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Review: A Clockwork Orange

review | A Clockwork Orange

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The stunning quality of this 4K transfer redeems Kubrick’s most notorious film, rekindling its initial excitement

by Michael Gaughn
October 1, 2021

It’s traditional to save comments about video quality until the two-thirds or three-quarter point of a review, but I have to cut right to the chase: This is a stunningly gorgeous transfer of a deliberately ugly film—the best I’ve seen Kubrick’s picaresque stroll through depravity look since I watched an archival print on a Moviola.

From its opening image on, Kubrick meant A Clockwork Orange to be the anti-2001. After doing a big-budget Cinerama epic full of elaborate sets and effects for MGM, he decided to go lean and mean with his first project for Warner Bros., opting for a minimal crew and existing locations, except for one simple small set. And he completely rethought his approach to cinematography, using Orange as a kind of laboratory to experiment with, and essentially reinvent, the whole aesthetic of commercial film.

Kubrick had been trying to recreate the look of practical lighting since his first efforts in the early ‘50s, and various directors—most notably Godard—had made great strides with that approach throughout the ’60s; but with Orange, Kubrick finally nailed it, coming up with a way of presenting and perceiving “natural” lighting that not only defined all of his films from then on but has been the go-to look of Hollywood filmmaking ever since—for better and, often, worse.

Clockwork Orange is deceptive—so much so that, even though I know it well, it misled me when I watched it in HD a few months ago on Netflix, where it looked like hell. All of that dimness and grime just made the subject matter that much more unpleasant, and I regretted I’d taken the time to check it out.

Seeing it in 4K HDR took me back to my early experiences with, and excitement for, the film. And that changed perception all hinged on seeing the cinematography done absolutely right. Kubrick was indisputably aiming for grunge—a goal he achieved in spades. But he did it with a subtle, and puckish, elegance and elan that makes the images not dispiriting but thrilling. Watch this film in anything other than 4K HDR and you’ll miss the twist the whole experience pivots on.

A couple of examples among an abundance: In earlier releases, the lettering could look painted onto the milk-bar walls; here, the letters stand out in distinct relief, enhancing the tactile sense of the environment. There are closeups and medium shots throughout that are literally breathtaking, but the closeup of Malcolm MacDowell as he dresses down his gang in the lobby of his sub-human apartment building is jawdropping in its clarity and immediacy. Yes, there are some soft frames here and there, but they most likely looked that way in the original footage.

See this movie as just about the subject matter and you can be in for a miserable time. Just as important is getting on the wavelength of the astonishing creative energy Kubrick poured into the project. You can actually both sense and see him throwing out the remaining rules of the studio system and discovering filmmaking anew, and clearly enjoying every second of it. Orange is not his best film but it’s probably his most inventive, and seeing that unbridled virtuosity on display can make it a heady ride.

Sure it’s dated as hell—any time you riff on the future, you’re going to date your film. But Kubrick showed he was aware of that by not really imagining a future, like he did in 2001, but by imagining an even more grotesque present—which is why Orange’s future has aged better than 2001’s. No point in presenting a lot of examples to back up my point—just look at the old women in the film walking around in purple wigs and then the old women in the present doing the same, and I’ll rest my case.

Probably the most ironic thing abut Clockwork Orange seen today is how wrong Kubrick got its crux, violence. For someone so deeply cynical, he assumed people in the future would still maintain some kind of essential repugnance toward violent acts. In other words, he saw some residual, positive value in a shared sense of decency. He couldn’t have been more blind to that vast act of social re-education and desensitization called the ‘80s, which replaced the deeper and more skeptical cynicism of the ‘60s with a far more facile “everything sucks” version that would just roll violence into the overarching oppressive apathy and see it deliberately deployed as yet another cultural wedge. This would all eventually mutate into the even more facile, and juvenile, current fascination with “dark.” Kubrick was often accused of presenting his characters as dehumanized—even he didn’t see how quickly we’d get to that point, let alone how enthusiastically we’d embrace it.

Orange can no longer shock—the pornographic, in all its forms, has since become commonplace, accepted, and encouraged—but it can still entertain. Malcolm MacDowell doesn’t have complete control over his performance but his sometimes reckless careening leads to some giddy highs. And Patrick Magee’s turn as the “writer of subversive literature” who becomes grotesquely unhinged from watching MacDowell’s rape of his wife is masterful—the kind of thing Sellers pulled off over and over in Strangelove but done here with a kind of dada collage feel that’s astonishing to watch.

And it’s a thrill just to savor Kubrick’s mise en scene—how he found unsettling ways to convey essential moments of the film without once stumbling into the arbitrary wackiness and poor-man’s surrealism that marred—and sank—so many late ‘60s/early ‘70s movies. In none of his films was he ever more of a punk than he is here, and it’s a cause for celebration because it shows how deeply expressive and subversive commercial film can be—and has rarely been since.

As for the extras—sorry, I’d prefer to refrain from any comment here but they’re by the same inept team of ne’er-do-wells that’s plagued the other Kubrick releases, and the best word for their efforts—if I may call them such—is inexcusable. Criminally so.

From Strangelove in 1964 to The Shining in 1980, Kubrick produced a sui generis string of genius films, all clearly cut from the same cloth but all, in very fundamental ways, radically different. And along the way, he completely changed how movies are conceptualized, made, and perceived. No one has ever equalled that accomplishment, and I think it’s safe to say no one ever will. The whole history of American film pivoted on Clockwork Orange. But forget all that—just cue it up in 4K and savor it as the dangerous act of pure film it very much is.

Michael Gaughn—The Absolute Sound, The Perfect Vision, Wideband, Stereo Review, Sound & Vision, The Rayva Roundtable, marketing, product design, some theater designs, a couple TV shows, some commercials, and now this.

PICTURE | A stunningly gorgeous transfer of a deliberately ugly film.

SOUND | Nothing to say here, really, since even a stereo mix is a distortion of Kubrick’s original intentions.

Review: Dune (2021)

review | Dune (2021)

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This latest adaptation of the Frank Herbert classic easily eclipses all of the earlier attempts

by Dennis Burger
October 22, 2021

Let’s set aside for a moment the question of whether Denis Villeneuve’s Dune works as a partial adaptation of Frank Herbert’s classic science-fiction novel. With something in the neighborhood of 20 million copies sold, the book is one of the best-selling of its genre. But divide those sales figures by the world population and chances are very good most people who view the film will have never cracked the cover of this gargantuan doorstop of a tome. So a much more relevant question is whether or not Dune works as cinema on its own terms.

And thankfully that ends up being the much easier question to answer. Yes—a thousand times, yes. As if he hadn’t proven it already with films like Arrival, Prisoners, and Blade Runner 2049, Villeneuve demonstrates with Dune that he understands cinema as an art form in a way few other modern directors do.

