FILM FRENZY

Carl Boehm in Peeping Tom (Photo: Criterion)

By Matt Brunson

(View From The Couch is a weekly column that reviews what’s new on Blu-ray, 4K and DVD. Ratings are on a four-star scale.)

AMERICAN HUSTLE (2013). Writer-director David O. Russell’s American Hustle, second only to Inside Llewyn Davis as the best film of 2013, is a movie that in its best moments recalls GoodFellas, with a bit of Boogie Nights thrown in to sweeten the pot. It uses as its anchor the Abscam sting operation that took place in the late 1970s-early ‘80s, when the FBI managed to nab several politicians on charges of bribery. The bureau employed a con man named Melvin Weinberg to assist in the investigation, and the film finds Christian Bale playing Irving Rosenfeld, the fictionalized version of Weinberg. In the opening scene, Irving patiently and meticulously gets his comb-over just right, signaling that this will be a film in which surface appearances count for a lot but can just as easily be wrecked (as happens to that comb-over). Irving works alone on his cons, but that changes after he falls for the classy Sydney Prosser (Amy Adams). Zealous Fed Richie DiMaso (Bradley Cooper) busts Sydney, which enables him to blackmail the couple into working for him. But matters grow increasingly complicated, with Irving’s unpredictable wife Rosalyn (Jennifer Lawrence) threatening to gum up the works. There’s more — much more — and it’s all delivered by Russell and co-writer Eric Singer in scintillating fashion. Bale’s baleful glares at Richie and exasperated stares at Rosalyn suggest he might have had a place in silent cinema; Adams, generally cast as sweet, soulful women, gets to be sexy, smart, duplicitous, and even piteous; and Lawrence triumphs with a hysterical (in both senses of the word) turn as a blowsy wife who fancies herself the heroine of this sordid saga. This earned 10 Academy Award nominations, including Best Picture and for all four stars.

Extras in the 4K + Blu-ray + Digital SteelBook edition include a making-of featurette and deleted scenes.

Movie: ★★★★

THE AMERICAN SOCIETY OF MAGICAL NEGROES (2024). For those unfamiliar with the term, the “Magical Negro” is a common trope that finds a film’s black character existing solely to serve the white protagonist and make his or her life easier — examples include the characters played by Michael Clarke Duncan in The Green Mile, Will Smith in The Legend of Bagger Vance, and Morgan Freeman in far too many to name. Comedians like Key & Peele have long mocked this convention in skits, and the idea of a movie that satirizes the concept is intriguing. Sadly, we’ll have to keep waiting for such a feature, since this one barely qualifies. It begins promisingly, with young Aren (Justice Smith) continuing his bad habit of being uncomfortable and apologetic around white people. When a race-based misunderstanding — a drunk white woman asks him to hold her purse for a moment, and everyone assumes he’s robbing her — places Aren in physical danger, along comes the mysterious Roger (David Alan Grier) to defuse the situation. Roger then explains that he thinks Aren is prime material to join the title group, whose members devote themselves to helping whites and thus indirectly make their own lives easier as well. It’s a good start, but instead of spending the remainder of the film tackling this topic with the necessary scalpel, writer-director Kobi Libii diverts all attention to a softball plot that has fueled many a romantic comedy: Aren falls for the pretty girl at work (An-Li Bogan) but has difficulty jumpstarting a relationship because of his secret. The “magical negro” angle barely remains present, solely filtered through a humdrum narrative wherein Aren must pump up the confidence of a male co-worker (Drew Tarver). What a wasted opportunity.

Blu-ray extras consist of audio commentary by Libii and a trio of making-of featurettes.

Movie: ★★

COUP DE CHANCE (2024). Coup de Chance (Stroke of Luck) marks Woody Allen’s 50th film as writer-director, but anyone expecting any sort of representative career milestone should remember that, with very few exceptions, the 21st century has not been kind to the auteur’s output, a quarter-century mostly polluted by the dreary likes of You Will Meet a Tall Dark Stranger and Wonder Wheel. Admittedly, I appear to be in the minority on this one, but aside from the fact that the film is entirely in French (almost certainly less an artistic choice than the fact that, right or wrong, no American studio will finance him anymore), there’s little that’s fresh about it, making me suspect he’s being given a free ride for whatever reason(s). Lou de Laâge stars as Fanny Fournier, a beautiful young woman who’s married to the wealthy and older Jean Fournier (Melvil Poupard) but ends up having an affair with Alain Aubert (Niels Schneider), a former classmate she unexpectedly encounters on the streets of Paris. Fanny initially manages to keep the affair a secret from her husband, but once he discovers the truth via a detective agency, he becomes insanely jealous and contemplates murder. Certainly, the picture’s “crime and punishment” narrative was handled far more fascinatingly in Crimes and Misdemeanors and Match Point, although the foreign-language barrier at least prevents anyone from yammering in the manner of a Woody Allen surrogate (a trap that ensnared even great actors). Right up until its not-entirely-unexpected ending, the notion of chance is hammered so noisily at every turn that it’s a wonder a Greek chorus wasn’t added to guild the lily. The performances are uniformly fine, even if the characters never feel like much more than expected Gallic stereotypes. (For more Woody Allen, see From Screen To Stream below.)

