MCN DVD Reviews: April 15, 2008

*The Wrap Up ...*

Lars and the Real Girl	Ryan Gosling, who was so terrific in last year’s Half Nelson, is one brave actor. Not many Oscar nominees would agree to share screen time in such an offbeat project with an anatomically correct sex doll. Besides risking being upstaged by a character required to memorize fewer lines than Buster Keaton had in The General, Gosling also sported one of the worst tonsorial looks in recent cinematic history. The deaths of Lars’ parents, while years apart, left him in a depressive stupor so deep he can’t even bear the touch of his highly sympathetic doctor/psychologist (Patricia Clarkson). Neither does he feel comfortable in his parents’ home, presently occupied by his highly empathetic brother and pregnant sister-in-law. He chooses, instead, to lay an inadvertent guilt-trip on his brother by living in a shack in the back yard, like a pet dog. As unlikely it might sound, Lars makes the first steps to recovery by turning to the Internet, where, on the advice of a porn-geek pal, he not only is able to design a synthetic companion, but also give her a reasonably logical back-story. His creation, Bianca, is a gorgeous Brazilian/Danish missionary who must use a wheelchair to get where Lars wants her to go. Apparently, too, Lars respects her religious beliefs enough to maintain a chaste distance in the romance department. Bianca’s presence allows Lars to take the first baby steps toward a relatively normal life. Although Lars remains emotionally fragile, he proudly takes her to dinner parties and other social events in their small upper-Midwestern town. And, at first, these occasions are every bit as weird and discomfiting for Lars’ pals as they are for us. After the shock wears off, screenwriter Nancy Oliver (Six Feet Under) and director Craig Gillespie (Mr. Woodcock) find ways for the same friends, relatives and co-workers to accord Lars the space he needs to recover from his maladies. Indeed, they pretend to include Bianca in their social and volunteer activities, giving the doll a life independent of Lars’ sheltering behavior. Her newfound freedom puts Lars in the awkward position of playing along or appearing to be an overly possessive mate. Gosling invests in Lars qualities that make us want go along with his therapeutic delusion, even when it looks as if the young man’s depression is terminal. This is no small accomplishment. Lars and the Real Girl may not appeal to the megaplex crowd, but more adventurous souls will find much to admire in a film that demands viewers examine their own crutches before condemning those used by others. The bonus features are informative and entertaining, especially as they document Bianca’s birth. -- Gary Dretzka

Juno	Sharply written and precisely observed, Juno is the story of a pregnant teenager who refuses to weep, wail or consider suicide when confronted with the only real options she has: keeping the baby, putting the child up for adoption and abortion. Unlike most other movie characters in the same position, Juno (Ellen Page) enjoys the support of her parents, doesn’t face expulsion from school and needn’t concern herself much with the feelings of the father, who’s also a close friend. Like her creator, screenwriter Diablo Cody, Juno inhabits the best of all post-feminist worlds. Strong enough to exist on the fringes of high school society, and unwilling to lend her name to other people’s ethical crusades, Juno is a slacker version of the similarly single-minded Tracy Flick, in Election. Where Reese Witherspoon’s Flick might very well have grown up to become Hillary Clinton, however, Page’s Juno might have grown up to be a star on SuicideGirls.com. Cody’s street-cred was enhanced, in large part, by her willingness to immerse herself in the lingo, fashions, attitudes and traumas of teenagers hooked on MySpace and FaceBook … when she wasn’t getting tattooed and having dollar bills thrown at her at the local strip joint. The film’s wide acceptance would have been unthinkable, though, if it weren’t for Internet buzz and Page’s spot-on interpretation of a 21 st Century teenager. Kudos, too, go out to director Jason Reitman (Thank You for Smoking) and the splendid support of Michael Cera, as Juno’s unlikely stud-muffin, Jennifer Garner and Jason Bateman, as prospective adoptive parents; and J.K. Simmons and Allison Janney, as Juno’s father and stepmother. It will be interesting to see if Cody has another Juno in her bag of tricks, or she’ll wind up being yet another over-hyped one-hit wonder. The bonus features are adequate for the film’s first release on DVD. I suspect there will be other editions. -- Gary Dretzka

