from locale to locale and set piece to set piece. It’s a grand, messy burst of inspiration—comparable in American crime cinema only to Peter Yates’s “Friends of Eddie Coyle”—from a director nearing the end of his career, who would never quite scale such heights again.

“Le cercle rouge” has been released in various editions over the years, and while I don’t own all of them to compare, based on screen captures provided by others, Criterion’s new Blu-ray looks to be the most authentic representation of the film yet—and that includes Studio Canal’s recent Region B Blu-ray. Skin tones are where you’ll see the biggest difference, and the Criterion’s appear much warmer and life-like atop the film’s dank, overcast backdrop. You also get a little more picture on all four sides of the frame compared to a lot of the other versions, and a thick, very ‘70s-like blanket of grain enveloping the picture, marking the new Criterion as (probably) the best rendering of the print currently available. Supplements are duplicated from the original DVD: lengthy video interviews with Rui Nogueria, author of “Melville On Melville,” and assistant director Bernard Stora; excerpts from a program titled "Cinéastes de notres temps: 'Jean-Pierre Melville;'" and original on-set interviews with Melville and his mostly male cast. There are also a couple of trailers, one for the film’s original release and one for the 2003 re-release, in addition to a booklet with excepts from the aforementioned “Melville On Melville,” essays by Michael Sragow and Chris Fujiwara, a transcribed interview with composer Eric Demarsan, and an appreciation by director John Woo. I don’t always fully endorse re-buying these Criterion Blu-rays for those who already own the original discs, but the transfer advances to such a nice degree here that it all but negates the previous edition. Regardless, this is a film you shouldn’t be without, and Criterion has been good enough to remind us of that fact once again. JC

DVD/Blu-ray: El Topo (1970)

Distributor: Anchor Bay

Director(s): Alejandro Jodorowsky

Amazon Price: $27.99

DVD/Blu-ray: The Holy Mountain (1973)

Distributor: Anchor Bay

Director(s): Alejandro Jodorowsky

Amazon Price: $29.99

In their book on the cult film phenomenon, “Midnight Movies,” Jonathan Rosenbaum and J. Hoberman dedicate an entire chapter to director Alejandro Jodorowsky and his surrealistic, iconography-skewering opus “El Topo.” Hoberman eventually describes the film as “a spiritual initiation (if not a kind of Dionysian bloodbath), speaking at once to the counterculture’s love of the arcane and its collective paranoia.” This was in 1983, just thirteen years after the film had become one of the defining midnight movie attractions of its time. Twenty years on and I’m still not sure we have, as a people or an audience, caught up with “El Topo” or what Hoberman’s words essentially imply. In a sense, “El Topo,” is both visual representation and ideological encapsulation of an entire movement. It’s one of the boldest, most extreme outgrowths of the counterculture movement of the ‘60s, and a film Jodorowsky has more or less expanded on—both thematically and visually—in all his subsequent work. A western with a flair for the grotesque, “El Topo” follows the title character (played by Jodorowsky himself) on a spiritual journey across a scorched-earth landscape, upending and offending nearly every race, religion, and creed along the way. Remarkably, Jodorowsky would bring even more ambition (and even less tact) to his follow-up, “The Holy Mountain,” and while the film has a little more trouble sustaining momentum—partly due its more concentrated thematic purview—it’s arguably just as dedicated and brave a statement.

Both films arrive on Blu-ray from Anchor Bay in upgraded 1080p editions with the exact same features as their DVD counterparts. Image improves to a nice degree, though the picture can look unnaturally smooth in some cases. On the other hand, colors are rich and probably more accurate, and the 5.1 audio mix is impressively handled. As for the existing extras, the commentary tracks by Jodorowsky on both films are essential, and further proof this guy knew exactly what he was attempting to accomplish with every inflammatory image and accusatory conceit. Across the two discs (packaged and sold separately) you’ll find deleted scenes, a brief Jodorowsky interview, and his thoughts on tarot cards and superstitions in a quick video feature. Both films are cornerstones of the cult film canon, but sold separately may not be the best buy. I’m fairly certain Anchor Bay will get around the reissuing their “Films of Alejandro Jodorowsky” boxset in Blu-ray format in the near future—which also includes his debut film, “Fando y Lis,” along with the soundtrack to each—marking this as perhaps incentive enough to hold off for now. For many, however, “El Topo” will be all the Jodorowsky they need (or can handle), so your best bet is to proceed according to your enthusiasm for provocative, eye-searing imagery of the at once radical and ridiculous. JC