The only Blu-ray extra is the theatrical trailer.

Movie: ★★

PEEPING TOM (1960). Along with his frequent filmmaking partner Emeric Pressburger, Michael Powell was to many folks the British cinema of the 1940s and ‘50s, behind such gems as The Thief of Bagdad, Black Narcissus, and The Red Shoes. Venturing solo, he directed Peeping Tom, and with one single project managed to obliterate his lofty cinematic standing and effectively end his career. The English bookend to the same year’s more enthusiastically received Hollywood offering Psycho, Peeping Tom was greeted with outright hostility in its homeland (one of the more famous critical blurbs compared it to excrement that should be flushed ASAP) and played the U.S. in a badly edited version — it wasn’t until Martin Scorsese spearheaded its restoration in the late 1970s that the picture finally found its calling as a cult classic. There have been many movies suggesting that filmgoers are by nature voyeurs — Hitchcock himself made a masterpiece in this vein with Rear Window — but few have been as damning as Peeping Tom. Scripted by Leo Marks (a fascinating figure, he was a cryptographer during World War II before becoming a writer), the picture centers on Mark Lewis (Carl Boehm), a deeply disturbed photographer who films women at the moment of murdering them in an effort to capture pure fear. Yet the biggest monster on view isn’t necessarily Mark but his father (Powell in flashbacks), a scientist who tormented Mark throughout his entire childhood for his own warped experiments and thus created his son’s damaged mental state. Thematically and psychologically rich, the movie implicates both moviemaker and movie watcher, and it’s essential viewing for anyone interested in examining the darker corners of cinema.

Extras in the 4K edition include an introduction by Scorsese; an interview with Thelma Schoonmaker, Powell’s widow and Scorsese’s editor; a look at the film’s history; and a piece on Marks.

Movie: ★★★★

REPUBLIC PICTURES HORROR COLLECTION (1944-1946). Republic Pictures has often been lumped in with the rest of Hollywood’s so-called “Poverty Row” studios from the 1930s and 1940s, but that designation isn’t entirely accurate. For one thing, Republic did have the funds to occasionally produce A-list features rather than just B-movie fillers, among them John Ford’s Oscar-winning gem The Quiet Man, starring John Wayne, and Nicholas Ray’s offbeat Western Johnny Guitar, starring Joan Crawford. It also was able to attract top talent, genuine stars like Wayne, Crawford, Robert Mitchum, Barbara Stanwyck, and Orson Welles (whose Macbeth was produced by the company). And while most Poverty Row outfits focused heavily on horror films, Republic opted instead to primarily traffic in Westerns, ones featuring the popular likes of Roy Rogers and Gene Autrey, and in serials showcasing such beloved characters as Dick Tracy, The Lone Ranger, and Zorro. Of the approximately 1,100 movies made by Republic, my research revealed that only a shockingly paltry eight films fell into the realm of horror and/or science fiction. Half of that output has been brought together for this new collection. (See From Screen To Stream below for one more Republic terror tale.)

Written by author and screenwriter Curt Siodmak (The Wolf Man) in 1942, the novel Donovan’s Brain proved to be so popular that Hollywood couldn’t wait to tackle it (and neither, apparently, could Orson Welles, who staged it as a radio play in 1944 and posthumously won a Grammy for his efforts decades later). While the 1953 version, also titled Donovan’s Brain and starring Lew Ayres and Nancy Davis (Reagan), remains the best of the three filmic versions, The Lady and the Monster (1944), inexplicably aka Tiger Man, isn’t bad. The film’s greatest asset is the presence of Eric von Stroheim, with the authoritative director and actor cast as Professor Mueller, a scientist who manages to keep the brain of William Donovan alive even after the millionaire has perished in an airplane crash. The movie’s greatest debit is the presence of Vera Hruba Ralston, simply awful as the girlfriend of a lab assistant (Richard Arlen) who becomes possessed by the disembodied brain. (In my recent review of Starting Over, I mention how Candice Bergen was one of the four Worst Actress of All Time nominees in the book The Golden Turkey Awards; meet Ralston, one of the other three contenders.)

