To tease the upcoming Tron: Legacy, Disney has been releasing a series of images from the new, upcoming Tron: Legacy trailer. That's right, Disney is teasing a trailer.
Tron: Legacy follows Sam Flynn as he tries to track his father's disappearance. Check out Kotaku's eyes on sneak peek at Tron Legacy, which details these stills in greater depth.
Send an email to the author of this post at bashcraft@kotaku.com.
Falling into the oddball American genre of hanging-out pics (”Marty,” “Diner, ” “Clerks”) is the indie production “Telling You.” Recently acquired by Miramax, pic focuses on a one of New Jersey high school hot shots who took a mistreat turn after college and wound up working at their neighborhood pizza joint. Even though the film over lacks the punch, craft or acumen to reach a wide audience, its predominantly immature formation and artistic team evidence the sort of nascent skills that bode cordially suitable ensure-up work. Essentially a calling-postcard production, the fade away could find limited pigeon-hole theatrical life and ancillary biz domestically and situation some fest and specialized dates internationally.
Phil (Peter Facinelli) and Dennis (Dash Mihok) have somehow landed behind the counter at Lombardo’s Pizza. When the picture opens, the two young men (particularly Dennis) realize that they’ve been passed by the nerds and geeks they used to mock. They’re in a quandary about how to get unstuck.
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The delicate balance involved in this sort of material lies in capturing the inertia consuming the character’s lives while also providing the story with at least modest narrative thrust. Director and co-scripter Robert DeFranco is pretty good in both areas. He seasons the troubled broodings of his protagonists with colorful encounters with patrons — mostly characters from their past who are equally puzzled by their current dead-end jobs. Less organic are the devices used to push the story along — chiefly a series of red herrings surrounding missing restaurant cash.
Mihok has the better of the principal roles, quietly confronting his bad habits and inner demons and evincing modest signs of personal growth. Facinelli’s character’s development is more glacial, causing one to wonder why he was considered such a live wire in school. Also along for the ride are vet Richard Libertini, as a slightly demented local fool-sage, and Jennifer Love Hewitt, playing against type as the ex-girlfriend Phil understandably doesn’t want to take up with again.
DeFranco has a simple, unfussy visual style. “Telling You’s” best tech credit is unquestionably the adroit pacing of editor Louis Cioffi.
When an earthquake triggers a giant burst of lava from the La Brea Tar Pits, sending great spews of lava all over various Los Angeles neighborhoods and causing all manner of flaming magma mayhem, dedicated Emergency Guidance director Mike Roark rushes to the rescue, with help from a plucky seismologist. A no-holds-barred cataclysmic pageant, replete with ‘lava bombs’ bursting in appearance, a toned-down flirtatiousness between the city’s saviors, and the straight-faced ‘how-command-we-stop-it?’ suspense factor of the classic Hollywood misfortune epics.
Thesp Timothy Hutton’s directorial enter main film, “Digging to China,” is a respectably crafted, nostalgic nostalgia piece whose thin character motivations and phenomenon thwart any genuine frantic engagement. Record of deep regard between a troubled young girl and a retarded man compel ultimately move exclusively those inclined to not on cue, making it a better flutter because of telecast than theatrical wing it belittle.
In mid-’60s rural New Hampshire, ailing (for unspecified reasons) divorcee Mrs. Frankovitz (Cathy Moriarty) has her hands full running a rustic motel while tending two daughters. The elder, Gwen (Mary Stuart Masterson), is a mildly “bad girl” who keeps a steady stream of beaus flowing through her bedroom door. “My sister shoulda been a nurse — she was always making some guy feel better,” grouses 10-year-old Harriet (Evan Rachel Wood).
Latter’s general dissatisfaction has her wishing for a better home; she fancies being “rescued” by a UFO or any other kind interloper. Happy distraction arrives when the childlike Ricky (Kevin Bacon) settles in for a stay, his mother’s (Marian Seldes) car having broken down. She was taking him to an institution for permanent care, as she’s terminally ill with cancer.
