Category: DVD/BLU-RAY

1996's "Hype" is a documentary that explores a musical movement while also participating in it. The subject is grunge, the groaning subgenre that rose from the depths of Seattle to take over a nation, giving birth to several artists that conquered the charts, while two, Nirvana and Pearl Jam, managed to dominate musical tastes for a few years. Director Doug Pray embeds with the artists, critics, and personalities of the northwest to achieve a greater understanding of the new dawn, giving "Hype" plenty to work with when shaping a study of sudden cultural domination threatening to suffocate a once vital and fiercely private music scene.   Read the rest at Blu-ray.com

Whatever one thinks of "Dudes," it's certainly not the work of a director who wasn't prepared. By the time she got around to helming the 1987 picture, Penelope Spheeris already created an indelible portrait of the punk rock scene with 1981's "The Decline of Western Civilization," using her experiences with antisocial and depressive behavior featuring the youth of the day to inform her next two movies, 1983's "Suburbia" and 1985's "The Boys Next Door." She was already well-versed in the language and stance of a disillusioned generation, making her a natural fit for the extended oddity of "Dudes," which blends the primal scream of punk rock with the cowboy liberation of life in the Old West. Granted, she's not completely able to tame screenwriter Randall Jahnson's wily imagination, and perhaps nobody could. The film is a mess, but a fascinating one, smashing genres together to create its own identity as a revenge feature that's more about the journey within than the squeeze of a trigger.   Read the rest at Blu-ray.com

"Rawhead Rex" was initially born in Clive Barker's "Books of Blood," a multi-volume collection of short stories that mined the darkest depths of depravity and horror. 1986's "Rawhead Rex" is a ridiculous movie, and a production Barker provided the screenplay for but has since disowned, and it's easy to see why. The author's insatiable appetite for poetic unpleasantness and violent sexuality is basically turned into an Ed Wood picture by director George Pavlou, who doesn't have the money or the time to treat Barker's imagery with the patience its deserves. Instead, he's made a monster mash with creature that resembles a man in a Halloween suit, and while the basic appeal of a B-movie is hard to discount, "Rawhead Rex" could've been so much more with the right filmmaking materials and concentration. On the plus side, the endeavor's aesthetic and thematic wipeout did inspire Barker to claim complete control of his directorial debut, "Hellraiser," released a year later.   Read the rest at Blu-ray.com

In 1988, titans from the Blaxploitation era (including Isaac Hayes, Bernie Casey, and Jim Brown) reunited for "I'm Gonna Git You Sucka," a parody production from director Keenan Ivory Wayans that triumphantly pantsed the absurdities of the subgenre and embraced some of its effortless cool. In 1996, director Larry Cohen, a player in the Blaxploitation game with movies such as "Black Caesar" and "Hell Up in Harlem," reunited most of the gang for "Original Gangstas," which drops any ounce of intentional silliness, attempting to stage a traditional vigilante actioner with old faces and fists. Results are uneven at best, but when "Original Gangstas" fails, as it often does, there's always the thrill of seeing some of these meaty actors onscreen again, delivering poundings to a younger generation that's been raised without rules and respect. For that alone, the feature is worth a viewing, but it takes considerable patience to get there, as Cohen isn't too concerned with throttling supporting performances, and the messages of Aubrey Rattan's screenplay are confusing, seemingly celebrating a thuggish mentality the protagonists of the story are struggling to extinguish.  Read the rest at Blu-ray.com

Writer/director Jeff Baena has made a positive impression during his emerging career, pulling off a horror comedy with "Life After Beth," and achieving a cinematic miracle with "Joshy," a movie about male bonding that wasn't basted in ugliness. "The Little Hours" proves to be his greatest tonal challenge yet, mounting a comedy that's not always pursuing laughs, and its target is repression found in organized religion. It's a gamble from Baena, likely alienating a great number of potential viewers right out of the gate, but he mostly sticks the landing, finding ways to scrape out the blasphemy by playing it all so broadly, making a film that certainly has the potential to reach farcical highs, but pulls back a bit too often, perhaps afraid to really dive into the weirdness of the material. Read the rest at Blu-ray.com

After years of George Lucas and Steven Spielberg enjoying the mysteries and excitement of space through big screen fantasy, the producers of 1986's "Space Camp" were looking to achieve the same sense of awe, only from a slightly more realistic perspective. During the shooting of the movie, the American space program and all things NASA were red hot, inspiring a tale of adolescents interested in the astronaut program accidentally shot into space. The premise was pure fiction, but director Harry Winer puts some effort into authenticity, grounding what amounts to a wish- fulfillment endeavor that's generally better with procedure than extravaganza. "Space Camp" has its dramatic issues, but there's a sense of time and place that's endearing, and the screenplay dares to provide focus on intelligent young characters put to the test, tasked with saving themselves and the space program as they conquer what they previously thought to be an impossible set of mechanical and survival responsibilities.  Read the rest at Blu-ray.com

