FILM FRENZY

Xolo Maridueña (far left), William Zabka, and Ralph Macchio in Cobra Kai (Photo: Sony)

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.)

COBRA KAI: THE COMPLETE SERIES (2018-2025). Folks who rate the 1984 sleeper box office hit The Karate Kid very highly — and, yes, I would be one of them — will find this follow-up television series absolutely irresistible. Not merely a nostalgic sop that tries to manufacture Pavlovian feelings via its carefully selected ‘80s tunes, this is instead a deep dive into the movie’s — and era’s — culture, attitudes, and struggles, cannily synthesizing them with a new generation’s exploration of same. Ralph Macchio and William Zabka return as, respectively, Daniel LaRusso and Johnny Lawrence, but the genius of the series is in not merely having these characters again play the hero and the antagonist but rather in having both play believably flawed men who need to turn back to karate to find their balance and their better selves. Life has been good to Daniel, not so much to Johnny — when Johnny elects to reopen the Cobra Kai dojo, Daniel responds by resuscitating the Miyagi-do dojo. Johnny’s students are comprised of outcasts, nerds, and losers, with top pupil Miguel Diaz (Xolo Maridueña) breaking all those constraining shackles; Daniel, meanwhile, counts among his class Johnny’s estranged son Robby (Tanner Buchanan) and his own daughter Samantha (Mary Mouser). Familiar faces return from the past, new characters are introduced, and everything is pulled off with just the right mix of drama and comedy (much of the dialogue is wickedly funny). This earned 11 Emmy Award nominations over its six-season run (initially on YouTube Premium, then Netflix), including one for Outstanding Comedy Series for Season Three.

The Blu-ray box set contains all 65 episodes. Extras include audio commentary on the pilot and the series finale by show creators Josh Heald, Jon Hurwitz, and Hayden Schlossberg; deleted scenes; and bloopers. (Purchase this title here.)

Series: ★★★½

D.E.B.S. (2004). D.E.B.S., the name of an elite force of college-age female spies, stands for “Discipline. Energy. Beauty. Strength.” Considering the genuine emotions but considerable sloppiness of the movie that sports this acronym, it might as well stand for “Daft. Earnest. Banal. Sophomoric.” Based on an 11-minute short by writer-director Angela Robinson that had made the film festival rounds in 2003, it’s basically a Charlie’s Angels spoof with an LGBTQ slant. It’s notable for presenting its lesbian storyline in a straightforward manner that’s free of any condescension or compromise, and it’s therefore a shame that it’s not a better movie. Agent extraordinaire Amy Bradshaw (Sara Foster) works alongside fellow D.E.B.S. Max (Meagan Good), Dominique (Devon Aoki), and Janet (Jill Ritchie) to apprehend criminal mastermind Lucy Diamond (Jordana Brewster), but matters get complicated when Amy and Lucy end up falling for each other. Michael Clarke Duncan essentially plays Bosley while Holland Taylor portrays Charlie, but neither they nor the principal cast members seem particularly engaged in the proceedings. Robinson comes up with a few interesting shots, but with five leading ladies this bland (although Aoki probably could have broken through had her role been expanded), a spy yarn this drab, and a love story that isn’t particularly sweet and certainly isn’t sexy, D.E.B.S. is for the most part DOA.

Blu-ray extras include audio commentary by Robinson; audio commentary by Foster, Brewster, Good, and Ritchie; a making-of featurette; and deleted scenes. (Purchase this title here.)

Movie: ★★

LOOPY DE LOOP: THE COMPLETE COLLECTION (1959-1965). What made Loopy De Loop different from the myriad other animated series from the Hanna-Barbera stable? It was the only one the outfit ever created for theatrical release, running as the toon attraction before the main feature. And when the 48 shorts were packaged for television syndication a few years later, it immediately felt of a piece with the era’s H-B TV offerings, many of which were released on Blu-ray last year (The Magilla Gorilla Show, Wacky Races, Frankenstein Jr. and the Impossibles, and more). Voiced by the then-ubiquitous Daws Butler (Yogi Bear, Barney Rubble, Huckleberry Hound, and countless others), Loopy De Loop is a French-Canadian wolf who spends his entire existence — and therefore the entire series — trying to convince everyone that wolves, or at least this wolf, is a friend to all rather than a creature to be feared. Yet despite his good cheer and humane deeds, it’s a losing battle, with very few able to see beyond his wolfish exterior. One would think such a premise would lead to ample moralizing against the evils of prejudice, but like most early H-B productions, the only real objective is to entertain audiences with gentle laughs. Not surprisingly, several of the episodes (including the first one) are variations on Little Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf, but characters from other fairy tales and literary legends are also tapped, including Cinderella, Snow White, Robin Hood, Hansel and Gretel, and The Three Little Pigs. Despite the big-screen pedigree, Loopy De Loop doesn’t rank among H-B’s best, but it’s certainly worth a glance or 48.

