For the week on December 9th, Marvel Studios and Walt Disney Home Entertainment are bringing Guardians of the Galaxy to Blu-ray. In many ways, this lighthearted sci-fi adventure was the (not-so) Little Marvel Movie That Could; director James Gunn took one of Marvel's most niche superhero teams and turned it into a multi-million-dollar box-office juggernaut, and he did so without softening too many of the group's weird edges. Guardians of the Galaxy is a full-fledged space opera, one that spends about two minutes on Earth before ditching our solar system in favor of strange alien lands and cultures (a planet that used to be a celestial being's head; an interdimensional peace-keeping organization located in a galaxy far, far away) under the reluctant care of duplicitous assassin Gamora (Zoe Saldana), rage-crazed strongman Drax (Dave Bautista), the genetically modified Rocket Raccoon (Bradley Cooper) and his best friend, the sentient tree Groot (Vin Diesel, of course), and bumbling outlaw Peter Quill (Chris Pratt, slimmed down but no less affably goofy than his Andy Dwyer on Parks and Recreation). The Avengers, with its beyond-photogenic gang of protagonists, this is not, but thanks to Gunn's cracked sensibilities, at its best Guardians of the Galaxy approaches the sheer entertainment value of Joss Whedon's 2012 Marvel smash. See, after Gunn finished cutting his teeth on Troma fare, he directed the 2006 cult favorite Slither and 2010's great, nasty B-movie Super, and while those two are certainly more explicit than Guardians of the Galaxy, the three share Gunn's predilection for merging Dada-esque non sequiturs with genuine emotional heft. On one end of the spectrum: Benicio Del Toro's Brando-meets-David Bowie turn as The Collector; a prison breakout that finds Rocket making "creative" use of an inmate's fake leg; and the post-credits tag, which marks the big-screen return of one of Marvel's most controversial figures. On the other: Quill's inner angst, which manages to turn the film's jukebox soundtrack of 1970s Top 40 hits into a stealth bombshell; the palpable anger of Big Bad Ronan the Accuser (Lee Pace, who creates a full villain in limited screentime); and, in the film's emotional high point, the revelation of Rocket's own self-loathing and shame. These extremes might be too much, but Gunn makes the transitions between the two feel seamless, thanks to some propulsive action-movie filmmaking, a great sense of humor, and cracking chemistry between his five leads. Pratt definitely has the Robert Downey Jr.-breakout role, and he's a consistent delight, but the rest of the Guardians match him beat for beat. Of the group, it's a toss-up between Cooper and Bautista as to who's the picture's MVP: Cooper pitches Rocket at the sweet spot between badass and deeply silly, and Bautista gives Drax all sorts of wonderful grace notes (the glee he feels in the heat of battle, or his inability to process anything other than 100% literally). Even the side characters have fully developed parts to play, whether it's John C. Reilly's rumpled Nova Corps official or Michael Rooker's wonderfully menacing Yondu (of the supporting cast, only Karen Gillan disappoints. Her character's design is striking, but she's the Darth Maul of this movie: cool looking but hollow). The good stuff is so good that you wish Gunn had tossed a curveball or two in the narrative, which, as par for the Marvel course, assembles this great team and then sends them after a whatsit that isn't nearly as compelling as the banter between the heroes. The lack of surprise renders the second half a little rote - of Marvel's 2014 releases, Captain America: The Winter Soldier still has the edge for blending good character work alongside a compelling story - but no less entertaining than what came before it. A real surprise.
Kenneth Brown's Blu-ray review notes that "Gunn and Marvel deliver. Turns out Pratt is grade-A leading man material, so kudos to the filmmakers for realizing how much he could bring to the table. The Parks and Rec alum takes the promotion to A-lister and runs with it, infusing Star-Lord with enough charisma, wit, and soul to fill a trilogy and beyond. Bautista is fantastic too. I shook my head when his name was first announced; now I can't imagine Guardians without him. Swiping scene after scene and delivering instantly quotable quote after quotable quote, he somehow crams childlike awe and naiveté into the body and mind of a bloodthirsty killer, and with a depth of emotion and grasp on comic timing that makes him one of the film's most satisfying treats. Cooper, meanwhile, inhabits his furball of fury with equal parts snark, arrogance and woundedness, and leans into each line as if it's the funniest, most important thing anyone anywhere has ever said (perfectly Rocket). Diesel's voice performance is far more thankless but even more crucial, particularly come the film's finale. Armed with little more than a handful of words and the backing of some impressive visual effects wizards, he brings his lumbering, giant teddy bear of a tree to life in a way that would make Peter Jackson and WETA jealous. Together, Rocket and Groot are two of the most endearing CG creations in the MCU (or any other universe, for that matter). The only less than remarkable member of Team Guardians is Saldana, who's more than fine, looks the part, swings a decent sword, and grows on you by the end. But the source of Guardians' ensemble chemistry isn't sweet, slightly stiff Zoe. Whether that falls at the feet of Saldana or Gunn (who perhaps didn't quite know what to do with Gamora this time around) will be more clear once the sequel arrives."