For his second directorial outing, Garry Marshall taps into the golden memories of his youth. 1984's The Flamingo Kid" feels like autobiographical work from Marshall (who co-scripts with Neal Marshall), helming a low-energy coming-of-age dramedy that's thick with atmosphere and generally attentive to characterization. There's plenty of charm to go around in the feature, which hits on all the teen horndog trends of the era, but does so with restraint and good taste (earning the distinction of becoming the first movie to be rated PG-13 in the process), finding Marshall more interested in perfecting the screen details of the setting, stepping away from crude hijinks to make a sincere endeavor. Granted, Marshall's oeuvre isn't littered with gems, but "The Flamingo Kid" is one of his best pictures, showing a relaxed approach to jokes, relationships, and setting, making it catnip for viewers who enjoy nostalgia and tales of dented maturity.  Read the rest at Blu-ray.com

1979's "Stone Cold Dead" is an adaptation of Hugh Garner novel, and writer/director George Mendeluk ("Bitter Harvest," "Meatballs III: Summer Job") doesn't know what to do with it. It's a suspense piece about a Jack the Ripper-style murderer prowling the streets, armed with a sniper rifle, but subplots are also dedicated to heroin abuse and trafficking, kinks in the prostitution game, dirty cops, and the elaborate feeding of fish. It's everything but really nothing, as the production is often pulled in different directions, and none of them are particularly interesting. It's Mendeluk's helming debut, and it shows, as "Stone Cold Dead" has moments of ambition that appear to be taking plot developments in the right direction, only to have the whole thing repeatedly undone by poor dramatic management.  Read the rest at Blu-ray.com

1974's "Swept Away" is built to generate attention. Written and directed by Lina Wertmuller, the feature takes on two challenging subjects, politics and sex, and does so in the most charged manner imaginable, adding violence and subjugation to an already toxic brew of opinion and defiance. It's raw nerve filmmaking disguised as a black comedy, or perhaps a romance, with Wertmuller using her collision of classes and temperaments to poke viewers as hard as she can, making a provocative movie that has strange sensuality, repellent characters, and gorgeous Italian locations.  Read the rest at Blu-ray.com

The credited director of 1965's "Orgy of the Dead" is Stephen C. Apostolof, but everything else in the production is born from the mind of Edward D. Wood, Jr., the famous architect of B-movies and no-budget nonsense. I'm not sure "Orgy of the Dead" could even be considered a legitimate film, as it plays more like a night at a burlesque show, with Wood scripting a vague horror story to help link together performances from ten dancing women, all working to share a sense of character and narrative with their gyrations as they slowly shed clothes. It's simple, effective, and for fans of Wood, remains in line with his exploitation interests. Read the rest at Blu-ray.com 

Director Peter Chelsom once had a promising career. He made his debut with 1991's "Hear My Song," and graduated to a more star-laden effort with 1995's "Funny Bones," but the ride didn't last forever, eventually stepping into career quicksand with duds like "Town & Country" and "Hector and the Search for Happiness," and journeyman opportunities such as "Hannah Montana: The Movie." "Funny Bones" was the last full-blooded Chelsom film, and it plays like a production that was, at one point, granted complete creative freedom to pursue any bit of whimsy and grotesquerie it wanted to find. The final cut is a collision of tones and ideas, but it remains distinct in its intent to be unpredictable and oddly sincere, hunting for the meaning of family and emotional stability in the mine field of professional comedy.  Read the rest at Blu-ray.com

It's difficult to pinpoint exactly what "Slack Bay" is, and I'm sure that's exactly how writer/director Bruno Dumont likes it. Strange doesn't even begin to cover this comedy about class struggle, cannibalism, levitation, and young love, but Dumont commits to every single frame, concocting a deliberate journey into oddity that's sure to polarize viewers, especially those expecting another tender Juliette Binoche period piece.  Read the rest at Blu-ray.com

1975's "Trip with the Teacher" is an exploitation movie, filled with sleazy material, but it's actually is more of a horror film when one processes the dire tone and threatening behavior found in the picture. Directed by Earl Barton (his lone helming credit), "Trip with the Teacher" isn't harmless entertainment, made with a certain edge that's unusual for material that's not striving to be the most intelligent offering at the local drive-in. Barton isn't a craftsman, but there's menace to the work, which helps to pull the feature out of a few dead spots and endure the habitual overacting of co- star Zalman King.  Read the rest at Blu-ray.com

