The Wrap Up ...
The Departed	Finally and at last Martin Scorsese gives a shit about his indispensable moviemaking talent rather than the Oscars. The Departed is a departure from the muck of Gangs of New York and the moroseness of The Aviator, a welcome return to vulgar, vivid, visceral elegance for the 63-year-old director, and his serene, bloody confidence on the contemporary mean streets of Boston matches the exuberance he’s wrought in contemporary Manhattan settings. It’s the first picture of his I’ve fully admired since Goodfellas, a while back in the last century. Several of the major surprises in The Departed draw upon the sleek Hong Kong movie, Infernal Affairs (2002), and if you haven’t seen that film, it’s best to know as little as possible about the story’s twists and turns for full enjoyment. -- Ray Pride
Flags Of Our Fathers	Of the two movies released last year about the World War II battle for Iwo Jima. Flags of Our Fathers was the one that came and went with almost no fanfare, and virtually no major award nominations. This seemed odd for several reasons: 1) it was directed by Clint Eastwood, who seems incapable of making a bad movie; 2) the battle to take the island was as familiar to Americans as any in this, or any war; 3) the critical buzz was excellent; and 4) it provided a reminder that this country once entered into war reluctantly and in defense of real, demonstrable freedoms. Eastwood's Letters From Iwo Jima told essentially the same story, but from the point of view of the enemy, who only spoke Japanese (another crowd-pleaser). It has garnered Oscar nominations for writing, directing and sound editing, and could well win Best Picture. Flags of Our Fathers is contending only for sound-editing and sound-mixing honors. The risks taken by Eastwood deserved a better response by audiences. Unlike war movies of yore, he dared tell the story of Iwo Jima without the benefit of a recognizable alpha-male figure -- John Wayne, Audie Murphy, Sylvester Stallone, himself -- and by forcing Americans to question the commodization of courage and heroism. While intricately deconstructing the victory, Flags of Our Fathers -- adapted from James Bradley's best-seller, by Paul Haggis and William Broyles Jr. -- also follows three of the surviving flag-raisers on their forced march back home, to raise money for war bonds. Never mind that their's was the second flag raised on Mt. Suribachi that day, and other Marines shown in the photograph had been killed soon thereafter. Ira Hayes' tragic story, already recalled in a song by folk-singer Peter LaFarge, is at the center of this segment of the film. We know less about John Bradley and Rene Gagnon, who, with Hayes, would later re-raise the same flag hand in Sands of Iwo Jima, this time handed to them by Wayne. Both of Eastwood's Iwo Jima titles ought to be seen, if only on the small screen. There aren't any bonus features to speak of in Flags. I expect the goodies will be added to a combined box set with Letters. -- Gary Dretzka
The Emperor's Naked Army Marches On	Later this month, Facets will release on DVD a hugely disturbing Japanese documentary that speaks to the wounds still borne by the survivors of engagements similar to those dramatized by Eastwood. For The Emperor's Naked Army Marches On, Kazuo Hara spent several years following an embittered veteran as he drove around Japan demanding the truth about atrocities committed in New Guinea by officers against their own soldiers. For all of his outward appearances of dementia -- he had already been jailed for shooting ball bearings at the emperor -- Kenzo Okuzaki proves a dogged inquisitor and advocate for the dead. From a distance of 40 years, Okuzaki demands that perpetrators of atrocities ranging from murder to cannibalism admit their transgressions in front of relatives of the victims. In a less tolerant country -- our's, for example -- Okuzaki would have been arrested, possibly beaten and ridiculed on late-night talk shows for challenging the status quo. (General Motors CEO Roger Smith, who dodged Michael Moore's cameras, could learn a lesson in humility from the targets of Okuzaki's campaign.) It would be easy to accuse Okuzaki of bullying the subjects of his interrogations, rhetorically and physically, but I don't think any Israeli court would have convicted Simon Wiesenthal of breaching ethical boundaries if he used the same tactics. Why not let bygones be bygones, asks one former officer? Why do you want to disturb the dead by talking about this? To which, the sister of an assassinated soldier replies, My brother appears in my dreams and at the altar … his spirit is not at peace. Naturally, the accused all said they were just following orders, which, Okuzaki argued, could be traced back the emperor. At the time this film was made, Hirohito was still very much alive and free as a bird. That remains the greater outrage. -- Gary Dretzka
