Video review: "Le Grande Illusion"

It doesn't have the reputation here in the States that it does overseas, but "Le Grande Illusion" (The Grand Illusion) is often referred to as the greatest film ever made, even besting perennial favorite "Citizen Kane" in some critics' minds.

I wouldn't quite line up behind them. But there's no denying the lovely poetry of this 1938 French film by Jean Renoir about Allied prisoners of war and their German captors. Set during the more gentlemanly era of World War I, it arrived at a time in a Europe when everyone surely knew another great cataclysm was upon them.

"Le Grande Illusion" is finally getting a Blu-ray release with a first-class transfer of a recently restored version of the movie.

The story centers on three French aviation officers: Lt. Marechal (Jean Gabin), Lt. Rosenthal (Marcel Dalio) and Capt. de Boeldieu (Pierre Fresnay). They were all shot down, and react in different ways to the idea of being sidelined for the rest of the war.

Marechal and Rosenthal endeavor to find a method of escape, while the noble-born de Boeldieu finds himself drawn into a friendship with the German prison commander, Capt. von Rauffenstein (Erich von Stroheim) a fellow aristocrat. Horribly burnt, von Rauffenstein wears a stiff body brace, full uniform and spotless white gloves, indications of his carefully-cultivated ideals.

Through subtle dialogue and gorgeous cinematography, the film quietly punctures the notion that the best qualities mankind possesses -- bravery, compassion, humility -- are birthrights. True nobility is earned -- that's the lesson this cinematic standout imparts.

The blu-ray release comes with a number of features, some of which are recycled from previous DVD editions and some of which are all-new. The latter include a retrospective by critic Olivier Curchod, and an original negative of the film.

There are also featurettes on the restoration process, original trailers and other appreciations by film experts.

Movie: 3.5 stars out of four
Extras: 3.5 stars

Reeling Backward: "The Stunt Man" (1980)

"The Stunt Man" was nominated for three Academy Awards, and deserved none of them.

Well, I will concede that Peter O'Toole has a memorable presence as an egomaniacal film director, who rides around in helicopters or on crane booms and appears, like a fourth-rate deity, to be everywhere at once. If he isn't exactly all-knowing about every move made by his cast and crew, he seems to have guessed at most of it.

But is this worthy of a Best Actor nod? I would conclude not, since it's not a particularly meaty role. O'Toole's Eli Cross shows up for a moment or two, speaks a few cryptic lines of dialogue, and then disappears. We never really learn much about him or what motivates him. He's not so much a character as a plot device. Not to mention, his role is really a supporting one.

Director Richard Rush and screenwriter Lawrence B. Marcus (who worked with Rush to adapt the script from Paul Brodeur's novel) also received Oscar nominations, the only ones of their otherwise un-noteworthy careers. (Rush would not make another movie for 14 years, and when he did it was the laughably bad sexual thriller "Color of Night," known universally as The Flick That Features Bruce Willis' Dick.)

It's pretty obvious that with "The Stunt Man" Rush and Marcus were trying to make some grand statement about ... well, that's where it gets a little fuzzy. About the emotionally traumatized veterans returning from Vietnam, certainly. About the vicissitudes and vagaries of movie-making in Hollywood, probably.

The plot is straightforward, but nonsensical. Cameron (Steve Railsback), a Vietnam vet on the run from the law, stumbles into a movie set where Eli Cross is shooting a war extravaganza that is supposed to be anti-war, but keeps missing expectations and is looking more like an action/adventure.

Cameron was involved in a car accident with a vintage Duesenberg careening off a bridge into the river, killing the production's head stuntman in the process. Eli realizes the fix Cameron is in, and also needing to conceal the death from the local head of police (Alex Rocco), who is constantly threatening to shut them down, casts Cameron to stand in for the stunt man.

Called alternately Burt (after the dead stunt man) or Lucky (for his death-defying antics), he falls for the leading lady, Nina Franklin (Barbara Hershey), and becomes increasingly convinced that the director is trying to kill him.

Eli's motivations for making Lucky his thrall are entirely unclear. Why would he cast a total novice in such an important role, knowing he could screw up at any time and lead to another accident? Eli delights in demonstrating to Lucky that his crew will do anything he tells them to, including pretending that he's the dead stunt man. If that's the case, then why wouldn't he just choose another one of his real stunt men to impersonate the fallen one?

The sequences where the movie-within-the-movie are being shot are massive action set-pieces that last up to 10 minutes, as Lucky falls through roofs, climbs towers, is shot at with (he hopes) blanks and other astonishing feats.

