It has been a couple of years since I have
discontinued the year-end (more truthfully, the next-year-beginning) list of My
Favorite DVDs and Blu Rays. That is, the English language list. The Korean
language one, catered to the Korean-speaking consumers, cinephiles and fans of
genre cinema, has been going on without break, although it always threatens to
get delayed until at least mid-January of next year: those interested can find
it here. Well, it is now, as a matter of
fact, mid-January of 2017, and I am right smack in the middle of perhaps one of
the busiest Januarys I have ever experienced in my twenty-plus-year teaching
career. All signs indicate that I should
just give it up and move on to my day job, but something about this year being
2017, coming at the heels of one of the most stupendously terrifying year,
politically and intellectually speaking, made me extra defiant and
foolhardy. Since the politics of the
world, and especially the United States, is so distressing and gloomy, I find
it more necessary than usual to stick to the "meaningless" habits and
commitments such as this list, just to remind myself that I am still here, and
the ugly and dumb shit happening in the realm of politics has not affected (not
yet, anyway) the amazing proliferation of classic, cult and genre films in the
physical media. The United States may go
down the sinkhole with the orange lardball at its helm, but its appreciation of
classic cinema worldwide certainly shows no sign of flagging.
Industry wags have been predicting the death of optic
discs for many years by now, at least more than a decade, and it is true that
streaming and VOD services are now mainstream means through which most people
in industrialized nations watch cinema.
And yet, this did not spell the death of DVDs and Blu Rays. While Blu Rays, with its superior 1080p
resolution and lossless soundtrack, have not replaced DVDs in the manner the
latter have done with VHS tapes, contrary to general predictions, an increasing
number of important and rare titles are coming out in Blu Rays, sometimes in
"dual format" packages, which seems to be the industry's way of
hedging the bets. As a college professor
who has insisted as early as 2007 all my laptops be equipped with a Blu Ray
drive, I am quite happy with this development.
Approximately 23 percent of the titles I have
purchased in 2016 were DVDs. Many of
them are fascinating, unusual and/or academically significant titles, such as
the classic Korean animation film Hong
Kil-dong (Korean Film Archive), but the 2016 list in the end ended up being
limited to Blu Rays. Even then, it was a
near-impossible task to limit the number of choices to twenty. (I freely confess to cheating, of course, and
including two items here that I had to leave out in the Korean-language list,
and vice versa)
A few words should be spent on the titles that did not
make it into the list. Foremost among
them is the British Film Institute's Dissent
& Disruption: Alan Clarke at the BBC (1969-1989), a truly awe-inspiring
collection of seven Blu Ray and DVD discs that covers the two decades of the
experimental, resolutely avant-garde and sometimes almost viciously political
video/film works of Alan Clarke, covering all the imaginable genres and styles,
from SF to literary dramas to Swiftian political satires to unnerving
psychological thrillers to documentaries.
It is only not included in my selection for the entirely absurd reason--
I freely admit how absurd it is-- that it somehow felt inappropriate, or more
honestly, inadequate, to term this package one of "My Favorite"
titles of the last year. There were also
two powerhouse BR titles that I have purchased from Japan, Kurosawa Kiyoshi's Creepy and Tsukamoto Shin'ya's Fires on the Plain, that would have made
the list in ordinary years, but there was a strong pull toward keeping the list
only with "old" movies. This
also is a small, probably pointless, resistance against the Japanese practice
of keeping their Blu Ray discs stubbornly domestically confined. I am gonna say it again, they should learn
from Koreans, and put English subtitles into the titles that they know are
going to be bought by "foreigners."
I won't complain about the ridiculous prices they put on their discs: all
I ask is, eigo no jimaku, irenasai. OK?
As the designation "My Favorite" should make
it loudly clear, you, the reader, should not entertain any illusion that the
following list encompasses in any way more than
a tiny fraction of all the amazingly restored, beautifully packaged and/or
unfairly ignored Blu Ray releases available out there. The days when a few
savvy supercollectors could be on top of the most of the key releases of
classical, cult and outré cinema in
DVDs and Blu Rays out there, have been gone for a few years
already.