As with most of his work, Villeneuve straddles two worlds with Dune, keeping one foot firmly planted in the traditions of the past and one foot precariously placed in an uncharted future. By that I mean that despite looking very much like a 21st-century film, it doesn’t feel like one. There’s something quite old-fashioned about it, or perhaps “timeless” is the word I’m looking for. The allusions to Lawrence of Arabia are blatant—and fitting, given how much that film influenced Frank Herbert in the writing of Dune. But Villeneuve manages to draw inspiration without aping. He evokes the spirit, scope, and energy of David Lean’s classic without being beholden to its style. The style is entirely Villeneuve’s.

Well, cinematographer Greig Fraser (Zero Dark Thirty, The Mandalorian) also deserves a lot of credit for the style. While I said that Dune looks like a 21st-century film, that’s not quite accurate. It simply looks like a film that couldn’t have been captured before the modern era of filmmaking. Ultimately, it looks unlike anything I’ve ever seen. And that may have something to do with the unusual postproduction process. The movie was shot on a mix of IMAX film and ArriRaw digital (the latter at 4.5K resolution), but before the footage was finished in a 4K DI, all of the digital imagery was printed to film stock then scanned back to into the computer.

That gives the imagery a unique character, to say the least. It doesn’t look entirely analog but neither does it look wholly digital. It’s the best of both methods—which, again, reinforces the notion of Dune as the perfect marriage of tried-and-true past and untested, experimental future.

That captivating aesthetic, combined with the sheer scale of the film and its reliance on capturing as much as possible in camera (to the point that, in promotional interviews, actor Timothée Chalamet claims to recall only seeing a green screen twice during production) adds up to a film that demands to be seen at scale, on the best screen you can reasonably access. In my case, that meant watching HBO Max’s stream in my own home cinema system since the nearest commercial cinema that can legitimately claim to deliver a better audiovisual experience is a three-hour drive away in Alpharetta, GA.

Thankfully, shockingly, the HBO Max presentation is the very definition of reference-quality. I started my stream the minute the film was available, which struck me as a foolhardy choice the instant I hit Play, given how many millions of other people must have been sitting with their fingers on their remotes, waiting for it to be unlocked. But I never experienced any glitches due to server overload and I never spotted anything in the image that could be construed as an artifact of the high-efficiency encoding of the film.

Far from it. I would go so far as to say I’ve never experienced imagery this captivating, engaging, or dynamic in my media room. Part of that is due to the sumptuous detail, the gorgeous textures, the unparalleled set design, costumes, etc. But a lot of it has to be chalked up to the fact that Dune represents the most effective application of high dynamic range grading I’ve seen to date.

HBO Max’s Dolby Vision presentation pushed my display to extremes I didn’t know it was capable of, extremes I can’t imagine being bested by anything other than perhaps a perfectly calibrated IMAX Laser setup—and I have my doubts about even that. Simply put, if displays had rights, Dune would be a violation of the Geneva Conventions.

But none of its visual extremes—scenes bathed in near-infinite shadows followed quickly by such dazzling brightness that your pupils will constrict to pinpoints—feels gratuitous. All are absolutely in service of the story and the environments in which it unfolds.

Equally compelling is the Dolby Atmos soundtrack, which is likewise so dynamic that I pity the unfortunate souls who attempt to experience it through a soundbar or basic home theater speaker setup. If you’re an Atmos junkie who keeps a mental running tally of how frequently your surround and overhead speakers—and subwoofers—are pushed to their limits, you’re going to be in absolute aural heaven here.

As I’ve stated many times within the pages of Cineluxe, I’m not one of those people. I find most Atmos sound mixes masochistic and overbearing, not to mention distracting. But for Dune, this approach simply works. That may be because the imagery is so captivating that no amount of offscreen audio could pull my attention away from the screen, but I also think it’s due to thoughtful mixing and a deep understanding of the relationship between picture and sound. Whatever the reason, it all simply works, and there’s not much else to say about the sound.

Well, there is one more thing, although I do run the risk of angering some readers here, especially fans of composer Hans Zimmer. I’ve rarely if ever understood the appeal of most of Zimmer’s work. I often find his compositions fatiguing, uninteresting, and so utterly and needlessly aggressive that I need to wipe the testosterone residue from my speakers after watching a film he’s scored. And make no mistake here: his score for Dune is bombastic at times, what with its heavy reliance on percussion and synths.

But this is unquestionably his best score since 1994’s The Lion King, and it succeeds for most of the same reasons. Zimmer understood the assignment here, and his music works in conjunction with the visuals and the narrative in such a way that they’re inseparable. I’ve had the score on repeat throughout the writing of this review, simply because I cannot shake it. It haunts me. Its leitmotifs—both melodic and percussion—resonate with me in a way that few Zimmer scores ever have. And most tellingly, as I’m listening to it, I can close my eyes and see the accompanying moments from the film. And this is a film I’ve only seen once, mind you. That’s the mark of a great score.

Put it all together, and I have next to nothing critical to say about Dune as a work of cinema in and of itself. There are a few edits in the first act that feel a bit choppy. By that I mean that even if you’re completely unfamiliar with the story you’ll no doubt sense that much of what was excised from the assembly cut to get the film down to a tight 2 hours and 38 minutes was removed from the first third.

There’s also the fact that, while the bulk of the performances are truly world-class, Dave Bautista feels out of place here. I’m a fan of Bautista’s, but his portrayal of Rabban Harkonnen—the nephew of the baron who previously ruled the desert planet that gives Dune its name—feels one-note and over-the-top, at least when compared with the nuanced performances turned in by literally everyone else. Other than those quibbles, Dune is a monumental work of art in its own right.

But what about its effectiveness as an adaptation of the supposedly unfilmable novel? Well, it’s not perfect in that respect but it’s infinitely better than I could ever hoped for. Villeneuve—unlike David Lynch and John Harrison (who directed the 2000 mini-series)—has boiled the narrative down to its essence rather than haphazardly and erratically chopping the story into bit-sized pieces. He was able to distill that essence because he understands that essence.

Dune works as a novel because of its complexity. In writing the book, Herbert explored the many ways in which ecology influences and drives every aspect of the human experience, from the personal to the familial to the societal, political, and religious institutions that shape our lives. It’s also a novel that takes place largely between the ears of its characters, something no film could successfully replicate (although, bless his heart, David Lynch tried and failed spectacularly to do so).

With his film adaptation of the first two-thirds or thereabouts of the novel, Villeneuve had no choice but to tidy up some of its tangled narrative threads, and he made the wise choice to focus on the personal and familial above all else. The Dune geek in me laments the de-emphasis on the ecological and environmental. But the cinephile in me can’t imagine how he could have possibly explored that aspect of the novel entirely without turning his film into a never-ending barrage of exposition dumps.