There are no extras. (Purchase this title here.)

Series: ★★½

A LOT LIKE LOVE (2005). A Lot Like Love is a lot like When Harry Met Sally… crossed with Serendipity, as two people wonder whether they’re better off remaining friends or whether the stars have something more intimate in mind for them. After spotting each other at the Los Angeles airport and then wordlessly boffing in an airplane lavatory, Oliver (Ashton Kutcher) wants to know all about his new lady friend while Emily (Amanda Peet) becomes distant and aloof (When Hurry Met Dally?). Over the next few years, they keep running into each other — in New York City and Los Angeles, which, given the frequency of their encounters, must each have a population that tops out at 250. But rather than commit to each other, the pair keep bumping up against labored plot developments that drive them apart and guarantee at least one more trip to the fridge. A Lot Like Love is one of those romantic comedies that wants viewers to believe so bad in its central love story that they’ll willingly be led by the nose through all sorts of nonsensical contrivances. But while painless to sit through, the film never convinces us that these two need to be together. Part of the problem is the lack of chemistry between Kutcher and Peet, while the rest of the blame falls on scripter Colin Patrick Lynch, who creates two likable protagonists but ones who could doubtless find happiness in the arms of any of the other countless kids with a shared interest in junk food, Jon Bon Jovi, and afternoon quickies.

Blu-ray extras consist of audio commentary by director Nigel Cole and producers Armyan Bernstein and Kevin Messick; deleted scenes; a blooper reel; and the music video for Aqualung’s “Brighter Than Sunshine.” (Purchase this title here.)

Movie: ★★

RANDY AND THE MOB (2007) / THE ACCOUNTANT (2001). Whether as writer, director, producer, and/or actor, Georgia native Ray McKinnon isn’t one of those pampered Hollywood suits who make faux-Southern pictures like The Dukes of Hazzard and Sweet Home Alabama. After appearing in supporting roles in such films as Apollo 13 and O Brother, Where Art Thou? and TV series like In the Heat of the Night and Matlock. McKinnon, his wife Lisa Blount, and their friend Walton Goggins created the independent production company Ginny Mule Pictures. Their first release was the Oscar-winning short film The Accountant, their second was the feature-length Chrystal (reviewed in From Screen To Stream below), and their third was the feature-length Randy and the Mob. The Lightyear label has recently released Randy and the Mob on Blu-ray, and the disc includes The Accountant as a bonus. It’s another example of the side dish being more tasty than the main course.

In Randy and the Mob, McKinnon plays two roles: Randy Pearson, an irresponsible good ole boy, and Cecil, his gay twin brother. As the title hints, Randy owes a large sum to buffoonish gangsters who decide to work out a deal by sending one of their enforcers, Tino Armani (Goggins), to stay with Randy for a while. Tino, an odd character who speaks with robotic inflections and enjoys dancing and cooking, ends up endearing himself to the residents of this small town, including Randy’s depressed wife (Blount) and their young son, who (much to his dad’s dismay) prefers sissy soccer over manly football. Tino is presented as an inspirational life force who’s meant to earn our admiration (and our laughs), and he does on occasion — too much of the time, though, he’s annoying in the manner of a gnat, and he comes across like a quirky reject from an early draft of a Coen Brothers screenplay. Arch in a way that his previous picture Chrystal was honest, Randy and the Mob lays an overcoat of forced cornpone whimsy over the proceedings — that it manages to work at all is a credit to McKinnon’s abilities as actor and as scripter of regional dialogue. And at least he had the sense to offer a cameo to that former king of Southern cinema, Burt Reynolds.

As for The Accountant, which won McKinnon and Blount the Academy Award for Best Live Action Short Film, it’s more flavorful and fulfilling than Randy and the Mob. Goggins and Eddie King star as Tommy and David O’Dell, siblings desperately trying to save the family farm from foreclosure. Enter “The Accountant” (McKinnon), a strange individual who enjoys downing PBRs, discussing various conspiracy theories, and employing unorthodox methods to help the brothers save their property. As but one example, he suggests burning down the farm buildings to claim accidental fire but insisting that David’s faithful canine companion must perish in order to truly fool the claim adjusters (after all, who would be cruel enough to kill their own pet in a fake claim?). McKinnon is the whole show here in terms of performance, but the scripting also allows for a couple of late-inning surprises. (And, no, the dog doesn’t die.)