As Koreanfilm.org's own Jiro Hong aptly points
out in his own year's end list, Arrow Video's Rainer
Werner Fassbinder Collection, including twelve of his major films, some of
which released for the first time in Blu Ray, beautifully transferred and chock
full of supplements as expected, did not even make it in the 100 top releases
aggregate list compiled by DVD Beaver.
That's not top 10 you just
misread. So, for anyone to come down and
say, "Hey, why is Criterion's Naked
Island not included in your list?" all I can do is, shrug. I could give you a number of reasons but
there are probably five other titles just as worthy that did not make it in my
list. And there are whole bunch out
there that I am not even aware of.
Nevertheless, I am compelled to caution you one more
time, this is not a "cinephile's" or even "film critic's"
inventory of the Great Masterpiece Released in the Blu Ray Medium in 2016 at
all. This list is as personal as it could get, so the actual
"quality" or a film's status as a world classic or critic's darling
has little to do with why it is included here.
And that's all the reason you will get for explaining why certain world
classics appearing in Blu Ray for the first time-- Tarkovskys, Kieslowskys,
Fassbinders-- are not included (although given my propensity, if Solaris had been out as a Blu Ray for
the first time in 2016, it probably would have made it to the roster).
Shall we then move onto the list? The weekend is already half-gone and there
are many tasks to be completed, so do forgive me for keep cracking the riding
crop. One package, regardless of the actual number of discs, is treated as one
title. I have confined myself to the
titles physically released in 2016.
20. The Sect
(1991, Shameless, Region B)
This Italian horror opus is one of those kinds of
movies that tend to survive in your hazy memory as fragments of surreal
imagery, simultaneously incongruously beautiful and bizarrely grotesque. San Francisco's Le Video used to supply more than
its share of grey market or legit VHS titles that, years later, makes you
severely doubt the veracity of your movie memories, if not your sanity. The Sect, it turns out, is a fairly
coherent and intriguing variation on the theme of Rosemary's Baby, but like Michele Soavi's companion piece, the
ultra-Gothic The Church, seems to
spring forth from a particular adolescent nightmare world, obsessed with
clockwork mechanisms and snow globes, and overrun by the inscrutable Fallen
Ones that sometimes assume the guise of avian creatures. The
Sect here represents "Did I really see that movie?" constituency
of My Favorite items, masterminded by Shameless (not always reliable, but doing
fine here) in an eye-pleasing, colorful HD transfer, with the options of
Italian and English audio tracks, and a nice, relaxed interview (in English!) with
director Soavi.
19. Lone Wolf and Cub (1972- 1974, Criterion
Collection, Region A)
I am frankly not a big
fan of the original comic book series by Koike Kazuo and Kojima Goseki, due
to its indulgence in borderline fascist aesthetics.
The TV and cinematic adaptations, however, while hardly making any visible effort to "de-feudalize" characters, tend to humanize the
anti-hero Ogami Itto (who comes off in the comics as a humorless hardass with
disgustingly self-serving rationalization ready for every act of back-stabbing or sadistic killing, even overt exploitation of the vulnerability of his own infant son to kill his--
much more compassionate--
opponents) and his enemies, the Yagyu family, the heads of which had served as
Tokugawa shogun's "fencing instructors." (I love this completely
inappropriate English transliteration)
Perhaps not as comprehensive and ultimately rewarding as Criterion's Zatoichi collection, the six films from
the Lone Wolf and Cub series are
nonetheless starkly efficient, viciously entertaining programmers that should
belong to the shelves of any self-respecting chanbara fan. Criterion's
package of course includes Shogun
Assassin (1980), a cleverly edited compendium of violent highlights from
the series with a hilariously "mythical" claptrap "plot" threaded through them.