Then again, there’s a lot about this adaptation I never could have imagined before seeing it. There are aspects of the novel I never expected to see translated to the screen, much less this effectively or artfully.

And the fact that Villeneuve managed to capture so much of the book’s essential fiber without creating a big pile of confusion for the uninitiated is a bit of a miracle. After the credits rolled, my wife—who has never read the novel and before now had no interest in doing so—turned to me and said, “I expected to be lost, but I never was. There’s so much more I want to know, so many questions I want answered. But in the moment, watching the film, I didn’t feel like I was missing anything. Well, except for the fact that I feel like there’s a reason why Duke Leto never married Lady Jessica and I wish the film had explored that.”

And in that respect, she’s absolutely correct. Armed with my deep knowledge of the book, I also feel like there are a couple other things the film could have conveyed better, such as the ritualistic obsession with moisture inherent to the culture of the Fremen—the nomadic natives of the planet Arrakis, aka “Dune.” But when I quizzed my wife about it, her response was, “No, I definitely picked up on that.” So, perhaps I’m wrong.

At any rate, now that I’ve experienced the first part of Villeneuve’s intended two-part adaptation, I still have no clue how he’s going to successfully translate the rest of the book to the screen. The rest of the story takes a turn for the weird, to put it lightly. But even if Dune: Part Two ends up being a major flop (assuming it even gets made, although that seems likely), that won’t diminish my appreciation of this first part.

The narrative may not be complete. As Zendaya’s character Chani cheekily teases just before the credits roll, “This is only the beginning.” But Dune nonetheless manages to feel like a complete story, with an ending that is both emotionally and thematically satisfying, while also pointing toward a much bigger and tantalizing future.

Dennis Burger is an avid Star Wars scholar, Tolkien fanatic, and Corvette enthusiast who somehow also manages to find time for technological passions including high-end audio, home automation, and video gaming. He lives in the armpit of Alabama with his wife Bethany and their four-legged child Bruno, a 75-pound American Staffordshire Terrier who thinks he’s a Pomeranian.

PICTURE | The HBO Max presentation is the very definition of reference-quality, with the most effective application of high dynamic range grading to date.

SOUND | The Dolby Atmos soundtrack is so dynamic that you can only pity the unfortunate souls who attempt to experience it through a soundbar or basic home theater speaker setup.

Review: No Time to Die

review | No Time to Die

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Bond says goodbye (or does he?) in this epic two-and-a-half hour sendoff that’s a home theater tour de force

by John Sciacca
November 10, 2021

In a way, the mere fact that we can finally actually watch No Time to Die feels a bit like a victory in itself, and perhaps even points to a sign to the return of post-COVID cinematic normalcy. This 25th film in the James Bond franchise began development in 2016 and was originally scheduled for a November 2019 release but had to be postponed to February and then April 2020 after the original director, Danny Boyle, left over script disputes. Then prior to its planned release, a global pandemic worthy of any Bond super-villain occurred and the film was pushed to November 2020—the first major film to be postponed due to COVID. It then continued being delayed as it was apparent the global cinema market was not poised for reopening. In fact, the continued delays of No Time to Die’s release were one of the reasons the world’s second-largest cinema chain, Cineworld, cited for closing its doors indefinitely.

But, as with any villain’s plans for global domination, Bond ultimately prevailed, and the film was released in the UK on September 30, 2021, followed by its release here in the States on October 8, and then just 31 days later—on November 9—it is now available from all digital retailers, including Kaleidescape.

As I mentioned in my reviews of Goldfinger, The Living Daylights, and Casino Royale (2006), I’m a big Bond fan. I’ve not only seen all the films, I’ve read all the books—and I mean all of them, including the original Ian Fleming novels, the John Gardner followups, then the Raymond Benson series, and now into the Sebastian Faulks era.

One thing Bond does—or at least has tried to do—is to evolve and adapt with the times so he can stay relevant to modern viewers. Locations change, women change, villains change, plans for world domination change. But through it all, Bond is still always essentially Bond.

And that includes even when the man playing Bond changes. With the physical demands required of the role, there are only a certain number of years our favorite Double-0 can be played believably by the same face. And just as there was uproar when Sean Connery was replaced by George Lazenby, then Roger Moore, then Timothy Dalton, Pierce Brosnan, and now Daniel Craig here in his final Bond performance—which began 15 years ago with his role in Casino Royale—there will always be controversy over who will be the next Bond. So I understand the franchise will have to change. And, oh boy, does No Time to Die serve up a heaping portion of it.

As mentioned, the original director was replaced early in the process, and the choice of Cary J. Fukunaga seems as interesting one, as he was best known for directing TV series like Maniac and True Detective along with films with significantly smaller budget like Beasts of No Nation and Sin Nombre. (Another fun trivia fact—Funkunaga helped pen the screenplay for It.) I’m not doubting his abilities but on the surface he just seems an interesting choice to helm a pivotal final installment in the Craig era with an estimated $250-million budget.

Whereas all previous films in the franchise were essentially stood on their own—with some occasional winks and nods to others that had come before them—one of the big changes in the Craig era was to create a series of films that have a strong continuity running throughout. Nowhere is this more apparent than in Quantum of Solace, Craig’s second Bond film, which begins just moments after Casino Royale’s conclusion.

To prepare for No Time to Die, my wife and I went back and watched the previous two films, Skyfall and Spectre, and that was certainly helpful, especially since it has been six years since Spectre was released, and the events in No Time come right on the heels of Spectre.

Bond films are known for their massive opening sequences, and right from the start it’s clear that No Time will be . . . different. In fact, Bond isn’t even in the opening several minutes, which are instead a flashback to Madeleine’s (Lea Seydoux) childhood, an event she mentioned in Spectre and which establishes her relationship with this film’s villain Safin (Rami Malek).

As much as No Time feels different, it also feels very much the same, and they are careful to include all the classic beats—the “Bond, James Bond” intro, the shaken-not-stirred vodka martini, the big car chase, the Q-Branch gadgets, the world hopping, and a certain old friend from the CIA. There are also some nice nods to the franchise’s history, and in a way, the film has a sense of farewell.

One clever touch is a rotating tour of the Aston Martins Bond has driven throughout his history. And if you ever wanted to see what that glorious DB5 from Goldfinger can do when it’s fully unleashed, you’re in for a treat! There is also a nice moment where the Ms from the past—both Dame Judi Dench and Bernard Lee—are given a subtle nod. The framing of one scene feels very reminiscent of the looking-down-a-rifle-barrel from the film’s iconic opening sequences. And those familiar with Fleming’s work might notice some strong parallels between the “Garden of Death” featured in the novel You Only Live Twice and the poison garden featured here.

There is also a line spoken early on that really jumped out at me. While Bond and Madeleine are driving, she tells him to speed up and he says, “We have all the time in the world.” You might recall this as the Louis Armstrong title song—and a line Bond himself says twice—in the film On Her Majesty’s Secret Service.