Even better is Fox Searchlight's Blu-ray of Calvary. For a large portion of the viewing public, filmmaker John Michael McDonagh's drama might seem too inaccessible. McDonagh turns what might otherwise be a character study of wise, lonely Irish priest Father James (Brendan Gleeson) into nothing less than a contemporary allegory of the trials of Christ, as a chilling encounter at the confessional - an unseen person tells Father James that he's going to kill him in seven days in retribution against all the ills of the Catholic Church - forces James to take stock of his parishioners (including Chris O'Dowd, M. Emmet Walsh, Dylan Moran, Aidan Gillan, Orla O'Rourke, Isaach de Bankolé, Marie-Josée Croze, Killian Scott, and Domhnall Gleeson, playing a role very different from his Frank groupie) and his own faith. Part of the challenge of a film like Calvary is the seriousness with which McDonagh views Catholic doctrine. Like Martin Scorsese's landmark The Last Temptation of Christ, this is a deeply religious film, but it comes by those beliefs honestly, and without any of the gauzy palliatives behind conventional faith-based dramas like God's Not Dead and Heaven Is for Real. Father James devotes his life to God unreservedly, but his beliefs often put him at odds with those closest to him: he believes in a God far more compassionate and humane that his fellow priests, a fitting condition given the nature of his own faith - James turned to Christ while in the thralls of alcoholism and great depression, and while his conversion brought about true redemption, it also distanced him from his suicidal daughter (Kelly Reilly). Here's the thing, though: as heavy as this sounds (and is), Calvary is never anything less than emotionally and intellectually stimulating. Gleeson is so good that he turns James' spiritual quest into a visceral, pulsing thing - this performance, to which the Boston Online Film Critics Association has just awarded their Best Actor Award, might be the finest work of his already distinguished career - and his empathetic flintiness sparks so well against the ridiculously overqualified cast, particularly Gillen's misanthropic surgeon and Croze's tragic Italian émigré. Plus, McDonagh leavens the weighty themes with bracing humor and suspense. James' interrogation of his parishioners takes on the drive of an Agatha Christie thriller at times since anyone could be a suspect, and as he demonstrated in his last film, the delightful buddy comedy The Guard (which also starred Brendon Gleeson), McDonagh puts a high premium on profane irreverence - his dialogue is alternatively poetic and hilarious - and that spirit (this is certainly the most foul-mouthed movie you'll ever see about the legitimately devout) prevents Calvary from getting soft or preachy. By the time Calvary reaches its shattering conclusion, McDonagh's managed to do the near-impossible - he's created a work about the sacred that unfolds in exclusively gritty and profane terms. 2014 has had its share of cinematic standouts (we are so lucky to have films like Birdman, Gone Girl, and Boyhood come out in the same year), but Calvary might be even better.
Jeffrey Kauffman noted that "the film is relentlessly dialectical in its pursuit of various topics, with Father James toeing the accepted doctrine of the church line, albeit with a certain gruff, no nonsense, "lived it and survived to tell the tale" honesty. But McDonagh gets to several thorny issues, including ending one's life on one's own terms and the evident rationality of atheism, in a surprisingly organic manner. The philosophical discussions erupt quite naturally out of the situations, even if Calvary tends to play out as a succession of character vignettes. While Calvary may be a bit slow moving for some viewers, it is suffused with such truth and rough hewn beauty that its emotional impact really can't be overstated. The film is full of absolutely pitch perfect performances, with Gleeson reaching a new career high with this role, after what many thought would have to be his all time apex, his turn in McDonagh's previous The Guard. Matching him every step of the way is a beautifully vulnerable but stubborn Kelly Reilly as Fiona, in a performance that should certainly be rewarded with a Best Supporting Actress Oscar nomination. McDonagh captures the arresting if rather daunting beauty of the Irish countryside, while also detailing both the humor and horror of the Irish spirit. The film may admittedly make at least a tiny misstep in its denouement, where McDonagh goes for something approaching Grand Guignol in a climax that sees the none too surprising reveal of the confessor-killer, and Father James' final response to his mortality. He may not say it out loud, but Father James' prayer for virtually every character in the film is an unspoken 'forgive them for they know not what they do.'"