18. Crimes of Passion (1984, Arrow Video, Region A & B)
I remember catching this ultra-challenging
'80s concoction by Ken Russell in a local movie theater, with the
predominantly male crowd expecting something in the order of Basic Instinct or Showgirl. Needless to say,
they were befuddled and disappointed. I
still to this day remain not quite sure if this outrageous and massively un-PC
exegesis on the sexual habits and hypocrisies (really?) of '80s America is
meant to be taken entirely seriously.
"China Blue" certainly remains Kathleen Turner's most daring
role, and she is absolutely mesmerizing in it, which I guess is more than
enough to recommend this title. Just do not expect something safely sleazy that
you can snicker at while munching on the popcorns. Serious or not, this film
still can deliver a sucker-punch to your solar plexus when least expected.
Arrow Video's aggressive, full-neon,
visual-assault packaging is highly appropriate for this particular title.
17. 10
Rillington Place (1970, Columbia Pictures/Twilight Time, Region A)
A film that should come with a warning
label that states, "Do not watch on a gloomy day," 10 Rillington Place is one half of the
serial killer-themed films directed by Richard Fleischer lodged in
this list. Aside from their
dispassionate, non-sensationalistic approach to the sordid subject matters,
there are little stylistic similarities between them.
This film, with some location photography done on the actual sites of
serial murder, presents one of the most perplexingly monstrous serial
murderers in cinema history, played by Richard Attenborough as a completely
nondescript steamed bun of a man, cowardly lethal yet disgustingly believable
in his easy dominance over the less educated and privileged members of the
postwar British society. However, the
film's great emotional impact owes much to John Hurt's devastating performance
as a less-than-intelligent husband of the murder victim, whose horrendous fate under the
British legal system is unbearable to watch.
A film that deserves much greater
reputation but is so effective that it is likely to elicit repulsion instead of
admiration, Twilight Time's Blu Ray release of 10 Rillington Place is thankfully outfitted with highly informative
commentaries by Hurt and Judy Geeson.
16. Try
and Get Me! (1950, Paramount Pictures/Olive Films, Region A)
Try and Get Me!, an early effort by the American
expatriate filmmaker Cy Endfield (Zulu,
The Sands of Kalahari), beats out
many competitions to climb up to this position. Lloyd Bridges is exceptional as
the swaggering, sweating petty crook whose harebrained schemes
ensnare an ordinary Joe Arthur Lovejoy in a series of gas station robberies,
and finally a kidnap and a murder. Sharply observed characters run headlong
toward a horrific disaster, propelled by mob mentality and corporate
sensationalism in media reporting: the film has lost none of its searing intensity
and unfortunately more relevant than ever today, where so many seemingly pine for "The
Great America" wherein mob lynching was an accepted form of "justice."
The fact that it is based on a true story, that had taken place
in San Jose, only an hour's drive from where I currently reside, only adds to
the chill.
15. The
Reflecting Skin (1990, Soda Pictures, Region B)
One of those famed fantasy/horror films impossible to catch in any decent form, The Reflecting Skin finally makes it into Blu Ray with its Andrew Wyeth-inspired, super-gorgeous cinematography intact. The young Vigo Mortensen stars as a returning soldier slowly dying from radiation poisoning, and his young, imaginative brother is led to believe his condition results from vampirism practiced by a mentally unstable, perpetually sunglass-wearing widow next door. Set in a highly artificial, golden-wheatfield-canvassed fantasyland resembling 1940s Idaho, The Reflecting Skin is like an enigmatic painting that vividly comes alive, both sadly transient and hypnotically beautiful.
14. Female Prisoner Scorpion Complete Collection (1972-1974,
Arrow Video, Region B)
Arrow Video's transfer of these films have been
subject to some internet complaints and indeed, the color scheme may not
reproduce the eye-popping primary color hues of, for instance, the old Image
DVD edition of Female Prisoner #407:
Scorpion, which was one of the early DVD titles drafted to showcase the
dramatic difference between a DVD and a VHS tape in terms of color
reproduction. While the
"blue-green" orientation is not as damaging as in the case of, say, Mario
Bava's Whip and the Body, it is no
doubt disturbing to some who suspect a form of revisionist color timing
(whether this is indeed such an act of revisionism seems open to question at
this juncture). Nonetheless, this
boxset, lovingly curating all four films in the stoic Kaji Meiko-strarring Toei
exploitation series, is a good example of Arrow Video's commitment to the
Japanese cult cinema. The archival
values of the supplementary documentaries and such are surprisingly high.