The Lady and the Monster was the 25-year-old Ralston’s first film for Republic, but it wouldn’t be her last: She was the girlfriend (later wife) of the 64-year-old studio head Herbert Yates, who cast her in approximately two dozen movies (practically all of them flops, ultimately costing both of them their jobs). Fortunately, Ralston doesn’t appear in any of the other offerings in this set, as that might have transformed merely mediocre movies into something nigh unwatchable. The Phantom Speaks (1945), for instance, is an unexceptional chiller in which a doctor (Stanley Ridges) allows the spirit of a murderer (Tom Powers) to possess him, somehow not considering that the killer might use his body to commit more ghastly deeds.

The Catman of Paris (1946) is a drowsy take on such enduring staples as Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and The Wolf Man, as a clawed killer slashes his way through Paris. Is it a man dressed like a cat, or is it an actual monster? The identity of the assailant is painfully easy to guess (even with a different actor, Robert Wilke, playing him in feline form), even if the film wants us to believe it’s the controversial author (Carl Esmond) who conveniently suffers from blackouts right before someone gets gutted.

Lastly, Valley of the Zombies (1946) fails the truth in advertising test, as no valleys can be glimpsed in its urban setting and there’s only one zombie who, truth be told, acts more like a vampire. Ian Keith is effective as the colorfully named Ormand Murks, who requires an endless stream of blood transfusions to remain, if not exactly alive, at least mobile. Robert Livingston and Adrian Booth respectively play the stiff-necked doctor and buffoonish nurse who are absurdly suspected by the police of being killers, and their broad — and woefully unfunny — comic routine suggests that they were hoping to become the next Bud Abbott and, uh, Lulu Costello.

Blu-ray extras consist of film historian audio commentaries on all four titles; a discussion of The Lady and the Monster by film critic Tim Lucas and film historian Stephen R. Bissette; and trailers for other films on the Kino label.

The Lady and the Monster: ★★½

The Phantom Speaks: ★★

The Catman of Paris: ★★

Valley of the Zombies: ★½

SCI-FI CHILLERS COLLECTION (1957-1966). Where there’s horror, there’s often science fiction as well — to that end, Kino has released a collection of sci-fi flicks in addition to its Republic set.

Even though The Unknown Terror (1957) is revealed to be killer fungi, the end result turns out to be pretty good, thanks to interesting character developments and a memorable heavy in Dr. Ramsey (Gerald Milton). He’s experimenting on the locals in a village somewhere in the Caribbean, but his work is interrupted when a team of American explorers shows up looking for a lost comrade. The locals in their normal state aren’t exactly the friendliest, but it’s the ones who have been transformed into fungal beasts that understandably prove to be the most dangerous. The monster makeup is on the weak side, but it’s the rushed third act that most hurts what had been a solid little genre flick.

The Colossus of New York (1958) finds Ross Martin (Artemus Gordon on TV’s The Wild Wild West) as a brilliant scientist who’s instantly killed when he’s struck by a truck. Not to worry, as his father (Otto Kruger), also a scientist, and his brother (John Baragrey), ditto, insert his brain Frankenstein-style into the shell of a robotic behemoth (played by Ed Wolff). Like Robocop, the hulking being has to deal with memories of his former life, a development that eventually drives him insane. It’s not often that a movie climaxes with a robot killing people inside the United Nations building with his laser-beam eyes, and it’s sequences like this that offer some kick to the familiar proceedings. The creature design is fascinating, at once intriguing and silly.

Several familiar faces can be found in Destination Inner Space (1966), an underwater saga about a close encounter of the deadliest kind. With a Navy commander (Scott Brady) in tow, a team of scientists led by Dr. LaSatier (Gary Merrill, Bette Davis’ significant other in All About Eve and in real life) discovers a strange vessel resting on the ocean floor. They bring back one of its capsules to their own sea lab, only to discover that it contains an alien that grows at a rapid clip and begins slaughtering them. Sheree North, who had been MIA from screens for eight years but would go on to co-star in numerous hit films and TV series like The Shootist and Archie Bunker’s Place, plays a marine biologist inexplicably attracted to Brady’s monotonous military man, while James Hong (the Big Trouble in Little China villain, whose Shadowzone was covered here last week) appears in a minute role as the facility’s easily befuddled cook. Like the other two movies in this collection, good ideas and competent filmmaking are dinged by inadequate budgets — it’s hard to take the evil e.t. seriously when it looks like the Creature From the Black Lagoon’s hillbilly cousin.