Marie Antoinette	Seven months pregnant, wearing a black knee-length maternity dress, substituting ballet flats for her customary flip-flops, Sofia Coppola is unapologetic about the style of her third feature, Marie Antoinette, based on a biography by Antonia Fraser (whose husband, Harold Pinter, is said to approve.) While some reviewers have rehearsed their chops as scholars of French history since the movie’s Cannes debut, the 35-year-old Coppola confesses she applied a “very girlie, feminine sensibility” toward a “silk and cake” world. Fittingly, when jokingly asked who made her dress, she shrugs and turns the label out for display. In an Observer profile, Sean O’Hagan described the affect well, playing “a day-dreamy, slightly disconnected but immaculately stylish waif.” -- Ray Pride
Running With Scissors My Name Was Sabina Spielrein	One of the many things wrong with the media's current obsession with all things Academy Award-related is the pitiful urge on the part of editors to force reporters to begin predicting nominations, even before the sun sets on the long Labor Day weekend. Since most of the contenders won't be screened until early December, their opinions often are based on nothing more than buzz picked up over lunch with a publicist, producer or studio executive. Buzz giveth and buzz taketh away, however, and sure-things in September often turn out to be dead ducks in December. Such was the case with Running With Scissors, an inky black comedy based on the best-selling memoir by Augusten Burroughs. Blessed with an impressive cast of former Oscar-winners, writer-director Ryan Murphy (Nip/Tuck) sought to dramatize how young Augusten (Joseph Cross) was able to survive the '70s, amid the chaos of an extended family several times more twisted than the Addams' clan. Much of the early trophy buzz was fueled by reports of Annette Bening's demonic take on Augusten's mom, a woman so consumed with herself that she manages, first, to drive away her less-than-impressed husband (Alec Baldwin) and, next, abandon her son by placing him in the custody of a psychiatrist (Brian Cox) who makes Rasputin look like Marcus Welby, M.D., by comparison. In his care, no treatment is too primitive, and the only patients unworthy of his care are those immune to emotional blackmail. By convincing parents to put their children under his full-time supervision, Dr. Finch is able to collect money from trust funds and welfare agencies. Meanwhile, the kids are pretty much left to their own manic-depressive devices. Madness ensues … literally. Running With Scissors demonstrates that not all dysfunctional families can be written off as being eccentric, and black comedy isn't always funny. Fans of the book decided that Burroughs' memoirs played better on the page than on screen, and stayed away in droves. Oscar buzz shifted from one kooky family to another, and paid off in beaucoup nominations. Little Miss Sunshine, a better film about roughly the same subject, gave us one or two characters with whom we could empathize. Scissors merely left us gasping for air. In Scissors, a constantly abused cat is named Freud, adding a bit of black-comic relief when Gwyneth Paltrow's character confides that rotting portions of the deceased pet helped one night's dinner. Freud references are always good for cheap laugh. Not so amusing is the fascinating documentary, My Name Was Sabina Spielrein, which also conjures visions of the iconic psychoanalyst. Dismissed for most of the last century as a footnote in the history of psychiatry, Sabina Spielrein was a Russian Jew, who, at 18, became the first patient of psychoanalyst C.G. Jung. A medical student at Zurich University, she was an extremely talented, if deeply troubled young woman. Her case would consume Jung and lead to an exchange of letters with Freud on the peculiarities of her