After covering Jess Franco titles from the 1960s and '70s, it's interesting to watch the frightfully prolific filmmaker take on the 1990s. "Killer Barbys" is a 1996 effort that's meant to give Franco some appeal to younger audiences, merging his interests in gothic horror with the wicked musical and sexual appetites of punk band traveling across Europe. As with most Franco endeavors, it's all borderline unwatchable, but I recognize the man has his fans. I just need them to explain his appeal to me, because "Killer Barbys" is a complete mess of ideas aching for proper direction. Read the rest at Blu-ray.com

1986's "Psychos in Love" certainly has the external appearance of a horror extravaganza, with an eye-catching title and marketing materials that emphasize a ghoulish viewing experience to come. But the feature isn't a nightmare machine, it merely wants to tell a plethora of corny jokes and showcase freshly chopped limbs. And if you happen to hate grapes, here's a cinematic experience tailored directly to that phobia. Co-writer/director Gorman Bechard arranges a massacre with "Psychos in Love," but his heart belongs to comedy, pinching from the Marx Brothers and Monty Python as he sets up shop in Tromaville for this unexpectedly goofball take on "Annie Hall," diluting the direct Woody Allen lifts with bloodshed and multiple maniacs. It's a strange picture, but that's the point.  Read the rest at Blu-ray.com

Technically, 1969's "Take the Money and Run" isn't Woody Allen's directorial debut. That distinction belongs to the dubbed farce, "What's Up, Tiger Lilly?" However, what the second effort in a long, decorated career represents is Allen's initial offering of pure silliness, taking his interests and timing as a comedian and film performer, and funneling it into a faux documentary about the life and times of a terrible crook. It's the first shot fired in an early career what would go on to introduce several comedy classics, but with "Take the Money and Run," Allen provides a raw form of cheekiness to come, showcasing early instincts to offer as many jokes as possible, fueling the endeavor on pure goofiness. It's a joy to watch at times, even at its most exhausting, delivering a hungrier Allen at the start of his helming career, eager to please with this zany snapshot of criminal stupidity.  Read the rest at Blu-ray.com

Dario Argento certainly doesn't have the career today that he once had in the past, and the line of quality tends to be drawn at 1987's "Opera," which represents a final push of youthful exuberance when it comes to staging ghastly acts of violence as stylishly and surreal-like as possible. "Opera" is one of Argento's better pictures, partially because it plays directly to his artistic interests, mixing the theatricality of stage performance with the grim appetites of giallo filmmaking, coming up with a slightly deflated but fascinating horror endeavor that comes alive whenever the helmer frees himself from narrative rule and explodes with evil and animal wrangling. Perhaps in the grand scheme of a career that produced "Suspiria," "Deep Red," and "Tenebrae," Argento's push to make a winded tale of insanity isn't going to penetrate deep enough, but visual delights remain, with Argento working up the energy to supply a proper jolt of the macabre and the exaggerated.  Read the rest at Blu-ray.com

The aching hearts of stock car racers and the women who love them are explored in 1965's "Red Line 7000." Director Howard Hawks clearly has a lot of respect for the sport, but his ability to find something interesting to do once the action steps away from the track is iffy at best. "Red Line 7000" aims to be a butch overview of dented masculinity, but it's surprisingly sudsy and a little protracted, though Hawks does well with his cast, putting together an ensemble of disparate talent who lend the feature the little excitement it provides. Read the rest at Blu-ray.com 

Movies wouldn't be movies without music. However, film scoring is often an unheralded art, left as something for the senses, difficult to separate from the overall viewing experience. Writer/director Matt Schrader hopes to achieve a level of appreciation with "Score: A Film Music Documentary," which examines the history of composing and performing as it's developed over the last century. It's not an easy task to cover such an enormous time period in just 90 minutes, and Schrader certainly speeds around the subject like the Tasmanian Devil, but the effort is there to spotlight dozens of creative people who painstakingly put together what often becomes the heart and soul of cinema, creating music that inspires emotion and, sometimes, life itself, offered clear identification in this wonderfully vibrant and insightful documentary. Read the rest at Blu-ray.com 

1967's "Custer of the West" is built for size, not accuracy. It's a weird mix of Western mythology and revisionism, trying to compete in the race of Hollywood spectacles, but unsure if it wants to commit to the legend of George Armstrong Custer in full. It has its heart in the right place, exposing the darker side of the pioneer spirit, but a few steps in the enlightened direction throw the whole cinematic dance off, threatening to confuse viewers confronted with a committed military man known for slaughtering Native Americans, but spent most of his career trying to protect them from harm. At least the movie looks beautiful. Read the rest at Blu-ray.com