This blind pursuit of the ominous case does create some interesting themes in the film.  Hubris and greed, along with some fairly obvious parallels to the legend of Pandora’s box all create a very effective tone for the film.  Plus, it’s a dark comedy, which automatically wins it points with me.  Unfortunately there are many more problems with the film than good qualities.  Yes, it’s a dark comedy, but much of the humor isn’t coming from a character-driven place.  Instead, it relies on humorous banter, which is entertaining but never pushes the film to having something relevant to say.  Also, there’s a fairly large number of useless characters in this.  Even Eric Roberts’ character is barely necessary to the plot, and the Master isn’t menacing enough to be an effective villain.  The only characters that make the film worth anyone’s time are Barabba (Brian Keith Gamble) and Caesar (Chris Facey); two business partners (possibly brothers), who stumble upon the case and have to put up with a lot of hassle over the course of the film because of it.  These characters are definitely the best developed in the movie, and their scenes have a great energy that makes them fun to watch, rather than the chore of watching all of the other scenes.

I think my biggest problem with the film is that it largely feels like a rip-off of Pulp Fiction.  Tonally, the films are very similar, with the exception of Pulp Fiction’s humor feeling much more organic to the characters.  Imagine if Pulp Fiction was only about Samuel L. Jackson and John Travolta retrieving the mysterious glowing briefcase and returning it to Ving Rhames, and none of the other storylines existed.  Also, take out the stuff with Harvey Keitel.  Then, imagine what might be in the Pulp Fiction briefcase and try to come up with something far less interesting.  That’s basically what this film is.

I can’t comment on any special features that may appear on the DVD because I only received a burned copy of the film.  Not only that, the picture quality on my copy was really awful; worse than standard DVD definition.  It was very pixilated and distracting, and probably made it harder for me to enjoy what was going on in the film.  Available now on DVD from Broken Glass Pictures.

Honestly, Come Undone is unlike many of the gay films I would secretly watch, alone in my basement when I was younger. But still, it managed to tap into that sense of youth. Come Undone showcases it all; the confusion, uncertainty, and even the passion of… trying to make sense of your feelings, both sexual and emotional. It’s a rarity that a film is able to channel that so eloquently and with such subtlety. So many films are caught up in their characters, as they should be, but there was never anything recognizable about the gay characters I saw in television and film. Come Undone is certainly a character study, but more than that, it’s an experience. The film engages on an emotional level, leaving the specifics of each character behind and giving way to the emotional isolation of discovering you’re gay and the unbridled passion of first love.

This is largely in part due to the understated and powerful performances by the two leads, Jérémie Elkaïm and Stéphane Rideau. Even when the film delves into some of the more stereotypical elements of the gay film, such as Mathieu’s attempted suicide, the film shows an uncommon restraint in giving the viewer too much. Instead, the passion and heartbreak are never outwardly stated, but shown on the character’s faces. While this may sound like a minor element, it is this kind of subtlety and emphasis on emotion that makes Come Undone such a unique film. Of course, the film’s score, including the haunting “Wise Man Blues” by Perry Blake, help to convey the romanticism and devastation that accompanies any great love story, particularly first love.

Come Undone is the kind of love story that, although the details may have changed, every one of us has gone through. The harsh juxtaposition between the excitement and passion of when it first begins to the heartbreak of when it, inevitably, comes to an end are so expertly crafted. While the pacing may be slow to some, Come Undone effectively forces its viewers to feel for its characters in a stunning display of emotional masochism. Come Undone is certainly not a casual movie-watching experience for this reason, but that doesn’t make it any less of a vital film experience. Come Undone’s exploration of first love between two gay men is at times heartbreaking and other times hopeful, somehow unique and deeply relatable, creating a perfect storm of emotions that will stay with you long after the film’s end.

Come Undone is available on DVD from First Run Features.

Unfortunately there’s not a lot to like about this film.  Tonally, it’s pretty cool – reminiscent of a Film Noir.  The acting is strong even if the characterization is not.  And even though the film gets slow at times, it is paced well overall; telling its story in a way that doesn’t feel like it’s being dragged out too much.

Unfortunately, each of these good things about the film comes with a problem.  Yes, the tone is interesting, but the entire film stinks of a twist ending coming.  I had a twist in mind the whole time and the weird thing is that not only did that twist not happen, the film didn’t have much of an ending at all.  So, it’s not that I was proven wrong by having a different twist happen, but rather was left confused by the rather abrupt ending the film actually has.  So, I guess what’s going on with Charlie’s character is left up for debate, but that is really lazy writing to me.  I think I’d prefer the awful twist ending I was dreading in my head to the non-ending we end up with here.

