Happy Furry Puppy Story Time with Norbizness

Hodgepodge Is Too Good a Word

The First Family of American independent cinema.

Time to enter the fray with a few unorthodox selections, including my first foray into reviewing television series box sets. I'm sure there will be a bit of disagreement in the comments:

(1) The Deer Hunter (Legacy Edition, d. Michael Cimino, 1978): An undeniable classic, although you shouldn't be fooled by the so-called "Deluxe Edition" designation. The extras merely include commentary in the form of a conversation between legendary cinematographer Vilmos Zsigmond and some entertainment journalist, and about 20 minutes of alternate takes on only about three scenes (NOTE: an "extras" disc should have more than this). Thankfully, Zsigmond is about the best stand-in you could have for the director, and gives personal and technical insight into a lot of the scenes, including a touching tribute to the late John Cazale, who was ill with cancer during the shoot and engaged to a young Meryl Streep at the time. I need to actually see an unedited cut of Heaven's Gate, which is getting a much-needed reevaluation after it killed a studio 25 years ago. 9/10 for the movie, 3/10 for the extras.

(2) Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (Criterion #175, d. Terry Gilliam, 1998): By contrast, this is about as extras-packed as a two-disc set can get, with three separate commentaries (Terry Gilliam, Benicio del Toro and Johnny Depp, and the late Hunter S. Thompson), along with numerous interviews and mini-documentaries. I saw this in the theater when it came out (having read the book a few years earlier), and thought that it took an unfair amount of critical pummeling. It's really remarkable what the two main actors were able to do, and it's filled with terrific supporting performances (Chris Merloni as the gay hotel manager, Ellen Barkin as the waitress, Gary Busey as the lonely cop, and Tobey Maguire as the freaked-out hitchhiker). I think it's a triumph that Gilliam was able to represent a nearly-unfilmable book, much like David Cronenberg did with Naked Lunch, even if the narrative is nearly non-existent. 8/10 for the movie, 9/10 for the extras.

(3) Lost, Season One (2004): This is what happens when you make an impulse purchase at your local Best Buy. A fascinating two-part pilot quickly devolves into some boring, predictable, aimless 22 subsequent episodes. This may be considered groundbreaking for television, but it's at least 50% horribly miscast (most of the interesting characters are the supporting, non-beautiful people... especially Terry O'Quinn [The Stepfather!] as Locke and Mira Furlan as Danielle Rosseau, the French survivalist) and badly written (most of the interesting plot turns and dramatic tension are in the back stories, and not on the island). I'm told that Season Two is picking up the pace a little bit, but I'm afraid that I've already ruined a bit of the surprise by going spoiler-hunting on the internet. It will be interesting to see if writer/director J.J. Abrams can translate his success here into cinematic gold; he's already slated to direct Mission: Impossible III (which I hope kills Tom Cruise's career) and The Good Sailor, based on the tragedy of the USS Indianapolis, which sank in shark-infested waters (the story told by Quint in Jaws). I'll reserve a rating on this season pending my inevitable, stupid purchase/rental of the second season.

(4) Arrested Development, Seasons One and Two (2003-2004): I got these two season's sets as a package deal off of Amazon for about $40, and it's some of the best money I've ever spent. Given the fact that the actual running time of each episode is only about 22 minutes, it's amazing how many laughs are consistently packed in there. For those who have seen the show, I hardly need to tell you that it's probably the best network sitcoms of the last 25 years, with especially great comic performances by Jessica Walter (the mother) and Will Arnett (the older brother). It's also easy to take for granted the very funny narration by Ron Howard which helps to connect the frenetic scenes. The extras are average; it's mainly promotional material, about one cast/crew commentary per six episodes, and deleted and extended scenes.

(5) A Constant Forge (Criterion #256, d. Charles Kiselyak, 2000): Before diving into the John Cassavetes catalogue on Criterion, I decided to check out this overlong documentary on the life and art of this true American original. It's a little too much of a good thing, considering that this is a nearly three-and-a-half hour film on a guy who made only 6-7 films with a limited set of actors (notably, wife Gena Rowlands, Peter Falk, Ben Gazzara, and Seymour Cassel). Nevertheless, it's a good introduction and should prepare somebody for the unorthodox techniques he used to elicit some amazing performances.

(6) March of the Penguins (d. Luc Jacquet, 2005): A very interesting and touching movie with some amazing footage, given the conditions (-80 degrees with 100 mph winds). However, I'm not sure what makes this qualitatively different than a two-hour National Geographic special that I can see on television, apart from the sometimes-sappy and anthropomorphizing narration from Morgan Freeman. I would suggest just renting this movie, but purchasing a similar documentary, Jacques Perrin's Winged Migration, which is truly a quantum leap forward in terms of filming wildlife. 6/10.