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CRITERION’S MARCH 2012 RELEASES REVIEWED! - David Lean Directs Noel Coward (Brief Encounter / In Which We Serve / This Happy Breed / Blithe Spirit) - The War Room - Letter Never Sent - A Night to Remember - The Last Temptation of Christ Loose lips sink ships. So do giant icebergs and Nazi torpedoes. Criterion’s March line-up is filled with war and disaster, from the inky waters off the coast of England to a cluttered and antiseptic political office in the heart of Arkansas. It’s a month of trials and tribulations, sacrifices and dark nights of the soul. These 8 films are stuffed sideways with deaths both past and present, but from Jesus Christ on the cross to Bill Clinton on the campaign trail, it’s the hope for a better future that makes it all worthwhile. And if that sounds cheesy, well, the good news is that sometimes hope requires a lot of blood, explosions, and other things that are red. We begin our story in Soviet-era Siberia… HEAD ON OVER TO MOVIES.COM TO READ MY REVIEWS OF CRITERION’S ENTIRE MARCH 2012 RELEASE SLATE.

CRITERION’S MARCH 2012 RELEASES REVIEWED!

- David Lean Directs Noel Coward (Brief Encounter / In Which We Serve / This Happy Breed / Blithe Spirit)

- The War Room

- Letter Never Sent

- A Night to Remember

- The Last Temptation of Christ

Loose lips sink ships. So do giant icebergs and Nazi torpedoes. Criterion’s March line-up is filled with war and disaster, from the inky waters off the coast of England to a cluttered and antiseptic political office in the heart of Arkansas. It’s a month of trials and tribulations, sacrifices and dark nights of the soul. These 8 films are stuffed sideways with deaths both past and present, but from Jesus Christ on the cross to Bill Clinton on the campaign trail, it’s the hope for a better future that makes it all worthwhile. And if that sounds cheesy, well, the good news is that sometimes hope requires a lot of blood, explosions, and other things that are red. We begin our story in Soviet-era Siberia…

HEAD ON OVER TO MOVIES.COM TO READ MY REVIEWS OF CRITERION’S ENTIRE MARCH 2012 RELEASE SLATE.

REVIEWS OF CRITERION’S JANUARY 2012 RELEASES! What do Godzilla and Catherine Deneuve’s character in Belle de Jour have in common? They’re both controlled by men in suits (hold for laughter). You know, try not to think about that one, too much. Criterion likes to start the year off on the right foot, and in 2012 that foot is stomping all over Tokyo. Ishiro Honda’s Godzilla kicks off this year’s roster in a big bad way, presenting a gloriously deluxe package of a film that some viewers might be surprised to discover is extremely worthy of the Criterion name. Luis Buñuel’s erotic puzzler Belle de Jour is the other major mainline release, and even if you hate the film (jerk) you’re gonna want this thing on your shelf. Also on tap are Francesco Rosi’s A Moment of Truth, and a Blu-ray upgrade of Soderbergh’s Traffic, the latter of which I’m not even going to review. I mean, I just saw this movie called In Time, and the moral was “Life is short, don’t waste it revisiting Traffic.” And that was a smart movie.* Okay, these reviews are a little late, so let’s get down to business before this before Criterion announces a Mothra box set. Be sure to visit the Criterion Corner Tumblr for a forthcoming review of this month’s other excellent release, an Eclipse Series dedicated to the documentary work of Godard collaborator Jean-Pierre Gorin. *In Time is not a smart movie. CLICK OVER TO MOVIES.COM TO READ THE REVIEWS!

REVIEWS OF CRITERION’S JANUARY 2012 RELEASES!

What do Godzilla and Catherine Deneuve’s character in Belle de Jour have in common? They’re both controlled by men in suits (hold for laughter). You know, try not to think about that one, too much. Criterion likes to start the year off on the right foot, and in 2012 that foot is stomping all over Tokyo. Ishiro Honda’s Godzilla kicks off this year’s roster in a big bad way, presenting a gloriously deluxe package of a film that some viewers might be surprised to discover is extremely worthy of the Criterion name.

