View From the Couch: Heaven, Spaceballs: The Animated Series, 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.
Spaceballs: The Animated Series (Photos: MVD & MGM)
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.)

DEAD MAN (1995). A singularly unique experience from the singularly unique writer-director Jim Jarmusch, Dead Man is part revisionist Western, part social commentary, and part hallucinatory dream. Johnny Depp stars as William Blake, a meek accountant who leaves the relative comforts of Cleveland, Ohio, for a job in the Western town of Machine. Until arrival, he learns that the company (represented by John Hurt and Robert Mitchum in his final film appearance) has given his job to someone else. This in turn sets off a sequence of events that lead to Blake being falsely accused of murder and forced to flee from justice, with a trio of hired killers (Lance Henriksen, Michael Wincott, and Eugene Byrd) hot on his trail. Luckily, he receives much-needed assistance from Nobody (Gary Farmer), a Native American loner who deems him a “stupid white man” until he comes to believe that he’s actually the famous poet William Blake. Although it doesn’t quite sustain its length until the end, Dead Man is an intriguing saga that benefits immeasurably from Robby Müller’s exceptional black-and-white cinematography and Neil Young’s evocative score. Farmer is excellent as the philosophical Nobody, with Wincott offering scattered laughs as a man whose mouth never stops moving.
Extras in the 4K Ultra HD + Blu-ray edition include select-scene audio commentary by production designer Bob Ziembicki and sound mixer Drew Kanin; a Q&A session with Jarmusch; an interview with Farmer; deleted scenes; and footage of Young composing and performing the film’s score.
Movie: ★★★

EXCALIBUR (1981). Based on Thomas Malory’s Le Morte d’Arthur (the go-to source for most works about the Knights of the Round Table), Excalibur is director John Boorman’s bold and bloody retelling of the saga of King Arthur (Nigel Terry): his birth as a bastard child, his ascendance from squire to king, and his death in one-to-one combat. This ambitious undertaking manages to incorporate all the highlights from the legendary tale, not least being the omniscient presence of the sorcerer Merlin (Nicol Williamson), the adulterous betrayal by Arthur’s wife Guenevere (Cherie Lunghi) and best friend Lancelot (Nicholas Clay), and the villainy of Arthur’s half-sister Morgana (Helen Mirren) and her son Mordred (Robert Addie). Boorman and co-scripter Rospo Pallenberg vigorously punch across the gritty battles, operatic tragedies, and mischievous magic that combined form the crux of the tale, and the picture looks spectacular thanks to the Oscar-nominated cinematography by Alex Thomson and the Oscar-worthy (but shamefully non-nominated) costume design by Bob Ringwood. Williamson’s turn as Merlin is a tad too buffoonish, but there’s an undeniable thrill in catching early work by then-unknown actors Gabriel Byrne (as Arthur’s ruthless father, Uther), Patrick Stewart (as Guenevere’s noble pop, Leondegrance), Liam Neeson (as the knight Gawain), and Ciarán Hinds (as King Lot).

On a related note, in spring 2010, I went to London to stay with my then-fiancée/now-wife Natalie, who was there for a year earning her Masters at Roehampton University. During the week I was visiting (actually more than a week, since I was one of the 10 million travelers whose air flight was cancelled due to the volcanic eruptions in Iceland), we checked out many cool venues, including the London Film Museum. Among the exhibits on display at the time were ones dedicated to Charlie Chaplin memorabilia and the costumes of Excalibur, the latter pictured above.
Extras in the 4K Ultra HD + Blu-ray set include audio commentary by Boorman; audio commentary by author Brian Hoyle (The Cinema of John Boorman); two making-of documentaries, one directed by Neil Jordan (The Crying Game); interviews with Boorman and Pallenberg; image galleries; and the heavily edited TV version of the movie, which runs 120 minutes as opposed to the original 142 minutes.
Movie: ★★★½