Also, I was initially really disappointed by Billie Eilish’s opening “No Time To Die” song when I heard it months before the film’s debut. I felt the song was far too slow and somber to be a Bond opener, but in the context of where it’s placed in the opening, I was surprised to find myself actually enjoying it and that in the moment of the film, it actually works.

I’m not going to go too deep trying to summarize the plot. Frankly, you’ll want to see No Time to Die or you won’t, so I doubt my 1,000-yard view will change your mind. Also, I certainly don’t want to spoil any of the fun or surprises. With a franchise long run time of 2 hours and 43 minutes, No Time certainly feels epic, and even though it’s packed with a near steady stream of action, it often feels like it has all the time in the world to unfold.

The movie opens with Bond retired from active service and finally able to take some time away to go on holiday with Madeleine. Of course, the world needs James Bond, and events from his past come up to draw him back in, to try and track down a scientist behind a new super-weapon that could be used to kill off large sections of the population.

The film was shot on a host of formats, including some scenes filmed in IMAX. Unfortunately, we don’t get any of the expanded IMAX scenes in this digital presentation—perhaps on an eventual IMAX Enhanced physical disc release. But what we do get is sourced from a true 4K digital intermediate that looks consistently gorgeous. I mentioned we had watched Spectre the night before, and that was on Blu-ray. The image quality in 4K HDR here absolutely trounces that, revealing layers of sharpness and detail throughout.

Bond films have always had a massive scope and scale, and we can really see and appreciate that here. Fukunaga frequently pulls back—way back—to reveal these gorgeous panoramic vistas that show the expanse of the location, whether in Italy, Cuba, or the UK. The movie is beautifully framed and shot and looks fantastic up on a big home theater screen.

Closeups reveal tons of detail, whether it’s the contrast of Madeleine’s smooth skin versus Bond’s weathered, creased, and lined face or the fine lines and detail in Bond’s Glen Plaid suits or the micro-dots in a tie or the texture and ribs in the cloth of Madeleine’s shirt. Modern digital productions have a cleanness to the image that feels like everything between you and the lens has been removed, and that is evident here.

There are lots of moments to highlight the HDR grading, whether they are white-hot fluorescent lights, neon signs, the gleaming white of outdoor snow scenes, shafts of light penetrating dark interiors, or the eye-reaction moments of exploding fireballs or the soft, glowing light as characters talk in candlelight. I never felt things were pushed too far but we certainly enjoy a full range of deep, inky blacks and vibrant whites.

While some digital retailers like iTunes ands Vudu received a lossy Dolby Digital+ Atmos audio mix, MGM has continued its maddening habit of only supplying Kaleidescape with a 5.1-channel DTS HD-Master mix. I’m not going to lie and say this isn’t a tad disappointing but it certainly isn’t a deal breaker, and you’ll be happy to read that this soundtrack delivers the goods, with a classic big, loud, and dynamic mix Bond is known for.

Things like gunshots have a ton of dynamics, with loud, sharp reports and solid weight and slam to their impact. Explosions will give your subwoofers plenty of chance to flex, delivering tactile bass you can feel in your chest.

And even though the Kaleidescape 5.1 audio is not a true immersive mix, modern upmixers (such as the DTS:Neural X processing on my Marantz) do an admirable job of placing sounds all around and overhead. Whether it’s things like the sounds of ice cracking that spread out from the center and front of the room into every corner or the loud clang of bells ringing throughout the room or the sounds of a water platform creaking, groaning, and breaking apart or a moment when a gun man is clearly standing directly behind you repeatedly blasting away, the mix places you right in the action. Even subtle moments such as Bond standing out in an open forest have lots of ambience and spaciousness to expand your listening environment.

There were a couple of moments where the upmixing might have made dialogue a bit trickier to understand. In one scene, Bond and Paloma (Ana de Armas) are communicating via in-ear mics, and another where there are announcements over a PA system, and voices are placed up into the height channels. The effect was actually quite good—and you got a real sense of them moving around and overhead and traveling into different speakers—but it did make the dialogue a big harder to understand. This is certainly an instance where the truly discrete Dolby TrueHD Atmos mix could offer a bit of refinement.

The film’s ending is a bit polarizing, with some saying “perfect” and “best ever,” and others claiming it ruined the franchise. For me, I felt a bit like I did at the end of The Rise of Skywalker—I enjoyed the ride, but it came with a heavy dose of bittersweet to know it was over . . . at least for now. As the end credits declare, “James Bond will return.” How and in what fashion remains to be seen, but I am certainly excited to see what Bond’s next chapter looks like.

For now, No Time to Die is a fantastic experience at home, visually and sonically, and with its lengthy run-time, you’re able to pause if need be for a bathroom or snack break to ensure you don’t miss a moment of action.

Probably the most experienced writer on custom installation in the industry, John Sciacca is co-owner of Custom Theater & Audio in Murrells Inlet, South Carolina, & is known for his writing for such publications as Residential Systems and Sound & Vision. Follow him on Twitter at @SciaccaTweets and at johnsciacca.com.

PICTURE | The transfer, from a true 4K digital intermediate, is consistently gorgeous, revealing layers of sharpness and detail throughout.

SOUND | The 5.1 DTS HD-Master soundtrack delivers the goods, with a classic big, loud, and dynamic mix Bond is known for.

Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory (1971)

Review: Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory

review | Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory

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Gene Wilder’s take on the classic children’s tale definitely benefits from 4K’s added resolution and wider color gamut, and makes for a wonderful family-viewing experience

by John Sciacca
July 1, 2021

Growing up, Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory was one of my absolute favorite films. I was only one when it was originally released theatrically, but it made its TV debut on Thanksgiving Night, November 28, 1974 (and was shown again on Thanksgiving 1975 and again in May 1976) and I can remember those televised presentations being something I greatly looked forward to and that our family would plan an evening around to watch. (Remember those days of scheduled viewing before everything was just available instantly at the press of a button?)

It was so easy for young me to fantasize about being Charlie Bucket (Peter Ostrum) for those 100 minutes, rooting for him as he beats the odds to find the fifth and final Golden Ticket and wins the chance to go behind the closed and secret gates of one of the world’s greatest chocolate factories and meet the amazing Mr. Willy Wonka (Gene Wilder) with Grandpa Joe (Jack Albertson); and once inside, to rise above the shenanigans of all the bad little girls and boys to win the ultimate prize. The film’s ending then leaves it open to your imagination to ponder what might happen next and what the future holds for Charlie and his Chocolate Factory.

As a parent now with kids of my own, Willy Wonka is still a treasured favorite we return to regularly, and I can’t tell you how happy it makes me to come home and randomly find my daughter Lauryn watching it, pulling it up on our Kaleidescape and saying she just felt like watching it again.

