For the week of October 1st, Disney Home Entertainment is releasing the iconic The Little Mermaid on Blu-ray. Even though the film is a perennial childhood favorite, contemporary viewers might be hard-pressed to explain why The Little Mermaid is such an important title in the Disney canon. The story of a young mermaid who dreams of life on land, this 1989 animated title has all the elements that viewers now expect from Disney: a spunky hero, an odious villain, reams of colorful supporting characters, and a song roster (by Howard Ashman and Alan Menken, both of whom returned for Beauty and the Beast) that approximates the Broadway entertainment model for the big-screen. The key distinction between The Little Mermaid and the other Disney features that followed in its wake is that this one set the template, and not a moment too soon. Due to a series of staff turnovers in both the management and animation departments, the Mouse House had been floundering creatively for over a decade, with only a few errant bright spots (The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh, The Great Mouse Detective) emerging as critical and commercial successes. The Little Mermaid reversed the tide; Disney devoted four years and countless millions to getting it right, including developing new special effects techniques for the many underwater sequences and building a satellite animation studio in Florida that could contribute extra production resources. The result? Disney regained its cinematic footing, and the film itself became one of the most beloved animated pictures ever made.
In his Blu-ray review, Kenneth Brown writes that "The Little Mermaid captures and distills the essence of the Disney classics of old, all while ushering in a new dawn. With renewed focus, unforgettable songs, bewitching fairy-taling, and a cleverly crafted cast of undersea characters, it's hard to feel anything but affection for the film. Quoth my understandably anti-Mermaid son, who's on the cusp of turning nine: 'I'm surprised. It isn't terrible. I thought it was just a girl's movie, but it's fun.' Pressed for further impressions, he naturally began back-pedaling, but still finished the movie without putting up a fight. And at no point was I making him watch it. He wandered in mid-viewing, he just didn't wander out. There are laughs to be had, cheers worth letting out, and enough heart to make Ariel's adventure something special; something that just as easily could have come from Walt Disney himself thirty, forty or even fifty years before, when the man behind the Mouse first started tinkering with adaptations of Hans Christian Anderson's original story. Good Disney movies are built upon their predecessors. It's the great Disney movies, though, that are cut from the same cloth, carved from the same oak, born of the same magic. The Little Mermaid is one of the Disney greats, and I have no doubt we'll one day be celebrating its thirtieth, fortieth and fiftieth anniversaries. Its every element may not be timeless, but the film is unmistakably so."
For some circles, "beloved" is an adjective that could apply to Seth Rogen and Evan Goldberg's hit comedy This Is the End. Ostensibly, this is the Superbad and Pineapple Express scribes' riff on the chaos-strewn apocalypse epics dominating cineplexes of late; it's 2012 meets Step Brothers (or The 40-Year-Old Virgin as directed by John Carpenter), as a group of entitled man-children (Rogen, Jay Baruchel, Jonah Hill, James Franco, Danny McBride, and Craig Robinson) find themselves face-to-face with the end of the world. That said, Rogen and Goldberg have more on their minds than mere parody - like 2013's other great apocalypse comedy, The World's End, This Is the End uses great catastrophe as a springboard for character-driven insight. Rogen and his on-screen co-horts all play veiled versions of themselves, and confronting their own imminent demises forces these spoiled Hollywood brats to question their own conceptions of friendship and morality (or lack thereof). In that sense, This Is the End feels like the grand, summative statement on the types of buddy comedies that made Rogen and the cast famous - for all its gory demises (if you've ever wanted to see some of Hollywood's top movie stars killed in the worst ways possible, then This Is the End is for you) and extravagant toilet humor, the film remains strangely resonant.
Martin Liebman's Blu-ray review marveled at how the film is "really going to split audiences. On the one hand, This is the End is the unequivocal champion of end times as a raunchy, tasteless exercise in the lowest common denominator, and in that arena the film is a huge success. It's potty-mouthed and hugely absurd in nearly everything it does, says, shows, and implies, but viewers won't find a better experience of this sort anywhere else, and certainly not with the dark, foreboding end-of-days scenario framing it all. On the other hand, all of that is going to push a lot of people away rather than welcome all comers into its chaotic fold. The film takes its styles to places few others dare travel, but it goes there gleefully and unapologetically. It's as fearless as it as reckless, and it certainly won't appeal to those who hold more traditional tastes. To simply label the film as 'weird,' 'vulgar,' or 'grotesque' would be to do a disservice to the weirdness, vulgarity, and grotesqueness that plays out within. There hasn't been a mainstream movie quite this envelope-pushing in a long time; some audiences will certainly have their limits tested by this one. In terms of taste, the film earns an 'F.' In terms of sheer adult-oriented end times chaos taken to the most extreme heights, the film earns an 'A.'"
Warner Home Entertainment is bringing two catalog favorites to Blu-ray for the first time this week: the original House of Wax and King Vidor's classic drama The Big Parade. For those viewers only familiar with the gory, if technically accomplished, remake, the 1953 House of Wax might seem tame. The great Vincent Price hams it up as deranged wax museum creator Henry Jarrod, and director André De Toth gooses the mayhem with 3D camerawork that is, at its best, fairly gimmicky; early on in the film, De Toth even has a street performer send paddle-balls right into the camera to demonstrate the 3D effect (Avatar, this is not). However, as quaint as the proceedings can get, House of Wax still maintains a certain charm. Price is an over-the-top delight as the villain, and the film wisely does away with the unnecessary intentional comic relief of its predecessor, the 1933 chiller Mystery of the Wax Museum. Furthermore, while the 3D gags are pretty goofy, they enhance the funhouse appeal of the movie. If nothing else, House of Wax is a carnival "House of Horrors" come to life, with the 3D scares working in much the same manner as a styrofoam ghoul on a time-release spring, wired to jump right into our faces.