13. Cutter's Way
(1981, Twilight Time, Region A)
Having lived in California Bay Area now
for twenty years makes me appreciate more and more the largely forgotten or
still underappreciated films of '70s and '80s that depict the outwardly
beach-party-happy, consumerist-lifestyle-indulging West Coast inhabitants
wholly inadequately dealing with the post-Watergate, post-Viet Nam U.S. society
and the death of the alleged '60s idealism. The more U.S. history you
study, the more this idealism looks like a thin layer of ideological makeup applied by the cultural elite to the faces reflecting the much more disturbing social realities. There are
lessons in dem dang movies that the Millennials could do well to learn.
Those who champion Cutter's Way tends towards an allegorical, social-critical reading
of the film, as superbly represented by Julie Kirgo's liner notes for this
Twilight Time release, but for me, the film's broken-spirit, sad ambience,
immensely helped by Jack Nietzsche's near-experimental score, and anchored in
beautiful performances of John Heard, Lisa Eichhorn, and Jeff Bridges, is what has always
haunted me for years. Now presented in
what is doubtlessly the closest approximation to its theatrical experience in
TT's HD Blu Ray, Cutter's Way is the film that deserves much better reputation, released in the era wherein Kramer
vs. Kramer and Ordinary People
were considered the apex of truthful American filmmaking.
12. The Night
Visitor (1971, VCI Entertainment, Region A)
The hardscrabble DVD labels such as VCI and Mill Creek
always deserve my support. No star labels such as Arrow or Criterion will ever
release a little obscurity like The Night
Visitor, a motion picture that I only recollect, albeit extremely vividly,
as a black & white late night feature caught at the AFKN (American Forces
Korean Network) channel. What is
it? Well, it's a murder mystery, one of
those works wherein a psychotic killer nonetheless builds a foolproof alibi for
himself, and goes on to commit violent revenges against those who wronged him--
except that it is location-filmed in the snow-bound rural areas of Denmark, and
stars Max Von Sydow, Liv Ullmann and Per Oscarsson. Trevor Howard plays a
stalwart and prudent police inspector challenged by the seemingly unsolvable
puzzle of Sydow's escape from a mental asylum built literally like a medieval
castle. Cold, vicious, suspenseful,
complete with a nasty scorpion's sting of an ending: hooray for VCI for
quenching the thirst of this old Korean movie fan in a most unexpected way.
11. The Boston
Strangler (1968, Twilight Time, Region A)
The other half of the Richard Fleischer-directed
serial killer film in the present list, The
Boston Strangler is the best evidence for the claim that any avant-garde,
experimental cinematic style or technique can be appropriated for the
objectives of storytelling and character-building. The techniques in this case are impressively
mounted split-screen montages that also make full use out of the widescreen
aspect ratio, as well as strikingly "subjective" visuals that re-tell
stories of murder from the viewpoint of the premier suspect, Albert De Salvo
(Tony Curtis, wearing a practically invisible fake nose). It's the kind of dazzlingly cinematic piece
that ironically could have been made only by Hollywood veterans.
10. Oldboy
(2003, PLAIN Archive, Region A)
Despite its unshakable reputation as the most
influential and best known work among the New Korean Cinema, Oldboy has been
subject to numerous controversies regarding its representation in the DVD/Blu
Ray media. PLAIN Archive's collector's edition comes as close as humanly
possible at this juncture to have the final word in this regard, with the
director- and cinematographer-approved remastered transfer and collecting
practically all supplementary materials made in Korea about the film (PLAIN
claims bonus features in totality clock
at nine hours and thirty-seven minutes […]).