For me, Willy Wonka is a perfect family film. It doesn’t try to cram in a lot of innuendo or double entendres going for a cheap adult laugh. Sure, there are jokes and quips between adults that young viewers might not understand, but isn’t that just life as a kid watching adults interact?

The kids are kids, not adults playing kids, and they all engender certain exaggerated qualities—the gluttonous German Augustus Gloop (Michael Bollner), who tries to eat everything in sight; the “I want it now!” spoiled brat Veruca Salt (Julie Dawn Cole); the perpetual gum-chewing Violet Beauregarde (Denise Nickerson); and the TV-obsessed Mike Teevee (Paris Themmen)—that make for easy lessons in bad behavior. At the center of it is Charlie, a poor boy doing what he can to help out his family, trying to do his best in a world that seems constantly stacked against him, and looking for a break. But even Charlie isn’t perfect, being tempted by the intoxicating bubbles of Wonka’s Fizzy Lifting drink.

There is just enough about the Chocolate Factory that is edgy and off-kilter to make it mysterious—“No one ever goes in, and no one ever comes out”—but not too scary. (Well, except for the boat ride on the Wonkatania, where there are those creepy images, including a sudden startling moment of a chicken getting its head chopped off.)

Then you have Wilder’s brilliant performance as Wonka. I can remember watching Wonka walking out of his factory for the first time, slowly limping along with a cane as he painfully ambles his way towards the gate, not knowing what to think of this mysterious figure who hadn’t been seen in public for years. Then in an instant, he appears to trip before performing a somersault and leaping up to greet the crowd with a big smile and open arms. It sets the whole mood for who he is. There is a manic look in Wilder’s eyes that, along with his crazy hair, makes him a believable confectionary genius, with splendid quips often mumbled to no one in particular. Even with his mischievous, quirky, and downright bizarre behavior, there is a tenderness in his performance that makes you feel Wilder’s Wonka really loves kids and has been rooting for Charlie to win, something I think Johnny Depp really missed in Tim Burton’s 2005 remake, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

I have been waiting for Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory to get a 4K restoration, and I’m happy to say it has definitely been worth it! The new 4K HDR transfer, taken from a 4K digital intermediate scan of the original 35mm film, looks gorgeous. Images are clean, sharp, and detailed throughout, looking like layers have been pulled away and giving you a glimpse into the Chocolate Factory likely better than what was shown in 1971. Right from the get-go, it’s clear that the picture has been refreshed and renewed in the best way.

Closeups can have startling detail. Shots of Grandpa Joe show singular wispy hairs flying off his head, and every pore and whisker on his face, and shots of Slugworth (Gunter Meisner) let you see the details on the scar on his cheek. You can practically read every word of fine print on the lengthy contract the kids have to sign before heading into the factory, with the tiny letters being sharp and defined, and see the fine detail, such as the check pattern on Violet’s dad’s jackets or the plaid of Veruca’s father’s suit, and make out the engraving on the coin Charlie finds in the gutter.

While the HDR grade is fairly modest, it lends a natural quality to images throughout. We do get some nice pop from the flashing of light off aluminum foil wrappers or the gleaming white shirt of Charlie’s science teacher. HDR also adds some depth to the Fizzy Lifting room, where Charlie and Grandpa Joe float up to the ceiling amidst a black background and chrome/steel grid, with iridescent bubbles floating everywhere. One scene that did seem a bit overblown was during the “Cheer Up, Charlie” song, where Charlie is walking in front of the moon and streetlights, which all had pretty clear blue rings around them. Whether this was from too much HDR or something in the original film, I can’t say.

What really benefits are the colors, which just pop, and are bright and vibrant, especially inside the factory and in the candy shoppe with its many brightly colored labels and candies. Things like the red-orange label of the Wonka bar or Wonka’s purple jacket really have more vibrancy. Skin tones also look natural, well, except for the Oompa Loompas, which are appropriately orange. There is a bit of film grain present, particularly noticeable in shots of powdery blue-grey skies, but it is never distracting, and certainly hasn’t been scrubbed away into softness.

Some of the sets—particularly the scene inside the factory with the chocolate river—look a bit dated. The enhanced clarity and resolution reveal that a lot of the props are, well, props, with some of the magic spoiled by the fact that you can actually see that the candy isn’t real and that some of the striping is just colored tape and that much of the ground cover is synthetic turf. Also, the compositing of images on TV screens—specifically when Charlie is watching Violet—also stand out a fair bit. However, most of the film holds up terrifically well, and the story is certainly timeless.

Sonically, this new 4K transfer gets a DTS HD-Master 5.1-channel mix that doesn’t break any new ground. Dialogue is kept well anchored to the center channel and is clear and intelligible throughout. We get a bit of width across the front, such as cars and trains passing far left/right outside the screen, or the ticking of a clock. The most dynamic aspect of the mix is the musical numbers, which get some room to breathe across the front speakers and even get a bit of bass extension for a nice and full presentation. If there were any actual “surround” sound effects, they were subtle enough to go unnoticed.

Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory is a terrific film that definitely benefits from 4K’s added resolution and wider color gamut, and makes for a wonderful family-viewing experience. As Mr. Wonka says, “Don’t forget what happened to the man who suddenly got everything he always wanted. He lived happily ever after.”

PICTURE | The 4K HDR transfer is gorgeous, looking like layers have been pulled away and giving you a glimpse into the Chocolate Factory likely better than what was shown in 1971.

SOUND | The most dynamic aspect of the conservative audio mix is the musical numbers, which get some room to breathe across the front speakers, and even get a bit of bass extension for a nice & full presentation.

Review: The Green Knight

review | The Green Knight

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David Lowery’s take on the medieval legend is both faithful and revisionist, and sumptuously gorgeous throughout

by Dennis Burger
August 26, 2021

There are, as best I can tell, three main reasons one might adapt an Arthurian legend for the silver screen. The first—and I submit Guy Ritchie’s awful Legend of the Sword as Exhibit A—could best be described as an attempt to create a crowd-pleasing modern action blockbuster with a built-in audience for which the director has little respect.

The second—and I’ll submit John Boorman’s well-intentioned and engaging but overwrought Excalibur as Exhibit B—generally boils down to a desire to create a fantasy film and recognition of the fact that there are fewer legal barriers to entry when adapting works in the public domain.

The third main impulse for adapting such works largely comes from a desire to illuminate, interpret, and start a discussion about why these stories still hold such sway in the modern mind. David Lowery’s The Green Knight largely falls under this umbrella.

I say “largely,” because it’s a difficult film to pin down. It’s partly a screen adaptation of the famous 14th Century epic poem, but partly a commentary on it. Even as I finish typing that, though, it feels wrong. The Green Knight isn’t so much commentary as it is a prompt for conversation, exploration, and reexamination of the source material. It’s more a question than an answer.