condition, which included a romantic obsession with her doctor. Before long, she would be writing papers of her own, trading ideas with Freud and romancing Jung. In My Name Was Sabina Spielrein, Elisabeth Marton uses her correspondence -- discovered in 1977, in the basement of Geneva's former Institute of Psychology -- as the framework for this profile of a woman who played a much greater role in the evolution of psychoanalysis than anyone imagined. Among the letters were exchanges with Freud and Jung, and discussions of the resistance she experienced as a woman in medicine. Her decision to return to Russia ultimately would result both in persecution at the hands of Soviet agents and being murdered by Nazis occupying her hometown. -- Gary Dretzka
Hollywoodland	In their period whodunit Hollywoodland, director Allen Coulter and writer Paul Bernbaum scraped the dark underbelly of post-war Los Angeles to introduce a new generation of conspiracy freaks to the mystery surrounding the death of, well, Superman. The 1959 untimely demise of George Reeves, who played the Man of Steel on television, was officially ruled a suicide. Ever since the shooting, however, all manner of sleuths, reporters and nutballs have insisted the actor was murdered and continue to speculate on the unknown assassin's motives. The only culprit ruled out immediately, apparently, was kryptonite. Ben Affleck was named best actor at last year's Venice Film Festival for his evocative portrayal of Reeves, who seemed to be a naturally friendly fellow and one of the last of Hollywood's contract players. Adrien Brody is quite believable as the kind of a bottom-feeding shamus who, to make ends meet, would sell slanderous information to the kind of magazine editor played by Danny DeVito in L.A. Confidential. Brody's composite P.I. character, Louis Simo, didn't know Reeves from Mickey Mouse. Even so, he becomes obsessed with the case. That's what happens in movies, after all, when strangers beat the crap out of you for picking up the scent of a high-profile scandal. Despite guessing wrong at least twice, Simo's investigation informs the flashbacks used to flesh out Bernbaum's profile of the actor, who, after Superman left the air, was deemed unemployable by casting directors. Hollywoodland is a much more entertaining movie than its tepid box-office reception would indicate. Certainly, the nearly concurrent release of The Black Dahlia -- another speculative period mystery, set in L.A. -- didn't help the prospects for either picture. The featurettes, which expand on the period and locations, actually are pretty entertaining. -- Gary Dretzka
The Science of Sleep	While I was left scratching my head at what writer-director Michel Gondry might have been trying to say in The Science of Sleep, his willingness to push the visual limits of the medium kept me enthralled for its entire 105-minute length. Primarily, I suppose, it's the story of two young Parisians neighbors who are destined to fall in love, but forces beyond their control conspire to prevent them from actually hooking up. Gael García Bernal plays a wildly imaginative graphic artist, Stéphane, who moves into the same building in Paris where Charlotte Gainsbourg's Stéphanie whiles away her time making fanciful sculptures. In the penthouse of his mind, Stephane has constructed out of cardboard, duct tape and green felt a virtual TV studio. It's here that Bernal channels Salvador Dali and invites us to enter his subconscious world, which is as confounding, nonlinear and whimsical as any dream (or nightmare). As much as Stephane and Stephanie's inability to connect informs the narrative, their desire to share an artistic vision triggers many delightfully animated fantasies. I was reminded very much of Tim Burton's Pee-wee's Big Adventure -- as well as the late, lamented Pee-wee's Playhouse -- which gave off the same trippy vibes. The extras are informative, and add greatly to the enjoyment of the movie. -- Gary Dretzka