HEAVEN (1987). It’s certainly no coincidence that Heaven, the obscure 1987 documentary that marked Diane Keaton’s directorial debut, was resurrected in 2025, the year the great actress passed away. Brought back for a few theatrical engagements, the film now debuts on Blu-ray, and it’s nice to think of an angelic Keaton looking down from above with approval. The film is basically a series of musings interspersed with vintage film clips and archival TV footage, as various folks answer questions such as “How Do You Get to Heaven?,” “Are You Afraid to Die?” and, of course, “Is There Sex in Heaven?” Keaton collects a bunch of mostly oddballs as her talking heads but doesn’t bother to identify any of them — while a couple are recognizable (like Don King), the anonymity renders it all rather facile, and viewers could just as easily grab passing strangers and get answers just as interesting (or, in some cases, just as dull). But there are some amusing bits, like the kid who thinks Heaven is a place where you wander around alone while eating marshmallows, or the two guys who bicker over proof of Heaven like a theological Siskel & Ebert. There are ample film clips — some make sense, like Powell-Pressburger’s A Matter of Life and Death and the Jack Benny vehicle The Horn Blows at Midnight, while others seem to be included simply because Keaton liked the visual (such as a Bela Lugosi close-up from White Zombie). Best of all are the clips of old-time evangelists (like Estus Pirkle) brandishing their fire-and-brimstone tirades like automatic weapons.
The only extra is the theatrical trailer.
Movie: ★★½

MANPOWER (1941). A disappointment from arguably Warner Bros.’s richest period (the ’30s and ’40s), Manpower stars Edward G. Robinson and George Raft as Hank McHenry and Johnny Marshall, best friends who work for a utility company and repeatedly risk their lives fixing power lines during stormy weather. Yet the real stormy weather arrives in the form of Fay Duval (Marlene Dietrich), a hard-luck woman who ends up coming between the boys — she marries the hard-drinking Hank not for love but for security, but then finds herself attracted to the more level-headed Johnny. The dramatics are shaky — the climactic skirmish is especially silly — while the comic relief, usually a plus in vintage WB productions, is more forced than usual, even with the presence of old pros Alan Hale and Frank McHugh. Still, this film is notable for two reasons. It was on this set that gangster Bugsy Siegel, while visiting his friend Raft, met Virginia Hill, who would become his mistress (this meeting is recreated in 1991’s Bugsy, with Warren Beatty as Siegel, Annette Bening as Hill, and Joe Mantegna as Raft). And after turning down the lead in 1941’s High Sierra, the movie that made Humphrey Bogart a star, Raft turned down The Maltese Falcon to make this picture, thus allowing Bogie to ascend even further into superstar territory — adding insult to injury, Bogart was in line for Robinson’s part in this film but Raft refused to work with him, thus freeing Bogie to make The Maltese Falcon.
Blu-ray extras consist of the 1941 cartoons Snow Time for Comedy and Joe Glow, the Firefly. (Purchase this title here.)
Movie: ★★

SPACEBALLS: THE ANIMATED SERIES (2008-2009). Mel Brooks has been one of my gods ever since I first suckled on the teat of screen comedy, but since even deities aren’t infallible, there have been a few misses in his career, practically all of them coming after he wittily spoofed the Star Wars saga with 1987’s Spaceballs (see From Screen To Stream below). Examples would include 1991’s Life Stinks, 1995’s Dracula: Dead and Loving It, and this short-lived toon show. A U.S.-Canada co-production, Spaceballs: The Animated Series aired on the relatively obscure G4 network (and on Super Channel in Canada) and proved so unpopular that it only lasted a few months. Only the pilot episode, basically a reworking of the live-action film, was written by Brooks (alongside his Spaceballs co-producer Thomas Meehan), with none of the 13 subsequent episodes either written or directed by the comic legend. He does, however, reprise his roles of Yogurt and President Skroob, joined by original cast members Daphne Zuniga (Princess Vespa), Joan Rivers (Dot Matrix), Rudy De Luca (Vinnie), and, only for the pilot, Dom DeLuise (Pizza the Hutt). Each episode finds most of the aforementioned joined by Lone Starr (Rino Romano replacing Bill Pullman), Barf (Tino Insana replacing the late John Candy), and Dark Helmet (Dee Baker replacing Rick Moranis) as their characters are put through the paces of spoofing other films: “The Lord of the Onion Rings,” “Watch Your Assic Park,” “The Skroobinator,” and so on. It’s all rather witless and depressing.
DVD extras consist of the theatrical trailer for Spaceballs and a teaser trailer for the (uh oh) upcoming Spaceballs 2.
Series: ★½