From Magnolia Home Entertainment comes Frank. For this offbeat dramedy, director Lenny Abrahamson turned to journalist Jon Ronson's real-life experiences playing in the band of Frank Sidebottom (née Chris Sievey), a musician/comedian known for performing in an oversized papier-mâché head. For the first two-thirds or so of Frank, Abrahamson mines Ronson's experiences for wry humor, focusing on the skewed interplay between the film's Ronson surrogate (Domhnall Gleeson) and the titular character (Michael Fassbender, who stays buried under a fake head). Gleeson's character desperately wants to be a famous musician, but he's a perfect storm of untalented and arrogant, and his attraction to Frank is to the man's boundless confidence and skill. Once you get over the seemingly ridiculous conceit of keeping such a recognizable movie-star in a mask the whole time, Abrahamson's casting decision makes perfect sense: Frank needs to be effortlessly magnetic and brilliant, despite his appearance and many eccentricities, and who better than Magneto himself to embody Frank's genius? It's a wonderful performance that's all the more surprising because of Fassbender's full-throated commitment to the part. Being inside the head liberates Fassbender, and he gives the loosest, most knowingly comic turn of his career. Were the film only a goofy comedy, it would be worthwhile (and I haven't even touched on how great Maggie Gyllenhaal and Scoot McNairy are as, respectively, Frank's hostile theremin player and nonchalant agent), but Abrahamson lets the humor darken in the last act. The more time Gleeson spends on the road with Frank's band, the Soronprfbs (you're not supposed to be able to pronounce it), the more he realizes that Frank's talent comes from an all-too human and unpredictable place, and the realization makes us reassess the earlier goings in a more sober light. This film invokes the spirits of musicians like Daniel Johnston and Captain Beefheart, and if you're at all familiar with those two (especially with Johnston), then you've got a better sense of how seriously Frank eventually takes its subject. The divide between "average" and "genius" is far more complicated than possessing mere skill, and Frank never undercuts the emotional and psychological concerns informing that division.
Finally, the Criterion Collection is offering a Blu-ray upgrade of Terry Gilliam's wonderful fantasy Time Bandits. Along with The Fisher King and Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, Time Bandits stands as one of the most immediately accessible films of Gilliam's career (although I'll admit that it's a "special" breed of person who can call Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas accessible), and considering that Gilliam frequently refers to the psychologically shredding ending of Brazil as a happy one, that's really saying something. At its core, Time Bandits is a children's fable not dissimilar from The Adventures of Baron Munchausen and The Brothers Grimm, except that unlike Baron Munchausen, Time Bandits is mostly coherent, and unlike Brothers Grimm, it's actually good. The film centers around young Kevin (Craig Warnock), an eleven-year-old boy who's profoundly dissatisfied with the humdrum drudgery of his life in suburban England...when a group of time-traveling dwarves (David Rappaport, Kenny Baker, Malcolm Dixon, Mike Edmonds, Jack Purvis, and Tiny Ross) falls out of his closet and leads him on a journey through space and time, crashing through Grecian brutality, the sinking of the Titanic, the Napoleonic Wars, and ending somewhere at the edge of the galaxy. What follows is an unabashed crowd-pleaser, a rollicking, fun-filled adventure that remains one of Gilliam's biggest commercial successes, and yet the film feels very much of a piece with everything else the filmmaker has ever done. It's in the handmade, tactile quality of the effects - in some ways, you can see Gilliam straining against the constraints of his $5-million budget, but those constraints lend the endeavor a madcap surrealism (the tubes and ducts that define the film's villain, or the obvious model work that accompanies a late-stage giant appearance) - or in the director's irreverent approach to spectacle, history, and character - while the film features appearances from the likes of Ian Holm, Ralph Richardson, Shelley Duvall, Sean Connery, and Gilliam's fellow Monty Python veterans Michael Palin and John Cleese, it frequently casts them in the most ridiculous and unsympathetic lights possible (only Connery comes off well. Duvall and Palin play a pair of hilariously pathetic would-be lovers, and Cleese is a brilliantly unctuous, self-absorbed Robin Hood). Even thematically, Time Bandits has a flush of the personal. Gilliam himself calls the film part of his "Trilogy of Imagination," which, along with Brazil and Munchausen, all express the same desperate yearning to break from a society that is equal parts corrupt, confusing, and boring and escape into the realms of the mind. That thematic link gives Kevin's adventures genuine stakes and helps Time Bandits land its gut-punch of an ending, a shock capper that's as hilarious - and terrifying - as an anvil landing on someone's head. Time Bandits might be Gilliam's children's movie, but he has no illusions about the ways of the world, and he insists kids are tough enough to do likewise.
In his Blu-ray review, Svet Atanasov wrote that "what makes Terry Gilliam's Time Bandits a special film is the fact that it is completely unpredictable. You feel right from the get-go that it could go anywhere, that anything could happen in it. It is the type of film that really does take you on a journey and you allow it to convince you that everything that happens in it is possible - at least until the final credits roll. Gilliam has directed a number of such films, but Time Bandits is one of his best...The film is shot in a manner that makes it easy to enjoy by children and adults. On one hand, Gilliam arranges for Kevin and the dwarfs to meet the likes of Robin Hood (truly fantastic John Cleese), Napoleon (Ian Holm, The Sweet Hereafter) and King Agamemnon of ancient Greece (Sean Connery) in a series of hilarious episodes in which he effectively brushes aside all sorts of popular beliefs. On the other hand, the film also successfully introduces some surprisingly serious observations about technology and the role it could play in the future. (Considering the fact that Time Bandits was completed in 1981, it is surprising to see how appropriate many of these observations were). The cast is fantastic, but it is the emphasis on detail and the outstanding designs that truly leave a lasting impression. As it is the case with Brazil, Gilliam's imagination runs wild and many of the film's most dramatic sequences have to be seen to believed. The final third in particular, where Kevin and the dwarfs enter Evil's castle, is quite spectacular. The use of light, shadow, and a variety of different colors to create a unique futuristic Gothic environment is very effective."