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Posted on 17 July 2004
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The Best DVDs of 2001
The JVC HR-3300 was unveiled the Fall of 1977. At the time it was a marvel of modern technology. Today it is a relic of home entertainment.
The HR-3300 was the first VCR available to the public. The model was a hunky, top-loading device, and like every ancient home video component has become replaced by sleeker and more affordable models. Despite the short run of the HR-3300, its impact on film is immeasurable. The first VCR marks the genesis of home video.
Video was a crossover medium, permitting films a second chance to reach audiences. Moreover, home video, unlike celluloid, carries the advantage of a permanent venue.
Home entertainment has a double benefit: film distributors, producers, and other money-thirsty Hollywood grumblers make more green, and cinephiles from the more rural parts of the nation had an improved chance to see films that would never come to a theater near them.
Given the amount of money used to market a film theatrically, video proved to be the cheap inverse. Marketing films on video could be limited to a video cover. For every film known for its impressive box office gross are literally thousands identified only by the worn edges of the fragile cardboard box that protects them.
VHS was the first incarnation of purchasable and rentable home entertainment, and it had its fallbacks. Primarily the image and sound quality of the recording deteriorates over time.
In the progressive evolution of home video came Laserdisc. Though an improvement over VHS in terms of quality, the format did little to even dent the sales of VHS: for every household with a Laserdisc player were 85 with a VCR. Felled by outrageous prices and the inconvenience of flipping a disc to resume viewing of a longer film, Laserdisc inevitably went from being high-end home entertainment to being lost in the occasional garage sale.
Laserdisc, however briefly (and expensively), illustrated the potential future of home video. With Laserdisc came the term home theater. Stereo was upgraded to surround sound (and now, 5.1 channel — an exponential improvement).
The advent of DVD, in the scope of this timeline, is a third format, and thus, another chance for films to gain an audience. Despite the affect VHS has had on film, it is becoming nearly incomparable to DVD and its growing influence. In the past two months alone The Grinch, Planet of the Apes, Shrek and The Mummy Returns each grossed more in their debut week on DVD than in theaters. That statistic alone should illustrate the might this format wields.
Despite the talent required (relatively) to secure fame, filmmakers often garner fans in the growing time since their films’ releases. DVD distributors have come to acknowledge this claim. Although DVD is a relatively new medium it is affording obscurer films a wider audience.
2001 has included the releases of several films whose box-office failure is perhaps synonymous with their obscurity. Whether or not such films recoup any margin of their budget on DVD is not an issue. The simple fact that several of these “failures” are available with their director’s visions restored is a triumph associated to no ther video format.
An important issue in film criticism is that it is to be understood that the words the author relays reflect no truths but only an opinion. In stride with this comment, many may recognize the convention of fashioning year-end lists — these are to be taken with a grain of salt. Year-end, “Best of …” lists are completely arbitrary and subjective. With any list comes attached a particular bias. There is no standard “Best” by any means; the title should be knowingly subjective. If the bias of the following lists is not outwardly apparent, the very title of this site functions as a perfunctory clue.
David’s List
Memento, Following
Christopher Nolan is one of the most promising new writer/directors of the decade. Both of these films are must-see for every film lover and I honestly think that people will still be talking about them both in the years to come. Personally, I liked Following a little bit more than Memento. Nolan’s ability to create and sustain such a high level of suspense is his greatest strength and something that more new directors need to learn.
Ginger Snaps
Best horror film of the past 5 years. Period. It had all of the qualities that got me hooked on horror in the first place. Ginger Snaps has intelligence, humor, and a sense of bravery that is missing from most films these days. My main complaint about most of the so-called “horror” films coming out now is that don’t have the right focus. They spend a million dollars on special FX, and thirty dollars on the script. While the FX in Snaps were awesome, they are overshadowed by the plot and the amazing performances by almost everyone in the film. Contained my favorite line from any movie past or present I saw in 2001: “If you don’t like your ideas, you should STOP HAVING THEM.”
Hedwig and the Angry Inch
Probably the most entertaining film of last year. This film isn’t for everyone, but those who do like it will want to watch it 2 or 3 times a week. Hopefully NotComing will be getting a full review of this soon from Marcus, so I’ll just say “SEE IT” and move on.