War/Dance	The documentaries we’ve seen lately about sub-Saharan Africa have been overwhelmingly sad, describing, as they do, systematic genocide and the institutional indifference of the world’s superpowers. War/Dance, too, has many depressing moments. Uganda is a country divided by the worst sort of tribal warfare, poverty and depletions of human and natural resources. The atrocities are recounted most eloquently by the surviving children of murdered villagers and those who escaped from the clutches of crazed guerrilla fighters on the prowl for new recruits. Ultimately, though, Sean Fine and Andrea Nix’s Oscar-nominee is a supremely uplifting and inspirational film.War/Dance focuses on three teenagers from the northern village of Patongo, as they prepare with their classmates to compete in Uganda’s annual nationwide student musical competition. The possibility of these villagers emerging from the competition with their pride intact – let alone, medals – is remote, at best. Segregated both by distance and ethnicity, none had even been to a city before, and lacked the instruments and other equipment afforded more established teams. Will the kids from Patongo enjoy a Hollywood moment of their own? I’ll never tell. War/Dance is a movie that should be shown at any American school whose sports teams or band needs a reason to keep scrapping when their funding is cut off and bond issues are rejected by taxpayers unburdened by children of their own. -- Gary Dretzka

There Will Be Blood Two-Disc Special Edition	Paul Thomas Anderson's powerhouse adaptation of Upton Sinclair’s historical novel, Oil! can be enjoyed at so many different levels that it could easily frazzle the circuitry of a film scholar’s remote control. There are several scenes -- the opening tracking shot, among them – that demand repeated, frame-by-frame viewing. The performances turned in by Daniel Day-Lewis, Kevin J. O’Connor, Dillon Freasier and Paul Dano also bear closer perusal. Then, too, there’s the oilman’s milk-shake speech, Jonny Greenwood’s evocative soundtrack and Robert Elswit’s eloquent cinematography. Like so many of the men credited with building this country, Lewis’ Daniel Plainview represents the kind of hard-scrabble, uniquely driven pioneer who struggled to earn every cent of his early fortune, and, when that wasn’t sufficient reward for his labors, endeavored to steal everything else that wasn’t nailed down. As predatory capitalists go, Plainfield is right up there with Howard Hughes Sr. and Jr., George and William Randolph Hearst, Leland Stanford and his fellow robber barons, various Rockefellers and California oilman Edward Doheny, who inspired the character. All straddled the cusp dividing good and evil, and as deserving of praise as scorn. One guesses, though, had Plainview lived, he might not have subsidized any great hospitals, universities, museums or libraries. Day-Lewis’ portrayal, practically a homage to John and Walter Huston, borders on the miraculous. The single-disc edition is a no-frills affair. The Collector’s Edition adds a silent featurette on the oil business in the 1920s, archival photos, a background on the research that informed the story, deleted and alternate scenes and trailers. Any commentary by Anderson or Day-Lewis likely will have to wait until the inevitable super-duper Criterion Collection or Blu-ray edition. Several amateur critics and professional consumers have complained on Amazon about the eco-friendly cardboard packaging. It’s time they got used to it. -- Gary Dretzka MCN Review: By the two hour mark, I was decidedly agitated by Anderson’s failure to simply hire Danny Huston to do this role. He would have, in my imagination, actually been better than Daniel Day-Lewis, because he, while embodying some of the same ticks, would have relaxed more into the role and other magic could have happened. In fact, this movie, which he isn’t in, and 30 Days of Night, which is an embarrassment except for him, suggest strongly to me that Danny Huston is now the most underrated, undervalued (by Hollywood) actor in America today.

Reservation Road	If some mental-health organization handed out an award for the Feel Bad Movie of 2007, Reservation Road would be among the nominees, at least. It’s that much of a bummer. What else could be said of a film that documents the aftermath of a tragic hit-and-run accident, and emotional unraveling of an otherwise sympathetic perpetrator and surviving victims? Mark Ruffalo plays a New England lawyer, who, on the way home from a Red Sox game with his son, swerves to avoid a head-on collision, but, in doing so, causes an accident in which another little boy is killed. His was the kind of mistake any cellphone user could make on a dark and lonely road, when confronted by the headlights of an oncoming vehicle. That he leaves the scene of the accident, however, is far less excusable. Joaquin Phoenix, Jennifer Connelly and Elle Fanning represent the grieving family members, while Mira Sorvino and newcomer Eddie Alderson play the ex-wife and son of the increasingly distraught lawyer. To add to his burden, director/co-writer Terry George (Hotel Rwanda) keeps finding new ways to extend the coincidental linkage between the families, including having the grieving father hire the lawyer’s firm to put pressure on police. There’s nothing wrong with the acting in Reservation Road, which was based on a novel and screenplay by John Burnham Schwartz. Is there a perfect time, though, to watch a DVD about average folks condemned to experience the worst sort of pain any parent could endure? Around noon, on a rainy day off from work, is when I put Reservation Road on the tube. Even then, it was a painful experience. The extras include deleted scenes, a making-of featurette and, inexplicably, an episode of Friday Night Lights. -- Gary Dretzka

