View From the Couch: The Mad Bomber, Mountains of the Moon, Pulp Fiction, etc.
View From The Couch is a weekly column that reviews what’s new on Blu-ray, 4K and DVD.
FILM FRENZY
Your source for movie reviews on the theatrical and home fronts
View From The Couch is a weekly column that reviews what’s new on Blu-ray, 4K and DVD.
John Travolta and Samuel L. Jackson in Pulp Fiction (Photo: Paramount & Miramax)
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.)

GALAXY QUEST (1999). Years after the science fiction TV series Galaxy Quest has gone off the air, the show’s stars find themselves relegated to making appearances at sci-fi conventions. But matters take a bizarre turn when aliens known as Thermians, long convinced that the episodes are actually “historical documents,” kidnap the actors, believing them to be actual space heroes who can help them defeat their murderous extra-terrestrial adversaries. That’s the idea behind Galaxy Quest, and it’s a terrific one — it’s just too bad the movie never quite fulfills its promise or its premise. The Star Trek spoofing is spot-on, but writers David Howard and Robert Gordon are far too stingy with the good jokes, rendering the picture mildly amusing rather than relentlessly uproarious. Most of the cast members excel in their roles, particularly Sigourney Weaver as the show’s requisite buxom blonde, Sam Rockwell as the nervous actor worried because his character is expendable, and especially Alan Rickman as the distinguished British thespian disgusted that he’s been reduced to playing an alien science officer. Unfortunately, top-billed Tim Allen is miscast as the egotistical actor who plays the show’s heroic captain; too shallow a performer to fully mine the humor inherent in the character’s narcissism (the producers’ first choices, Alec Baldwin and Kevin Kline, would have been far better), he again demonstrates that he’s the thespian equivalent of a black hole.
Extras in the 4K + Digital Code edition include a making-of featurette; an interview with director Dean Parisot; deleted scenes; a piece on the visual effects; the opportunity to see Weaver rap; and, amusingly, the audio option to watch the entire film in Thermian.
Movie: ★★½

THE HUNTED (2003). It’s depressing enough when lousy movies manage to snag the services of one talented Academy Award winner, but finding two stranded in the same drivel seems like an especially monumental waste of resources. Like the previous year’s Snow Dogs, which had buried Oscar winners Cuba Gooding Jr. and James Coburn alive, this dreary hybrid of The Fugitive and First Blood finds Tommy Lee Jones and Benicio del Toro set adrift in a pallid action yarn that proved to be yet another disappointment from The Exorcist / The French Connection director William Friedkin. (For another depressing example, see The Guardian in From Screen To Stream below.) Monotonous in the extreme, this casts Jones as a retired combat instructor who’s lured back into action after it appears that one of his former pupils (del Toro), a special ops soldier who snapped after a bloody mission in Kosovo, has just murdered a pair of heavily armed hunters in the Pacific Northwest before they could blow away innocent wildlife critters (although some would convincingly argue that this would make him a hero, not a villain). This whiff of a plot is just an excuse for cinematographer Caleb Deschanel to shoot reams of lovely exterior footage, for the trio of scripters to resort to sloppiness at every turn (for someone skilled at being “invisible,” del Toro’s character sure leaves a lot of muddy footprints for Jones’ tracker to conveniently follow), and for Friedkin to stage a repetitive series of tedious showdowns between his furrow-browed stars.
Extras in the 4K + Blu-ray edition include audio commentary by Friedkin; a quartet of making-of featurettes; deleted scenes; and the theatrical trailer.
Movie: ★½