It is, in many ways, Lowery’s way of telling the audience what this story means to him, and what lessons he thinks there are for modern audiences to learn in its medieval text. Interesting as that is, though, far more interesting is the room Lowery leaves the viewer to reflect on their own relationship with the poem and its place in the modern world.

If you haven’t guessed from all the above rambling, The Green Knight is at times a very abstract work of cinema. Those unfamiliar with the source will likely be lost occasionally, and those more familiar with the poem will just as likely be pushed off balance by the elements of the original that Lowery is slavishly faithful to, those that he elides and expands, and the unrelated medieval legends he weaves into his narrative to reinforce the themes he wants to accentuate. It’s a weird mix of reverence and revisionism that certainly won’t be to everyone’s taste.

The one thing we can all agree on is that this is a sumptuously gorgeous film. There are long stretches that can only be described as pure audiovisual experience, and with the benefit of Theater at Home delivery via Vudu, I found myself tempted at times to reach for my remote and pause the film just to get lost in the perfect composition of a frame, the lushness of the colors, the richness of the contrasts, and the depth of the shadow detail. I resisted that temptation, since this is a work intended to be viewed in motion. But the temptation was there.

Shot in 6.5K and finished in a 4K digital intermediate, the imagery is packed to the gills with detail of the sort that actually enhances the experience rather than merely throwing more pixels at your screen. Despite the judicious and effective employment of CGI, the film also relies on some old-school tricks of the trade, seemingly as a reminder that this isn’t an alternate reality to which you can escape but rather a piece of art on which to reflect. In Vudu’s Dolby Vision presentation, you can clearly see the reliance on matte paintings, an artform that Hollywood has been poorer for since abandoning.

It’s true that there are a number of low-contrast shots throughout, especially low-light sequences photographed indoors with natural light, which means blacks aren’t always the inkiest and the image flattens out a bit, especially when compared with the most dramatic outdoor shots. But all of this seems intentional, and the dynamic metadata of Dolby Vision allows for each new shot to be tone-mapped to the capabilities of your display. Long story short, this is one of the few films I’ve seen recently where Dolby Vision isn’t merely a technical nicety but a borderline necessity to keep the image from devolving into a puddle of indistinct grays in a handful of shots.

There are a few fleeting moments of banding in Vudu’s streaming rental (less than one second in total, I reckon), but I’m half-convinced this banding is baked into the master. And I say this because the opening scene—with its eye-reactive highlights and deep shadows and the quick transitions between those two extremes—is the sort of image you would forgive for being a bit banded even on full-bandwidth UHD Blu-ray. But I didn’t see a hint of such.

The expanded gamut of Dolby Vision also effectively captures the nuances of cinematographer Andrew Droz Palermo’s imagery, adding some additional richness to the fabrics and foliage and conveying in seconds what the original poet sometimes took multiple stanzas to articulate.

As for the audio, I feel like a bit of a broken record for saying this but once again we have a Premium VOD rental whose levels haven’t been optimized for home cinemas. My best estimation is that it’s mastered about 4.5dB below reference levels, so go ahead and crank up the volume from the giddy-up (assuming you’re renting it via Vudu—other providers might have tweaked the levels).

I wish I could tell you more about the mix, but I was so hypnotized by the film that I rarely noticed the technical aspects of the sound, aside from the aforementioned stretches that could best be described as pure audiovisual experience. But, measuring things by my personal yardstick, I’d say that’s the mark of really effective sound design. It’s never distracting, but it is carefully orchestrated, thoughtful, and always clear in its delivery of dialogue—assuming, again, that you give your volume knob a bit of a twist to the right.

For the past few days, since I staked claim to this movie for review, my colleague John Sciacca has been hammering my text-messaging inbox, asking me for my assessment of it. And I’m still not sure I’ve fully made up my mind about the film just yet, nor am I sure I ever will, despite the fact that I’ll be buying it the instant it’s permanently released to home video.

“Did you like it?” he asked me last night, I suppose tiring of my vacillating and ambivalating. I’m not sure that’s the right question, to be honest. What I will say is: The film continues to haunt me. I simply cannot shake it. It has also, in some not-so-subtle ways, changed my relationship with the text of Sir Gaiwan and the Green Knight. Or, it would be more accurate to say, it has prompted me to reassess that relationship on my own terms.

I sat down last night to re-read the poem, not through Lowery’s lens, but rather through a lens of my own making that Lowery nudged me into grinding and polishing myself. I reached for Tolkien’s translation, always my first choice for its fidelity and excellent footnotes. A few pages in, though, I found myself longing for something different, something more energetic. So, I put down the Tolkien and picked up my less-well-worn copy of Simon Armitage’s more recent translation, which I’ve never quite been able to give myself over to completely. Something changed after having seen The Green Knight. The immediacy and energy of Armitage’s verse rang truer to me than the scholarly pedanticism of Tolkien.

Of course, the Professor’s interest in the poem was always more philological, whereas Armitage’s is undeniably more emotional. I can appreciate that now. In fact, as ashamed as I am to admit this, I think I love both translations in equal measure, but for different reasons.

I’m not sure I ever would have reached that point without having seen The Green Knight. And although I’m not sure this was Lowery’s intention with the film, I’m sure he’d be pleased to hear it.

PICTURE | The imagery is packed to the gills with detail of the sort that actually enhances the experience rather than merely throwing more pixels at your screen.

SOUND | The sound design is never distracting but carefully orchestrated, thoughtful, and always clear in its delivery of dialogue.

Review: Red Notice

review | Red Notice

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Netflix spent $200 million to come up with this action-driven heist film that critics hate but viewers seem to love

by John Sciacca
November 18, 2021

While Netflix has dumped Hollywood-level boatloads of cash into previous productions à la Martin Scorsese’s mega The Irishman ($159 million), and Michael Bay’s Underground ($150 million), Red Notice boasts the streaming giant’s biggest budget to date, along with its highest level of A-list talent, in the form of Dwayne Johnson, Ryan Reynolds, and Gal Gadot. With an estimated budget of $200 million, and a limited theatrical release to be eligible for awards consideration, any thoughts Netflix isn’t treating its original tentpole productions with the same focus as traditional Hollywood studios is totally out the window, further eroding any arguments against streaming services as legitimate forms of entertainment.

Of course, we’ve learned time and again that big budgets and casts don’t guarantee a good movie, so the obvious questions are, “Does Red Notice work? And is it worth your time?”

With a current Rotten Tomatoes critics’ score of 35%, you might say, “No,” but when you counter that with the 91% audience score, it’s probably apparent Red Notice is designed to entertain viewers less than cater to critics.

