7 | / 10 |
Users | 0.0 | |
Reviewer | 3.0 | |
Overall | 3.0 |
An experimental and anachronistic adaptation of William Shakespeare's play which casts the mad Prospero as a struggling artist desperate to transform his bleak world into something more spriritually satisfying.
Starring: Peter Bull (I), David Meyer (I), Neil Cunningham (I), Heathcote Williams, Richard WarwickDrama | 100% |
Video codec: MPEG-4 AVC
Video resolution: 1080p
Aspect ratio: 1.33:1
Original aspect ratio: 1.37:1
English: LPCM 2.0
None
25GB Blu-ray Disc
Single disc (1 BD)
Region A (locked)
Movie | 3.5 | |
Video | 3.0 | |
Audio | 3.0 | |
Extras | 2.5 | |
Overall | 3.0 |
By 1979, director, diarist, and gay-rights activist Derek Jarman was the U.K.'s underground filmmaker du jour, a sort of Andy Warhol meets No-Wave figure in London's art world. He had just made Jubilee, the first bonafide English punk film, in which a time-traveling Queen Elizabeth I is warped into a 1970s dystopian nightmare that makes A Clockwork Orange look like Billy Elliot. (Okay, that's a slight exaggeration.) The queen's journey through time is the work of Ariel, the impish spirit from Shakespeare's The Tempest, which Jarman would choose to adapt as his next film. Rampant with nudity and creepy production design, Jarman's version of the Bard's final tale is nothing like the tame Hallmark Hall of Fame production your English teacher might've showed you in high school. The director held little deference to fusty Shakespearean traditionalism, preferring to endow the film with his own transgressive aesthetic, anarchic and deconstructed, cut-up, haunting, and, in the over-the- top finale—which features cabaret singer Elisabeth Welch performing "Stormy Weather," surrounded by dancing gay sailors—decidedly camp. Original doesn't quite cut it, and like most of Jarman's films, it really has to be seen to be believed.
Prospero and Ariel
Like Jarman's Sebastiane—also available from Kino this week—The Tempest was shot natively on 16mm and then blown-up onto 35mm prints for theatrical exhibition. This process unavoidably creates a fuzzy, chunky-grained image, but the 1080p/AVC-encoded transfer we get here at least seems true to its low-budget source. Those familiar with Kino's previous DVD release of the film will notice an appreciable step-up in resolution; although the picture is undeniably soft, and always will be, textures are more apparent and lines better resolved, especially in closeups. Color is well- represented, with no major fluctuations or other inconsistencies, and there's been no obvious tampering with the contrast or saturation. Everything looks as it ought to look. The print itself is in fairly decent shape, but there are a few anomalies worth pointing out. You'll notice some white specks, some small scratches, and the occasional hair stuck at the edge of the frame—all of which come and go—along with a strange light spot, maybe ten pixels in diameter, that stays stuck for much of the film on the lower, central part of the screen. It's especially apparent during brighter scenes. I'm not sure what might've caused this—a mark on the lens, maybe?—and though it's not particularly distracting, you'll definitely see it. (Check out screenshot #20—follow the line of the wall—to see what I'm talking about.)
Kino has given the film an uncompressed Linear PCM 2.0 stereo track, and though the low-budget nature of the production inherently cramps the audio quality, I suspect this mix is as good as it's ever going to get. For the most part, dialogue is clean and easily understand, although it does occasionally sound a bit too thick in the mids. Effects and ambience are minimal—disjointed marching sounds, croaking frogs, stormy wind and waves—so the film gets much of its tone from the original music by Brian Hodgson and John Lewis, which varies from creepy calliope to bass-heavy washes of synthesizer sounds. Sebastiane had some issues with pitch-wobbling, but I didn't hear anything like that here. My only real qualm is that there are no subtitle options whatsoever. That's not just a bummer for those who need them; subtitles would also come in handy to better comprehend the dense and mostly archaic Shakespearean dialog.
The disc includes three early Super-8 shorts by Jarman, non-narrative exercises that recall a sloppier Stan Brakhage.
I've yet to watch Julie Taymor's The Tempest, so I'll hold my judgement, but for now, Derek Jarman's take of Shakespeare's final tale is the oddest I've seen, with its haunting imagery, deconstructed set and costume design, and jubilant Elisabeth Welch song-and-dance number. I wish I'd gotten to watch this version in high school. The film has never, nor will it ever look particularly sharp or clean, but Kino's Blu-ray edition at least seems true to source, and presents a suitable upgrade in picture quality. Recommended for fans of Shakespeare, Jarman, the camp and the cult.
Snow White
2012
1973
Pájaros de verano
2018
2013
2009
2015
1987
La caduta degli dei
1969
Hai Phuong
2019
Una mujer fantástica
2017
Boi Neon
2015
Tagebuch einer Verlorenen
1929
Les dimanches de Ville d'Avray
1962
Hævnen
2010
幻の光 / Maboroshi no hikari
1995
1944
Die Ehe der Maria Braun
1978
2017
2017
2019