For the week of March 5th, Disney and Marvel Studios' Thor: Ragnarok arrives on Blu-ray. Of the many players occupying Marvel's franchise domination, Thor was in the most trouble. As charismatic as stars Chris Hemsworth (Thor) and Tom Hiddleston (his duplicitous brother Loki) are, the standalone adventures surrounding them rarely befit their talents; Thor is a series of moderately clever fish-out-of-water gags and a whole lot of clunky mythology, and the less said about the indifferently staged/scripted/directed/you-name-itThor: The Dark World, the better. It makes sense, then, that with Ragnarok, Marvel saved the franchise by taking Thor as seriously as many of the viewers do; that is, not very. From the jump, which finds a delirious, imprisoned Thor babbling exposition to a rapidly decomposing skeleton, Ragnarok adopts an insouciant air different from anything else in the MCU. Sure, films like Ant-Man and Guardians of the Galaxy are funny, but Thor: Ragnarok practically qualifies as a full-fledged comedy. For all its narrative hurdles - after his father (Anthony Hopkins) dies, Thor has to stop his power-mad half-sister (Cate Blanchett) from ruling over Asgard, but not before escaping the lawless planet of Sakaar, trying to reconcile his differences with Loki, AND somehow enlisting the help of the Hulk (Mark Ruffalo), who reigns as Sakaar's gladiatorial champion - Ragnarok is infinitely more interested in generating comic nonsense through which its cast can improvise. At times, it feels like we're watching a multi-million-dollar Flight of the Conchords skit, which isn't surprising, given that Marvel enlisted Conchords collaborator Taika Waititi to helm Ragnarok. Anyone who's seen his great mockumentary What We Do in the Shadows knows how much Waititi craves absurdist humor, and he will stop Ragnarok dead just to indulge his funny bone. This is a good thing: Waititi has Loki stage a ludicrously overwrought ode to his greatness (that features a couple of terrific cameo appearances), and he cedes so much blissful screentime to Jeff Goldblum's Grandmaster, who rules over Sakaar with all the unsettling, deadpan zeal of a great Tim & Eric short. But this goofy approach brings out the best in everyone. Since arriving in The Avengers, Ruffalo has been a constant highlight in the MCU, yet I don't think he's ever been as delightful as he is here, playing a petulant, easily-hurt Hulk with more undue arrogance than Ron Burgundy. That goes double for Hemsworth, who spends practically every scene on the cusp of breaking into a huge grin, finally freed from the character's weighty portents (his abject panic at Goldblum's surprisingly graphic form of subordinate punishment made me laugh harder than anything in the movie). By now, Thor's problems are SOP with Marvel features. It's too long, it's overly plotty, and it has a huge villain problem; between this and Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, Cate Blanchett is earning a rep for Greatest Actor Most Underserved by Franchise Sequels. But since Ragnarok keeps taking the piss out of itself, it's hard to care about these shortcomings. After all, how often do you see a $150-million tentpole that sneaks in not one but two butt stuff references? To quote Galaxy Quest, it's the little things in life you treasure.
In his Blu-ray review, Martin Liebman wrote that " film does take some liberties with the material, not remaining strictly faithful every scrap of detail in the comics, but Ragnarok, perhaps more than any other to bear the Marvel logo, certainly has its own identity. It's a film in which Led Zeppelin and Techno music meet in storytelling harmony as the characters uniformly move to those otherwise disparate beats. The movie is more Guardians of the Galaxy than it is Winter Soldier, more frisky and less dramatically intense and narratively deep, a film that's confident in its playfulness, sure of its characters, and unafraid to end on dueling notes of cheer and despair. The cast is all-in as well, playing off one another and embracing the comic cycles that do more to advance the narrative than the action. The wry jokes and perky character building moments come dangerously close to overwhelming the movie, but Taika Waititi never allows the laughs to become the sole focal points, always easing back just enough to keep the story and action front-and-center, a balance some of its humorously bent non-MCU contemporary peers have absolutely failed to achieve. From Hemsworth on down, including actors voicing digital characters like the rocky Korg (who is, interestingly, voiced by Taika Waititi), the performances are infectious, and the actors, including veterans like Jeff Goldblum, thrive on the film's easy-come laughs."