Resurrecting the Champ	Even award-winning newspaper reporters make mistakes … not many, not often … but, it happens. Sometimes, as was the case recently with a Los Angeles Times piece on Sean Combs, those mistakes are so egregious and embarrassing they become the subject of national debate. Through the travails of a careless Denver reporter, Erik Kernan (Josh Hartnett), Resurrecting the Champ effectively puts the viewer in the shoes of someone who not only has been forced to eat his words, but was required to do so in front of his son, ex-wife, peers and tens of thousands of readers. It isn’t a pretty sight. Neither is it easy to watch a punch-drunk boxer (Samuel L. Jackson) reduced to sleeping in a garbage-strewn alley, being pummeled by bullies and making a few pennies a day hauling scrap to a recycling center. Together, the journey embarked upon by a well-meaning son of a legendary reporter and a former contender for the belt makes for a hell of story … too good. The screenplay was loosely based on piece written for the Los Angeles Times Magazine, by J.R. Moehringer, who, as far as I know, has never been accused of fabricating anything. The two men’s resurrection occurs only after they are forced to own up to their own ethical lapses. The less one knows about the process of committing journalism, the more likely they’ll be to forgive the former film critic, Lurie, his own sin of oversimplifying the research and vetting process in a piece like Kernan’s (although such things happen all too frequently). Jackson’s deflated boxer is believable enough, though. Alcohol, drugs and mental illness have conspired to put many gifted artists on Skid Row. Despite its faults, however, Resurrecting the Champ is a well-paced melodrama that rarely loses its grip on our emotions. Jackson gets so deep into his character that it’s easy to forget he’s the actor behind the makeup and rumbled clothing. Harkness also does a credible job as a young reporter reminded every day that he may never become the journalist his father was. Also good are Kathryn Morris (Cold Case), Alan Alda, David Paymer and a well disguised Peter Coyote. The bonus features don’t add up to much. -- Gary Dretzka