None of the characters are really well executed.  Charlie is meek and unimposing, but with moments of rage that make him dangerous.  The fact that he spends the entire movie reacting to other characters’ wants rather than having any of his own makes him pretty uninteresting though.  Florence has virtually no character-defining action other than her constant want to sleep with Charlie, and her love of a particular red car.  There are other bizarre inconsistencies in her character that feel like they were thrown in to make the film longer.  One scene in a church stands out as particularly weird because Florence demonstrates this sudden random religious side that is not at all apparent in the rest of the film.

The best character is the Buddha, and Willem Dafoe does an excellent job of bringing the character to life.  The huge problem is that he only has a few minutes of screen time over the course of the movie.  Most of the film is focused on the Charlie/Florence relationship, and the Buddha is all but ignored.  It’s a real shame and I’m not sure why they did the movie this way, but wonder if it doesn’t have something to do with the fact that Dorff and Monaghan were producers on the film, and thus couldn’t have any of their precious screen time edited out.  That’s just a guess though.

No special features.  Can’t recommend the Blu-ray over the regular DVD on this one because the visuals simply aren’t up to that caliber.  Available now from RLJ Entertainment.

The story follows the controversial relationship between Elizabeth Taylor (Lindsay Lohan) and Richard Burton (Grant Bowler).  Both actors having been married before, meet on the set of 1963’s Cleopatra, and after a rocky first few encounters begin having an affair which lead to years of working together and two separate marriages.

Now, I don’t want to simply bash Lindsay Lohan here.  Her personal life is a mess and it’s had an obvious effect on her acting career with a slew of awful films piled on top of each other.  She clearly is taking whatever work she can get these days, but one gets the feeling that Liz & Dick was meant to be the beginning of her rise back to the spotlight, but unfortunately the film has other major flaws that prevented that from ever happening.  Lohan’s performance is pretty good.  We’ve seen her capable of realistic and charismatic performances before in things like Freaky Friday and even The Parent Trap, but this film falls flat in too many other ways.

First of all, the amount of time covered by the film is staggering.  The filmmakers attempt to tell the story from the days when Burton and Taylor first meet (1963) all the way through Burton’s death (1984).  It’s not that the entire film feels rushed.  Much of it is very well paced, but it’s clear that they got to a point late in the film where they still had a lot of story to tell so they had to rush even more as the finale approached.  It’s awkward to suddenly be jumping ahead years at a time; seeing Lohan don the iconic Elizabeth Taylor 80s look.

The best part of the film is Grant Bowler’s performance as Richard Burton.  I’d never heard of Grant Bowler, and looking over his filmography, I’ve definitely seen him in other stuff but nothing stands out in my memory.  Also, I know very little about Richard Burton – particularly his private life, but I enjoyed Bowler’s performance much more than anything else in the film.

I think the biggest problem with this is that stories about actors and their craft is consistently boring to me.  When the most dramatic scenes in the film are centered on Burton’s inability to win an Oscar, and Taylor’s inability to hang a Monet painting in her hotel room, I find it difficult to care at all.  This theme of actors in their environment is accented by having the characters periodically sitting in a black box theatre narrating the events of the film.  They’re young and playful and deep as they discuss the events of their life as if they’re being interviewed.  I’m not sure what these scenes are meant to represent.  Perhaps the idea is that Taylor and Burton, while dead, are still together in some form – free to relive the ups and downs of their relationship for all eternity.  I don’t know, but it’s not a very effective narrative device to me.

Finally, we come to the worst part of the film.  A real blasphemy of cinema in my opinion.  It seems inevitable that at some point Taylor and Burton are going to be cast in the amazing film adaptation of Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf.  And once that thought occurred to me, I had only one request:  that they not attempt to reenact scenes from the iconic and perfect original film.  But my pleas and prayers fell on deaf ears as sure enough I had to endure Lindsay Lohan implying Burton was a homosexual and telling him he made her want to vomit with all the energy of Lohan’s new botoxed face.  It made me want to vomit…

Available on DVD from Entertainment One on May 14.

Consider, for example, the viewing of a production of Romeo and Juliet. We know that Romeo will poison himself, mistaking Juliet to be dead, and we know that Juliet, upon awakening will find his body and subsequently stab herself. Yet, those of us fully engaging with the production find ourselves hoping that Romeo might stay his hand for but a moment, that the apothecary will refuse him poison, or that he might get advance word just this once of Juliet’s scheme to stage her death and flee Verona. We know what events must transpire and yet we hope that they won’t, experiencing the narrative afresh upon re-watching, as if we were seeing it for the first time.