SUSPECT (1987). Cher was all over the Eastern Seaboard map in 1987, playing characters who lived in New York (Moonstruck), Rhode Island (The Witches of Eastwick), and Washington, D.C. (Suspect). She won her Oscar that year for Moonstruck, but she’s also quite good in Suspect, a thriller with a solid premise but daft execution. She plays Kathleen Riley, a bone-tired public defender who’s assigned to defend a homeless man (Liam Neeson) accused of murder. The victim was the secretary of a prominent judge who recently committed suicide, and the vagrant, Vietnam vet Carl Wayne Anderson, was found to have her purse in his possession. Kathleen’s at a disadvantage defending Carl, since he’s a deaf-mute prone to violent outbursts — the difficulty of the trial is further magnified by the fact that the presiding judge (John Mahoney) combats her even more than the prosecuting attorney (Joe Mantegna). Nevertheless, she’s able to conclude that Carl’s innocent, but it takes the illegal aid of one of the jurists on the case, slick lobbyist Eddie Sanger (Dennis Quaid), for her to determine that the crime involves powerful people in prominent positions. A conscientious lobbyist sounds like an oxymoron, but kidding aside, the character is scarcely believable in the context of the story (unlike Runaway Jury, reviewed in From Screen To Stream below); couple this with a ridiculous climax and an illogical (but predictable) reveal, and it’s difficult for the good components (of which there are several) to completely override the idiotic ones.
There are no Blu-ray extras.
Movie: ★★½

WANTED (2008). Based on the graphic novel series, this hyperactive action flick initially feels like an unofficial remake of Fight Club, as cubicle nobody Wesley Gibson (James McAvoy) narrates how he’s been beaten down by his mundane, miserable existence (cheating girlfriend, obnoxious boss, dead-end job). Into his life walks not Tyler Durden but Fox (Angelina Jolie), a tattooed beauty who insists that he’s been targeted for elimination by the same man (Thomas Kretschmann) who recently killed his father. Fox soon introduces Wesley to The Fraternity, a clandestine outfit made up entirely of assassins and led by the cordial Sloan (Morgan Freeman). Shucking aside any moral qualms rather quickly, Wesley joins the group, in the process learning that he possesses untapped skills that make him a natural for this line of work. Director Timur Bekmambetov has crafted a slam-bang feature that revels in its own ridiculousness — to criticize the movie’s outlandish situations would be to miss the whole point of this exercise in excess. Still, the script’s twists and turns aren’t nearly as clever as writers Michael Brandt, Derek Haas, and Chris Morgan pretend (the secret involving Wesley’s dad is pretty transparent), and, after a while, the movie’s gleeful approach to nihilism proves wearying.
Extras in the 4K + Blu-ray edition include a discussion of the graphic novel; interviews with cast members; a piece on Bekmambetov; two featurettes on the visual effects; an alternate opening; and an extended scene.
Movie: ★★½

YI YI (A ONE AND A TWO…) (2000). Winner of numerous international awards (including Best Picture from the National Society of Film Critics and Best Director at the Cannes Film Festival), this Taiwanese import registers as barely a whisper of a film, a soft, muted drama spent in the company of an ordinary family working through their problems in modern-day Taipei. Writer-director Edward Yang had stated that Yi Yi, his seventh film but the first to have received commercial stateside distribution, is “simply about life,” certainly the best way to describe a motion picture that embraces its own humanity at every junction. The family at the core of the story is headed by NJ Jian (a lovely performance by Wu Nienjen), a 45-year-old businessman whose problems at work — he’s a partner at a computer company that may soon be facing bankruptcy — pale next to the hardships at home. His mother-in-law suffers a stroke; his harried wife unexpectedly finds religion and takes off on a retreat; his brother-in-law, caught in a sticky situation between his new wife and his ex-girlfriend, has a breakdown; and the first love of his life reemerges on the scene after a 20-year hiatus. Yi Yi runs nearly three hours, and while that may sound like a long stretch for what’s basically a talky drama, it’s actually the right length for a stirring, sentimental film that needs time to take root and flourish.
Extras in the 4K + Blu-ray edition consist of audio commentary by Yang and Asian-cinema critic Tony Rayns; an interview with Rayns about the New Taiwan Cinema movement; and the theatrical trailer.
Movie: ★★★½