U.S. vs. John Lennon	The U.S. vs. John Lennon focuses tightly on a relatively brief period in Lennon’s life, during which the Luvable Moptop became a prime target for the dirty tricksters of the Nixon White House. At a time when Republican lawmakers were in position to end the war in Vietnam and mend the economy, a pinhead potentate from South Carolina -- longtime senator Strom Thurmond -- convinced President Richard M. Nixon to worry, instead, about a musician whose rallying cry was, “Give Peace a Chance." The ability of such a well-known dove to appeal to newly enfranchised 18-year-olds was of great concern to the hawks in Washington. “He was a high-profile figure, so his activities were monitored," reminds would-be Watergate fall-guy G. Gordon Liddy, whose testimony adds perspective to the more liberal musings of Bobby Seale, Angela Davis, Walter Cronkite, Carl Bernstein, Ron Kovic, Noam Chomsky, George McGovern, Geraldo Rivera, John Sinclair and Tom Smothers. -- Gary Dretzka
A Summer Place Blume in Love Crossing Delancey Miracle in the Rain The Clock	Valentine's Day is one of the holidays that demand of studios they scour their vaults for movies that inspire thoughts of love. This year's crop of heart-tuggers includes such welcome titles as A Summer Place, Blume in Love, Crossing Delancey, Miracle in the Rain and The Clock, all from Warner Bros. To appreciate A Summer Place, younger viewers need remember that adultery and divorce were pretty hot topics in 1959, and the parallel love stories featured high-profile actors -- Sandra Dee, Troy Donahue, Richard Egan and Dorothy McGuire, among them -- who appealed to older and younger audiences. Then, too, there was Max Steiner's Theme From a Summer Place, which was a huge hit that year as an instrumental and, again, in 1965, with Mack Discant's lyrics added. Paul Mazursky's closely observed Blume in Love finally arrives in DVD in a woefully no-frills edition. In it, a self-consumed Beverly Hills attorney (George Segal) goes middle-age crazy after he loses his unappreciated trophy wife (Susan Anspach) to a big-hearted he-man (Kris Kristofferson). Naturally, the lawyer only realizes what he's lost when she's was gone, and becomes obsessed with winning her back. That her new boyfriend enjoys the company of her ex-husband drives the beautiful blond nuts. Among the stars of the other Warner titles are Judy Garland, Robert Walker, Jane Wyman, Van Johnson, Amy Irving and Peter Riegert. -- Gary Dretzka
Cinderella III	Disney has extended its Cinderella franchise with a second sequel to the classic 1950 animated feature. The first video original, Cinderella II: Dreams Come True, was greeted with less-than-enthusiastic reviews by critics and fans, alike. Twist of Time is a much more inspired effort. Essentially, it imagines what might have happened if her glass slipper had somehow shrunk, like O.J.'s blood-soaked glove, or otherwise didn't fit. Thus denied, her opportunity for true love was lost. Actually, stepsister Anastasia stole the Fairy Godmother's wand and tapped into the time-space continuum, allowing her to cast a spell on the show itself. Pre-teens should find plenty here to enjoy. -- Gary Dretzka
Grigori Kozintsev's King Lear/Hamlet Just when I thought I'd sat through all of the adaptations of King Lear and Hamlet I could handle in a lifetime, along came a pair of DVDs from the former Soviet Union that left me craving for more. At first glance, Grigori Kozintsev's interpretations of Shakespeare's great tragedies appeared to offer little more than another classical take on works that not only have stood the test of time, but have also survived countless attempts at contemporization and needless politicizing. A closer reading of the press notes revealed that these versions were based on translations by novelist Boris Pasternak, backed by a Dmitri Shostakovich soundtrack and trimmed to a manageable length of just over two hours each. Why not take a chance? My reward came in the form of productions that looked, sounded and touched me in ways anyone over high school age would desire from a rendezvous with Shakespeare. Apart from amazing performances from the ensemble of Baltic actors, these adaptations were distinguished by a stunningly bleak palette created by cinematographer Jonas Gritsius. In black-and-white, the ancient castles and low Estonian sky seemed as foreboding as an executioner's slow, hooded march to the gallows. Kozintsev, who, in the '60s, was old enough to remember when the Soviet revolution promised something other than repression and propaganda, found ways to use Shakespeare to deliver political messages no other playwright would be allowed to send. Not that western viewers will get bogged down in subtext. If the bonus features didn't include a lengthy appreciation by theater and opera director Peter Sellers, most of it would slide by unnoticed. So inspirational and informative are his words that I recommend going to the bonus features of Lear before watching the film itself. -- Gary Dretzka