Rush makes the choice to present the film shoot as if it would actually play out this way, with one long continuous take. If one were to try to do that, it would involve hundreds of crew members and extras, dozens of cameras and a logistical challenge that would make the planning of D-Day look like roshambo.

In reality, Rush must've used dozens of set-ups to achieve this bit of fakery. Nowadays, when knowledge about filmmaking techniques is pretty common, this would seem ridiculous. I wonder if back in 1980 audiences were really ignorant enough to swallow this hoo-hah.

Railsback strains mightily to bring some semblance of continuity to his character, but he's fighting the script. One moment Lucky/Cameron is serene and charming, and the next he's angrily relating his brutal attack on a police officer, spitting out the words like they're poisonous to his mouth. A little later, he's laughing and canoodling with Nina.

Some critics, notably Pauline Kael, hailed "The Stunt Man" as a brilliant bit of subversive filmmaking. That's quite a leap without a net.

2 stars out of four

Review: "Step Up Revolution"

I am a "Step Up" virgin, somehow having managed to avoid -- excuse me, miss -- the first three flicks in the dancing-movie franchise. I actually went in thinking this was the third one, since it was in 3-D, and you know how clever they are about those numerals. But no, I learned afterward, this was actually the fourth.

Based on the enthusiasm of the audience at the promotional screening I attended, they better be gearing up for a fifth.

Alas, I am not the target audience for this movie, possessing about 20 years too many and some man parts. Not to mention, dancing is not my thing, neither doing it or watching it.

When it comes to dancing movies, I think no one has ever hit the sweet spot like the Gene Kelly/Stanley Donen films, who understood that the musical sequences have to move the story along.

In "Step Up Revolution," the dance numbers go on and on and on ... and on a little more. They're energetic and athletic and impressive, at least for a few minutes, and then they just keep hanging around. The final dance scene must sprawl along for 15 minutes and involve hundreds of performers, plus pyrotechnics, trampolines, bungee jumping and fog. There's always fog.

Oh, and some kid named Moose jumps out and starts jittering around, and the audience went wild. I take it he was in a couple of previous "Step" movies. He wears a hat, shades, long hair and so much clothing I couldn't really even tell what he was doing, other than just sort of vibrating a bit. Everyone else was impressed with his vibrating.

Even though I haven't seen any of the other "Step Up" movies or read anything about them, based on this one I'm going to make an educated guess about the plot of all of them:

They're centered around a boy/girl story, two people who come together through their love of dance. But they're from different worlds -- he's probably from that naughty side of the tracks -- and the institutions of propriety (parents, school, authority) frown on their jitterbugging. There's some static with friends pushed aside by the newly-formed duo, and some turbulent waters, but then everybody just dances and all their problems go away.

To those who've seen the other three movies -- how'd I do?

Here, Sean (Ryan Guzman) is the guy and Emily (Kathryn McCormick) is the girl. He's a waiter at a swanky Miami hotel; she's the daughter of the fat cat hotel owner (Peter Gallagher) who wants to demolish Sean's down-market but vibrant neighborhood to build an even swankier hotel. Eddie (Misha Gabriel) is the best friend who gets pushed aside, if for just a little bit.

Eddie and Sean have been designing flash mob events starring a group of dancers called, simply, "The Mob." They're trying to get noticed and win a YouTube contest for $100,000, which they don't look like they really need because Eddie is a hacker with at least $25,000 worth of computer gear, and all Mob members own super-sweet classic cars decked out with neon paint jobs and those jumping hydraulic suspension thingees.

I don't know why poor characters in movies always own nice classic cars. I own one, and I can tell you they're horrendously expensive to keep up. A couple of years ago my car began literally collapsing in on itself; I don't want to tell you what it cost to fix. Minimum wage slaves should really avoid them and get a sturdy used Honda.

Oh yes, back to the dancing.

Attitudes on dancing have changed with the times. The World War II and Korean War generations were bonkers for it, by my dad made me to understand that it was all an excuse for the genders to rub up against each other in a socially acceptable way. Elvis shook his pelvis, and that was deemed dangerous, and then things got groovier, with less clothing.

The through line seems to be that dancing is something women really love and something men do just to get the women. The lone exception, at least cinematically, was the disco craze captured in "Saturday Night Fever," where the guys strutted like peacocks so they could ... well, impress the women and thereby get them.

Gals, in case you haven't figured it out by now, we just tolerate dancing -- and dancing movies -- for ulterior motives.