FILM CLIPS
DARK HARVEST (1992). The selling point of this DIY horror yarn? Killer scarecrows! Alas, the majority of the film centers on a bunch of bickering couples partaking in an outdoor excursion — it’s only after they’re lost that they encounter a pitchfork-wielding scarecrow, a wimpy scarecrow who gets taken out as easily as a barroom drunk, a “gay scarecrow” (as per the closing credits), a scarecrow who cracks wise like Freddy Krueger, and so on. The local rednecks who pop up occasionally are more frightening than the supernatural scarecrows, but the wretched acting is scariest of all.
Blu-ray extras include interviews with co-stars Patti Negri and Dan Weiss.
Movie: ★½

KNOCK OFF (1998). Heralded Hong Kong filmmaker Tsui Hark twice tried his hand at Hollywood moviemaking and was so disappointed in the results that he headed back home and resumed a fabulously successful career. His first Yankee flick, the 1997 Jean-Claude Van Damme vehicle Double Team, was merely a mediocrity, but his second couldn’t even aspire to that level. Van Damme plays a Hong Kong-based fashion designer who teams up with CIA agents to keep shipments of mini-bombs out of the hands of Russian agents. By Tsui standards, the action sequences aren’t very riveting — as for the humor, that’s provided by Rob Schneider, who’s to comedy what a tidal wave is to a child’s sand castle.
Extras in the 4K + Blu-ray edition include an archival making-of featurette, and a new interview with scripter Steven E. De Souza.
Movie: ★½

FROM SCREEN TO STREAM
DELIVERANCE (1972). The Appalachian terrain is the setting for this gripping drama in which the notion of the “civilized” man bumps up against nature and barely makes it out alive. Four Atlanta businessmen — pensive Jon Voight, macho Burt Reynolds, whiny Ned Beatty, and affable Ronny Cox — get away from it all by embarking on a weekend vacation highlighted by a canoe trip, unaware that a pair of repulsive hillbilly rapists (chillingly played by Bill McKinney and Herbert “Cowboy” Coward) lurk in the deep, dark woods. This powerful adaptation of James Dickey’s best-selling novel finds director John Boorman establishing a sense of menace almost from the start, and the “squeal like a pig” sequence continues to haunt viewers even decades after the fact. In one of his best parts, Reynolds excels as a rugged athlete who best understands the milieu’s “survival of the fittest” code, while Voight scores as a mild-mannered sort who discovers unexpected reservoirs of heroism bubbling up within him. The “Dueling Banjos” sequence, in which Cox’s character tries to keep pace with the playing of an illiterate mountain boy (Billy Redden), has become a classic in its own right. This earned Oscar nominations for Best Picture, Best Director, and Best Film Editing.
Movie: ★★★★

HERE COMES MR. JORDAN (1941). The delightful Here Comes Mr. Jordan is based on a play (Harry Segall’s Heaven Can Wait), but it’s hardly a stage-bound film, given its ease at hopping between numerous locales both earthly and celestial. Robert Montgomery plays Joe Pendleton, a boxer who dies in a plane crash just before he’s set to embark on a championship run. Insisting to the angel (Edward Everett Horton) who nabbed him that there’s been some mistake, Joe learns from the angel’s superior, Mr. Jordan (Claude Rains), that an error has indeed been made and that he’s not set to die for another 50 years. But since his earthbound body has been cremated, Joe’s forced to occupy the human shell of Mr. Farnsworth, a heartless millionaire whose wife (Rita Johnson) and assistant (John Emery) are plotting to murder him. The plot twists fly off the screen in this sharply written fantasy boosted by standout turns from Montgomery and James Gleason as Joe’s befuddled boxing manager. Nominated for seven Oscars, including Best Picture, Actor (Montgomery), Supporting Actor (Gleason), and Director (Alexander Hall), it earned two for Best Original Story (Segall) and Best Screenplay (Sidney Buchman and Seton I. Miller). This was remade by Warren Beatty as 1978’s irresistible Heaven Can Wait and in 2001 as the limp Chris Rock vehicle Down to Earth.
Movie: ★★★½