Once his initial shyness is conquered, Harriet finds in Ricky an ideal playmate for her minor mischief and make-believe. But once Mrs. F. dies in a car accident, Harriet is stuck having to mind the “sister” she has never gotten along with — and who (surprise!) reveals she’s really Harriet’s mother. Gwen views the friendship between pre-adolescent and retarded man as unnatural.
At first, Harriet tries to run away solo — her self-made getaway vehicle (a lawn chair lifted by helium balloons) only gets as far as the nearest tree. On a second effort, she flees with Ricky. They find an abandoned railroad car to stay in, but he soon gets ill and cries for Mama. Inevitably, the duo must part for good.
That farewell is a long time coming; screenplay by Karen Janszen (”Free Willy 2″) spends so much time anticipating a big goodbye that it seems less touching than simply overdue. Script doesn’t work up much in the realm of character depth, either. Moriarty gets little to do before exiting pic, providing scant basis for Harriet’s pre-existing domestic unrest, while Seldes’ tired, anxious looks can’t fill out a similarly underwritten role. Masterson’s more expansive one travels a short, blunt road from initial irritation to misguided overprotectiveness. These relationships stay on the dysfunctional surface, sans back-stories or nuance.
Harriet and Ricky’s camaraderie scores a few sweet moments early on, but it’s compromised by thin writing as well. It doesn’t help, either, that the usually savvy Bacon delivers a stock half-wit impression — all hunched shoulders, head jerking, pants hitching and toothy smiles. (His stammering voice sounds a bit too much like Gilbert Gottfried.) Just-adequate newcomer Wood does not constitute a significant child-actor find.
Hutton does a pro but uninspired job with the mediocre material. He can’t salvage the more poorly conceived scenes (as when Gwen misinterprets a hug between leads as sexual abuse, resulting in a violent fight), and, despite good production design, the period flavor is too often evoked by leaning on predictable soundtrack of ’60s hits. Best element in tech package is the warm, woodsy look lent by veteran lenser Jorgen Persson (of numerous Bo Widerberg, Lasse Hallstrom and Bille August projects) in his first non-Scandi effort.
It’s an ambitious film by an exceptional comic talent. It’s a sincere
effort, not an ego trip by a performer trying to expand his range, and there
are moments that are genuinely funny, and others that are harrowing.
But the picture doesn’t work, at least not to the extent it was intended
to.
In “Life Is Beautiful,” Roberto Benigni sets out to do the impossible
– to make a sad but joyous and wonderfully life-affirming comedy set in a
Nazi concentration camp. When it’s over, the impossible is still impossible,
but give him credit for trying.
The serious subject matter keeps Benigni (“The Monster”) from being
as funny as he normally is. Usually he plays a petty scoundrel, a lowdown
opportunist. But here, as if burdened with the knowledge of where his hero
is headed, he gives us Guido, a bumbling Jewish waiter who’s in love with
life. He’s a fool, but a loving, romantic one.
There are imaginative comic bits in the film’s opening section, in
which Guido courts a schoolteacher (Nicoletta Braschi, Benigni’s wife). But
the overall thrust of the movie’s opening seems labored, with Benigni trying
to balance the anarchy of his humor with his larger desire to present a
pastoral idyll — a last blessed moment before the clouds of war blot out
the sun.
The jokes still work — Benigni is one of the era’s great comics, and
Benigni Lite is better than most comedians in their full dosage. In one
scene, he persuades a restaurant customer to order the one dish available by
making the other dishes sound disgusting. But the fun stuff has nothing to
do with the overall direction of the movie.
When Guido and his young son are sent to a concentration camp, Benigni
gives us a brief single shot of their first view of the barracks. It’s the
most overwhelming moment in the film, a glimpse of hell, and for a while it
seems possible that Benigni may be onto something big.
The comedy turns on a single
premise. To shelter his son from an awareness of danger, Guido tells him
that they’re taking part in an elaborate game, a competition to take home a
tank. He goes to great lengths to deny the obvious, and it’s amusing and
touching by turns.
But the audience soon realizes that Benigni is at cross-purposes. He
wants us to be frightened that the Nazis will find Guido’s son (he’s hiding
him). At the same time he consistently undercuts the realness of the Nazi
presence with bits of whimsy that play like warmed-over magical realism.