Speaking of things to treasure: I don't think there's a 2017 American release more universally beloved than Greta Gerwig's Lady Bird, which also hits Blu-ray (courtesy of Lionsgate) this week. With this one film, Gerwig has announced herself as the heir apparent to Nora Ephron or Nicole Holofcener; she's working in the same dryly humorous, empathetic vein as those filmmakers, telling the semi-autobiographical tale of Lady Bird McPherson (Saoirse Ronan), a teenager with one more year of high school to go before she can get far the hell away from her Sacramento hometown. As an actress, Gerwig has always cultivated a lively, idiosyncratic energy (see Frances Ha and Mistress America with a quickness if you haven't yet), and what's most impressive about this directorial debut is how she translates to all her performers. By now, it goes without saying that Ronan is a national (Irish) treasure, and she deserves all the accolades coming her way - her opening scene, where Lady Bird rolls out of a car and breaks her arm to win an argument with her mother, is one of the great character introductions. But just as compelling are her best friend Julie (a beautifully awkward Beanie Feldstein, sister of Jonah Hill), her quietly depressed father (the great playwright Tracy Letts, underplaying masterfully), and - best of all - her flinty, abrasive caregiver of a mother (Laurie Metcalf). Lady Bird's best scenes center on the perpetually simmering dynamic between mother and daughter: Lady Bird approaches most conversations with her mom like she's going into battle, and she's not wrong to, although she's mostly ignorant of the fact that her mom's irritability stems from working double shifts at the local hospital in order to keep their dysfunctional family financially afloat. And to some degree, this disparity underscores the film's biggest shortcoming. Lady Bird is a very good movie, don't get me wrong, funny and nuanced and laser-precise about the average seventeen-year-old's general ignorance (the film's biggest laugh might come from Lady Bird's unnerving emotional investment in the Dave Matthews Band song "Crash Into Me"). But I couldn't help but feel like the most interesting stuff happens around Lady Bird, whether it's her parents' struggles or her closeted ex-boyfriend (Lucas Hedges) or Julie's broken family or her drama teacher's heartbreaking struggle with depression. Again, I applaud Gerwig for nailing that sense of teenage narcissism, yet her skills in that regard can't address the fact that, in a movie named for her, Lady Bird is the tenth or eleventh most interesting character in the film. Ultimately, I think I prefer the more generous view of teenage life from Freaks and Geeks or the brilliant, underseen 20th Century Women (in which Gerwig costarred). Still, I can't wait to see what Gerwig does next.
Whatever you think about Jim Henson and Frank Oz's The Dark Crystal, which Sony is giving a 4K Anniversary Edition this week, you can't deny the artistry at work. This 1982 cult classic is, first and foremost, a marvel of practically achieved worldbuilding; in marrying gorgeous optical effects and model work to the kind of puppeteering honed during years of The Muppet Show, Henson and his team crafted what remains their most ambitious big-screen offering. Virtually every frame of the film has some sort of visual gag, all of which have this wonderful handmade quality. I'm reminded of Terry Gilliam's effects, in terms of how Henson highlights the characters' behavioral idiosyncrasies, with the alternatively terrifying-pathetic Skeksis the standout creations. If we're grading films on sheer aesthetic invention alone, then The Dark Crystal ranks as a true masterwork, and serious fantasy aficionados owe it to themselves to seek out this beautiful new home-media iteration. However, for all his production and design strengths, Henson cannot wrangle together anything resembling a coherent story. At its core, we have a simple hero's quest: the breaking of the titular crystal has thrown the planet Thra into chaos, and only the innocent Gelfling Jen (voiced by Henson) can stop the evil Skeksis from spreading darkness across the land. But the devil's in the details, and I don't envy the challenge Henson and screenwriter David Odell have set for themselves - they're establishing a whole new universe, and in only ninety minutes. This is the kind of movie that begins with five straight minutes of clarifying voiceover narration (I was getting major Dune flashbacks, and not in a good way) just to get us up to speed, except Henson and Co. keep tossing so many exposition and visual oddities our way that we struggle to process the narrative, especially on a first viewing (it gets easier after Round Three, or if you just let the movie wash over you). Even still, it helps not one bit that the pacing is so logy (the film feels much longer than it is), or that design-wise, Jen is far less compelling than the more distinctive Skeksis or their peaceful Mystic counterparts. Look, fans of The Dark Crystal shouldn't heed any of my concerns, and I do think the film merits a viewing for anyone who digs complicated, elaborate fantasies. Just don't expect Star Wars or The Lord of the Rings, folks.