Blu-ray extras consist of a making-of featurette for Randy and the Mob and the film’s theatrical trailer.

Randy and the Mob: ★★½

The Accountant: ★★★½

THE STEWARDESSES (1969). Back in 1969 and throughout the early ’70s, The Stewardesses became a smash hit not because it was a softcore sex flick but because it was a softcore sex flick in 3-D. During a period in which cinematic standards had been loosened and hardcore porn was just around the corner (Deep Throat and Behind the Green Door, both 1972), the makers of this film found an ingenious hook by reviving the 3-D craze of the 1950s and employing it in the service of a skin flick. The Stewardesses was an instant success, and in order to add a “message” and thus lessen the chances of its makers being hauled into court at some point for debasing moral standards (as happened with Deep Throat), additional scenes involving a semblance of a plot were filmed and added during its lengthy run. The main storyline is wafer-thin: Several shapely flight attendants spend their downtime getting drunk, getting high, and (especially) getting laid. The Stewardesses is largely worthless as a movie but utterly absorbing as a relic of its time, with many scenes more risible than titillating (e.g. a woman has sex — sort of — with a lamp). As for the three-dimensional aspect of the project (the characters themselves remain woefully two-dimensional), protruding objects include a pool cue, wine glasses, a bedpost, and — oh, yeah — boobs.

The Blu-ray offers the film in both stereoscopic and anaglyphic 3-D formats as well as in standard 2-D. Extras include film historian audio commentary; a 2006 retrospective documentary; an alternate opening title sequence; 3-D test footage; the 1953 3-D glamour short film Parisienne Life; and the 1977 3-D erotic short film Experiments in Love.

Movie: ★★

FILM CLIPS

ROCKERS (1978). When it comes to Jamaican films powered by rhythmic reggae beats, it’s hard to top 1972’s The Harder They Come. But here’s Rockers carving out its own niche, and it bests the Jimmy Cliff classic in one respect: By being less plot-driven, it allows even more time to spend on Caribbean culture. Reggae musician Leroy “Horsemouth” Wallace plays a fictionalized version of himself, a struggling drummer who purchases a motorbike so he can more easily sell records to interested music stores. After his vehicle is stolen, he embarks on a search through the Kingston streets, in the process discovering industry corruption. Basically a raucous party caught on film, this finds many reggae stars (including Burning Spear) and record producers in supporting roles, only adding to the authenticity.

Extras in the 4K + Blu-ray edition include a making-of documentary; an interview with writer-director Ted Bafaloukos; and music videos.

Movie: ★★★

WE BURY THE DEAD (2025). In a scenario that could any minute actually be ripped from the headlines, We Bury the Dead establishes early on that the U.S. government, and specifically its imbecilic president, accidentally dropped an experimental bomb off the coast of Tasmania, killing all 500,000 residents. Volunteers from all over the globe arrive to help with destroying the bodies; among them is Ava (Daisy Ridley), who hopes to find peace by locating the corpse of her traveling-businessman husband (Matt Whelan). The volunteers need to be wary, though, as it’s been reported that some of the deceased have come back to life. What sounds like a typical zombie flick is anything but — instead, the undead are only there to help shape what proves to be a pensive and somber film about the weight of guilt, the process of grief, and the absolute necessity of finding closure wherever and whenever it’s available.

There are no Blu-ray extras.

Movie: ★★★

FROM SCREEN TO STREAM

CHRYSTAL (2005). If it wasn’t for the high-profile Billy Bob Thornton heading the cast and other notable pros on both sides of the camera, Chrystal could easily pass as a prime example of low-budget regional filmmaking; even in its present state, it’s not far off the mark. Writer-director Ray McKinnon has made an affecting melodrama that’s deep-fried in Southern heritage right down to its ribs — this is the sort of film in which the story often feels incidental to its makers’ ability to capture a specific landscape and its people. Thornton stars as Joe, who returns to his backwoods home in the Ozarks following a two-decade stint in prison. Joe’s a man seeking redemption: Before going to jail, he was involved in a high-speed pursuit with the cops that ended with the physical death of his infant son and the spiritual death of his wife Chrystal (Lisa Blount, McKinnon’s real-life spouse). Back in an attempt to begin life anew, Joe finds that communicating with his wife is a difficult task, made even more stressful by the interference of a slimy redneck (McKinnon) who’s trying to bully Joe into embarking once again down the criminal path. Thornton is effective in his own understated way, even though he’s essentially repeating his characterizations from Levity and Monster’s Ball; more interesting to watch is Blount, whose portrayal provides the film with a haunting stillness that permeates every scene. Tragically, Blount (best known for her turn as Lynette Pomeroy in An Officer and a Gentleman) passed away from a longtime blood disorder in 2010; she was 53.