THE MATADOR (2005). If someone were to greet James Bond by stating, “You look good,” the answer would doubtless be something on the order of “Why, thank you” or “That’s true.” But not in The Matador. Here, the reply is bitter and blunt: “I look like a Bangkok hooker on a Sunday morning after the Navy’s left town.” OK, so it’s not actually Agent 007 who utters this sharp retort, but coming from the lips of Pierce Brosnan, it’s the next best thing. Brosnan is sensational in this black comedy about another character who’s been given a “licence to kill”: Julian Noble, a career assassin whose life exists on a never-ending loop of getting drunk, getting laid, and getting his target. Burning out at a rapid clip, he opens up to a businessman he meets in a bar in Mexico City. Danny Wright (Greg Kinnear) is pretty much the complete opposite of Julian, so much so that he initially doesn’t even believe he’s a hired killer. Danny eventually learns a lot from his new buddy, but will this strange relationship prove to be a blessing or a burden? The Matador might be distasteful in concept but not in execution, thanks to writer-director Richard Shepard’s understated approach (the R rating is for language, not violence) and the audience surrogates provided by Kinnear and Hope Davis (as Danny’s wife). But Brosnan is performing his own high-wire act here, daring us not to like his sleazy, vulgar, insensitive, immoral character. As a human being, Julian’s not much, but as a movie character, he’s a keeper.
Movie: ★★★

MYSTERY TRAIN (1989). In one of his finest films, writer-director Jim Jarmusch illustrates how Elvis Presley the myth can eclipse the notion of Elvis Presley the man and even Elvis Presley the rock star. Mystery Train explores this idea with a trio of vignettes, all centered around a seedy Memphis hotel overseen by a flashy night clerk (scene-stealing Screamin’ Jay Hawkins) and his wary bellboy (Cinqué Lee, Spike’s little brother). The first part follows a Japanese couple (Youki Kudoh and Masatoshi Nagase) as they arrive to visit Graceland and Sun Studios; the second installment focuses on an Italian widow (Nicoletta Braschi) who hears an Elvis ghost story and then has an actual spiritual encounter herself; and the final sequence looks at the misadventures of three lowlifes (Steve Buscemi, Rick Aviles and The Clash’s Joe Strummer), one of whom is an unhappy British fellow nicknamed Elvis. Structurally inventive — a bullet shot can be heard near the end of each segment, making us aware that all are taking place simultaneously — this unique film is further enhanced by Robbie Müller’s color cinematography, which is often so visually desolate that you’ll later swear this was presented in black and white.
Movie: ★★★½

RUNAWAY JURY (2003). Yet another adaptation of a John Grisham bestseller, Runaway Jury posits that there’s actually hope for ordinary citizens to take on the powerful gun lobby — and possibly win. It’s a fantastical concept — more far-fetched than anything exhibited in Star Wars or The Wizard of Oz — but that doesn’t make it any less savory a dream. And the flames of that dream are stoked to an inferno in this slick piece of entertainment, in which a jury member (John Cusack) and his girlfriend (Rachel Weisz) have their own reasons for wanting to sway the vote in a civil suit aimed at bringing down a major corporation that produces deadly weapons. Gene Hackman, who has the distinction of appearing in both the best Grisham law & order adaptation (The Firm) and the worst (The Chamber), is all coiled menace as the consultant who has never met a jury he can’t manipulate from behind the scenes, while Dustin Hoffman squares off against him as a principled lawyer who wants to win the case without compromising his own moral code. Stellar performances, a quicksilver pace, and some modest surprises result in a satisfying night on the couch.
Movie: ★★★

SPACEBALLS (1987). On the 10th anniversary of the original Star Wars, Mel Brooks released his satiric take on the trilogy, and while it doesn’t skewer the sci-fi genre as brilliantly as Young Frankenstein tackled the horror film, it was the last Brooks theatrical release to consistently offer more laughs than groans. Bill Pullman plays Lone Starr, the Luke Skywalker/Han Solo composite who travels around the galaxy with his faithful half-canine, half-human companion Barf (John Candy) by his side. When the evil Dark Helmet (Rick Moranis) wages war against the peaceful planet Druidia, Princess Vespa (Daphne Zuniga) and the android Dot Matrix (Lorene Yarnell; voiced by Joan Rivers) join our heroes in attempting to vanquish the villains. Brooks himself appears in two roles — the evil President Skroob and the wizened Yogurt the magnificent (“Please, I’m just plain Yogurt”) — although it’s the minor character of Pizza the Hutt (voiced by Dom De Luise) who never fails to make me chuckle. A slapdash effort that throws in all manner of gags — some inspired (that opening shot), some predictable (when troops are ordered to comb the desert, you just know an actual mega-sized comb will be shown sifting through the sand), some completely off the wall (the Alien chestburster performing a song-and-dance number) — Spaceballs demonstrates that the Schwartz is still with us.
Movie: ★★★
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