Luis Buñuel’s erotic puzzler Belle de Jour is the other major mainline release, and even if you hate the film (jerk) you’re gonna want this thing on your shelf. Also on tap are Francesco Rosi’s A Moment of Truth, and a Blu-ray upgrade of Soderbergh’s Traffic, the latter of which I’m not even going to review. I mean, I just saw this movie called In Time, and the moral was “Life is short, don’t waste it revisiting Traffic.” And that was a smart movie.* Okay, these reviews are a little late, so let’s get down to business before this before Criterion announces a Mothra box set. Be sure to visit the Criterion Corner Tumblr for a forthcoming review of this month’s other excellent release, an Eclipse Series dedicated to the documentary work of Godard collaborator Jean-Pierre Gorin.

*In Time is not a smart movie.

CLICK OVER TO MOVIES.COM TO READ THE REVIEWS!

CRITERION REVIEW #3 THE LADY VANISHES (dir. Alfred Hitchcock) 1938   THE FILM: The Lady Vanishes is pretty much a one-stop shop for everything that I love about Alfred Hitchcock: It’s got a crackling mystery, a masterful sense of suspense, an impish ear fur humor, and — most importantly — a luminous brunette (Margaret Lockwood). It was the last film Hitchcock made before he packed up and left England for Hollywood, and to my mind it was also the best.  For the first thirty minutes of The Lady Vanishes, the film’s tone is the only mystery in sight, and  it’s not a particularly urgent one, at that. We begin in the backwater country of Bandrika, a fictional European nation that seems to be aligning itself with some sinister forces (the word “Nazi” is never spoken). An avalanche has stranded a train’s worth of passengers in a little mountain inn, and Hitchcock guides us through a fun and frivolous evening with this motley crew of clashing personalities. There’s a brash young musician named Gilbert (Michael Redgrave), a lovely lady en route to meet her sod of a fiancée (Lockwood), two bantering gentleman who care only for critic, and an elderly woman named Miss Froy who we could all swear that we saw. The dialogue is sharp and unexpectedly dirty, and Hitchcock breezes between the rooms with the same false sense of happenstance that Renoir would later patent in The Rules of the Game. The whole set-piece is such a fluid delight that by the time someone gets strangled to death, it almost feels like part of the fun. When Miss Froy disappears from the train the next day and the other passengers all tell Lockwood that she was never onboard in the first place, the mystery is afoot, and the slap-happy opening act is revealed to be a harbinger of grave things to come. Chugging along on the strength of Hitchcock’s most devilish Macguffin that side of North by Northwest, The Lady Vanishes isn’t just a tart little mystery or a masterclass in suspense (although it most certainly both of those things — the fogged window enduring as one of the cinema’s most deviously designed bits of snack-sized dramatic irony), it’s also a massively entertaining portrait of a world in transition (evoking People on Sunday, in some way). When that train pulls out of Bandrika it rolls away from a more innocent time, fixed on a one-way course towards a darker place where evil isn’t a fever-dream but a very real presence. Hitchcock has no sense for cynicism, but The Lady Vanishes rolls towards a reluctant realism, ultimately promising an extraordinary number of murders to come — murders about which the only mystery will be how people didn’t see them coming. It’s no wonder Hitchcock got out of there. THE TRANSFER: Criterion’s Blu-ray of The Lady Vanishes might actually look a little toogood. I mean, it’s one thing to know that Hitchcock is pulling a fake model car through the fake cobbled streets of a fake European country, but in 1080p the illusion is utterly pulverized and the film begins on a needless note of kitsch, as a result. That being said, the transfer’s unrivaled quality begins paying massive dividends shortly thereafter, offering viewers a remarkably clear and consistent image that should play like mana from heaven for Hitchcock purists. And is it just me, or is Margaret Lockwood actually glowing? THE VERDICT: The deluxe DVD edition that Criterion released in 2007 is still a top-notch product and those who own it shouldn’t feel compelled to upgrade unless their completely understandable love of the film beckons them to do so. Folks looking to add this film to their library for the first time should pull the trigger and never look back. CLICK OVER TO MOVIES.COM TO READ REVIEWS OF CRITERION’S COMPLETE DECEMBER SLATE.