Boyton Beach Club Where the Heart Roams Here Comes Mr. Jordan Arabian Nights/ The Heiress Anything But Love - Season 1 Susan Seidelman first came to prominence in 1985, with the quirky screwball romance Desperately Seeking Susan. It was, of course, the movie that led everyone in Hollywood to think Madonna could act, while showcasing a hipper New York demographic than mainstream audiences were used to seeing in film. The characters were fresh and funny, and, for once, the music was at one with the period represented on screen. Its success made Seidelman a very hot commodity, although, a couple of disappointments later, Hollywood would stop banging on her door. While her most recent venture, Boyton Beach Club, won't make anyone forget Desperately Seeking Susan -- or even She-Devil -- it is entertaining enough to recommend to viewers of a certain age as an unexpected Valentine's Day treat. It also provides a welcome reminder of the oft-forgotten fact there's no age limit on love, and the desire for romance doesn't pass with the death of a beloved partner. Set in a retirement community in Florida, Boynton Beach Club (a.k.a., The Boynton Beach Bereavement Club) follows several suddenly-single seniors as they attempt to jump-start their libidos. To this end, Seidelman enlisted a cast of actors who will be familiar to Boomers and their parents, if not their Boomlets. They include Dyan Cannon, Sally Kellerman, Brenda Vaccaro, Joseph Bologna, Len Cariou and Michael Nouri, who, at 61, was easily the youngest member of the ensemble. Although, Boynton Beach Club has many predictable moments, there are enough surprises to keep viewers from dozing off … and a bit of mature skin is revealed, as well. In the mid-'80s, documentarian George Paul Csicsery hitched a ride on the Love Train, as it carried dozens of novelists, wannabe authors and fans from Los Angeles to New York, for the Romantic Book Lover's Conference. The temptation probably was to lampoon the devotees of the theatrically regal Barbara Cartland and anyone who would buy a book strictly because Fabio is on the cover. Instead, the women interviewed were warm and open with their feelings, and not nearly as fixated as your average Trekkie or Young Republican. More than anything, the passengers believed in the possibility of finding true love, even under the most improbable of circumstances. Along the way, such established authors as Janet Daily and Rebecca Brandewyne swapped tips with aspiring writers, while also detailing the do's and don'ts of genre fiction. The appearance of Cartland, who could pass for the world's most over-the-top drag queen, is the highlight of the conference and film. Here Comes Mr. Jordan is best recalled by contemporary audiences, if at all, as the movie that inspired Warren Beatty's (not Ernst Lubitsch's) Heaven Can Wait and Chris Rock's Down to Earth. Here, Robert Montgomery plays a sax-playing boxer Joe Pendleton, who's prematurely called to his heavenly reward by an inept Heavenly Messenger. Unable to return to his earthly body, which was cremated, Joe is allowed to assume the identity of a nearly murdered millionaire. The old man's sudden vigor freaks out his wife and her lover, who conspired to take over his estate, but opens the path to true love. The latest additions to Universal's Classic Cinema series include Arabian Nights and The Heiress. The former not only starred frequent on-screen lovers Jon Hall and Maria Montez -- as the brother to the kalif of Baghdad who falls for the dancing girl, Scheherazade -- but also Indian actor, Sabu, who became famous as The Elephant Boy. The story doesn't much resemble 1,001 Arabian Nights, even though Sinbad and Aladdin make cameo appearances. Olivia de Havilland and Montgomery Clift light up the screen in William Wyler's adaptation of the Henry James novel, Washington Square. She plays the homely single heiress who's being wooed by the handsome gold-digger (or is he?), much to the chagrin of her devious father. Also, new from Universal are the 1930 version of All Quiet on the Western Front,*** with Lew Ayres, and Bing Crosby's first turn as Father O'Malley, Going My Way.*** Sexy Jamie Lee Curtis and neurotic Richard Lewis starred in this sitcom, which began in 1989 and struggled to find and keep an audience for another two seasons. By today's standards, it likely would be as popular as anything else on the air, but the competition was tougher in a three-network universe. Curtis and Lewis played best pals and co-workers who know they belong together but fear a physical relationship would destroy their friendship. Guest stars such as John Ritter, Ann Magnuson, Wendy Malick and Holly Fulger dropped by on a regular basis to liven up the proceedings. -- Gary Dretzka