And thus we experience The Rose of Versailles in no small part due to its central, fictional figure of Lady Oscar François de Jarjayes. This 40-episode anime circa 1979-1980, adapted from the manga by Riyoko Ikeda, finds the fictional Lady Oscar dropped smack dab in the middle of the rising, real-world conflict between the French nobility and the people who would someday lead the French Revolution. Born the youngest daughter of a French general (who was a real world personage), Lady Oscar is raised as a boy and eventually becomes the commander of the Royal Guard, committed to serving Marie Antoinette. At first, Lady Oscar must defend the innocent Antoinette from her enemies in the court, enemies of which the would-be queen is blissfully unaware or which she herself creates out of her own sense of propriety. To this end, a central conflict in the series’ first arc results from Antoinette’s staunch refusal to acknowledge Madame du Barry, a former prostitute and the King’s mistress, at court. Although a seemingly minor transgression to those of us looking back from the modern era, that this conflict is spread out across three episodes emphasizes the significance that French nobility placed on the archaic traditions (balls, lavish dress, feasts, etc.) that bankrupted taxpayers in the 18th century, forcing the average French citizen to persist in debilitating poverty.

For the most part, however, Oscar takes a back seat in these contests between the French aristocracy (which are inspired by real-life events as it happens), and only ever chimes in to lend a hand in the characters’ decision-making processes or step in when asses need kicking. But the real drama of the series, inspiring those moments when we feel the aforementioned pangs of hope with the greatest intensity, stems from Oscar’s intermittent contact with those average citizens on the verge of starvation, hard-working people who must watch their loved ones die as a result of Antoinette’s misguided perception that if she’s happy (which requires a hell of a lot of money), the people must be happy. In those moments, we, like Lady Oscar, hope beyond hope that the sweet but naïve Antoinette will see the error of her ways. But this hope is inevitably tempered by fear as the narrator constantly informs us that we are but a scant handful of years away from the French Revolution and Antoinette’s execution. Given that the series thus periodically reminds us of the inevitable tragedies awaiting our central cast of characters, an ominous air hangs over the proceedings even in moments of great levity.

What’s more, the series is not only spectacularly engaging on a narrative level, but it’s a marvelous work of animation as well! The Rose of Versailles is stylishly cinematic, employing such techniques as multiple exposures, color and lighting shifts, canted angles, multiple frames, and impressionistic backgrounds in its visual presentation. And these techniques are not used sparsely by any means. In fact, the list I compiled above was generated from elements noted whilst watching a single episode. Moreover, with regard to the series’ pacing, moments of silence highlight the action in each episode, giving us more than ample time to consider the ramifications of events depicted and thus adding drama to the whole affair. By comparison, American viewers of serialized animation would not see silence thus employed until the 1990s, when the producers of Batman: The Animated Series demanded more of the animators they contracted the series out to than simply getting the script onto the page as quickly and efficiently as possible. Thus, The Rose of Versailles is more akin to the sophisticated animation of the era’s cinema than that which we typically associate with late 70s-early 80s television animation.

The first twenty episodes of the series are currently available from Nozomi Entertainment in a four-DVD Limited Edition box set featuring a beautiful, hardboard collector’s case, textless openings and closings by way of special features, and a near-flawless transfer.

The series’ narrative centers on the “Sekirei Plan,” a game concocted by a rich madman that pits 108 (potentially alien) superpowered individuals known as Sekirei against one another in battle in a city-wide free-for-all from which only one Sekirei may emerge victorious. In order to use their superpowers to their fullest extent and therefore win, the Sekireis must be “engaged” by forming a physical relationship (initiated by a kiss) with an Ashikabi, a normal man or woman with whom the Sekireis then become bonded and reliant upon.

The thing is, not all Sekireis must have a unique Ashikabi. In fact, given that the Sekirei’s choice of Ashikabi (unless forcibly engaged) is determined by some sort of genetic chemistry between the two, many Sekireis find their Ashikabi amongst existing Ashikabis. Thus, throughout the course of the two seasons of Sekirei collected in FUNimation’s recent Blu-ray/DVD combo pack of Sekirei & Sekirei: Pure Engagement, the series’ protagonist Minato engages six Sekireis. While harems are usually about a conflict of interest amongst a group of (typically) women who all desire a single man, Sekirei breaks from this tired trend by making the harem a necessary component of the six Sekireis’ survival during the “Sekirei Plan.” They need each other to survive just as much as they individually desire Minato.