CRITERION REVIEW #3 THE LADY VANISHES (dir. Alfred Hitchcock) 1938  

THE FILM: The Lady Vanishes is pretty much a one-stop shop for everything that I love about Alfred Hitchcock: It’s got a crackling mystery, a masterful sense of suspense, an impish ear fur humor, and — most importantly — a luminous brunette (Margaret Lockwood). It was the last film Hitchcock made before he packed up and left England for Hollywood, and to my mind it was also the best. 

For the first thirty minutes of The Lady Vanishes, the film’s tone is the only mystery in sight, and  it’s not a particularly urgent one, at that. We begin in the backwater country of Bandrika, a fictional European nation that seems to be aligning itself with some sinister forces (the word “Nazi” is never spoken). An avalanche has stranded a train’s worth of passengers in a little mountain inn, and Hitchcock guides us through a fun and frivolous evening with this motley crew of clashing personalities. There’s a brash young musician named Gilbert (Michael Redgrave), a lovely lady en route to meet her sod of a fiancée (Lockwood), two bantering gentleman who care only for critic, and an elderly woman named Miss Froy who we could all swear that we saw. The dialogue is sharp and unexpectedly dirty, and Hitchcock breezes between the rooms with the same false sense of happenstance that Renoir would later patent in The Rules of the Game. The whole set-piece is such a fluid delight that by the time someone gets strangled to death, it almost feels like part of the fun. When Miss Froy disappears from the train the next day and the other passengers all tell Lockwood that she was never onboard in the first place, the mystery is afoot, and the slap-happy opening act is revealed to be a harbinger of grave things to come.

Chugging along on the strength of Hitchcock’s most devilish Macguffin that side of North by Northwest, The Lady Vanishes isn’t just a tart little mystery or a masterclass in suspense (although it most certainly both of those things — the fogged window enduring as one of the cinema’s most deviously designed bits of snack-sized dramatic irony), it’s also a massively entertaining portrait of a world in transition (evoking People on Sunday, in some way). When that train pulls out of Bandrika it rolls away from a more innocent time, fixed on a one-way course towards a darker place where evil isn’t a fever-dream but a very real presence. Hitchcock has no sense for cynicism, but The Lady Vanishes rolls towards a reluctant realism, ultimately promising an extraordinary number of murders to come — murders about which the only mystery will be how people didn’t see them coming. It’s no wonder Hitchcock got out of there.

THE TRANSFER: Criterion’s Blu-ray of The Lady Vanishes might actually look a little toogood. I mean, it’s one thing to know that Hitchcock is pulling a fake model car through the fake cobbled streets of a fake European country, but in 1080p the illusion is utterly pulverized and the film begins on a needless note of kitsch, as a result. That being said, the transfer’s unrivaled quality begins paying massive dividends shortly thereafter, offering viewers a remarkably clear and consistent image that should play like mana from heaven for Hitchcock purists. And is it just me, or is Margaret Lockwood actually glowing?

THE VERDICT: The deluxe DVD edition that Criterion released in 2007 is still a top-notch product and those who own it shouldn’t feel compelled to upgrade unless their completely understandable love of the film beckons them to do so. Folks looking to add this film to their library for the first time should pull the trigger and never look back.

CLICK OVER TO MOVIES.COM TO READ REVIEWS OF CRITERION’S COMPLETE DECEMBER SLATE.

REVIEWS OF CRITERION’S DECEMBER RELEASES! oof, better late than never. December tends to be a rather quiet time for Criterion, as they use the the month to tie up whatever loose ends remain after the massive glut of major holiday titles they drop into our laps just before Black Friday. For the second year in a row, Criterion’s December slate features only one new title — last year it was Guillermo del Toro’s Cronos, this year it’s Ernst Lubitsch’s Design for Living, which is pretty much the same film, when you think about it (and even more so when you don’t) — but the roster is rounded out with a trio of blissful Blu-ray upgrades, three delirious entertainments that offer a little something for everyone. I mean, there’s no one out there who doesn’t like either Margaret Lockwood or nihilistic, bloat-faced, sex-crazed assassins… right? Yeah, that’s what I thought. Prepare for battles without honor or humanity! CLICK ON OVER TO MOVIES.COM TO READ THE FULL REVIEWS!