Soup of the Day While Mainstream Media attempts to get its analog head around the whole Internet thing, the geeks are doin' it for themselves. Soup of the Day, which unwound on the Net in webisode form, has just been released as a feature-length DVD, along with three hours of bonus features, bloopers, deleted scenes, an alternate ending, commentary and audition footage. Jon Crowley plays Brandon, a congenial schlub who has the immense good fortune of entering into monogamous relationships with three terrific women … simultaneously. He somehow manages to juggle his girlfriends' hearts for a while, but gets busted when all three women converge on Brandon's favorite restaurant at the same time. Soup of the Day provides a perfect example of what can be accomplished by writers and actors who probably couldn't get a network executive to answer their agents' calls. While hardly perfect, Soup of the Day is at least as entertaining as most of the sitcoms on the broadcast networks. I realize that's not saying a whole lot, but, once the interactive elements are factored into the equation, programs like this will give the competition something to worry about. -- Gary Dretzka
Soap She Likes Girls The affecting Scandinavian drama Soap plays out exactly like, well, a soap opera. The protagonists are an attractive 32-year-old businesswoman, Charlotte (Trine Dyrholm), and a pre-op transsexual hooker, Veronica (David Dencik). Charlotte has just moved into the apartment above Veronica, and the porous walls guarantee they soon will become involved in each other's traumas. These include Charlotte's lover, a married man who gets violent when he drinks, and Veronica's proclivity for attempting to commit suicide. An off-screen narrator divides their lives into chapters, which only adds to the soapy feel. Eventually, the neighbors grow close to each other in a way that would anticipate romance, but whether it remains strictly platonic is left to the imagination. The sensitive, deliberately paced evolution of their quasi-relationship -- and non-judgmental approach taken by director Pernille Fischer Christensen -- distinguishes Soap from the usual gay-straight/none-of-that-really-matters-because-everything's-cool spin favored by America filmmakers. For what it's worth, Soap copped Best Debut Film and Silver Berlin Bear awards at last year's Berlin International Film Festival. Also from Wolfe Video comes She Likes Girls, a collection of Sapphic short films that are heavy on diversity and romance, and relatively light on actual sex. The stories include fairy tales, nostalgia trips, tomboy musicians, a stalker, police brutality and the appearances by a drop-dead gorgeous pair of actresses who appeared in The Devil Wears Prada, if only momentarily. -- Gary Dretzka
The Doctor, the Tornado, and the Kentucky Kid Presented in a two-disc Ultimate Collector's Edition, this sequel to Mark Neale's Faster takes a closer look at a sport that literally defines what it means to compete at a extreme level. Narrated by Ewan McGregor, both films followed the competition along the MotoGP circuit; the first as the bikers toured the world in the 2002-03 season, with the second leading to the 2005 Red Bull U.S. Grand Prix, at Laguna Seca. Billed as the largest motorcycle race in U.S. history, it demonstrated to those of us born with dominant NASCAR and Indy 500 genes what the worldwide fuss over MotoGP was all about. Neale owes a debt of gratitude to Bruce Brown's 1971 moto-doc On Any Sunday, which, in effect, starred Steve McQueen. It's a blast, all right, and, in addition to the 104-Minute director's-cut version, the DVD adds 11 additional scenes, highlights of the 2006 U.S. Grand Prix, an interactive racing game, HD visuals and 5.1 sound. -- Gary Dretzka