Finally, Scream Factory and Mill Creek are giving Blu-ray releases to two unsung catalog titles: the chilling thriller The Strangers and the gritty coming-of-age dramedy Lords of Dogtown, respectively. I'm a little surprised that Strangers director Bryan Bertino took so long to make a follow-up feature (2016's creature feature The Monster), considering how confidently he came out of the gate with The Strangers. It matters not one whit that he's making a simple home-invasion feature - a troubled couple (Scott Speedman and Liv Tyler) has to put their relationship woes on hold when three masked killers (Gemma Ward, Kip Weeks, and Laura Margolis) attack them in the middle of the night - because Bertino brings such formal control to the proceedings. His use of the camera and staging recall vintage John Carpenter, and he is more content to scare us through careful pacing and suspense than through torture-porn-esque violence. It's a shame, then, that the end does increase the brutality to far more conventional (and upsetting) levels, although Bertino does pull off one heartstopping beat before the violence of the climax that does not rely on spilled blood or punctured flesh (it involves one character removing a mask, and that's all I'll say). Lords of Dogtown, by comparison, is a more sedate feature, but only because it switches focus to the Venice Beach surfers who helped popularize skateboarding into a massive spectator sport. If you've seen Stacy Peralta's (great) documentary Dogtown and Z-Boys, then much of Lords of Dogtown won't come as any real surprise, although I'll still maintain that director Catherine Hardwicke legitimizes the docudrama version in ways both large and small. Forget Twilight and the drippy Red Riding Hood: Hardwicke brings a rough, unpredictable energy to her best films, and she turns Lords of Dogtown into a sensory experience. As she presents it, it's exhilarating hanging out with folks like Tony Alva (Victor Rasuk), Stacy Peralta (John Robinson), and Jay Adams (Emile Hirsch), so much so that large sections of the film function as a more adrenalized American Graffiti. The language and sex are much rougher (especially in the unrated version), but the overall effect is the same as that George Lucas classic - we get to hang out in a bygone era and soak in the details. This world is so pleasurable that the inevitable third-act breakdown (Alva becomes a fame-obsessed douche; Peralta tries to maintain his kind soul; Adams falls deeper into substance abuse) feels all the more impactful because we care about these people, and we wish things didn't have to get so bad. Nowadays, I feel that way about the film itself, but for a far different reason. Back in 2005, this was the movie that announced Heath Ledger as more than a pretty face. The energy he brings to louche surf-shop opener Skip Engblom recalls some singular fusion of James Dean and vintage Val Kilmer. I remember thinking this guy could become a major talent, and he did, right up to his death in 2008. His presence reinforces the melancholy already at the heart of Lords of Dogtown. A little treasure.
Of The Strangers, "ten years following its original release, The Strangers holds up as a primal influence on the home-invasion terror thriller. It's largely successful at what it tries to do, although I think there have been better and stronger genre offerings made since. Part of the The Strangers' mystery resides in the unexplainable realm and that is the film's point. Still, the similarly plotted You're Next and even [Kevin] Greutert's Jackals have more substance and intriguing things going on in their stories. I more appreciate than like The Strangers for its fine craftsmanship. Shout! Factory has assembled the definitive package of the film to date. The upgraded video looks stellar and true to its makers. Shout! has incorporated a couple of vintage extras on disc one that were not on Universal's releases and added four splendid new interviews on the second disc."