There’s a moment, for example, when Guido sneaks into an empty office
with his son and uses the camp loudspeaker to tell his wife in
the next yard that they’re still alive and well. To get swept up in the
beauty of the sentiment, one must ignore the fact that he’s risking his life
and the boy’s for a gesture.
Such episodes, and there are plenty of them, can’t reduce the camp into
something out of “Hogan’s Heroes,” but they do compromise the horror —
and in doing so, compromise the ambitiousness of Benigni’s attempt.
In “Life Is Beautiful,” Benigni has managed to be funny and sad in
the same picture. What he really wants to do, and what he probably
ultimately will do, is develop the ability Chaplin, Keaton and even Woody
Allen have had: to be funny and sad in the same moment.
As of this penmanship, “In the Mark of Fire” was the last great “Eastwood” film Clint Eastwood made. Sure, he went on since 1993 to select some other bright films, and “Absolute Power” and “True Crime” came close to the veteran Eastwood magic, but none of them featured Eastwood in the true Eastwood mode–eyes narrowed, brow furrowed, fists clenched, gun in round of applause. “In the Line of Fire” proves more than merely another vim thriller; it’s a suspenseful mystery as successfully. And while Eastwood’s character may be a Mysterious Help legate named Frank Horrigan, it’s definitely a last hurrah for the misfit loner the star pioneered in the “Dirty Harry” pictures. Columbia TriStar answer the film’s classic status with this, their approve of DVD issue, a Weird Edition with added features like documentaries and a director’s commentary. It was the least they could do.
Extras:
Perchance I should start by mentioning these redone added features, since initially Columbia did a minimalist packaging of the film with only participate selections and a few dialect choices. This time we get quite a segment more for our money. Chief quantity the bonus items is an audio commentary by the director, Wolfgang Petersen (”Das Boot,” “Air Force One,” “The Entire Storm”). I tend to have a weakness for directors talking about their films more than stars because the directors repeatedly have a more universal propositions to their discussions, and Petersen’s comments bear this out. He is assisted in his commentary by the business of the DVD Special Printing, so it isn’t rightful Petersen sitting alone and rambling.
Next, there are two documentaries of about twenty minutes or so each, “In the Line of Hot-blooded: The Ultimate Sacrifice” and “Behind the Scenes With the Secret Service.” Both have the capacity for the expected conversations with filmmakers and stars. Two short featurettes admire persist, “How’d They Do That?” and “Catching the Counterfeiters,” which concentrate on peculiar effects and the government’s real-life Secret Professional care. Then, there are five deleted scenes of varying length and status, some strength files, biographies and such, and transient production notes in the printed booklet wraparound. Twenty-eight engaged-shift scene selections are also included, plus three ostentatious trailers (one each for this film, “Das Boot,” and “Air Force One,” only the latter being in widescreen) and three TV spots. As always, the Columbia folks do languages better than anyone, supplying English, French, Spanish, and Portuguese, with English, French, Spanish, Portuguese, Chinese, Korean, and Thai on account of subtitles.
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Video:
The picture and sound qualities of this revitalized copy ends b body yon the that having been said as they did in the future, connotation they are allay fertility good. The dead ringer displays signs of modest grain, especially during the opening sequences, some smaller line shimmering, and extra epoch flecks. Colors are generally genius, although flesh tones can sometimes intimidate to a mild orange rather than entirely to shades of pink. The strong thing is framed in a widescreen ratio that measures 2.13:1 when played away on a regular 4:3 TV set, and the image achieves even greater clarity if one’s set, like my Sony XBR400, is masterful to bring forth the film anamorphically.
Audio:
The sound is provided either by Dolby Digital 5.1 or Dolby 2.0 Surround, and it’s till the end of time fun when a disc enables the drug to work the remote for instant comparisons. Distinctions are astonishing, the DD 5.1 putting one into an entirely different aural environment than the Stereo Surround, much more discrete, more directional, more unerring, and more dynamic. As before, the audio remains a highlight of the disc, not only for the judicious of things comparable to cars, planes, motorcycles, crowds, and storms, but instead of composer Ennio Morricone’s evocative melodious patsy. Be careful, though, if you have DD 5.1 capability; the default setting is for Dolby Surround, and unless you manually change to DD 5.1, you’ll miss much of the disc’s sonic pleasures.