While it doesn’t break any new ground, and relies heavily on elements from heist movies like the Ocean’s films starring George Clooney and Brad Pitt, the Mission: Impossible franchise, and Indiana Jones—at one point, Reynolds even whistles the Indy theme—the chemistry between Reynolds and Johnson and their anti-buddy frenemy relationship makes for an entertaining two hours. Watching Reynolds needle Johnson for almost the entire film was great, and you have to wonder if the genesis of this bond was formed during Reynold’s cameo in Fast & Furious Presents: Hobbs & Shaw. We watched Red Notice right after Shang Chi and everyone in our group preferred Red.

We’re informed during the opening credits that a Red Notice is, “The highest level of arrest warrant issued by The International Criminal Police Organization (INTERPOL), reserved for the world’s most wanted criminals.”

We’re then told that 2,000 years ago, Marcus Antonius gave Cleopatra three bejeweled eggs. While the whereabouts of one egg is known, the second is rumored to be in the possession of a notorious arms dealer and the third remains lost. An Egyptian billionaire wants to give all three of the eggs to his daughter, Cleopatra (Brenna Marie Narayan), as a wedding present, and he has offered a massive reward to whoever can deliver. This attracts the attention of international art thief Nolan Booth (Reynolds), but also puts FBI profiler Special Agent John Hartley (Johnson) and Interpol agent Urvashi Das (Ritu Arya) on high alert when one of the eggs is put on display at a museum in Rome.

After thinking he has made off with the first egg, Booth is apprehended by Hartley and Das at his home in Bali, but the egg is then stolen by Booth’s main competitor for title of “World’s Best Thief,” The Bishop (Gadot). The Bishop also plants disinformation that makes it appear Hartley was in on the heist, which leads to he and Booth winding up in the same Russian prison cell, forcing them to work together.

Throw in a bad guy named Sotto Voce (Chris Diamantopoulos), who looks eerily like a cross between Paul Rudd and Dos Equis’ “World’s Most Interesting Man,” a bull fight, elaborate escapes and thefts, chases, and Nazis, and you’ll have a pretty good idea what Red Notice is about.

What the film lacks in originality, it more than makes up for in fun, packing in almost non-stop action with plenty of big scenes and a ton of locations—Rome, Bali, Russia, London, Valencia, Argentina, Cairo, Sardinia, Paris—that keep the visuals fresh and interesting. There are also plenty of plot twists along the way to keep you entertained.

And humor. Reynolds brings his signature snark to almost every scene, similar to the PG-13 patter he brought to Free Guy. In fact, I daresay the only reason I can think of to not see this is if you aren’t a fan of Reynolds’ humor. Also, since all three of the leads have experience playing superheroes—Black Adam for Johnson, Wonder Woman for Gadot, and both Green Lantern and Deadpool for Reynolds—they know their way around action and choreographing exciting fight scenes.

Netflix has been a real advocate for 4K HDR in its productions, so it’s no surprise that Red Notice was shot in a combination of 6K and 8K resolution, and that the transfer is taken from a true 4K digital intermediate with Dolby Vision HDR grading, resulting in images that are sharp, clean, and highly detailed throughout.

A scene in the opening shows a line drawing of Cleopatra, and its lines are crisp, sharp, and defined. Closeups reveal tons of detail in the actors’ faces, making it easy to see the creases, crags, and lines in Johnson’s head and face versus Reynolds’ whiskers and stubble and the smooth near-perfection of Gadot’s skin. You can also really appreciate the texture in surfaces like the stone and brick walls outside the museum in Rome or the pebbled surface of the doors and sides of an armored car, or the detail and sharpness of individual leaves in a jungle forest. Even lengthy shots like one of London in golden early morning light have lots of sharpness.

There is also a ton of pop courtesy of the DolbyVision HDR grading. Right from the very beginning, I noticed how saturated the color red is in the titles. There are also beautiful, bright highlights off golden objects such as one of the eggs, or from bright sunlight streaming in through windows, or interiors lit by warm lighting that almost give the images a glow. Other scenes, like one showing video screens inside a security station, really pop with bright highlights. Black levels were deep and solid and clean throughout as well. The only bit of streaming nastiness I noticed was a moment when characters were dunked underwater, and there was a bit of posterization in the murky lighting.

Sonically, the Dolby Atmos track definitely enhanced the fun with a pretty dynamic mix. We get nice atmospheric effects like voices echoing off the hard museum walls, the flat sound inside an old bunker, the swirls of winds and snow, the background yells, commotion, and buzzers in a prison, or the huge crowd roars and cheers during the bullfight.

The mix also really expands when called on via active height channels used effectively to add another sonic layer when appropriate. We get the almost requisite Atmos helicopter flyover that clearly races overhead, or the sounds of water bubbling up all around, and moments like The Beastie Boys’ “Sabotage” blaring from all channels prior to the start of a big chase.

There is plenty of action here, and I was surprised by the depth of the bass performance. Besides the report of gunfire, you can really feel the weight of heavy doors as they slam shut or the concussion of grenades as they go off.

Thanks to its generous budget, the visual effects and production values are first-rate, and the leads play their roles exactly as you would expect. Honestly, this feels like a big-budget Hollywood production that would have been successful at the box office. For Netflix subscribers, I can’t think of any reason why you wouldn’t add it to your list.

PICTURE | The transfer is taken from a true 4K digital intermediate with Dolby Vision HDR grading, resulting in images that are sharp, clean, and highly detailed throughout.

SOUND | The Dolby Atmos track definitely enhances the fun with a pretty dynamic mix with surprisingly deep bass performance.

Review: King Richard

review | King Richard

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Will Smith’s performance and actors who actually seem to know how to play tennis keep things interesting & believable in this story of the early years of Venus and Serena Williams

by John Sciacca
November 26, 2021

I’m a sucker for movies “based on a true story.” Usually these capture super-human achievements (like First Man or Midway) or unlikely events (like Ford v. Ferrari or The Social Network) or give us a glimpse into events we only knew a little about and want to learn more (like Richard Jewell or Just Mercy). Of course, the downside of these kinds of films is that Hollywood likes to tell a good story above all else, and these movies often become the definitive truth for the public, even when that truth has been manipulated, compressed, or let’s say “enhanced” for the sake of the story. For example, as I dug into the real stories behind movies like Bohemian Rhapsody or American Sniper, I learned that—as attorney Lionel Hutz famously said on The Simpson’s—“There’s the truth and ‘the truth’,” and just because it happens up on screen doesn’t mean it necessarily happened that way.

All of which is to say, I’m not sure exactly how accurate Warner Bros.’ new film King Richard is when it comes to telling the “true” story about the origins of tennis legends Venus and Serena Williams growing up, or the antics of their father Richard, but I will say it was an entertaining feel-good film with great performances all around that really gives you a sense of the obstacles these girls/women overcame and just how much raw talent they had. I also walked away thinking that if their father was even half the character as portrayed by Will Smith, then the girls’ talent was truly off-the-charts for any of the people to actually take a chance on them and be forced to put up with him.