Series 7: The Contenders
One of the best, and sadly, one of the most overlooked American films of the past year. A great film that is not afraid to go over the top to make its point. I feel that the film works better on DVD than it would on the big screen, but I admit that I didn’t get a chance to see in a theatre. Most will see it as an action film along the lines of Death Race 2000, but in my opinion, it is pure satire, and one of the best satires in recent memory.
Battle Royale
Think of this as the Japanese counterpart to Series 7 without the humor. If you are a stranger to modern Japanese cinema though, this is not a good place to start. I think that Battle Royale is a step in the right direction for them though. There is a very strong and powerful message in this film, something which is lacking from most of the no-holds-barred Japanese cinema. Definately not everyone’s cup of tea though, if you want to check out something from Japan that’s a little easier, try Wild Zero, which almost made this list.
Rumsey’s List
5 – Big Trouble in Little China & Die Hard
Fox’s edition of Fight Club (June 2000) set a precedent both for the format and, more so, for future Fox DVD releases. In its theatrical release the film barely recouped its production costs and opened to mixed criticism. Fight Club’s release on DVD has caused its detractors to give it a second look. It is doubtful Fox will soon release a film close to Fight Club in terms of influence. However true, the past year Fox has devoted comparable attention to two action films from the late eighties.
Die Hard is a quintessential entry in the library of Action films. It cannot be labeled a formulaic simply because it embodies a genre. Granted, Die Hard, its release in 1987, came decades after the first movie explosion, though it has come to define the very genre it is akin to.
Borrowing from Die Hard as well as numerous other influences is Big Trouble in Little China. The film plays like an action movie, though at the base of this film, one that is essentially about a lucky dumbass, is a discernable wit. The two primary characters, Jack Burton (Kurt Russell) and his Asian pal Wang (Dennis Dun), become amateurishly involved with a cover-up mystery, and it benefits them the ability to showcase their one-liners and martial arts. Russell’s character thinks he is in an action movie. Moreover, in his confident brogue and glistening physique, he thinks he’s this movie’s hero. It is Wang, however, that is Big Trouble’s hero, and Jack as his bumbling sidekick. This clever violation of conventions underlines director John Carpenter’s figurative trompe l’oeil — an action picture this is merely by label. Its sporadic inclusion of elements of the supernatural, horror, and martial arts allows it to transcend such cheap implications. Big Trouble in Little China is such an effective conglomerate of borrowed set-pieces that its seams are largely invisible.
Both films are displayed with a crisp, beautiful DTS soundtracks, both boast renewed transfers, and, best of all, both include a second disc chock full of supplementary material.
In regard to audio alone, there was no more impressive a disc this year than Die Hard. The DVD has an innovative scene editing workshop enabling viewers to re-cut scenes in the film.
Big Trouble’s supplements are perfectly in sync with the film’s unconventional nature. The film has an optional commentary by Russell and Carpenter. The two spend more time laughing at their film than they do sharing cheap anecdotes. Similarly hilarious is a music video included on the second disc of the film’s title theme.
4 – Twin Peaks: The First Season
1990 was perhaps the pinnacle of David Lynch’s career. His last film garnered him a second Oscar nomination and his current project instilled the name “Laura Palmer” into the public consciousness. Palmer’s murder is the famous subject of Lynch’s Twin Peaks.
The series marks the collaboration between Lynch and Hill Street Blues producer Mark Frost. To measure the lurid uniqueness of Twin Peaks, one may look no further than in the end credits of an episode. Characters such as the Log Lady and, simply, The Man From Another Place appeared continually throughout the series’ one-and-a-half season run, yet their purpose and aid to the central mystery is largely unknown.
In the second episode, in what may be the defining seven minutes of Lynch’s career, FBI Special Agent Dale Cooper dreams, twenty-five years into the future, of a red room with an ominous zig-zag tile pattern. Joined by Laura Palmer and a well-dressed midget (each speak in a freakish backwards-English dialect), he soon learns (and forgets) the identity of Laura’s murderer.
The boldness of this vision was one that demanded attention. For a short while, Twin Peaks was immensely popular. Viewership slowly diminished as the series persisted to withhold the name of Laura’s murderer, and once it was revealed, the series collapsed. The second season (with over twice as many episodes as the first) is not even identifiable with the first in terms of innovation. The first season is a benchmark in the history of television.