What’s more, Minato is not your typical, personality bereft, audience surrogate harem lead. Minato’s actions, including taking on the six Sekireis, may be motivated by his overwhelming selflessness, but we actually watch him grapple with the consequences of his decisions rather than blindly jump into action. Most notably, Minato struggles greatly with putting his Sekireis in danger when he’s compelled to help others, as he is in the build-up to the climaxes of both seasons, and he even grapples with bringing on his sixth Sekirei, Homura, who had to that point been a guy.

On that note, I also find the inclusion of Homura to be a particularly interesting facet of the series, as an inherent gender instability in Homura actually results in him developing female characteristics (namely breasts) to accommodate Minato’s sexual preference. Thus, Homura becomes the sole trans-gendered character amongst an otherwise female harem. Ignoring the fact that Homura’s inclusion is blatantly motivated by the mangaka’s/producers’ desire to appeal to the sexual preferences of a specific potential audience, including a legitimately transgender character (as opposed to bishōnen characters such as Baka and Test’s Hideyoshi) is pleasantly progressive of Sekirei and the identity crisis that plagues Homura as a result makes him one of the more captivating characters in the series.

FUNimation’s 9-disc Blu-ray/DVD combo release of Sekirei includes textless openings and closings, commentaries and trailes. The set also includes two, 28-minute OVAs: “Kurano’s First Shopping Trip” and “Two Gossip Topics,” which is divided into two half-episode sections. Although included in the FUNimation release as extras, it should be noted that the OVAs are intended to fit narratively between the first and second seasons in the order listed above. However, skipping them certainly won’t hinder your enjoyment of the series any. In fact, I wish I had skipped them myself as “Two Gossip Topics” easily marks the lowest point of the series, embodying everything I hate about the harem and mature-rated fighter animes. It’s an infantile, disgusting excuse to get all the Sekireis together (friends and enemies alike), get them naked for a physical and compare/contrast breast sizes, which is literally the plot of the first half of the OVA. The second half finds them all in a bath house squeezing each other’s breasts… just because. Sure, that’s fine for some viewers, but I for one ask for a little more motivation from a series than that justifying the nudity in “Two Gossip Topics,” which is to say: none.

The cast does a wonderful job of selling the emotional turmoil each character experiences as a result of the affair, painting a surprisingly clear picture of the damage David and Nina have done to their families in spite of the minimal time we’d spent with them prior to the affair. Strangely, though, the film doesn’t quite know who to side with, resulting in an overall schizophrenic approach to the narrative. Typically, a film’s overall slant toward the events depicted results from filtering those events through the lens of a protagonist, a character whose actions propel the narrative forward and who has clear desires upon which they act, thereby affecting change. However, although The Oranges opens with voice over from Shawcat’s character Vanessa, introducing the rest of the cast from her perspective, she proves not to be central to the action in any significant way. Despite the fact that Vanessa is the narrator, and therefore the character with whom we’re theoretically supposed to most closely identify with given our access to her innermost thoughts, she has probably the least screen time of the six main characters and the least amount of narrative agency.

This is where the film really stumbles, lessening the drama of narrative events by refusing to privilege any character’s perspective over another’s, even when one character is clearly right and another clearly wrong. Remaining impartial in this way makes it difficult to determine where our allegiances as viewers are meant to lie. And while this is no doubt intentional, meant to allow viewers to come to their own conclusions about the relative rightness of each character’s actions, it prevents the film from imparting any truly profound message that isn’t outright contradicted by the theme of another character’s narrative. In this, the film desperately needed a bit of streamlining. But with such terrific performances all around, especially from Laurie and Platt who indeed seem to have been friends for ages, I can see where a filmmaker may resist subordinating one character to another. Still… omelets and eggs and all that.

The Oranges is currently available on Blu-ray and DVD from Twentieth Century Fox Home Entertainment. Special features include two brief behind-the-scenes featurettes.

The Great Escape has at last made its debut on high definition home video from Twentieth Century Fox Home Entertainment in a 50th anniversary Blu-ray release. Although it’s admittedly a problematic release in and of itself, it’s certainly an improvement over previous DVD releases. With the exception of a hair here or there onscreen that would have obviously been in-camera debris rather than debris on the print itself, I spotted no damage or debris on the image. However, the image clarity fluctuates wildly throughout, the film grain appears to have been scrubbed (or the transfer was sourced from something other than the original elements, I don’t know which), and while the reds appear fairly consistently rich, I can’t say as much for the rest of the colors, which, like the sharpness, varies from scene to scene. The special features on the Blu-ray are virtually the same as those on the 2004 Special Edition DVD release, and, with the exception of the original trailer presented in 1080p, these features are presented in standard definition. To that end, the Blu-ray includes the following featurettes: “The Great Escape: The Untold Story,” “The Real Virgil Hilts: A Man Called Jones,” “Return to The Great Escape,” “Preparations for Freedom,” “A Standing Ovation,” “Bringing Fact to Fiction,” and “The Flight to Freedom.” Also included on the disc is the commentary compiled from a series of interviews with key members of the cast and crew.