The 11th Hour Manda Bala The Cats of Mirikitani Fog City Mavericks: The Filmakers of San Francisco Sharkwater	Leonardo DiCaprio served as producer, co-writer, and narrator for the cautionary documentary, The 11th Hour, which was the creation of Nadia Conners and Leila Conners Petersen. Released several months after An Inconvenient Truth demonstrated the benefits of having a celebrity – Al Gore, after a personality transplant – deliver a message that, otherwise, would have found no traction outside the screening rooms of Sundance. Where Davis Guggenheim’s doc focused on global warming, The 11th Hour also emphasizes the scourge of our glutinous appetite for non-renewable energy sources. DiCaprio’s personal concern for the planet is well documented, and this documentary proves he won’t abandon the cause when the 2009 Land Rovers and HumVees hit the showrooms. Among those interviewed are Mikhail Gorbachev and Stephen Hawking. The DVD adds a quintet of similarly themed featurettes. Manda Bala is a hair-raising documentary that effectively links rampant political corruption in Brazil to a plague of kidnappings in Sao Paulo and frog farming in Amazonia. While much of what Americans know about the South American behemoth arrives in the form of pretty postcard pictures of beaches, rainforests, a mighty river and Carnival, Jason Kohn’s Manda Bala (Send a Bullet) describes a country suffering from an insidious form of cancer. Many of the people Kohn interviews, including a woman whose ears were chopped off by her abductors, display the kind of macabre sense of humor and despair displayed by Balkan villagers resigned to the fact they may never experience peace in their lifetimes. So, they grin and bear it, while never forgetting where the guns are hidden. Here, we meet a popular politician from the poorest section of the country, who has stripped public coffers of billions of dollars; the leader of a gang of kidnapers, who paves streets and builds sewer systems with the money he extorts in ransoms; a squad of police with more firepower than the arsenals of most small countries; prosecutors whose good work is negated by crooked judges; a plastic surgeon who specializes in rebuilding severed ears; and, yes, a frog farmer whose competition includes a phantom company, backed by public funds intended for aspiring entrepreneurs. Sao Paulo, a city of 10 million, seemingly is safe only for those who can afford to commute to work by helicopter or spend $50,000 to make their cars bulletproof. Otherwise, it’s a pretty swell place to live. The film’s premise is supported by several harrowing featurettes. Despite its misleading title, The Cats of Mirikitani is a deeply felt, and lovingly told story about a homeless artist who is rescued from the poisonous dust of 9/11 by aspiring documentarian Linda Hattendorf. Jimmy Mirikitani’s road to the streets of SoHo had been long and arduous, with stops in pre-war Hiroshima and internment camps in California, but, at 80, he reluctantly agreed to accept help. Born in Sacramento, and separated from his family after the war, he makes something approximating a living from his paintings of cats and scenes from the camps. After taking him in, Hattendorf attempts to pick up the pieces of his life and put them back together as if her guest was a living, breathing jigsaw puzzle. It’s a heart-warming story with many surprises along the way. I’ll bet that the value of his art has increased significantly since the release of Cats of Mirikitani. If there’s a San Francisco school of film making, I’ve yet to hear about it. True, several prominent artists live in or near the Bay Area, and, no doubt, are swayed by the region’s unique rhythms. Taking up residence outside the confines of Beverly Hills and Malibu may approximate a declaration of independence, of sorts, but L.A. remains a mere two-hour flight from the vineyards of Napa-Sonoma, and the sky between them often is littered with Learjets and Gulfstreams. Fog City Mavericks is interesting mostly for its film clips, mini-profiles of George Lucas, Francis Ford Coppola and Philip Kaufman, Saul Zaentz, Clint Eastwood and Carroll Ballard, and interviews with Steven Spielberg, Michael Douglas, Anthony Minghella, Milos Forman and Frank Darabont. Nostalgia geeks will relish the discussion of the rise and fall of Coppola’s American Zoetrope, a pipedream that rivaled those of Charles Foster Kane. Rob Stewart’s Sharkwater argues that the slaughter of sharks, solely for the taste of their fins, is as dire a threat to our planet’s increasingly fragile ecology as any of the better publicized plagues. Actually, that particular atrocity has been well documented on cable television, if nowhere else. It will, however, take more than well-placed sentiments from American liberals to convince a billion or so Chinese diners that shark’s fin soup won’t make them wealthy and respected. Stewart also re-debunks the notion that all sharks are as dangerous as a Great White at surfing tournament. The HD photography is something to behold, however. -- Gary Dretzka