Blu-ray extras consist of film historian audio commentaries on all three titles; discussions of The Colossus of New York and Destination Inner Space by film critic Tim Lucas and film historian Stephen R. Bissette; the theatrical trailer for The Colossus of New York; and trailers for over a dozen other fantasy flicks on the Kino label.

The Unknown Terror: ★★½

The Colossus of New York: ★★½

Destination Inner Space: ★★½

FROM SCREEN TO STREAM

ANNIE HALL (1977) / HANNAH AND HER SISTERS (1986). Want a better way to celebrate Woody Allen’s 50th filmic anniversary than watching his latest? Revisit two of his greatest films, both still as satisfying as when they were made.

For a sizable number of Woody fans, nothing will ever touch Annie Hall, the masterpiece that elevated him from being one of our brightest comedians to taking his place as an artistic genius. Nearly a half-century later, the film still has the ability to break down all defenses with its wonderful mix of humor and heart, as the neurotic Alvy Singer (Allen) reflects on his relationship with the equally neurotic Annie Hall (Diane Keaton). Picking out a favorite sequence — the lobster scene, the Marshall McLuhan cameo, Alvy’s dinner with the Hall family (look for Christopher Walken as Annie’s disturbed brother Duane), his childhood recollections — is about as impossible as selecting a favorite line of dialogue (although I’ve always been partial to the description of the spider that’s “the size of a Buick”). While Star Wars cleaned up in the technical categories, Annie Hall laid waste to the major Academy Awards, earning Allen his only career Best Actor nomination and winning for Best Picture, Best Actress (Keaton’s performance is fantastic), Best Director, and Best Original Screenplay (Allen and Marshall Brickman).

Until Midnight in Paris came along in 2011, Allen’s biggest commercial hit was Hannah and Her Sisters, a wondrous work so beloved in its day that the jurists for the Pulitzer Prize pushed for its script even though it was written for a film instead of a play (unfortunately, the Pulitzer committee said no way). A witty and warmhearted piece, it explores the lives of various members of a New York family. Hannah (Mia Farrow) is the oldest sister, married to Elliot (Michael Caine) and responsible in everything she does; Holly (Dianne Wiest) is the middle sibling, a reckless mess who constantly needs support; and Lee (Barbara Hershey) is the youngest, a demure beauty living with her bitter Svengali (Max von Sydow). Circling around their orbit is Mickey (Allen), Hannah’s ex and a man who’s convinced he’s going to die soon. Everything is simply perfect in this motion picture: the performances (especially by Wiest, who swept the critics’ awards for her smashing turn), the incisive screenplay (packed with typically hilarious quips, including a keeper involving the Ice Capades), the chance to catch rising stars in small roles (John Turturro, Julie Kavner, Julia Louis-Dreyfus, Lewis Black, Richard Jenkins), the best employment of the expected oldie on the soundtrack (in this case, Harry James’ “I’ve Heard That Song Before”), the inspired use of e.e. cummings (“nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands”), and the most romantic ending of all Allen films. Nominated for seven Academy Awards (including Best Picture), Hannah and Her Sisters won three: Best Supporting Actor (Caine), Best Supporting Actress (Wiest), and Best Original Screenplay (Allen).

Annie Hall: ★★★★

Hannah and Her Sisters: ★★★★

THE VAMPIRE’S GHOST (1945). While the United States had the Hays Code to protect moviegoers from being unduly influenced by sinful behavior, the United Kingdom had its own methods for dealing with various cinematic unpleasantries. For horror flicks, the country adopted the “H” Certificate, ultimately given to 37 films between 1937 and 1950 that the censors deemed “horrific” and thus unsuitable for anyone under 16. While a sizable number of H grades were given to the classic Universal flicks (including Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man and House of Dracula), Republic Pictures saw two of its offerings similarly branded. One was 1944’s The Lady and the Monster (reviewed above); the other was 1945’s The Vampire’s Ghost. While the latter is of course tame by today’s standards, it retains its unusual atmosphere, thanks to the novelty of placing a vampire flick largely in a jungle setting. Running one tick shy of an hour, this finds an African port city being terrorized by a fiend who’s been draining victims of their blood. The culprit is Webb Fallon (John Abbott), a centuries-old vampire whose cover is that of a gaunt Englishman running a local bar. Initially, only the servant Simon Peter (Martin Wilkins) realizes that this man represents pure evil, yet once Fallon sets his sights on the kindly Julie (Peggy Stewart), her fiancé Roy (Charles Gordon) grasps his true nature but is powerless to do anything to stop him. The performances are mostly on the stiff side, but the story by the great Leigh Brackett (Rio Bravo, The Empire Strikes Back) contains some interesting deviations from the usual vampiric folklore.

Movie: ★★½