DVD/Blu-ray: Sweetie (1989)

Distributor: Criterion

Director(s): Jane Campion

Amazon Price: $27.99

“It’s Sweetie. She’s up a tree.” That’s just one of the many funny but bitter lines in Jane Campion’s debut. “Sweetie” was a remarkable film to my eyes in 1989, and, after 22 years of accumulating competing moving images, “Sweetie” still feels fresh and uncompromising. Each frame is purposeful and each color plays a part in a tightly orchestrated visual package that veers toward experimentation. This is certainly one of the beauties of “Sweetie”—it seems to function on its own rules both in style and narrative. Call it caviler artistry, but near the end of the commentary on the Blu-ray, Campion claims that “Sweetie” is her favorite because of its innocence, something that she feels she can never go back to as a filmmaker. Campion has since toned down the overt style, but she continues to carry the torch in exploring the social and sexual landscapes of women. In “Sweetie,” we get portraits of three women who, although they share the impenetrable bond of genetic code (two sisters and their mother), are otherwise in completely different places of independence emotionally. Kay is at a spiritual crossroads. Vexed by trees and taunted by fate; she is the quintessential introvert: quiet, deadpan and, as her boyfriend Louie states, abnormal. Her sister Dawn, contradictorily nicknamed Sweetie, is a much more carnal creature. Although an adult, Sweetie engages with the physical world with juvenile abandon. Sweetie excels at corporeal expression, but little else. The person that connects these two sisters is their independently minded mother, who late in life has decided to leave her husband and experience life more freely. This nuclear family, including Sweetie and Kay’s dad, have a lifetime of bitterness, happiness, anger and love that seems to be simmering for either a resolution or calamity.   

Campion and co-writer Gerard Lee give us both. “Sweetie” magically combines burning humor and stark tragedy. Relationships, both old and new, are built from a foundation of disconnect and miles of psychological isolation. Kay and Louis struggle to transform their metaphysical relationship into something that is equally physical. It’s not so ironic that this is when Sweetie enters the picture, breaking into her sister’s house for an uninvited visit and simultaneously highlighting the pleasures of the flesh. But right on Sweetie’s heals is their father, who shows up, despondent, because his wife is off cooking meals for a bunch of Jackaroos. Emotions run deep and Campion filters their expression through each flawed but very human character: the thoughtfulness of Kay, the selfishness Sweetie and the confusion of their father. Much like the character of Sweetie, actress Genevieve Lemon steals nearly every scene with unpredictable violence and frivolity while never feeling like a construct. It is certainly through the chaos that Kay and Louis find their peace. Criterion’s new Blu-ray replicates the DVD they released 4 years ago in beautiful 1080p. It ups the visual ante and includes all the extras that made the DVD release so compelling in 2006—a 22-minute conversation with lead actresses Genevieve Lemon and Karen Colston, commentary with Campion, co-writer Gerard Lee and cinematographer Sally Bongers, and three student films by Campion. Considering the visual gymnastics of “Sweetie,” this is a very worthy upgrade. KS

Import of the Month

DVD/Blu-ray: La signora senza camelie (1953)

Distributor: Masters of Cinema (Region B)

Director(s): Michelangelo Antonioni

Amazon Price: £14.93

DVD/Blu-ray: Le amiche (1953)

Distributor: Masters of Cinema (Region B)