REVIEWS OF CRITERION’S DECEMBER RELEASES!

oof, better late than never.

December tends to be a rather quiet time for Criterion, as they use the the month to tie up whatever loose ends remain after the massive glut of major holiday titles they drop into our laps just before Black Friday. For the second year in a row, Criterion’s December slate features only one new title — last year it was Guillermo del Toro’s Cronos, this year it’s Ernst Lubitsch’s Design for Living, which is pretty much the same film, when you think about it (and even more so when you don’t) — but the roster is rounded out with a trio of blissful Blu-ray upgrades, three delirious entertainments that offer a little something for everyone. I mean, there’s no one out there who doesn’t like either Margaret Lockwood or nihilistic, bloat-faced, sex-crazed assassins… right? Yeah, that’s what I thought. Prepare for battles without honor or humanity!

CLICK ON OVER TO MOVIES.COM TO READ THE FULL REVIEWS!

REVIEWS OF CRITERION’S NOVEMBER RELEASES! Criterion often seems to operate inside of an Oz-like bubble of cinematic glory, a company paved like a one-way street of wish-fulfillment, but you better believe they know when Christmas is imminent, because the Big C don’t mess around come November (note: referring to Criterion as “The Big C” is not going to become a regular thing round these parts). Last year it was the America Lost and Found box set that arrived just in time to be gobbled up on Black Friday, and this year I’d argue that their big-ticket offerings are even more exciting. Krzysztof Kieslowski may not enjoy the same cultural cache as the likes of Jack Nicholson, but for a guy whose first name includes seven consecutive consonants, he’s pretty damn popular amongst American audiences, and Criterion’s lavish and loving box set of Kieslowski’s final works  - a trilogy of films that towers over the world cinema of the 1990s - is poised to expose his masterworks to multitudes of new viewers. Meanwhile, Sidney Lumet’s classic debut film, an invaluable piece of Americana, is introduced to the Collection, while Ingmar Bergman’s magnum opus - and my favorite holiday movie ever made - finally receives the HD upgrade it deserves. It’s a month of magic, chance, and justice under the Criterion banner, with each of these films ultimately underscoring the seasonally appropriate message that we’re all in this thing together.  HEAD ON OVER TO MOVIES.COM TO READ MY REVIEWS OF CRITERION’S NOVEMBER TITLES!

REVIEWS OF CRITERION’S NOVEMBER RELEASES!

Criterion often seems to operate inside of an Oz-like bubble of cinematic glory, a company paved like a one-way street of wish-fulfillment, but you better believe they know when Christmas is imminent, because the Big C don’t mess around come November (note: referring to Criterion as “The Big C” is not going to become a regular thing round these parts). Last year it was the America Lost and Found box set that arrived just in time to be gobbled up on Black Friday, and this year I’d argue that their big-ticket offerings are even more exciting.

Krzysztof Kieslowski may not enjoy the same cultural cache as the likes of Jack Nicholson, but for a guy whose first name includes seven consecutive consonants, he’s pretty damn popular amongst American audiences, and Criterion’s lavish and loving box set of Kieslowski’s final works  - a trilogy of films that towers over the world cinema of the 1990s - is poised to expose his masterworks to multitudes of new viewers. Meanwhile, Sidney Lumet’s classic debut film, an invaluable piece of Americana, is introduced to the Collection, while Ingmar Bergman’s magnum opus - and my favorite holiday movie ever made - finally receives the HD upgrade it deserves. It’s a month of magic, chance, and justice under the Criterion banner, with each of these films ultimately underscoring the seasonally appropriate message that we’re all in this thing together. 

HEAD ON OVER TO MOVIES.COM TO READ MY REVIEWS OF CRITERION’S NOVEMBER TITLES!