Jimmy Carter: Man From Plains War Made Easy: How Presidents and Pundits Keep Spinning Us to Death The Iraq War: History Channel	If Bill Clinton had lifted a page from Jimmy Carter, instead of reverting to petulant form, he might not only have helped his wife become the Democratic presidential candidate, but he might also have maintained his reputation as a force for good in the post-9/11 world. Instead, the former chief executive made the mistake of thinking he was running for office, and Hillary was merely an ornament on his tree. As former residents of the White House go, Carter is the one of the few men whose stature grew in retirement. Without much fanfare or personal gain, the Man From Plains has directed his energy toward the pursuit of global health care, democracy and human rights. If he's allowed himself to become the most prominent proponent for Habitat for Humanity, it's only because he and former First Lady Rosalynn Carter have built sweat equity in the charity and his participation attracts countless other volunteers. Among the nearly two-dozen books he's written, Palestine: Peace Not Apartheid is easily the most controversial and provocative, if only for his insistence that the politically loaded word, Apartheid, remain in the title. Jonathan Demme's documentary is far less a profile or biopic than it is a study of a man, who, in an attempt to do good, ended up having to defend himself in this country's untamed media jungle. It meant subjecting himself to commentators and reporters who were interested primarily in sound bites, and fervent backers of Israel unwilling to distinguish between peace-seeking Palestinians and suicidal terrorists. Typically, almost none of his inquisitors had actually read the book. At the ripe old age of 83, Carter elected to promote the book on a grueling dawn-to-dark press tour, instead of sitting at home or the Carter Center and communicating via telephone links. The already exhausting pace of the tour was made even more taxing by his insistence on using commercial airlines and rolling his own suitcase through airports and hotel lobbies. Given the boring nature of such long-distance p.r. and book-pimping gangbangs, it seems an odd choice for a documentary. After all, how many times can a viewer be required to hear the same question being asked and answered in the same way, before watches are checked and yawns are stifled? We welcome the stretches of time this deeply caring, religious and open-hearted Southern gentleman is able to spend in Plains, hundreds of miles away from the media madhouse, comfortable wearing jeans and eating barbecue with old friends and neighbors. Seemingly, though, Carter wouldn't have it any other way. He is extremely generous with his time, and clearly prefers the face-to-face approach to friendly persuasion and debate. In addition to such popular entertainments as The Silence of the Lambs, Philadelphia and Something Wild, Demme has profiled Jean Dominique, a Haitian radio journalist and human rights activist (The Agronomist), and his cousin, the Rev. Robert Castle, a white Episcopalian minister in Harlem (Cousin Bobby). His performance projects have showcased the work of the Talking Heads, Neil Young, monologist Spalding Gray, the Pretenders and New Order. So, perhaps, his methodology isn't that unusual. If nothing else, Man From Plains demands that we, as citizens, consider whether our former presidents should be held in reserve as diplomatic, humanitarian and political assets, or left free to exploit their marquee value as big-ticket motivational speakers, star duffers at pro-am tournaments and ribbon cuttings at Wal-Mart. The environmentally correct DVD package adds bonus footage, Demme's commentary and a backgrounder on the creation of the soundtrack. It's likely the current President Bush will spend a great deal of his post-presidency time attending baseball games, chopping wood at the ranch and calling in chits from the oil barons he's helped become even more filthy rich than they were under Bill Clinton. If there were any justice, he'd be required to exhaust his personal fortune defending his war in Iraq before the World Court in The Hague. If they couldn't get Henry Kissinger, however, it hardly seems possible Bush would have to answer for the tens of thousands of unnecessary deaths - American and Iraqi -- caused by his personal vendetta against Saddam Hussein. If he needed to refresh his memory, W could refer to the nearly six-hour documentary series, The Iraq War: History Channel. The temptation might have been to begin the project as soon as the President declared victory on the deck of an aircraft carrier returning home from the gulf. Instead, it offers a fairly objective examination of the key military and political decisions that determined the course of the conflict - which, of course, continues apace - as well as tight focuses on wartime technology, weaponry, vehicles and key battles. It's informed by interviews with White House insiders and embedded journalists, and a vast catalogue of video footage and photographs. The DVD package also includes featurettes, Eyewitness in Iraq, U.S. Weapons Against Iraq and Iraq War: Insurgency and Counterinsurgency. A far more subjective appraisal is provided in War Made Easy: How Presidents and Pundits Keep Spinning Us to Death. Narrated by Sean Penn and co-directed by Loretta Alper and Jeremy Earp, War Made Easy is based on the reporting of media analyst Norman Solomon. It demonstrates in a no-frills, point-by-point way how the media have been every bit as complicit in fueling the war machine as any Democrat or Republican sitting in the Oval Office since the end of the Korean War. Although the public believes that media are controlled by liberals, in times of war mainstream news outlets have willingly ceded their commitment to the truth, for an opportunity to play soldier on the front lines and demonstrate their patriotism to subscribers and viewers. It's only when the flagged-draped coffins become impossible to ignore that publishers and editors unleash their dogs to discover what went wrong. -- Gary Dretzka




Love and Other Four Letter Words Steven Ayromlooi and Mandel Holland’s romantic comedy represents one of the first releases from Image Entertainment’s new urban label, One Village Entertainment. In it, Tangi Miller plays popular Chicago talk-show host Stormy LaRue – that’s right, The Stormy Morning Show – who takes a break from the stress and craziness of big-city buppie life to visit her ailing grandmother (Aloma Wright) in Alabama. While there, she informs her Nana that she’s about to make her last dream come true, by marrying a wonderful gentleman. Trouble is, her fiancé doesn’t actually exist. You can guess the rest. -- Gary Dretzka

