There's Something About Mary is one of the funniest films in years, recalling the days of the Zucker-Abraham-Zucker movies, in which (often tasteless) gags were piled on at a fierce rate. The difference is that co-writers and co-directors Bobby and Peter Farrelly have also crafted a credible story line and even tossed in some genuine emotional content. The Farrelly brothers' first two pictures, Dumb and Dumber and Kingpin, had some moments of uproarious laughter, but were uneven. With Mary, they've created a consistently hilarious romantic comedy, made all the funnier by the fact that you know that they know that some of their gags go way over the line. Cameron Diaz stars as Mary, every guy's ideal. Ben Stiller plays a high-school suitor still hung up on her years later; the obstacles standing between him and her include a number of psychotic suitors, a miserable little pooch and, oh yeah, a murder charge. The Farrellys' admittedly simplistic camera work, which adapts easily to a TV screen, and the fact that you'll likely to laugh yourself so silly over certain scenes you'll want to replay them to see what you were missing while you were busy convulsing, make this a perfect film for home-viewing. --David Kronke, Amazon.com
Australia 1958. A nine year old white girl is found murdered in a remote cave and the local police are quick to arrest an illegitimate Aborigine by the name of Max Stuart. Under interrogation Max admits to the the killing and signs the statement that will send him to the gallows. With no Court of Appeal established in the country and a legal system compromised by intimidation tactics from institutional racism gifted but naive lawyers David O'Sullivan (Carlyle) and Helen Devaney (
Investigating the mysterious deaths of two notorious mass murderers FBI Special Agent Jason Chandler (Patrick Muldoon) finds that half a dozen more of the FBI's most wanted serial killer suspects have recently disappeared without trace. He soon comes to the incredible conclusion that there's a killer slaughtering serial killers!
The Stranger, according to Orson Welles, "is the worst of my films. There is nothing of me in that picture. I did it to prove that I could put out a movie as well as anyone else." True, set beside Citizen Kane, Touch of Evil, or even The Trial, The Stranger is as close to production-line stuff as the great Orson ever came. But even on autopilot Welles still leaves most filmmakers standing. The shadow of the Second World War hangs heavy over the plot. A war crimes investigator, played by Edward G Robinson, tracks down a senior Nazi, Franz Kindler, to a sleepy New England town where he's living in concealment as a respected college professor. The script, credited to Anthony Veiller but with uncredited input from Welles and John Huston, is riddled with implausibilities: we're asked to believe, for a start, that there'd be no extant photos of a top Nazi leader. The casting's badly skewed, too. Welles wanted Agnes Moorehead as the investigator and Robinson as Kindler, but his producer, Sam Spiegel, wouldn't wear it. So Welles himself plays the supposedly cautious and self-effacing fugitive--and if there was one thing Welles could never play, it was unobtrusive. What's more, Spiegel chopped out most of the two opening reels set in South America, in Welles' view, "the best stuff in the picture". Still, the film's far from a write-off. Welles' eye for stunning visuals rarely deserted him and, aided by Russell Metty's skewed, shadowy photography, The Stranger builds to a doomy grand guignol climax in a clock tower that Hitchcock must surely have recalled when he made Vertigo. And Robinson, dogged in pursuit, is as quietly excellent as ever. On the DVD: not much in the way of extras, except a waffly full-length commentary from Russell Cawthorne that tells us about the history of clock-making and where Edward G was buried, but precious little about the making of the film. Print and sound are acceptable, but though remastering is claimed, there's little evidence of it. --Philip Kemp
Recorded in 1976 the concert features outstanding solo performances from Blakey and members of his band performing on a makeshift stage in the Umbrian square to a huge crowd.
Documentary using archive footage including early in-car footage of the famous car featuring drivers such as Moss Brooks and Parnell.
