by Todd Gilchrist

The 400 Blows 

There aren’t a lot of insights about Francois Truffaut’s The 400 Blows (The Criterion Collection, Mar. 24, $39.95) that haven’t already been thoroughly documented, but the new Blu-ray release affords fans a chance to pore over its thoughtful, sensitive details yet again with superior picture and sound quality. Following a listless young boy who endures a series of self-inflicted misadventures, Truffaut documents parts of his own troubled childhood, and in the process he creates one of film’s most powerful and enduring portraits of youth. 

Other than an added essay by Annette Insdorf, the new release contains all of the same content as Criterion’s previous standard-definition edition, and the video transfer isn’t considerably better. So while this seems a natural choice for one of the label’s flagship high-definition releases, it doesn’t maximize the format or truly expand its visual landscape. That said, the film’s chief virtue is its intimacy, which is why the film remains an undeniable classic in any format. But choosing whether or not to upgrade is worth the same kind of reflection that Truffaut showed when he made it, so don’t automatically add this to the top of your list when time comes to upgrade your DVD collection to Blu-ray. Rent It 

Quantum of Solace 

Facing the unenviable burden of following the longest and most commercially successful installment in the history of the James Bond franchise, director Marc Forster assembled a relentlessly lean and Spartan follow up in Quantum of Solace (Fox Home Entertainment, Mar. 24, $39.99), whose comparable disappointment will likely continue as it makes its way on to DVD and Blu-ray. In high definition, the film’s picture quality is remarkably inconsistent, and its slate of featurettes and extras – similar in size to the first release of Casino Royale- hardly scratch the surface of the material, much less explain the film’s cryptic title. 

But this is a film that positively demands to be seen more than once, if initially only to decipher what’s actually happening amidst its lightning fast cuts and frenetic camera angles. Daniel Craig remains the best Bond since Connery, offering the right notes of bleak bemusement and breathless determination, while Olga Kurylenko provides a suitable female counterpart in his pursuit of vengeance. Sadly, Quantum of Solace is too obsessed with its own forward momentum to provide much reflection or even recovery time for its audience, pummeling viewers with one set piece after the next, but as a grade-A thrill ride there are few films that can match its unrelenting energy and fealty to smart spectacle. Rent It 

Synecdoche,
New York 

Charlie Kaufman’s Synecdoche, New York (Sony Pictures Home Entertainment, Mar. 10, $39.95) is one of those odd films that you feel compelled to tell people to see twice before they even talk about it. In today’s age it seems inconceivable to insist upon more than a single serving of almost anything, but Kaufman’s directorial debut is a rare work of art that changes and expands as you watch it, requiring time and space to digest its remarkably dense yet meticulously arranged collection of ideas. 

It’s this complexity, and this emerging sense of reward the film grants, that makes it such a perfect treasure to uncover on Blu-ray, thanks to a modest but insightful wealth of extras, and of course just the ability to revisit it multiple times at your leisure, or more likely, compulsion. Of course, if thinking and re-thinking isn’t your thing, then steer clear of Kaufman’s brilliantly warped worldview, but Synecdoche, New York provides ample evidence that there are still movies made that stay with you long after you leave the theater. Buy It 

The Day the Earth Stood Still 

There’s not really a better way to describe Scott Derrickson’s The Day the Earth Stood Still (Fox Home Entertainment, Apr. 7, $39.99) than as a good science fiction film populated by douchebags: from Keanu Reeves’ finger-wagging extraterrestrial to the Earth’s impatient military forces, no one in the movie appears interested in anything other than pushing the plot forward with numbing, imbecilic relentlessness. Too bad, then, that the original remains such a timeless and resonant commentary on imperialism and potential international (and one supposes, intergalactic) conflicts, and as such would be worth remaking if anyone were able to do so without focusing on the fiction rather than the science. 