The far more sober-minded The Big Parade, on the other hand, finds terror in reality; this 1925 silent picture dramatizes the experiences of three friends in World War I. One of the most successful films of its day, The Big Parade was a big-budget studio venture, and it certainly bears the signifiers of populist entertainment: besides its thrilling action sequences, the movie hinges on a love story set against war's tragic backdrop (format-wise, Titanic and Pearl Harbor owe a lot to The Big Parade). What distinguishes The Big Parade from other large-scale, period war epics is its refreshingly bleak attitude towards combat. Though The Big Parade isn't as grim as Lewis Milestone's All Quiet on the Western Front, it still understands that actual combat means fighting and dying. The film's hero (John Gilbert) suffers great damage, both physical and emotional in nature, and at no point does his struggle turn into some sort of grand adventure. Director King Vidor respects the sacrifice of war veterans too much, and his insistence on realism gives this Hollywood drama an edge it might not otherwise have.
In addition, Warner is streeting the new digital restoration of The Wizard of Oz. There's very little that one can say about this classic 1939 fantasy that hasn't been said many times before. It is, quite simply, a perfect movie, funny and scary and moving and just the right amount of sad, and all of the songs are wonderful, too. Judy Garland has never been more engaging (and yes, I've seen Meet Me In St. Louis), and she's supported by a wonderful supporting cast that includes Bert Lahr, Ray Bolger, Jack Haley, Frank Morgan, and Margaret Hamilton, whose Wicked Witch of the West remains one of the most frightening villains in cinema history. This new Blu-ray has two big selling points. One, Warner afforded The Wizard of Oz a stunning 8k restoration, and the Technicolor print looks better than ever. Two, this set also contains a 3D conversion of the film that, while not necessary, looks as good as these post-conversion jobs get. It's respectful, aiming for subtle depth-of-field effects rather than the kind of "Gotcha" moments you'll see in House of Wax, and a little uncanny, as well: seeing this screen legend re-done with the best technology modern money can buy creates a sensation not unlike Dorothy's reaction when she first lands in Oz.
In his assessment of the 3D image, Kenneth Brown remarked that he "was quite surprised. Still am actually. Depth and dimensionality are more convincing than I expected, and very rarely does the film resemble a pop-up storybook. Great care has been invested in making the actors and the world they inhabit look as wondrous in 3D as it does in gorgeous AVC-encoded 2D (side note: the 2009 transfer was VC-1), and the film's elaborate sets - already a hallmark of color, vibrancy, and cinematic craft - are more immersive than ever before; almost to the point of inviting the viewer to step into the screen and tour the MGM lot. There are some drawbacks, if you can call them that. Every now and then, a face, tree or background painting is too flat; the film's smoke, fire and practical effects don't always play well with the 3D conversion; and the fact that each locale is a large-scale set is made that much more obvious. However, Oz's 3D conversion comes close, so very close, to achieving the illusion of native 3D; as if the production were shot in 3D all those years ago."
The serial-killer thriller The Frozen Ground also derives inspiration from real life. For over ten years, Robert Hansen quietly terrorized the Alaskan wilderness, kidnapping and then murdering over thirty women (mostly runaways, prostitutes, and strippers) who crossed his path. The Frozen Ground details the manhunt that led to Hansen's incarceration in 1983, and the best thing one can say about the film is that its representations of good and evil are equally matched. As Hansen, John Cusack brings his typical hang-dog malaise, which makes the character far more approachable - and thus scarier - than if he were a raving lunatic, and Nicolas Cage is nicely understated and dogged as the state trooper who eventually apprehended Hansen. The problem is, this kind of story demands the kind of chilling patience that David Fincher brought to his masterful Seven and Zodiac, but director Scott Walker lets the tension go slack, undermining what might otherwise be a more-than serviceable procedural. Worse still is Vanessa Hudgens as the young prostitute who helps Cage find Hansen. Hudgens has been good elsewhere - check out Sucker Punch and Spring Breakers if you don't believe me - but she's out of her depth here, and incapable at selling the terror in her interactions with Hansen.
Jeffrey Kauffman noted that, "Since we already are aware that Hansen is the killer, there's no suspense in that regard. Instead the film's tension is built out of a number of cobbled together plot elements, including Halcombe's search for convincing evidence, Hansen's simultaneous denials that he's done anything wrong even as he continues to stalk his prey, and Paulson's on-again, off- again status as a cooperating witness. The scenes with Cage and Cusack are often quite well done, especially once Halcombe decides to bring Hansen in for questioning, but Walker instead continually tends to focus on the more salacious side of the story, spending long sequences on the shocking decline into addiction that Cindy experiences and a number of other bad choices she makes along the way. Obviously Walker wanted a 'hook' (as he himself talks about quite freely in the [bonus] supplement), but his approach here is voyeuristic and kind of smarmy feeling, as if he didn't trust the actual historical material to stand on its own merits."