In a way, Scarlet Street is a remake. It's taken from a French novel, La Chienne (literally, "The Bitch") that was first filmed by Jean Renoir in 1931. Renoir brought to the sordid tale all the colour and vitality of Montmartre; Fritz Lang's version shows us a far harsher and bleaker world. The film replays the triangle set-up from Lang's previous picture, The Woman in the Window, with the same three actors. Once again, Edward G Robinson plays a respectable middle-aged citizen snared by the charms of Joan Bennett's streetwalker, with Dan Duryea as her low-life pimp. The plot closes around the three of them like a steel trap. This is Lang at his most dispassionate. Scarlet Street is a tour de force of noir filmmaking, brilliant but ice-cold. The Stranger, according to Orson Welles, "is the worst of my films. There is nothing of me in that picture". But even on autopilot Welles still leaves most filmmakers standing. A war crimes investigator, played by Edward G Robinson, tracks down a senior Nazi to a sleepy New England town where he's living in concealment as a respected college professor. Welles wanted Agnes Moorehead as the investigator and Robinson as the Nazi Franz Kindler, but his producer, Sam Spiegel, wouldn't wear it. So Welles himself plays the supposedly cautious and self-effacing fugitive--and if there was one thing Welles could never play, it was unobtrusive. Still, the film's far from a write-off. Welles' eye for stunning visuals rarely deserted him and, aided by Russell Metty's skewed, shadowy photography, The Stranger builds to a doomy grand guignol climax in a clocktower that Hitchcock must surely have recalled when he made Vertigo. And Robinson, dogged in pursuit, is as quietly excellent as ever. On the DVD: sparse pickings. Both films have a full-length commentary by Russell Cawthorne which adds the occasional insight, but is repetitive and not always reliable. The box claims both print have been "fully restored and digitally remastered", but you'd never guess. --Philip Kemp
Every secret has its price. In the city of Compton everybody has a secret... but every secret has its price. Zion 18 just arrived home from college for Christmas break and has one night to consummate his newly formed relationship with Lanise Bell 16 who became the smartest finest and ""freakiest"" girl at his high school alma mater after she lost 75 pounds this past summer at fat camp. Lanise has spent the last three months bragging about her sexual experiences. What Zion
The legendary story that hovers over Orson Welles' The Stranger is that he wanted Agnes Moorehead to star as the dogged Nazi hunter who trails a war criminal to a sleepy New England town. The part went to Edward G. Robinson, who is marvellous, but it points out how many compromises Welles made on the film in an attempt to show Hollywood he could make a film on time, on budget and on their own terms. He accomplished all three, turning out a stylish if unambitious film noir thriller, his only Hollywood film to turn a profit on its original release. Welles stars as unreformed fascist Franz Kindler, hiding as a schoolteacher in a New England prep school for boys and newly married to the headmaster's lovely if naive daughter (Loretta Young). Welles, the director, is in fine form for the opening sequences, casting a moody tension as agents shadow a twitchy low-level Nazi official skulking through South American ports and building up to dramatic crescendo as Kindler murders this little man, the lovely woods becoming a maelstrom of swirling leaves that expose the body he furiously tries to bury. The rest of the film is a well designed but conventional cat-and-mouse game featuring an eye-rolling performance by Welles and a thrilling conclusion played out in the dark clock tower that looms over the little village. --Sean Axmaker
Art Blakey's Jazz Messengers are captured at a joyful outdoor gig at the Umbria Jazz Festival on July 20 during the scorching summer of 1976. Here, in his third decade of leading the band, Blakey's enthusiasm runs high throughout a set lasting almost exactly an hour across six compelling numbers. The opening "Backgammon" is a 13-minute showcase for Blakey's masterful drumming and virtuoso improvisation from trumpeter Bill Hardman, with especially fine contributions from pianist Mickey Tucker. There are strong exchanges between Cameron Brown's bass and Tucker's keys on "Along Came Betty" and, while the ten-minute workout that is "Uranus" may be the most exploratory cut, the almost equally lengthy "Blues March" keeps up the tempo. Tucker is again the star of the classic "All the Things You Are", before the set reaches an uplifting conclusion with the breathtakingly interlocking dynamics of "Gipsy Folk Tales". This may not be one of the classic Messengers line-ups, but there's no doubting the commitment and dazzling precision of the musicianship. Likewise the rapt audience and romantic courtyard setting lend a magic which only happens when all the right elements come together, as they undoubtedly do in this highly enjoyable set. On the DVD: Art Blakey's Jazz Messengers on disc has trailers for other TDK jazz releases and a text biography of Art Blakey. The 4:3 picture is sometimes slightly soft and displays the usual faults of live concert footage shot on video, but is generally much better than expected for its age. The sound defaults to good stereo but the Dolby Digital 5.1 and DTS 5.1 remixes add considerably to the sense of a occasion. The DTS track is particularly weighty and almost tangible in its presence.--Gary S. Dalkin