I did enjoy some of the highly-choreographed dance scenes in "Step Up Revolution." Whenever the music stops and the characters try to talk to each other, it's pure death. But never fear, another dancing scene will soon come along to please those for whom this movie was made. Personally, I'd rather just read a book.

1.5 stars out of four

Video review: "The Deep Blue Sea"

Love triangles often make for scintillating cinematic tales, but "The Deep Blue Sea" is generally a dreadful bore. Despite a spot-on performance by Rachel Weisz as a tortured British woman dallying between two men, the best way to describe my reaction to this tale was colossal indifference.

I think the main problem is that, as written by writer/director Terence Davies (adapted from a play by Terence Rattigan), Hester Collyer (Weisz) is an unrelatable character. We don't care that she suffers. It's possible to make a movie centered around a person the audience dislikes, but not one who simply doesn't interest them.

Hester is married to a rich judge (Simon Russell Beale), but it's a passionless coupling. He shows up from time to time to try to lure her back, but Hester's heart belongs to Freddie Page (Tom Hiddleston), a penniless former pilot. Alas, Freddie doesn't care for her the way she does him.

So instead of a triangle based on competing loves, this movie is about a circle of unrequited affection. Each character loves another who doesn't love them, and in turn is adored by one they don't. "The Deep Blue Sea" is the story three rudderless ships passing in the night.

Extra features are plentiful and substantial. Director Davies supplies a feature-length audio commentary, and there are also interviews with him, Weisz and Hiddleston. There's also a collector's booklet, and a featurette on the lush, dark look of the film.

Movie: 1.5 stars out of four
Extras: 3 stars

Reeling Backward: "The Big Red One" (1980)

"This is fictional life
Based on factual death."

So writer/director Samuel Fuller announces at the beginning of "The Big Red One," a World War II picture based largely on his own experiences as a soldier with the Army's 1st Infantry Division. As Fuller showed with "The Steel Helmet," he had a great flair for war stories that swell with a grizzled sort of authenticity.

Fuller had been trying to make the movie since the 1950s, and actually began scouting some locations until he butted heads with mogul Jack Warner. He had to wait another quarter-century before "Red" came out in 1980.

I think the wait probably served the film better, giving it more distance and perspective from the events portrayed in it, which spans 1942 to 1945, and most every front of the war in Europe from North Africa, Sicily, D-Day, France, Belgium, the invasion of Germany and the liberation of a Czechoslovakian concentration camp for Jews.

The delay also helped with the casting of the leading man, the gruff and taciturn Sergeant (no name ever given, or needed). The studio wanted to cast John Wayne, who no doubt would have insisted on a more purely heroic role -- sort of what he did in the underwhelming "Sands of Iwo Jima."

Instead, Fuller was able to cast Lee Marvin, whose steely countenance and gravel-pit voice is a perfect fit for the war-blasted commander of a rifle squad. Marvin fell backwards into acting, doing bit parts and villain roles, then became an unexpected leading man in his 40s and 50s.

If anything, at times Fuller makes Sarge a little too tough and unlikeable. I think of a scene where a green recruit steps on a tripwire and sets off an explosion. As the stunned man struggles to maintain consciousness, his flesh scorched and his body torn, Sarge blithely tells him the tripwires are not meant to kill, just castrate. He reaches down to the man's nethers, pulls up a horrific bloody pulp of flesh, and tells the kid it's one of his testicles. "That's why God gave you two," he barks, heaving the valuable piece anatomy over his shoulder like dog scraps.

"The Big Red One" has a deliberately episodic feel, concentrating on Sarge and his Four Horsemen, as the battalion commanders name the quartet of infantrymen who survive with him through every stage of the war. They are survivors, careful killing machines who know how to take life while preserving their own. The new recruits arrive and die so quickly, the core group doesn't even bother to learn their names.

Mark Hamill, in between "Star Wars" movies, had one of his more substantive roles as Griff, a marksman who is reluctant to kill, dubbing it "murder." Sarge tersely explains that if you've got generals giving orders and a piece of paper declaring it war, then it's simply killing. He should know, having accidentally murdered a German at the end of the last war four hours after armistice had been declared.

The movie is quite explicit that one of Sarge's jobs is to shoot any man who refuses to do his duty, and there's an amazing scene during the depiction of D-Day where he actually takes a few shots at Griff as a warning. Griff is all alone on the beach, pinned down by enemy fire, trying to blow a break in the barbed wire barricade using a bangalore torpedo. A half-dozen others have already died, and when Griff freezes up it's clear Sarge is not above adding another to that number, even if it's one of his Four Horsemen.