THE KILLER’S GAME (2024). Although it’s based on a novel (by Jay Bonansinga) that was written back in 1997, The Killer’s Game feels like the John Wick entry nobody wanted. That it succeeds at all is a testament to the screen presence of Dave Bautista, who again demonstrates why he’s one of the very few professional wrestlers to have successfully sustained a post-lord-of-the-wrestling-rings film career. Bautista is Joe Flood, a seasoned hit man who, as it’s made clear for the sake of audience sympathy, only kills realllly bad people. Joe is a loner and has always avoided romantic entanglements — that changes once he meets a dancer named Maize (Sofia Boutella) and they fall in love. He’s looking forward to retirement and a happily-ever-after ending, so he’s blindsided when he’s informed that he suffers from Creutzfeldt-Jakob Disease and has only months to live. Realizing that suicide would deprive Maize of benefits, he decides to take out a contract on himself. The angle of Joe potentially battling various killers as his faculties fade offers intriguing possibilities, but the movie immediately cops out by employing the lame “Oops, the medical records were switched!” routine — thus, Joe is at full strength once he’s forced to defend himself against other assassins, and since he’s already been established as the best in the biz, there’s not really any suspense to the proceedings. This world of assassins and the colorful characters who inhabit it really do come off as John Wick knockoffs — all that’s missing is the Continental — while the jokey nature and fake-looking CGI bloodletting smack of Deadpool shenanigans. But Bautista proves to be a surprisingly capable romantic lead, even if he still looks more natural holding a gun than a girl.
Extras in the 4K + Blu-ray + Digital edition include a couple of pieces on the characters and a look at the action sequences.
Movie: ★★

LOONEY TUNES COLLECTOR’S CHOICE: VOLS. 1-4 (1934-1964). Volume 1 arrived in May 2023, Volume 2 in December 2023, and Volume 3 in March 2024. And now we’re not only getting Volume 4 in this Blu-ray series of (mostly) lesser known Looney Tunes cartoons, but, for those interested parties who never got around to acquiring the previous installments, there’s also a larger set housing all 97 animated entries. Why the odd number? The first volume included 20 cartoons while the next two offered 25 apiece — this latest one bills itself as containing 25 cartoons but then lists an additional two as “Bonus Cartoons.” There’s little rhyme or reason to it — nothing about the two extra ‘toons stands out as different, just randomly chosen — and one wishes they had just gone ahead and rounded this volume up to 30 and made it an even 100 (it’s not like there’s a lack of product, as Warner produced approximately 1,000 Looney Tunes / Merrie Melodies shorts). Volume 4 is much in line with the previous sets, with not many home runs but plenty of base hits. Daffy Duck is the top-billed star here, headlining six flicks; Bugs Bunny only appears in two, but Sylvester is in five, three without Tweety. As for the cartoons, the most famous is probably 1960’s Hyde and Go Tweet, which finds Tweety turning freakishly large in Dr. Jekyll’s laboratory, much to Sylvester’s dismay. Other winners include 1947’s Along Came Daffy, in which the duck encounters Yosemite Sam and his twin brother (who knew he had a twin brother?), and 1955’s Stork Naked, with an inebriated stork trying to deliver a baby to Daffy and his wife (who knew he had a wife?). And the clever titles only add to the merriment when it comes to 1960’s Hopalong Casualty (with Wile E. Coyote and the Road Runner) and 1961’s D’ Fightin’ Ones (a spoof of 1958’s The Defiant Ones).
There are no extras.
Collection: ★★★

THE MAD BOMBER (1972). The Mad Bomber probably could only have been made in the seventies — after all, it’s hard to imagine any other decade harboring a film whose three main characters are tagged in the ads as “The Psycho Cop,” “The Mad Bomber,” and “The Rapist.” To be fair, the cop isn’t really a psycho: Like the previous year’s Dirty Harry Callahan, Geronimo Minnelli (Vince Edwards) is basically just a hard-nosed detective who doesn’t mind bending a few rules as it long as it keeps criminal scum off the streets. His latest assignment is to ascertain the identity of the individual who’s setting off bombs all around Los Angeles — that would be William Dorn (Chuck Connors), a mild-mannered family man whose motives, as well as choice of targets (a school, a mental hospital, a feminist group meeting), soon become clear. Minnelli is having no luck on the case until it’s determined that George Fromley (Neville Brand), a serial rapist, is the only witness who can identify Dorn, leading the cop to conclude that if he can find the rapist, he can then find the bomber. Bert I. Gordon, known for spending his career making such “giant creature” features as The Amazing Colossal Man, Village of the Giants, and The Food of the Gods, is the unexpected writer-director, working from Marc Behm’s original story to fashion a reasonably riveting thriller showcasing a trio of suitably intense performances. Like The Italian Connection, The Marseille Connection, The Sicilian Connection, and other movies of the era hoping to cash in on the success of 1971’s The French Connection, this also played under the title The Police Connection — it also enjoyed life in some quarters as Geronimo.
Blu-ray extras include audio commentary by film writer Kier-La Janisse, with retired bomb squad detective Mike Digby; an audio interview with Gordon (who passed away last year at the age of 100); and the heavily censored TV cut of the film.
Movie: ★★½