Perhaps the biggest attraction, aside from the
mind-boggling packaging that hark back to the days of exquisite collector's
edition DVDs South Korean labels used to release in early 2000s, is Old Days, a new documentary looking back
at the making of the film as well as its worldwide impact, directed by Han
Sun-hee, that incorporates extremely valuable raw footages. And the whole thing is very English-friendly.
9. Flight of the
Pheonix (1965, Eureka! Masters of Cinema, Region B)
8. A Touch of
Zen (1971, Criterion Collection, Region A)
Two Asian films included in this list are quite famous
on their own, but again, few among those I know have actually seen these films
in the best possible mode of presentation.
I was totally absorbed into this King Hu's masterpiece as the camera
panoramically, poetically pans across the mountains and the rivers, as if to
announce that this is the nature upon which we, puny men, struggle to leave our
traces of inconsequential existence. "Spiritual" in the sense that is
very easy to misconstrue, especially for those fans of wu xia pian who want
their martial arts/kung fu films to remain supreme exaltations of bodily skills
and nothing more or less, A Touch of Zen
is beautifully curated by Criterion Collection, which indeed could spend some
more time reaching out to Asian films outside of the established Japanese
classics.
7. Belladonna of
Sadness (1973, Cinelicious Pictures, Region A)
One of the biggest surprises of 2016, it is always
with a measure of joy and trepidation that I welcome the release of classic
Japanese animation. Produced under the adverse circumstances when Tezuka
Osamu's Mushi Productions were going under, Belladonna
of Sadness, based on a novel by historian Jules Michelet and based on
boldly European-psychedelic illustrations of Fukai Kuni, is a shocking work of
art: belligerently exploitative, offensive, archly beautiful, graceful and the
emotions it arouses in its viewers are too complex to be parsed out in one
viewing.
Warning: its animated visuals could be as
transgressive as anything, say, Eastern European Extreme Cinema is producing
today, so approach it with caution. To
give you just one example, when the protagonist Jeanne is raped, her body
literally splits into two ragged pieces, like a red fruit bisected by a
careless harvester: one of the most shocking visual renditions of sexual
violence I have ever seen in my life.
Yet you can mount a very convincing argument that this is a
proto-feminist work of art that single-handedly atones for all the
objectifications of female body in the countless works of anime. Sublime.
6. Carnival of Souls (1962, Criterion Collection,
Region A)
One of those films that depicts with preternatural
accuracy what it is like to be caught in an unending nightmare, this regional
horror film by a group of talented industrial/education film specialists has
not only survived the test of time but for me remains one of the essential
reference points for visualization of the uncanny in the cinematic medium. Lucky you who has never gazed your eyes on
this little wondrous scarefest until now… for Criterion's Blu Ray is leaps and
bounds superior to even their packed-to-the-gills DVD releases of some years
ago.
5. Chimes at Midnight (1965, Criterion Collection,
Region A)
In retrospect, the most astonishing thing about Chimes at Midnight is the dismissive
pooh-poohing it got from mainstream critics when Orson Welles released it as a
cinematic adaptation of his 1960 theatrical play at Dublin, Ireland. What were they thinking: that Wells's filming
of John Gielgud's magnificent renderings of Henry IV was not cinematic enough? You really don't need to know Shakespeare to
appreciate the sheer cinematic razzle-dazzle that went into this production,
highlighted by the frenetic battle sequence as brilliant as anything Wells
filmed for The Citizen Kane. But in
the end, you are haunted by the tears of joy mixed with heart-rending
disappointment in the eyes of Falstaff, an enormous, literally and figuratively
larger-than-life being, as he is ultimately rejected by the newly crowned
Henry V: a romantic soul who foresaw with absolute, tragic clarity that the
modern world had no room for someone like him.
Criterion's release of this film and the equally
sorrowful adaptation of an Isak Dinesen story, The Immortal Story (1968), bring a closure of sorts to the
rehabilitation of Welles's later filmography as brilliant works of art that
they are.