Robert Carradine is the narrator as Zab, a brash young writer constantly chewing on a cigar, who clearly acts as a stand-in for Fuller himself. There's a harrowing scene where Zab crawls across a line of dead men to bring news to the colonel, and pauses over the corpse of one man whose guts are splayed all over the place. His face almost touching the dead man, Zab calmly pulls a fresh cigar out of the man's pocket to replace his own sodden one.

Less prominent roles go to Bobby Di Cicco as Vinci, a loudmouth Italian, and Kelly Ward as Johnson, a farm boy with hemorrhoids.

In his review of the movie, Roger Ebert called "The Big Red One" the most expensive B-movie ever made, noting that A war films are always about the war, while B war movies are about the soldiers. I'd disagree with that -- "Saving Private Ryan" is clearly about the soldiers, and could hardly be called a B-picture. Both films have similar themes, about the bonds that men form during the horrors of battle.

Ultimately, they fight to survive and they fight for each other, not for a vague concept of "war." In his narration, Zab admits that they never understood what the war was really about.

"The Big Red One" was edited down considerably in its initial release, but today is available in an uncut version approaching three hours in length. It never feels like the movie dawdles, even as it sprawls over months and years of the war's progress. My only complaint might be the undue prominence of Siegfried Rauch as Schroeder, a stalwart German soldier who has several encounters with the squad (unbeknownst to them).

It's all setting up a final encounter that mirrors the opening one where Sarge stabbed a German to death after the war was officially over. Upon realizing Schroeder is still alive, the squad patches him up and saves his life, which Zab dubs the biggest joke of the entire unfunny war.

"The Big Red One" has been called one of the forgotten great war movies. I think that's overpraising it, but it's certainly a worthwhile and offbeat take on the genre.

3 stars out of four

Review: "The Dark Knight Rises"

And so the Batman saga ends, not with a bang but an allegory. Director/co-writer Christopher Nolan has made it clear "The Dark Knight Rises" will be the last movie about the caped crusader -- at least that he will make -- and this knowledge seems to have freed him to make a superhero movie that's different from any other in the genre, one in which the superhero has grown tired of the mask and has to be convinced to put it on again.

It's notable that Christian Bale spends far more screen time out of the Batman costume than in.

It's a big, epic, sprawling movie that, like the last entry four years ago, is too overstuffed with tertiary plot lines and secondary characters for its own good.

And, of course, nothing can replace Heath Ledger's unique, disturbing presence as the Joker. Even though he was captured at the end of the last movie, and at one point Gotham City's prison is busted open for all the criminals to escape, there's no half-hearted (and misguided) attempt to cast another actor in that now-iconic role.

As the story opens, eight years have passed since the events in "The Dark Knight." Wayne has not donned Batman's cowl since then, with the populace mistakenly believing that he killed Harvey Dent, who actually went mad and became Two-Face. Dent has become a symbol of the peaceful good times that have endured since -- thanks in part to some draconian laws put in place in Dent's name.

When we first see Bruce Wayne, he seems to have aged 20 years. He has graying hair and a lined face, and walks around with a cane and a severe limp. He's become a recluse, rarely leaving his mansion despite the urging of loyal butler/henchman Alfred (Michael Caine) to do so. You quit being Batman, Alfred tells him, but you didn't start a new life.

The villain here is Bane, played by Tom Hardy underneath a strange metal mask of tubes and 30 pounds of muscle he put on for the role. Bane is a brilliant terrorist who's utterly unnerving, but whose motives never really come into clear relief. He emerges from a mysterious past, supposedly growing up in darkness inside a pit of a prison, and seems to have dedicated his entire life to destroying Batman and the city he loves. Why? We're never really sure.

When Bane first appears on the scene, Bruce resolves to get back in the game. He is cocky and confident in his gadgets and combat abilities, despite a doctor's assessment that he has no cartilage in his knees and scarred internal organs. He shouldn't even be skiing, let alone tangling with super-strong madmen.

Bane easily defeats Batman in personal combat and exiles him. Bane then steals something really, really powerful that belongs to Bruce Wayne and turns it against Gotham. And then he ... waits five months to unleash the destruction. Which just happens to be enough time for Bruce to convalesce and return to foil his plans.