Director(s): Michelangelo Antonioni

Amazon Price: £14.93

When a great director passes away, the inevitable cavalcade of opinion emerges almost instantly. In the case of Michelangelo Antonioni, who died four years ago, the discussions, both formal and casual, was nearly as divisive as the 1960 screening of “L’avventura” at the Cannes Film Festival. Detractors and supporters alike focused on his crown jewels from the 1960s (including “L’avventura,” “Le notte,” “L’eclisse,” “Red Desert,” and “Blow Up”) as either tedious art film fodder or elegant existential portraits. Left out of the prevailing conversation were Antonioni’s earlier films, more about character and place than theory and style. Because these are not the films that Antonioni is known for, most are rarely screened, and unavailable. But things are changing in a big way. In the US, Raro Video released 1952's “I vinti” (“The Vanquished”) in March and in the UK, Masters of Cinema gives the grand treatment to 1953's “La signora senza camelie” (“Camille Without Camellias”) and 1955's “Le amiche” (“The Girl Friends”), leaving us waiting for only his debut, 1950's “Cronaca di un amore” (“Story of a Love Affair”). The two Masters of Cinema releases are more than a person could ask for, region coding notwithstanding; each comes fully restored in two-disc duel format DVD/Blu-ray sets with chunky booklets offering invaluable contextual essays. These two features— Antonioni’s third and forth, respectively—are very much companion pieces, but they're also distinct milestones to the linage of quintessential Antonioni like “L’avventura.” I'd love to see both films get the same treatment in the US, but their fully subtitled UK availability nonetheless does worlds to widen the discussion.

Antonioni turns his dramatic lens on the Italian film industry in “La signora senza camelie” (its pessimistic view, however, could easy translate to Hollywood). Clara is a young shop clerk who becomes an overnight success as an actress. Little more than a pretty face fans and producers, Clara is instantly jettisoned into roles of a tawdry variety that take advantage of her beauty. As a swirl of fame and attention surrounds her, the handsome Gianni appears, poised to sweep her off her feet. But in a strange turn of events, Gianni manipulates her into a shotgun wedding and turns into an overbearing husband who quashes her career by demanding she take only “serious” roles. Without the talent or the audience for such roles, Clara’s career and marriage quickly go up in flames. Antonioni approaches the subject of a fallen star without scandal, and instead offers what seems a behind-the-scenes look at the film industry. Sets resemble the shells of bombed out cities, full of rubble, with a small hive of activity that has little structure to its chaos. There’s an edge of neo-realism under the glamorous, melodramatic façade, echoed in Clara’s humble beginnings and her ultimate ruin. (It's worth noting that Antonioni himself felt Clara was miscast, deeming Lucia Bosè too glamorous. He had orignally wanted Gina Lollobrigida or Sophia Loren.) Clara is the naïve predecessor to the heroines that would populate his later films; she is on the cusp of realizing and wanting her independence from a male-dominated world. When Gianni reassures Clara with the proclamation, “I’ve never failed you,” the audience can already see that the reality is quite the opposite.

It’s extraordinary that only two years later, Antonioni’s next film, “Le Amiche,” would be dominated by the colorful independent personalities of five women. The men, in this case, serve as banal window dressings, wavering between patronization and confidence. The focus is placed on Clelia, recently relocated from Rome to Torino to open a dress shop. Merely by chance, she's inducted into a circle of friends, setting off a series of random social activities. “Le Amiche” is a stunner. The action is allowed to pleasantly drift almost in spite of a narrative thread that involves a failed and successful suicide. The vivid sketches of the quintet vibrate with so much life the narrative thrust hardly matters. The struggles of a modern woman are capped off with striking camerawork where Antonioni starts to extend the length of his shot. This is especially true during a boisterous get-together where unique compositions and conflicting personalities become a kind of magical combination in a very small apartment. The mood is purposefully deflated when a boyfriend arrives at the women’s social, stating, “Sometimes I wonder if women understand what being a man really is. You lack internal life.” Antonioni is clear in pointing out what the men in the film do not see: women daring enough to express their internal lives. Loosely based on the novella “Tra done sole” by Cesare Pavese, “Le amiche” won the Silver Lion at the Venice Film Festival in 1955. In retrospect, it is thematically and stylistically the film that acted as a springboard for Antonioni’s most canonized work. “Le amiche” has a DVD release in the US, but it can’t hold a candle to this Masters of Cinema Blu-ray. KS

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Feature by:
Kathie Smith

Jordan Cronk