4. A Brighter Summer Day (1991, Criterion Collection,
Region A)
The
oft-discussed but seldom-seen masterwork of Edward Yang, who tragically left us
at the age of 59, which combines an epic scope of a great American multigenerational
saga and painful intimacy of a Neorealist film essay in a thoroughly inimitable
and inexplicable way, is finally available in its four hour entirety, without a
bathroom break, resplendently restored to its golden twilight hues and awkwardly
authentic, dubbed voices of child actors.
Those who expect something like In
the Mood for Love going in will be shocked by how much the movie feels
"American" and the way the honest emotions of the characters creep
under your skin.
3. The Lion in Winter
(1968, Studio Canal, Region B)
I have always loved this devilishly intelligent
costume drama but including this film in this list is also my way of protesting
the ideologically puerile and disgustingly unimaginative ways Korean filmmakers
and viewers treat their "historical dramas." Fusion sageuk my ass! The
country in which movies like Roaring
Currents or Sado are considered
"authentic" representation of "real" history will never,
never, never be able to make something in the order of The Lion in Winter. Someday,
a talented Korean screenwriter will write a screenplay as witty, intelligent,
modern and humanistic as James Goldman's for this film about, say, King
Taejong's succession problem with three sons (one of which is eventually
crowned as the Great King Sejong), and it will reach the screen without
"revisions" by meddling, self-important ajeossi directors and producers.
Until then-- and I hope that happens before I die--, let me enjoy this
masterwork of a historical drama, featuring supremely affecting, earthbound
performances from Katharine Hepburn and Peter O'Toole.
2. Gilda (1946, Criterion Collection, Region A)
Primarily known for its iconic imagery of Rita
Hayworth caught in the perfect pin-up moment, as the cascade of her hair
gleaming in the lighting as she broadly smiles at the camera, Gilda for me is that one type of movie
bubbling out of the pool every year to remind me that there is something
fundamentally attractive about classic American films, especially films noirs,
that defies explanation, analysis and rationalization. In the last three years, I have come to see
Glenn Ford, more than James Stewart or Gary Cooper, as the face of American
Joe, and appreciate how complex and unarticulated emotions squirm under that
beguilingly handsome countenance, ever so sweating slightly, with just a glint
of craziness quickly suppressed in his eyes. Despite the studio-imposed
"happy" ending, Gilda
remains just as much a heavy, cinematic trip for me as a Tarkovsky film is. And
that's the truth, Ruth.
1. Women in Love (1969, British Film Institute, Region
B)
And Gilda
would have taken the position of the number one Blu Ray title of 2016, even
against the pressures exerted by the cinematic giants such as Chimes at
Midnight, A Brighter Summer Day and The Lion in Winter, except that my heart
was stolen by this Ken Russell adaptation of the D.H. Lawrence novel. And yes, I shamefully confess, watching this Blu Ray was
the first time I have seen this film.
Words literally fail me in trying to describe why I
find this movie stabbing my guts and wrapping itself around my heart like no
other motion picture I have seen last year, except to note that all
pre-digested "information" about the film was utterly useless when
confronted with the real thing. Even
that notorious all-nude wrestling scene between Alan Bates and Oliver Reed was…
so amazing. It was massively erotic,
beyond belief, yes. And also it was…
joyous: gay, in the all possible meanings of the word. My lord, the entire movie was like that. And Glenda Jackson… why do these British
actresses, Vanessa Redgrave, and now her, seem to be so effortlessly traversing
in the realm of Godhood?
And so comes to a close My Favorite Blu Rays of 2016.
Here's kudos to all the great titles that I have missed out, watched but did not
discuss and watched and loved but just had to drop from the list for utterly
arbitrary reasons, and the labels-- Criterion, Arrow, Twilight Time, Shout
Factory, BFI, Kino Lorber, Olive Films, VCI, Shameless, Synapse, Vinegar
Syndrome, Severin-- who keep churning them out year after year. Happy New Year
to all of you, and you folks out there who share my taste, my love for the
classic cinema of all types! Happy Blu
Ray and DVD hunting in the Year of the Rooster, and hopefully I will be back in
January 2018 with another bountiful list!