MOUNTAINS OF THE MOON (1990). Writer-director Bob Rafelson (who passed away two years ago, age 89) will forever be primarily known for 1970’s low-key character study Five Easy Pieces (see From Screen To Stream below), which is why it’s always a shock to see his name attached to Mountains of the Moon. Here’s the type of movie that would have seemed more comfortable on the resume of someone like David Lean, yet Rafelson musters enough of the epic sweep to properly bring out the grandeur of the story. But Rafelson, working with co-scripter William Harrison (also the author of the source novel Burton and Speke), takes care not to ignore the human dramas at play, thus making a film that’s almost as intimate as it is operatic. It’s based on the true story of the search for the source of the Nile River in the 1850s, an arduous and agonizing undertaking spearheaded by the robust Richard Burton (Patrick Bergin) and the reserved John Speke (Iain Glen). Traveling to Central Africa on two different expeditions, the hardships begin immediately — a particularly grisly early scene shows a spear going through Burton’s face (a factual occurrence), while Speke later has to contend with a beetle trapped deep inside his ear (his self-surgery is ill-advised). Mountains of the Moon is an excellent motion picture packed with scenes both harrowing (the plight of an escaped slave played by Delroy Lindo) and humorous (Burton and the Dr. Livingstone, played by Bernard Hill, compare scars a la Jaws). The stunning visuals come courtesy of Roger Deakins, just before he became everyone’s favorite cinematographer (i.e. Barton Fink was the next year, soon followed by the start of that still-going-strong run of 16 Oscar nominations and two wins).
Blu-ray extras include film critic audio commentary; a making-of featurette; and the theatrical trailer.
Movie: ★★★½

PULP FICTION (1994). One of the crowning achievements of ‘90s cinema was also one of its most influential, spawning over a decade’s worth of shameless rip-offs, resuscitating John Travolta’s dormant career, heralding the arrival of Samuel L. Jackson as a consummate actor, handing Bruce Willis one of his best roles, and providing enough subtext to choke Internet chat rooms and message boards for years and years. (Perhaps the most prevalent question: What exactly is in that glowing briefcase?) Quentin Tarantino’s cause célèbre immediately became a direct challenge to creative complacency: Intoxicated on the heady fumes of its own art form, it employs a nontraditional, nonlinear form of filmmaking to interweave several vignettes all involving various members of a seedy underworld. This won the Palme d’Or at the Cannes Film Festival before enjoying a successful stateside run that culminated with seven Academy Award nominations, including nods for Best Picture, Director, Actor (Travolta), Supporting Actor (Jackson), Supporting Actress (Uma Thurman), and Film Editing; in the year of Forrest Gump, however, it managed to only win a solitary statue for Best Original Screenplay (Tarantino and Roger Avary).
For its 30th anniversary, Paramount is offering the film in a superb 4K + Blu-ray + Digital Code Limited Edition. The package comes with such niceties as lobby card reproductions and stickers (and the pop-up slipcover is pretty cool), while bonus features include a trivia track; a retrospective making-of featurette; interviews with select cast members; deleted scenes; the Siskel & Ebert At the Movies episode titled “The Tarantino Generation”; footage from the movie’s triumphs at Cannes and the Independent Spirit Awards; Tarantino’s interview on The Charlie Rose Show; and theatrical trailers (including international ones).
Movie: ★★★★