Predictably, the Blu-ray features picture-in-picture galleries of preliminary artwork and storyboards amongst a wealth of other content, but it seems unlikely that anyone but the filmmakers themselves will be interested in investigating its intricacies further. (Perhaps it’s telling that even with three discs’ worth of space, Derrickson declines to provide a commentary track.)  Ultimately, The Day the Earth Stood Still is best remembered as a ‘50s film still relevant today, while the 2008 version will provide an object lesson in what not to do if you’re helming a remake. Skip It 

Vanishing Point 

Despite earning its tagline as “the ultimate car chase movie”, Vanishing Point (Fox Home Entertainment, Feb. 24, $34.98) is probably best known as a source of reference and inspiration for Quentin Tarantino’s Death Proof. Thankfully, the Blu-ray release is unsatisfied with such a considerable pedigree, offering some of the most in-depth and interesting bonus materials yet created for the format; in addition to not one, but two versions of this transgressive, invigorating film for viewers to choose between. 

Its plot is painfully uncomplicated – “last American hero” Kowalski (Barry Newman) attempts to drive from Denver to San Francisco in 15 hours – but Vanishing Point is no simple exploitation film. Rather, it’s a sprawling, meditative and quite beautiful story about post-Vietnam restlessness that only gains resonance as Kowalski’s trek progresses. Thanks to the disc’s extras, however, you can follow along both mechanically and emotionally, thanks to features like a pop-up dashboard that provides gas, speed, and even soundtrack information during the film. While it seems like an odd choice to include singer Chris Cornell’s insights about the film alongside the filmmakers’ recollections, this disc is truly spectacular and comprehensive, befitting a film whose charms are both visceral and emotionally resonant. Buy It

Film, as it’s been both said and proven time and again, is chiefly a director’s medium. Television is the area in which writers can most clearly and lastingly establish a distinct voice for themselves. However, just like most of the movies he’s penned, Charlie Kaufman defies the restrictions of that categorization.

In fact, his filmography reads like a list of some of the most subversive, idiosyncratically trippy and dazzlingly audacious movies of the past decade (regardless of whether one thought they succeeded or not): Being John Malkovich, Confessions of a Dangerous Mind, Human Nature, Adaptation, and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Thus, somewhat unusually, there’s already a distinguishable persona attached to Kaufman’s self-penned directorial debut – Synecdoche, New York, a sprawling, contemplative and imaginative work in which the literal and metaphorical collide in sardonic and sometimes surprisingly affecting fashion. 

Attempting to condense the plot of Synecdoche, New York in a way that’s representative of the whole is perhaps an exercise in folly, but here goes. Philip Seymour Hoffman stars as Caden Cotard, a New York theater director whose life starts to contract on him. His marriage to Adele (Catherine Keener), a painter of miniatures and celebrated artist in her own right, is fraying, and a mysterious physical (psychosomatic?) malady is shutting down his autonomic functions one by one. Things get worse when a flirtatious, would-be affair with box office ticket girl Hazel (Samantha Morton) runs aground before it even really catches fire, and Adele runs off to Europe with Caden’s daugther. 

Honored with a MacArthur grant that gives him hope of creating a work of brutal honesty, Caden launches himself into a massive, Mike Leigh-esque undertaking, hiring hundreds of actors to craft an improvised, much-workshopped “living play” in a giant warehouse that contains an ever-growing mock-up of the city outside. He even hires actors Sammy (Tom Noonan) and Tammy (Emily Watson), to play himself and Hazel, which helps contribute to the mental deterioration of new wife Clare (Michelle Williams), his former leading lady. 

Synecdoche, New York (the title is pronounced “sih-neck-doh-kee”) is a movie that has the capacity to enthrall and frustrate in perhaps equal measure. For a while it unfolds as a more or less straightforward drama about a man caught up in his own head, albeit with a few heightened touches of absurdism. (Hazel lives in a house that is literally on fire, and for years Caden peruses his daughter’s forward-reading diary, long after she’s left.) Later, the movie becomes a series of slipstream moments, scattered marbles of life that serve as emotive triggers and placeholders as much if not more than conventional dramatic fodder. 

What I can most easily and honestly say about Kaufman’s id-tickling picture is that it has both enormous, insistent ambition and a soul, which are so frequently mutually exclusive in modern American movies. “Like” is a hard word to attach to it, not because it’s punishing or depressing, but just because it doesn’t coddle or pander to an audience. It’s largely about death and creative struggle, but it’s also whimsical and hopeful. There are a few bits with which to quibble, but it’s mostly an engrossing experience — funny, mildly unnerving, (there’s a pinch of domestic creepiness that would make David Lynch proud), and affecting in unexpected, tangential ways… much like life itself, actually. (R, opens on 10/24)