Another week's gone by and that brings a new assortment of things to catch up with on DVD. Go back in time and battle with barbarians or relive The Exorcist with the recently released remastered version of The Director's Cut. Perhaps you might dive beneath the sea and visit a poorly constructed Atlantis? Whatever your taste (even if it's blood), there's something to be found in this weeks slate of DVDs.
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ARN: THE KNIGHT TEMPLAR
by Neil Pedley
Sweden is an odd little land, not unlike America in that they like stories about themselves and sod everyone else. Over there, the literary adventures of enigmatic homicide detective Kurt Wallander, for example, outsell those of Harry Potter. Sweden also has no movie studios perse, with virtually all funding trickling through the nepotistic iron fist of the Swedish Film Institute, which recently elected to shift it's focus to fewer films, but much bigger budgets for those lucky few selected. This opening installment to a threatened sword and sandals two-parter (save your energy, the sequel is already out there), based on Jan Guillou's Crusades Trilogy, is the most expensive Scandinavian production in history.
Trouble is that while $30 million will do just nicely for a teen comedy, it's slightly less than Ridley Scott spent on megaphones making Kingdom of Heaven. you might be shooting for the sweeping majesty of 12th Century Jerusalem, but what your actually getting is only marginally more refined than your average Friday night in with the SyFy Channel. The script doesn't help, hurriedly dragging us through the Karate Kid-esque origin story that sees our man Arn dragged into a dynastic squabble for the crown, subsequently packed off the Crusades as penance for a pre-marital shag. Presumably they were desperate to get to the battles, which are so fleeting you wonder why they bothered. Frankly, the most barbaric thing about Arn: The Knight Templar is the music, with Tuomas Kantelinen's intrusive score clubbing you over the head each and every time you're about to nod off. Which will be often.
DVD Bonus Features Two brief behind-the-scenes featurettes and a theatrical trailer.
FOUR BOXES
by Randall Unger
Four Boxes is a film that falls under many different genres. It is above all else, a thriller. A dark, suspenseful, sometimes funny picture, Four Boxes focuses on three individuals who run an eBay auction business called Go Time Liquidators. They read obituaries, then move into the recently deceased homes where they scour the place for junk they can possibly sell and make a profit of. The three scavengers eventually come across a website called fourboxes.tv, that features a voyeuristic view of a mysterious character, a weirdo they call "Havoc." As the three Internet junkies keep watching Havoc's activities, they become more and more suspicious of his, or her motives.
Shot on a budget of $40,000, Four Boxes is a low budget thriller that manages at times to grab the audience. Though not for everyone, this film will frighten and delight some while at the same time repelling others. Newcomer, Wyatt McDill has written and directed an intriguing picture that takes the Internet and makes it seem sinister. The website, fourboxes.tv serves as the film's main "villain" and it's presence is shrouded in mystery.
The cast is relatively young, and hip enough to entertain today's Internet crowd. Justin Kirk, who some may recognize from Weeds serves as the group's leader, Trevor Grainger. Sam Rosen, a relatively new face, plays his goofy buddy, Rob Rankus and then there's Terryn Westbrook who plays the sexy Amber Croft. Each actor gives a solid performance and makes this small indie thrill ride as fun and creepy to the best of their ability.
DVD Bonus Features The bonus features of Four Boxes are relatively decent. There is a trailer, some lame bloopers, and two deleted scenes.
- Randall Unger
HE'S YOUR DOG, CHARLIE BROWN
by Neil Pedley
At this point what else is there to say about this beloved American intuition, now as much ingrained a part of the Holiday season as pumpkin pie, reindeer sweaters, and cutting eye-holes in your parents expensive bed sheets on Halloween. This double-headed trip way back when features the 1968 title story, where a despairing Chuck sends Snoopy back to the puppy farm for a refresher course in good behavior, but winds up living the highlife at Peppermint Patty's instead. Also included is the 1980 outing, Life's a Circus, Charlie Brown, which finds Snoopy performing tricks in the ring to impress a pink-bowed poodle who catches his eye. As with all Peanuts stories, what captures the imagination is the perfect pitch of every moment. Every frame is lovingly hand-crafted and just right, from the sideways scrolling charm of the Scribbleverse these lovable characters inhabit, to the disarmingly simple array of sound effects, that seem unique to every character. Sod off, Spongebob. The daddy is back.
DVD Bonus Features A brief but affectionate retrospective on the Redwood Empire Ice Arena built by Charles M. Schulz, and a couple of trailers.
ATLANTIS: THE LOST CONTINENT
by Arya Ponto
This ridiculous excursion into the land of Atlantis is an attempt to merge the Harryhausen fantasy epics with Flash Gordon sci-fi serials, resulting in an absolutely boring middle ground that's neither mythologically interesting nor creatively advanced. It stars a cast of mostly unknowns that ended up staying that way and directed by George Pal, who's made a better film (not by much, but better still) previously in The Time Machine.
It starts off with a Greek fisherman who finds a woman adrift in sea, claiming to be the princess of an unfamiliar world called Atlantis—the pre-credits opening of the film is a tedious history lesson spouting the theory that there was a "lost continent" in the middle of the Atlantic ocean—who, when he takes her back to her homeland, is immediately captured as a slave and forced to fight gladiator games. It's almost like an extended Star Trek episode with a less heroic Kirk, who is abandoned halfway into the story because it decides to focus on a different plot.