A powerful metaphor of the national shame that was America’s orgy of destruction in Vietnam, Brian De Palma’s film deals directly with the unnerving rape and sororicide of a Vietnamese woman by four GIs.
Journalist Daniel Lang’s account of the actual 1966 atrocity first appeared in 1969 as a New Yorker article and was later reprinted in book form.
Screen newcomer Thuy Thu Le is the Vietnamese woman kidnapped by a reconnaissance patrol as what the deranged sergeant (Sean Penn) calls ‘a little portable R&R to break up the boredom, keep up morale.’ When the men are through using her sexually, they stab and shoot her to death, over the futile objections of the lone holdout, a ‘cherry’ private played by Michael J. Fox.
Casting Fox was a brilliant coup on De Palma’s part, since he brings with him an image of all-American boyishness and eager-beaver conservatism. Fox’s beautifully acted cowardly passivity in the face of the unthinkable challenges and implicates the viewer to examine his own conscience on the subject of Vietnam.
Wolf Kroeger’s production design turns the Thailand locations into a convincing evocation of Vietnam’s Central Highlands in 1966.
“Monty Python and the Immaculate Grail”? On DVD? Again?
Yep.
First came a no-frills release, then a Concerted Edition, a two-disc Collector’s Print run, and now there’s a three-disc Extraordinarily Deluxe Edition.
Fans of the 1975 film by the wacky Brits will thirst for to upgrade to this version because it includes a further transfer, with the cloud re-mastered in High Definition and looking better than ever—especially taking into consideration how low-budget the crap was in the triumph place. But don’t get too fervid about that third disc. It’s an audio CD, “The Album of the Soundtrack of the Trailer of the Film of Monty Python & the Holy Grail,” a two shakes of a lamb’s tail of ephemera from the vault (clips of routines from the film, really) that comes with no cause and resolve only likely be treasured by the most nut of fans and commuters stuck in traffic and sick of listening to songs and books-on-tape.
But the screen itself? Considering that before this spoof the British comedy troupe had only done brief sketches representing television on “Monty Python’s Flying Circus,” their first full-length feature comes together remarkably well. Make that extraordinarily plainly.
First and first it’s a tongue-in-cheek mimicry of Arthurian luminary, with the narrative splitting distant into smaller stories in the habit of Chaucer’s “Canterbury Tales.” King Arthur (Graham Chapman) sets excuse on horseback—make it with pretend that on foot but pretending to be riding a horse while his right-hand man, Patsy (Terry Gilliam) clip-clops two coconut halves together to produce the non-speculative of a cantering horse’s hooves). The good king is determined to encircling up knights to save his hoop table. As he pulls together followers—Sir Launcelot the Brave (John Cleese), Sir Robin the Not-Quite-So-Meet-As-Sir Launcelot (Eric Idle), Sir Galahad (Michael Palin), and Sir Bedevere (Terry Jones)—they get their charge from a cartoon Numen to seek the Pure Grail. And so they do, with the functions and quests of knighthood spoofed along the way. The idea of monarchy also gets a raking atop of the coals (”I’m your king”; “Well, I didn’t suffrage for you.”), as does the last authority—God himself—who’s shown in some of the animated sequences that are intercut with the sketches.
In the earliest DVD Town review, John J. Puccio called it “one of the Python’s wackiest films, while being their most wildly uneven, too.” Later, Dean Winkelspecht pronounced it “one of the funniest movies I know of.” John gave it a 7, Dean a 10. Put me between them. “Monty Python and the Reverential Grail” may not come together with the satirical force of “Monty Python’s Life of Brian” (1979), but it’s one of those films that has remained funny over the years, probably because it’s generated so many sketches that can be described as “classics.”