Abbott & Costello Classic Comedies three-disc collector's set consists of oddments from the latter days of their career that have fallen into public domain; which means you don't get their best routines or classiest productions, and indeed find the double act doing fairly tired schtick as Costello is chubbily chicken-hearted and Abbott grumpily money-grubbing. Africa Screams is a 1949 safari parody, with Costello running away yelping from sundry alligators, gorillas (including a Kong-sized giant), cannibals ("Chief have sweet tooth for little fat man") and lions amid backlot jungles as Abbott competes with stock villains for a fortune in diamonds. Jack and the Beanstalk, from 1952, finds the duo attempting to sell themselves as children's entertainers in a Wizard of Oz-influenced fairytale book-ended by sepia modern-day segments. The magical story unfolds in wonderfully gruesome cheap colour with some of the worst musical numbers ever committed to film ("he's perpendicular-la-la") as Jack the Clod (Costello) and Mr Dinkelpuss the Butcher (Abbott) climb the beanstalk and plod around the Giant's lair until the story runs out. Possibly the most interesting item is the third disc, which offers an episode of the Colgate Comedy Hour (aka The Abbott and Costello Show) from the 1950s. It shows the pair doing live routines closer to their original vaudeville act than their film roles (including an amazingly cruel bit in which Abbott slaps Costello every time he says the word "tin"). A loose plot about Latin American intrigue, with Lou hired to stand in for an assassination target "El Presidente", makes room for speciality guest stars ranging from child xylophonist Baby Mistin to four starlets (including Jane Russell and Rhonda Fleming) harmonising on a "Happy Easter" medley. Best of all, and now funnier than the comedy, are original hard-sell ads for household products like "Ajax, the foaming action cleanser" and "Halo, the shampoo that glorifies your hair". --Kim Newman
The Stranger, according to Orson Welles, "is the worst of my films. There is nothing of me in that picture. I did it to prove that I could put out a movie as well as anyone else." True, set beside Citizen Kane, Touch of Evil, or even The Trial, The Stranger is as close to production-line stuff as the great Orson ever came. But even on autopilot Welles still leaves most filmmakers standing. The shadow of the Second World War hangs heavy over the plot. A war crimes investigator, played by Edward G Robinson, tracks down a senior Nazi, Franz Kindler, to a sleepy New England town where he's living in concealment as a respected college professor. The script, credited to Anthony Veiller but with uncredited input from Welles and John Huston, is riddled with implausibilities: we're asked to believe, for a start, that there'd be no extant photos of a top Nazi leader. The casting's badly skewed, too. Welles wanted Agnes Moorehead as the investigator and Robinson as Kindler, but his producer, Sam Spiegel, wouldn't wear it. So Welles himself plays the supposedly cautious and self-effacing fugitive--and if there was one thing Welles could never play, it was unobtrusive. What's more, Spiegel chopped out most of the two opening reels set in South America, in Welles' view, "the best stuff in the picture". Still, the film's far from a write-off. Welles' eye for stunning visuals rarely deserted him and, aided by Russell Metty's skewed, shadowy photography, The Stranger builds to a doomy grand guignol climax in a clock tower that Hitchcock must surely have recalled when he made Vertigo. And Robinson, dogged in pursuit, is as quietly excellent as ever. On the DVD: not much in the way of extras, except a waffly full-length commentary from Russell Cawthorne that tells us about the history of clock-making and where Edward G was buried, but precious little about the making of the film. Print and sound are acceptable, but though remastering is claimed, there's little evidence of it. --Philip Kemp
A disgraced medium finds that a new client opens a world of devious intrigue.
The Stranger, according to Orson Welles, "is the worst of my films. There is nothing of me in that picture. I did it to prove that I could put out a movie as well as anyone else." True, set beside Citizen Kane, Touch of Evil, or even The Trial, The Stranger is as close to production-line stuff as the great Orson ever came. But even on autopilot Welles still leaves most filmmakers standing. The shadow of the Second World War hangs heavy over the plot. A war crimes investigator, played by Edward G Robinson, tracks down a senior Nazi, Franz Kindler, to a sleepy New England town where he's living in concealment as a respected college professor. The script, credited to Anthony Veiller but with uncredited input from Welles and John Huston, is riddled with implausibilities: we're asked to believe, for a start, that there'd be no extant photos of a top Nazi leader. The casting's badly skewed, too. Welles wanted Agnes Moorehead as the investigator and Robinson as Kindler, but his producer, Sam Spiegel, wouldn't wear it. So Welles himself plays the supposedly cautious and self-effacing fugitive--and if there was one thing Welles could never play, it was unobtrusive. What's more, Spiegel chopped out most of the two opening reels set in South America, in Welles' view, "the best stuff in the picture". Still, the film's far from a write-off. Welles' eye for stunning visuals rarely deserted him and, aided by Russell Metty's skewed, shadowy photography, The Stranger builds to a doomy grand guignol climax in a clock tower that Hitchcock must surely have recalled when he made Vertigo. And Robinson, dogged in pursuit, is as quietly excellent as ever. On the DVD: not much in the way of extras, except a waffly full-length commentary from Russell Cawthorne that tells us about the history of clock-making and where Edward G was buried, but precious little about the making of the film. Print and sound are acceptable, but though remastering is claimed, there's little evidence of it. --Philip Kemp
Dracula (1931 & 1999 version with new soundtrack by Phillip Glass) : Although there have been numerous screen versions of Bram Stoker's classic tale none is more enduring than this 1931 original. Towering ominously among the shadows of the Carpathian Mountains Castle Dracula strikes fear in the hearts of the Transylvanian villagers below... Illuminated by the haunting presence of Bela Lugosi as the Count Tod Browning's direction makes full use of crisp black and white cinematography to create that class chill... House Of Dracula: Dracula appears at Dr. Edelman's office on the pretense of a cure for his vampirism his real intention is the Doctor's beautiful female assistant...
Dr. Peter Houseman is a brilliant geneticist who is working on a serum which will stop human aging but his colleagues don't believe in his work. When his university funding is threatened by his sceptical benefactors the doctor takes a desperate measure to justify his work. He administers the serum to himself but the results are unexpected and horrendous.
A Shot At Glory / Mean Machine Box Set
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