Like Lynch’s earlier efforts, the series has moments of ambiguous surrealism. Because the venue was television, viewers expecting the perpetual closure of a soap opera were left asking questions until the series’ stubbornly (yet brilliantly) inconclusive finale. Lynch and Frost had created a mystery with absolutely no intention of resolving it.
Artisan’s release of the first season (in a gatefold four-disc boxed set) looks wonderful. The sound is mixed in a 5.1 DTS track — the first DTS track for a television show. The picture is similarly laudable, crisp and new. In short, Twin Peaks has never looked or sounded this good.
The package’s extras are lacking. Of note, however, is an interactive Twin Peaks directory citing the majority of the characters and their relation to the ill-fated prom queen. The option includes video postcards, as some cast members share anecdotes of shooting, others talk about the reclusive Lynch. To those unaccustomed to the world of Twin Peaks, this directory is an invaluable introduction.
The series’ premiere, two-hour pilot is not included in the set, and is only summarized in the liner notes. This is a brutal omission for enthusiasts.
3 – 8 1/2 & L’Avventura (Criterion)
In the vocabulary of any DVD enthusiast is the word Criterion. Short for The Criterion Collection, the title reflects the utmost treatment on a library of DVD releases. To underline the acknowledged quality of this label, an out of print, sealed copy of Saló sold for over eight hundred dollars on eBay in the past month.
This year Criterion released two cornerstones of art cinema in extensive two-disc editions. The first is L’Avventura. Michelangelo Antonioni’s sixth film debuted at Cannes in 1960 to boos, only from those who remained in the theater. The film was said to be about nothing.
The film follows well-to-do twentysomethings as they borrow one of daddy’s yachts and surf over to an extinct volcanic island. In this, the film’s opening third, a woman disappears on this island, and the remaining characters discontinue their search shortly thereafter. At over two hours, the film was a violation of narrative expectation, and that is precisely why critics have come to cite it as one of the best films of the past century.
In L’Avventura (Italian for both “The Adventure” and “The Fling,” the title is meant to have this double meaning) Antonioni de-emphasized the importance of narrative closure, focusing instead on the sporadic temptations and distractions of his main characters. Fredrico Fellini’s 8 1/2 is similar in terms of influence and growing acclaim.
8 1/2 (Otto et Mezzo) is, appropriately, Fellini’s eight-and-a-halfth film, and is largely autobiographical. His previous feature, La Dolce Vita, had earned him global recognition. Fellini was on the forefront of art cinema. In the months following La Dolce Vita, he found himself about to make his next — with a crew, actors, no script and absolutely no idea what the film was to be about.
This trap was fashioned because of people’s trust in the renowned director and his impulse to appease those involved in producing his films. In desperation, on the brink of telling producers his truth, Fellini scripted what would become his masterpiece: a film about an influential director with no idea what to shoot.
Each film has undergone a restoration. Each, consequently, has in appearance shed decades off its age. L’Avventura includes commentary by film historian Gene Youngblood — likewise, NYU professor Antonio Monda offers his comments in a track for 8 1/2.
L’Avventura’s second disc contains a documentary on Antonioni. Jack Nicholson, who starred in the director’s The Passenger, recites some of Antonioni’s writings and his own recollections of working with the director.
8 1/2 marks the involvement of other acclaimed players in foreign art cinema. The disc includes interviews with director Lina Wertmüller (Seven Beauties) and cinematographer Vittorio Storaro who each earned acclaim following their early collaboration with Fellini. Of major note is the inclusion of Fellini’s 1982 television film A Director’s Notebook.
The magnitude of effort and attention Criterion has exerted in producing these discs is a laudable achievement. Even an edition of Air Bud with the Criterion banner would somehow be convincing in its aesthetic merit.
2 – Suspiria & The Wicker Man (Anchor Bay)
William Lustig’s first career was as a director (1982’s bloody Maniac is his most famous helm). In 1995 he teamed with Jay Douglas, president of Anchor Bay Entertainment, to acquire the rights to older cult titles. The label has been releasing old horror films with gorgeous transfers, DTS soundtracks and plethoric extras ever since.