THE VISIT (2015). A tepid horror yarn that might as well have been called Old People Are Scary!, The Visit finds writer-director M. Night Shyamalan allowing the clumsy and overused “found footage” approach to stand in the way of generating anything resembling suspense. The title refers to when precocious siblings Becca (Olivia DeJonge) and Tyler (Ed Oxenbould) visit the grandparents they’ve never met, since the elderly folks have been estranged from the kids’ single mom (Kathryn Hahn) for years. Becca wants to become a filmmaker and thus records the entire trip; for his part, Tyler fancies himself a white-boy rapper, leading to a few excruciating sequences that won’t exactly keep Eminem up late with worry. The grandparents, Nana (Deanna Dunagan) and Pop Pop (Peter McRobbie), inexplicably find the children’s behavior adorable, but the goodwill isn’t exactly returned, as the siblings are disturbed by such eccentric behavior as Nana dancing around the house naked and Pop Pop keeping soiled diapers in the shed. The kids assume it’s just the way old people behave, only waking up to their dire predicament after it might be too late. The third-act twist is fairly obvious to anyone who’s ever read an EC horror comic book or watched an episode of Alfred Hitchcock Presents, but even those who don’t suss it out might feel underwhelmed. At least the acting is strong, and Shyamalan admirably resists giving himself a plum role (see: Signs, Lady in the Water). As for the terror quota, it registers more on the risible side, featuring sudden (read: lazy) jump cuts, looming close-ups of wrinkles (Shyamalan’s approach to his elderly characters smacks of ageism), and even a rash diaper rather than a diaper rash (DADT).
Extras in the 4K + Blu-ray edition include a making-of featurette; cast and crew interviews; deleted scenes; and an alternate ending.
Movie: ★★

FROM SCREEN TO STREAM
DAMNATION ALLEY (1977) The story involving Damnation Alley has been repeated ad nauseum over the past few decades, but it’s always worth another mention. 20th Century Fox had two science fiction films coming out in 1977, and they expected this expensive adaptation of Roger Zelazny’s novel to be the blockbuster of the pair. Instead, following production woes, a shifting release date, and significant cuts in the editing room, Damnation Alley turned out to be a major flop, while the other film, set a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, smashed existing box office records. Built around shoddy special effects and cardboard characters, Damnation Alley was hardly worth all the fuss: Surprisingly dull, this post-apocalyptic yarn follows a group of survivalists (among them George Peppard, Jan-Michael Vincent, and Jackie Earle Haley back in his teen years) across a dangerous terrain as they battle giant scorpions, carnivorous cockroaches, and murderous rednecks. Not surprisingly, Zelazny was so disgusted with the end result that he publicly lambasted the movie.
Movie: ★½

FIVE EASY PIECES (1970). It’s not overkill to declare that writer-director Bob Rafelson’s Five Easy Pieces was one of the defining movies of the early 1970s. A new kind of picture even for its era, this absorbing character study dared to make its protagonist, Bobby Dupea (Jack Nicholson), often unlikable. Yet in Bobby’s inability to get a grasp on his own values and self-worth, it also made him an easily relatable character for the turbulent times, a period mourning the death of ’60s idealism and rocked by the war raging in Vietnam. Nicholson’s performance as an oil-rigger who’s soon revealed to be a pianist escaping from his upper-class roots still stands as one of his greatest — the “chicken salad sandwich” scene is immortal, thanks largely to his emoting — and the stellar cast also includes Karen Black (superb as Bobby’s doting girlfriend), Sally Struthers (a year away from All in the Family immortality), Ralph Waite (two years away from The Waltons fame), future pop star Toni Basil, and future Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe author Fannie Flagg. This earned four major Academy Award nominations: Best Picture, Actor, Supporting Actress (Black), and Original Screenplay (Rafelson and Carole Eastman).
Movie: ★★★½

THE GUARDIAN (1990). Director William Friedkin’s return to the horror genre 17 years after The Exorcist proved to be a cinematic non-event. Based on Dan Greenburg’s novel The Nanny, this daft picture stars Jenny Seagrove as the title character, a British caretaker — and a descendant of the druids — who routinely sacrifices her infant charges to a majestic tree located deep in the woods (woods that always seem to be nearby no matter where in Los Angeles she happens to find herself at any given moment). Her latest target is the weeks-old son of wholesome couple Phil (Dwier Brown) and Kate (Carey Lowell, Pam Bouvier in the Bond flick Licence to Kill) — landing the position as the baby’s guardian, she bides her time until he’s ready to be sacrificed to the gnarled tree. The actors are all earnest — that includes Brad Hall (Julia Louis-Dreyfus’ husband of 37 years and counting) as a neighbor whose attraction to the new nanny proves to be his undoing — but even their conviction can’t obscure the general silliness of the enterprise. And as far as flying nannies go, Seagrove’s isn’t half as intimidating as Julie Andrews’ Mary Poppins.
Movie: ★★
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