Hardy makes a few bold performance choices, some of which pay off and some don't. Much has been made about his voice, which can be difficult to understand behind the metallic echo of his mask, which resembles a shark's maw coming at  you. Beyond the comprehension issues, Bane speaks in an oddly-inflected pattern with a stiff sort of formality to it. He also has a habit of placing his hands on the lapels of his coat or armor, like a Dickensian barrister puffing himself up.

The other big addition is Anne Hathaway as Selina Kyle, a slyly seductive jewel thief who tries to walk a risky line between loyalty to Bane and Batman. Neither really trusts her, or her either of them, but there's a connection between her and Bruce Wayne. He represents the 1% and she makes Occupy Wall Street-ish threats about "a storm coming" to wash away the privileged, which supplies an edge to their banter.

I should mention that no one ever actually calls her Catwoman, and she doesn't wear a costume, other than some minimalist sartorial adornment. It's a surprisingly beefier role than you'd expect, and Hathaway has a strong presence in it.

Joseph Gordon-Levitt is another important new character as young police detective John Blake -- or, at least, seemingly important. Blake seems to be everywhere during the movie, popping up to assist Commissioner James Gordon (Gary Oldman) with a key bit of evidence or even fight alongside Batman. But after the movie I started thinking about what purpose Blake plays in the story, and decided he's really not that pivotal at all, except for that part at the end where ... well, you'll see.

Matthew Modine is another new add as Gordon's right-hand man, Ben Mendelsohn plays a mercenary-minded industrialist making a play for Wayne Enterprises, and Marion Cotillard plays Miranda Tate, a former business partner of Wayne's who got burned on a bad business deal.

Lucius Fox (Morgan Freeman), Bruce Wayne's R&D man, returns to the fold, and apparently has spare Batman suits and gear stuffed in just about every corner of Gotham. Most notably is a flying machine that's part helicopter, part jet and all seriously badass.

I saw this film in a genuine IMAX theater at the Indiana State Museum. More than an hour of the 165-minute film was shot on special IMAX film, and when that entire picture opens up from widescreen to a massive six-story wall of spectacle, it's quite tremendous. This one is definitely worth the ticket upsell.

"The Dark Knight Rises" isn't as good as the last film, but I wouldn't call it a disappointment. If anything, its faults arise from being too ambitious, too big and too much. A shorter film that focused on the dynamic between Batman, Bane and Selina Kyle might've been a better fit for this material. But that's the sort of movie you make when you're starting out something big, not wrapping it up.

3 stars out of four

Video review: "Singin' in the Rain 60th Anniversary"

Since "Singin' in the Rain" came out 60 years ago, it has frequently been called the greatest movie musical ever. Who am I to disagree?

So what is it that makes this comedy/romance so engaging, so memorable, so iconic? There's the music, of course -- several classic tunes like the title song, "You Are My Lucky Star," "Make 'Em Laugh," All I Do is Dream of You" and others.

Then there are the terrific dance numbers. Gene Kelly combined a ballet dancer's grace with an athlete's masculine intensity. The scene where he sloshes through the rain puddles in the street was an instant classic. And who can forget Donald O'Connor literally running up the wall?

For me, what makes "Singin'" sensational is the timeless quality of its story. Even though it's about a very specific Hollywood era -- the transition from silent to sound movies -- the basic parable of the strutting peacock who learns humility and compassion is a cultural archetype that still resonates.

And that cast! Kelly and O'Connor shone as matinee idol Don Lockwood and his sidekick Cosmo, while a teenage Debbie Reynolds became a star playing small-town girl Kathy Selden. Jean Hagen was a hoot as squeaky-voiced Lina Lamont, and Cyd Charisse performed a memorable pas de deux with Kelly.

In the end, the reason "Singin' in the Rain" is so great is that it was simply the best expression of the musical genre -- exuberant Hollywood razzmatazz, sweet love story, fall-down funny jokes and a poignant moment or two.

To celebrate the film's 60th anniversary, Warner Bros. has issued a special edition loaded with goodies.

A commentary track includes insights from various stars and filmmakers who worked on the movie, both living as dead -- Debbie Reynolds, Donald O'Connor, Cyd Charisse, Adolph Green, Stanley Donen among them -- as well as reflections from modern practitioners of the musical genre like Baz Luhrmann.

"Singin' in the Rain: Raining on a New Generation" is an all-new documentary to go with some existing features repurposed from previous editions. There are also outtakes, a gallery of stills and featurettes about producer Arthur Freed's legacy at MGM.

Movie: 4 stars out of four
Extras: 3.5 stars