Obscure their films are at their most popular; many of Anchor Bay’s titles are literally unknown. Similar to Criterion’s dedication to Kurosawa, Bergman, and Fellini, Anchor Bay services directors as proficient and talented, yet unknown to those whose knowledge of film is limited to a Blockbuster membership.
VHS, especially in the 80s, became a sort of melting pot for foreign films. Horror films were re-titled, re-edited, or modified in some manner to appease a standard. Filmmakers drowned in obscurity in other countries had their visions compromised and their directorial integrity robbed in the American releases of their films. That is, if they were even imported. Such is the case for Suspiria and The Wicker Man, available for the first time in their intended versions.
The vision of Dario Argento is one that has gone largely unrewarded. His films have been harshly lambasted for their lack of narrative plausibility. Argento’s films are strictly formulas for which to exercise his technique. 3rd grade plays aren’t reviewed for their acting, and similarly, Argento’s films shouldn’t be for their writing. It is a sort of forgiven fault.
Argento is the king of foreign horror, and his Suspiria represents giallo at its bloody finest. It is presented in a massive three-disc set, which includes the film’s long out-of-print soundtrack. The second disc has a 25th anniversary documentary. Although it is largely self-congratulatory, it is one of few existent materials covering the film’s genesis.
Anchor Bay’s issue of The Wicker Man may be heralded solely for its existence. The film, lost in its original form, is pieced together in an extended version on the second disc. The restored elements are of a noticeably poorer quality. For purists, the edition comes as close to securing Robin Hardy’s vision than any other attempt, and thusly, lasts as the most complete version of The Wicker Man. If you catch it in a theater, you may actually be seeing less footage than what the DVD contains.
1 – Akira (Poineer)
Animation in Japan has an entirely different audience than in America. Anime involves no fairy-tale princesses or forest animal sing-a-longs, and films belonging to the genre seldom bear ratings below PG-13.
1988’s Akira is the spine of Anime. The film is based on a 30-issue Manga; that translates to roughly a page every few seconds, and the influence of the text is highly evident.
In describing the film criticism of its influence and technical ambition obscures its visual flare. Its release only distantly corresponds with the destruction of the Berlin wall, yet it is a similarly comparable testament of cold war paranoia.
The film opens with a blast of light — an atomic explosion — and the image morphs into an aerial view of “Neo” Tokyo in the year 2019 (the image appropriately resembles Hiroshima). In this not-so-distant future Tokyo is riddled with crime and political instability. Youths are deviant, and those in authoritative positions aim only to oppress their often violent actions.
At the center of this epic are two members of a bike gang, Tetsuo and Kaneda. One of their routine chases, against a rival gang, ends when Tetsuo crashes his bike into a child. The child is unharmed, and government officials soon capture Tetsuo and take him to a hospital. This accident mysteriously unlocks Tetsuo’s telekinetic power.
In a hospital Tetsuo’s headaches are followed by delirious visions. He slowly realizes his newfound ability to control his surroundings and proceeds to flee, hiding from the government officials who aim to suppress his power.
In this age of political turmoil, Tetsuo’s power inspires a revolt, and he is heralded as some sort of god. This action leads to a finale that is nothing short of stunning — its ambiguity has inspired dozens of interpretations, even some ten years after its release.
Pioneer Entertainment, known for distributing Anime titles in the US, fronted millions in Akira’s restoration. The budget included an updated English dub — and despite a purist impulse to down the marketing practice of dubbing, the result, in 5.1 audio, is impressive.
The DVD release also includes over four thousand storyboards, multiple documentaries and marketing materials, and a glossary geared especially for slang used in the film.
*
The eccentricity of this list may inspire some to cite notable omissions, particularly The Godfather Collection and Citizen Kane, both of which, incidentally, bear inclusion in several other, similarly fashioned lists. However controversial this omission (and however impressive the DVDs of these films), they have been rewarded justly in acclaim, awards, and on pre-existing formats. The Godfather series has been distributed in numerous editions, and, despite the film’s appeal, its release on DVD is somewhat downplayed by the fact that it is readily available in other popular formats, not to mention the fact that it may be seen on cable during any given month of the year.