Movie: ★★★

THE INVASION (2007). I suppose almost every generation deserves its own sociopolitical take on Jack Finney’s novel The Body Snatchers, although The Invasion does neither the viewer nor the source material any favors. Depending on one’s political bent, the 1956 classic Invasion of the Body Snatchers, in which emotionless “pod people” from outer space take over human beings, was either a warning about Communism or an indictment of McCarthyism. The 1978 version (same title) tapped into post-Watergate paranoia, also finding room to comment on the rampant New Age-y philosophies of the time. And 1994’s Body Snatchers honed in on teen alienation while also examining the splintering of the nuclear family. So what agenda rests on The Invasion‘s plate? Hard to tell, given the general muddle of the piece — much of it was reshot after poor test screenings, and it shows. There’s some talk of eradicating humankind’s intrinsic need to destroy (with plenty of TV sets showing scenes from Iraq), but it’s unconvincing lip service. There’s a hint that this might satirize our nation’s obsession with medicating its populace, but that’s quickly dismissed. Without anything to chew on, we’re left with a straightforward thriller — and an average one until the film self-destructs with a wretched ending that had me slapping my forehead in staggering disbelief. That I was able to register such emotion proves that I’m still human, though I’m not sure the same can be said for the indifferent automatons who made this bomb.

Movie: ★½

VICTOR/VICTORIA (1982) / SKIN DEEP (1989). Adapted from a 1933 German film, writer-director Blake Edwards’ Victor/Victoria is a cheerful romp starring his wife Julie Andrews as Victoria Grant, a struggling, starving singer in 1930s Paris. She befriends a gay nightclub performer called Toddy (Robert Preston), who in turn comes up with the idea that Victoria can make a living as a female impersonator — in other words, she’s a woman pretending to be a man pretending to be a woman. The ruse works wonderfully until “Victor” catches the attention of powerful Chicago mobster King Marchand (James Garner), who can’t understand why he’s more attracted to this “man” than to his jealous moll (Lesley Ann Warren). Coming off his marvelous turn for Edwards in 1981’s S.O.B. (recently reviewed here), Preston again excels, stealing the show as the pragmatic Tobby, although former NFL star (and Mongo in Blazing Saddles) Alex Karras also amuses as King’s bodyguard. Nominated for seven Academy Awards, including Best Actress (Andrews), Supporting Actor (Preston), Supporting Actress (Warren), and Adapted Screenplay, this won Best Adaptation Score for Henry Mancini and Leslie Bricusse. In 1995, Edwards, Andrews, Mancini, and Bricusse mounted a Broadway adaptation of the film which ran for two years.

Edwards was responsible for so many top-flight productions (including Breakfast at Tiffany’s, Days of Wine and Roses, and the hilarious Pink Panther series starring Peter Sellers) that we can forgive him for the string of duds that winded down his career post-Victor/Victoria. Skin Deep is actually one of the better of this ragtag bunch — a dismal grouping that includes A Fine Mess, which painfully paired Ted Danson with Howie Mandel, Son of the Pink Panther, a wretched attempt to resurrect the series with Roberto Benigni, and the Bruce Willis twofer Blind Date and Sunset — but despite a couple of standout scenes and Edwards’ flowing dialogue, it’s a letdown coming from this talented filmmaker. A miscast John Ritter plays an alcoholic womanizer trying to better himself, but that’s hard to do when there are so many beauties to bed and bottles of booze to consume. It would take a tremendous performance to make such a vile character interesting, and Ritter isn’t up to the task, although his physical prowess (seen weekly on Three’s Company) remains strong. Skin Deep does boast of one legendary scene, so hilarious that it’s teased in the film’s tagline (“The comedy that GLOWS in the dark”).

Victor/Victoria: ★★★½

Skin Deep: ★★½