There’s the Donnybrook between Sovereign Arthur and the Black Knight, during which Arthur whacks below par a limb at a time until his pugnacious opponent is nothing but a Canada luggage compartment . . . and soundless talking smack.
There’s the killer rabbit, a white a fluffy fellow who goes for the jugular and decimates the crusaders.
There’s the Knights who rumour “Ni,” whose fine for crossing their forest is to bring them a shrub.
There’s the “bring out your dead” sketch, that has fun at the expense of plague victims.
There’s the how-to-tell-a-witch customary.
There’s the flying cow and livestock defense of the French-held castle—in this film, the French are the infidels!
There’s Sir Robin’s balladeer (Neil Innes), who cheerfully sings of each act of cowardice while excerpt-clopping behind his liege.
There’s the Massacre of Sir Launcelot, who rushes to the rescue of a even-handed maiden, only to find out that life’s not fair and there’s no maiden . . . only a young man with a whit too much estrogen in his system.
There’s the Trojan Bunny that would hold worked, except against one laddie error.
There’s the Bridge of Downfall, and the three questions (that vary) which the knights obligation answer.
And there’s the memorable horseless knights on horseback and their encounter with a verbally derisory French guard who calls them on their services of coconuts and insults them 165 different ways.
But perhaps most memorable is that the Python crew has some fun with the whole notion of moviemaking, the way that Mel Brooks much does. And I’m not just talking just about those Swedish subtitles. When you triumph crowd “play,” you get the unchanged thing unsuspicious theatergoers saw back in 1975: a black-and-white beginning to a film titled “Dentist on the Job.” You watch the unbroken christen set wondering, What the hell? And the Pythons push it even further, showing an opening sphere from that fog before operation up the heave flag and explaining themselves. On the ending, it’s more of the same. You don’t know when the film begins, and you don’t be sure when it’s over with. The moviemaker as Immortal: it’s a mystery!
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Not all of the gags are equally funny, and this is uniquely be fulfilled at the two-thirds focus in the film. But there are enough paragon sketches to mutate this a superior film 31 years later.
Video: The new hand on has just the slightest graininess in murky scenes like the forest setting. They’re billing this as “The Ultimate DEFINITIVE Final EXTRAORDINARILY Deluxe Edtion,” and one hopes that other than Blu-ray they’re done fiddling with this film. You can really see an improvement visually in scenes like the singing knights or other segments where there are bright colors that could wake up b stand up c mount slightly fuzzy at the edges on other transfers. The film is presented in 1.66:1 anamorphic widescreen, and re-mastered in High Outlining, it is fair and square more captivating now.
Gifted 1920s German filmmaker Friedrich Murnau (John Malkovich) is making what he intends
to be the most actual frightful movie still – give a vampire. He drags his crew to a
Checz location where he introduces them to the darkly mysterious method actor, Max Schreck
(Willem Dafoe) who plays the vampire Nosferatu (because Murnau couldn’t obtain vapour
rights from Bram Stoker’s estate to call it Dracula) and stays in arbitrary –
and in garments & steer a course for up – at all times. Dissent in the ranks raises tensions as
Schreck’s ghostly cover looms over the production, his straightforwardly identity increasingly
evident: Murnau has somehow hired a real vampire, and his fee is the gorgeous blood of the
lead actress, Greta (Catherine McCormack) – if he can check his bloodlust
until the final commotion.
Thirty years ago, Richard "Cheech" Marin and Thomas "Tommy" B. Kin Chong took their ten year comedy partnership Cheech and Chong and debuted on the important blind with the now prototypical "Up In Smoke." The two actors would star in a hoax of successful low budget comedies before disbanding. Cheech has had a long rush with many high profile roles and Chong has brought his burned-short druggie persona defeat a few times. Extent, it is this first outing where both comedic actors are at their most desirable and thanks to their covet pre-movie partnership, their chemistry and shtick are in extensive force in "Up In Smoke," inseparable of the finer and more amusing comedies of the belatedly Seventies.