Magus Not everyone who attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry went on to make a name for himself in best-selling books and blockbuster movies. Some went straight to DVD in such micro-budget genre fare as Magus, which is to Harry Potter what trailer parks are to seaside bungalows in Malibu. In it, a renegade wizard named Magus threatens a secret world of code-abiding sorcerers residing somewhere in the San Fernando Valley. John Lechago’s not altogether absurd thriller features lots of martial-arts action, CGI lightning and death rays, and busty women in tight leather costumes. Even better, Magus offers not just one ass-kicking Strain, but two. Scream-queen Julie is joined by her half-sister, Lizzy, who’s shorter but no less a spitfire. She plays the niece of a crusty old healer, whose dreams are filled with menacing premonitions and clandestine visits from his dead wife and a voluptuous seer, Madam Zelda, played by Julie. The old coot knows he’ll have to square off against Magus eventually, and, fearing the worst, attempts to unload his bag of tricks on his niece before he dies. Magus may have bargain-basement written all over it, but the movie is just goofy enough to keep fans of the genre entertained for most of its 90-minute length. -- Gary Dretzka

Fortysomething Country Matters Rock of Love: Season 1 A Shot at Love with Tila Tequila - The Complete First Season Uncensored Gene Simmons Family Jewels: The Best of Seasons 1 and 2 Before American audiences fell in love with the Vicodin-popping Dr. House of House M.D., Hugh Laurie was a mainstay of British television, appearing in such popular series as Blackadder, Jeeves and Wooster and A Bit of Fry & Laurie. In the six-episode Fortysomething, the Oxford native is paired with the wonderful Anna Chancellor (Pride & Prejudice, Four Weddings and a Funeral) as a married couple experiencing both middle-age craziness and a severe lack of passion in the sack. After she returns to work for the first time in years, and is hit on by the office lothario, he goes to extremes to get his mojo back. Laurie’s fans should love it. The release on DVD of the 1972 Granada Television series Country Matters provides a rare opportunity to watch the future Sir Ian McKellen at a period in his career when he was scratching his way out of TV costume dramas and onto more significant stage and big-screen gigs. The adaptations of eight short stories by A.E. Coppard and H.E. Bates made full use of the lovely English countryside, in the lull between the wars. Also appearing were Peter Firth, Pauline Collins, Rosalind Ayres and Prunella Scales. Rock god Bret Michaels, who once co-starred in a scandalous home movie with Pamela Anderson, has a real way with women, and it has little to do with the bandanas and cowboy hats he fancies. As a member of Poison, Michaels also was a hit with head-banging boys. That he prefers to hang out with girls is made clear on VH1’s Rock of Love, a reality series in which 25 skanky-looking groupies and moonlighting porn stars compete for the honor of being his temporary lover. They literally will stop at nothing to prove their devotion. This makes him a role model for his teenage fans. As television, Rock of Love is disgraceful. As catfights go, however, it’s right up there with roller-derby and Fear Factor. Similarly grotesque, A Shot at Love With Tila Tequila eavesdrops on 16 straight guys and an equal number of lesbians who are vying for the opportunity to get jiggy with the tiny would-be superstar. As far I can guess, her talents include taking off her clothes and luring a couple million friends to share her MySpace page. She’s also managed to stay alive after ingesting massive quantities of drugs and alcohol. What else does a girl need? Having already released a pair of full-season boxes of Gene Simmons Family Jewels, A&E Video has begun cannibalizing the show by offering its first Best of … package. Simmons, of course, was a founder of Kiss and a legendary cocksman. His beautiful wife, Shannon Tweed, a former Playboy model, may have appeared in more soft-core straight-to-cable movies than any other human being. Like most of their peers on reality-based family shows, Gene and Shannon have a couple of kids who may someday end up in rehab, but right now seem as normal as anyone else growing up with celebrity parents in L.A. Watching the aforementioned series convinces me that, had they lived, Jimi Hendrix and Linda Lovelace would today have shows of their own. In other TV-to-DVD news: the second season of the Animal Planet sensation, Meerkat Manor, is newly available, as is the network’s Growing Up Wildcats and HBO’s s sixth stanza of Def Poetry. -- Gary Dretzka