Unfortunately, this is another MGM/Fox Blu-ray with no main menu from which to access the special features, scene selection, etc. And this is of course something I’ve complained about regarding MGM/Fox Blu-rays many times before, as in my reviews of Some Like It Hot, Sid & Nancy, and Blue Velvet among a surprising number of others. You can only access the special feature and scene submenus from the pop-up menu that must necessarily and, I might add, disrespectfully appear over the film itself, subordinating the film to features in those instances. Still, in spite of its smattering of issues, the Blu-ray of The Great Escape demonstrates a marked improvement over previous releases by sheer virtue of its HD transfer.

The film opens on people buzzing about in a metropolitan area. The scene, which is captured in slow motion, portrays the essence of a missed connection; there are countless opportunities for an encounter, but no conversation occurs. The combination of the serious atmosphere of a business firm paired with the hip-hop music in the opening scene is a fun contrast that assists in setting the tone for this film. Missed Connections is, if nothing else, very current.

Josh, Pradeep, and Jules are IT workers and presumably college buddies who never really grew up. Their shared office is littered with funny posters, video games, and even a novelty basketball hoop, but the guys still find themselves bored throughout the course of the day. That boredom dies when Josh discovers that the girl he is secretly crushing on, Lucy, is into an increasingly popular missed connections site. He sees her new hobby as a way to connect to her, and his friends give their advice along the way, making for an interesting adventure.

The characters are nothing special. Perhaps they are cliché, perhaps they are just short of it, but the typical rom-com banter that might be considered clever if not so overused makes it hard to tell. Some of the humor is kind of stale and almost boring. There are a few humorous moments, but overall, the humorous aspects of the film fall short. A few classic internet mistakes and misunderstandings are tossed in the mix, leading to laughter at times and tears at others. Though there are a few unpredictable moments, the film remains pretty basic.

The romantic aspect of Missed Connections manages to turn out okay, even though it starts out with the ultimate cliché. A woman drops a box coming out of a revolving door, and a handsome Brit who happens to walk by just in time helps her up and charms her, doing everything the woman had described to her friend when describing her dream guy. Coincidences like this one don’t work well in films; the predictability of them makes them nothing more than a frustration.

Despite its clichés, at the core, Missed Connections is really a fun movie. It boasts an interesting soundtrack and tells the kind of love story that people are used to hearing. There’s a reason for these kinds of movies still being around, and that is because they are downright entertaining. A cliché only exists because at one point, it worked like a charm. In Missed Connections, it is possible to look past these few silly coincidences because of its few original moments.

Missed Connections is currently available on VOD from FilmBuff here: http://bit.ly/17JRGr6

Thus recognizing and factoring in the need for such forward progression shows just how intelligently the series’ source manga author, Mitsutoshi Shimabukuro, structured Toriko. And for all its faults (and FilmMonthly’s Ruben Rosario surely found many to highlight), Toriko is never dull. Hell, extended passages of episodes are devoted to characters tasting new and exotic foods, and then describing the taste sensations of the dish; yet they always find new and interesting ways to explain the tastes. That in and of itself is an incredible feat! What’s more, even 50 episodes in to the series, all major narrative turns are motivated by the characters’ goals. Even though Shimabukuro really had no choice but to start his characters training for a journey into the Gourmet World, it’s Toriko’s desire to experience the most obscure culinary delights and seek out the God ingredient, not narrative convenience, that motivates this development. As such, Toriko offers a refreshingly character-driven narrative when compared to other such actioners (typified by Dragon Ball Z, I suppose), in which the heroes’ growth is most often purely reactionary, responding only to the latest, external threat.

FUNimation Entertainment’s DVD release of Toriko: Part Four collects episodes 39-50, putting us a little under halfway through the existing episodes of this ongoing anime. Special features on the release include episode commentaries, a video feast with the English-language cast of Toriko, textless openings and closings, and trailers. On the version I have on hand, though, I should note that there was a subtitle authoring error on episode 47 in which translations of onscreen Japanese text appear even though there is in fact no writing present in the scene whatsoever.