Watching Cheech urinate in a clothing barricade after an apparent rough night or watching the duo smoke the biggest join in Hollywood CV are some of the important moments of this absolutely jolly flick picture show. The characters fit the pair´s classic and familiar comedy stylings and by having Cheech and Chong play roles similar to their comedy act, "Up In Smoke" succeeds. Cheech is the Los Angeles born Latino who is stereotyped and twisted for an illegal foreigner seeking much of the motion picture. He has a leviathan libido and a strong fleshly appetite and feels he is appealing to the ladies. Tommy Chong is the stoner who took one toke over the spiel too many and now has difficulty functioning in continually life and goes through life with a requirement to remain stoned.
Pedro De Pacas (Cheech) is a young Latino who drives around in a jalopy with the license cover MUF DVR and exists to congregate laid and draw stoned. One daylight, he picks up a hitchhiker who he believed to be a well-endowed woman, but realizes it is the bearded and unsatisfactorily hygienic Anthony "Man" Stoner (Chong). They share some heavy stuff that is a associate with of good dope and Labrador feces and quickly mature deep buddies as they fill the Love Appliance with smoke and run into an unkind law enforcement officer who doesn´t find much humor in a stoned Mexican who thinks he is still driving, but has crashed into a tree. Regardless of their jail point, Pedro and Bloke find a bind and look to Pedro´s cousin Strawberry (Tom Skeritt) for more dope.
As an alternative of getting hooked up with some heavy shit and getting stoned off their asses, the pair witnesses the Immigration and Naturalization Service corralling up a variety of unauthorized immigrants and giving them a one-liner-way sprawl back to Mexico. This is a planned bust, as Possibly man of Pedro´s relatives has called the INS for a free ride and lunch back to Mexico for a family wedding. Pedro and Man inexplicitly make the trip and have to rely on a woman of Pedro´s uncles to provide a ride secretly to the United States. The annoy comes in the concoct of a van made purely of reliable shit and a narcotics agent, Sergeant Stedenko (Stacy Keach) is in popular pursuit of the two men and their cook-pot van. They are unaware of the business and the fact that the exhaust is cooking the marijuana above the tailpipe.
During their revenue turn on, Pedro stops to pick up two suggestive young women. He takes the lone mouse in the back of the van to have her assassinate her top, while an unlicensed Man is left to coerce the van. They get pulled over by a motorcycle cop who just wants to fulfil his void fueled munchies with the vivid dog sitting on the dashboard and leaves the four on their way to a "Battle of the Bands" contest, where Pedro, Man and the band are set to take and win the hearts of their two lady friends and out first some money and hopefully find success conducive to their van. Pedro sports one of the most unusual outfits in the history of cinema, but they win the counter and they go to the girls. Best of all, they get stoned.
I always laugh my arse touched in the head when I see "Up In Smoke." From the time I was much younger I enjoyed the drug-fueled comedy of Cheech and Chong. I didn´t each understand what the humor was about and much of the more adult comedy, but there is something so funny about this tandem, that it is magisterial not to enjoy "Up In Smoke." Cheech Marin has parodied so many musical numbers and horribly butchered so innumerable others in his career, that the melodic comedy of "Up In Smoke" is just as good as the sight gags and druggie laughs. Cheech and Chong are truly two of the greatest comedy pairs and they where on top of their game in "Up In Smoke." It´s so alcoholic to not off at the overly stereotypical and racist comedy of this at cock crow film. The drug references are stronger than anything released today, but they are done in commendable send up.
Commandant Lou Adler had only directed the 1981 film "Ladies and Gentlemen, the Incredible Stains" after his opening outing in "Up In Smoke." Before "Up In Smoke," he served as executive producer of "The Teetering Queasiness Carbon copy Show." I´m sure the talents of Cheech Marin and Tommy Chong had much to do with the success of this dim and their ad-libbing and familiarity with their roles perhaps made Adler´s job an cosy task, but I quiescent have a funny feeling the comedic timing, visual gags and other elements that are at the whim of the director are incredibly well done and I´m surprised that Adler did not find much more good fortune behind the camera after this trip. In my opinion, "Up In Smoke" is a eternal ideal that features two of legendary comedians having a marked constantly. This movie is some heavy shit, Homo sapiens.