That's the worst thing about the film (besides the hammy acting and cheap effects): there isn't any narrative coherency to speak of. First, it's a story of a man trapped in a strange land, then it switches to political bickering involving facepalm-worthy references to Nazis twenty years too late ("We deserve to conquer the world. The Gods called us a race of Masters!"), before it suddenly turns into a disaster movie in the third act, when volcanoes appear out of nowhere and we watch the destruction of Atlantis. With a concept so phenomenally directionless, it's no wonder that they had to laughably and very obviously use footage from other movies for the climactic scenes.
LOST BOYS: THE THIRST
by Neil Pedley
If you're one of the other eight people in the whole world who still pays attention to what Corey Feldman is up to, then you'll remember that The Thirst, was meant to be everything that Lost Boys: The Tribe promised to be but wasn't. After Corey Haim's notorious battle with prescription meds ensured his single day's work was useless, and Jamison Newlander was excised because, well, no one remembers him anyway, The Thirst was supposed to reunite our heroes and then pit them against one another. Even if Haim's addiction problems didn't nail the coffin shut on that idea, his tragic death last year of pulmonary edema certainly did.
What we have instead is a plot liberally sprinkled with elements that will taste instantly familiar to anyone taking a bite out of the current vampire fiction renaissance, which is most people. Vampire blood is now the drug of choice, token werewolves are running around, and a guy called DJ X is plotting a blood sacrifice of hundreds of ravers that will see him become all powerful. Well aware who the draw here is, Piana has Newlander skirt the fringes, now in hiding as a half-vampire, while Feldman is front and center, sporting a hairpiece that would embarrass Nicolas Cage. The script's bad, the acting is worse, and it's cheesy as all hell from start to finish. But if you're someone who has slammed this title to the top of their online rental queue, then you're likely someone who is willing to forgive all that anyway. Oh, and the new cover of "Cry Little Sister" is also rather decent.
DVD Bonus Features A brief featurette whereby various talking heads wax poetic on the enduring appeal of bloodsuckers, which for reasons that are never explained is hosted by Charisma Carpenter.
THE EXORCIST: EXTENDED DIRECTOR'S CUT
by Neil Pedley
That The Exorcist remained unavailable in any version whatsoever in the United Kingdom until as recently as 1999 stands as a testament to it's singular power to affect viewers devout and atheist alike. More than simply shocking though The Exorcist stands as a supreme example of the power of genuine craftsmanship in an age of empty digital gloss. Go back and check out that cinematography - the now iconic image of Father Damien standing silhouette in the street. Listen to that sound design - not just the spine tingling Tubular Bells, but every creak, rustle, and whisper. It's just masterful, and a glimpse back to a style of filmmaking that may, sadly, never come again. Every sequence meticulously prepared, ever frame lavished with care and affection. In an age of soulless remakes, authenticity is the key to The Exorcist's enduring appeal.
This director's cut is perhaps a bit odd in that Friedkin actually had very little to do with it, with writer/producer William Peter Blatty the driving force. As for what's new, there is nothing that would count as a game-changer. The infamous spider-walk sequence is here, but mostly this cut just fleshes out the story ever-so-slightly, much like Ridley Scott's final cut of Blade Runner, just letting scenes and characters breathe that little bit longer. But the real bonus here is the restored print, and the remastered soundtrack. If you don't fancy ponying up Blu-ray then you could certainly do a lot worse than this.
DVD Bonus Features Commentary by director William Friedkin, Theatrical trailers, TV and radio spots.
MANSON: MY NAME IS EVIL
by Arya Ponto
Manson: My Name is Evil was better known around the festival circuit as Leslie: My Name is Evil, a Canadian indie-comedy lampooning the Vietnam era divide between the sexual revolution and the Nixonian conservatives, presented as two sides of the same delusional dogma. It's loosely based on the real-life trial of Leslie Van Houten, one of Charles Manson's girls convicted of killing two people in 1969. The film’s perspective is split between Leslie (Kristen Hager) and a fictional fresh-faced dweeby juror named Perry (Everwood’s Gregory Smith), whose personal disagreements with his pro-war right-wing father is compounded in his highly inappropriate infatuation toward Leslie, the sexual spark that’s the antithesis to his chaste church-loving fiance.
Either Lionsgate thought this idea a hard sell, or they never bothered watching the film (the credits amusingly still says Leslie: My Name is Evil), but Leslie was retitled Manson and released straight to DVD with Manson's full mug gracing the cover. The horror movie packaging, with its monochrome scheme and menacing Manson poses, makes it look more like a Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer type film rather than the faintly surreal camp that it is. Battlestar Galactica and Sanctuary actor Ryan Robbins must be tickled by this, since his Charles Manson, despite obviously being an important influence on every other characters, is still only peripheral in the actual film.
There are some sharp points in Manson: My Name is Evil, mostly in the parallels. It compares Manson’s heavy use of Christ imagery to brainwash his followers to the Christian Right’s invocation of Jesus in justifying their own behavior. It doesn’t excuse the Manson Family’s crimes, but questions the hypocrisy of demonizing them when American soldiers are also butchering innocents in Vietnam at the time, with the vague excuse of “communist threat” likened to Manson’s rallying cry against ill-defined “pigs.” Its problem, strangely enough, is that its humor is too straight-faced, its satire too subtle, to the point where it’s confusing as to what kind of film it wants to be, and it seems as though the people in it are unsure themselves; they neither fully sell the humor nor dig into the drama, constantly wafting in the middle, waiting for a clue. It resonates best when it tilts a bit from reality, like having cats and framed “home sweet home” signs in the Manson girls’ prison cells, or the newspaper headline about bored journalists taking bets on the trial outcome.