The film focuses on a fairly narrow slice of the girls’ lives, covering just a few years from when they start their serious training up until Venus (Saniyya Sidney) turns pro and competes in her first tournament in 1994 at age 14. Similar to Rocky, for a movie based on two of the greatest female tennis players of all time, there actually isn’t a lot of tennis. We get some scenes with them practicing, trying out for coaches, training, and some moments from Venus’s junior tournaments, but it’s really not until the big final matches when Venus turns pro that we see a lot of court action. The movie concentrates more on Richard’s all-focused drive on getting them to the top and making them the best, and showing us the hardships they had to overcome—Serena (Demi Singleton) and Venus shared a room and even a bed with three other half-sisters in a small house in Compton, California.

I also don’t know if Sidney or Singleton have any actual tennis talent, but both sure look convincing on screen, which is what matters here. I was a golf professional in my previous career, and it is always a huge distraction in most golf films when it’s clear the actor couldn’t break 100 to save his life. Here, the girls’ mechanics are definitely believable, with strong, aggressive ground strokes and serves that look like the real deal. Even more impressive, Sidney is left-handed, but actually learned to play right for the film—though I do think the actors are physically smaller than the actual Williams sisters, who were imposing even at a young age.

Having read the Tiger Woods biography by Jeff Benedict, I saw quite a few parallels between the two stories. In both cases, you had less-privileged kids pushed to greatness by the drive and willpower of fathers who recognized their potential and wouldn’t take no for an answer. In this case, Richard had come up with his “plan” even before the girls were born, and he was laser-focused on sticking to it and making them the best, regardless of obstacles or setbacks.

We get a sense that young Venus and Serena enjoyed playing and practicing, but was that because it was just living up to the plan constantly being drilled into them, they were trying to please overbearing Richard, they recognized tennis as their way to a better life, or they actually loved playing? Another common thread between King Richard and Tiger’s story was that of dropping supporters/coaches once they had reached the end of their usefulness, with people used just as stepping-stones to get to the next level.

While the film is struggling at the box office, having brought in a worldwide gross of just $8.4 million to date against its $50 million budget, it’s available day & date on HBO Max in 4K HDR with Dolby Vision from a 4K digital intermediate and a Dolby Atmos soundtrack.

The opening images are a bit soft and have a desaturated color palette that feels like we are stepping back in time, but with the clarity and cleanness that is the signature of digital over film. Closeups certainly deliver loads of detail, and when we come in tight on Smith’s face you can see all the fine lines, pores, and individual hairs in his beard, or see the texture in fabrics like tennis shirts and sweaters. You also get nice sharp, tight lines, such as when shooting through chain-link fences surrounding tennis courts or the brick-and-mortar at country club buildings. Some longer shots, such as the pans of crowds at the Bank of the West tournament, also deliver sharp focus and detail.

The Dolby Vision grade is fairly restrained but is used to create natural-looking images with lots of depth and shadow detail throughout, with some added highlights when called for. Some of the best-looking images are the outdoor, sunlit scenes on the courts, where the lens just soaks up all the natural light, and where we get some gleaming white tennis shirts and shorts. We also get some night scenes with neon lights, sirens, tennis court lights, and headlights that pop against the black.

With the vast majority of the movie being dialogue that moves the story forward, don’t expect too much from this Dolby Atmos mix, but it definitely keeps the voices in the center channel, where they are always clear and intelligible. The surrounds and height speakers are used to expand the music and score—this might be the first and only time you can hear Kenny Rogers’ “The Gambler” in Atmos—and we also get some nice atmospheric audio when appropriate, like the sounds of street traffic or the sounds of birds, bugs, and insects. Occasionally, we get some overhead channel activity from rain storms or the echo of PA announcements. We also get a nice, authoritative POP! when Venus is whacking the ball.

King Richard is an entertaining, well-made, and well-acted film, and with Rotten Tomatoes critics’ and audience scores of 91 and 98% respectively, it would not be a surprise to see Will Smith up for his third Best Actor nomination. Other than a few uses of the n-word, it is definitely family friendly, and kept my 15 year old—who has no interest in tennis—engaged. Streaming now on HBO Max, it is certainly worth giving a watch.

PICTURE | The Dolby Vision grade is fairly restrained but is used to create natural-looking images with lots of depth and shadow detail throughout.

SOUND | Since the movie relies on dialogue to move the story forward, there’s not a lot going on in the Dolby Atmos mix, but it definitely keeps the voices in the center channel, where they are always clear and intelligible.

Review: Last Night in Soho

review | Last Night in Soho

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Subtle, inventive use of the Atmos mix really makes this flashing-back-to-the-’60s thriller come to life

by Dennis Burger
November 27, 2021

Anyone interested in better understanding the art of sound mixing should study the Dolby Atmos soundtrack for Edgar Wright’s Last Night in Soho as if it were the Rosetta Stone. And, yes, I know I’m doing things right backwards here, talking about the sound before discussing the merits of the film itself. But the simple fact is that the shape of sound is so integral to the experience of Soho that leading with anything else would feel wrong. Wright and his sound department employ the expanded soundfield of Atmos in much the way The Wizard of Oz employs Technicolor—although in this case there’s a lot more back-and-forth and the transitions are at times so subtle as to be easily missed.

And to explain what I’m on about here, I need to tell you a bit about the narrative of the film. Last Night in Soho is the story of Eloise (Thomasin McKenzie), a young country girl who’s noteworthy for two reasons: Firstly, she’s a talented designer who’s been accepted into the London College of Fashion; secondly, she is gifted—or afflicted, depending on your perspective—with psychic abilities very much akin to those of Danny from The Shining. She sees the past as vividly as she sees the present.

Both of those facts come into play when the introverted Ellie finds herself overwhelmed by dormitory life and rents a room in a quaint but creepy old home, then nearly immediately becomes transported via her dreams into the 1960s, where she alternately observes and embodies a striking young woman named Sandie (Anya Taylor-Joy), who gets mixed up with all the wrong sorts of men in her attempt to make it as a singer.

And it’s during those transitions between the modern, waking world and Ellie’s dreams/visions that the Atmos mix really springs to life. Until that point, the audio is a largely front-focused affair, with surrounds used mostly for subtle ambience and spaciousness. It honestly wouldn’t make a world of difference if it were straight stereo. And that subdued mixing really works well with the overall aesthetic of the film, which was shot largely on 35mm with a mix of flat and anamorphic lenses, and really evokes the feel of supernatural thrillers from the late ’60s. So much so that elements of the modern world—wireless headphones, current cars—feel like an anachronistic intrusion.

But when we’re yanked back to the ’60s, the film takes on a much more modern feel, and the Atmos soundscape positively explodes into its full potential, packed with immersive overhead audio effects (mostly musical in nature) and aggressive use of the surround channels. And from here on out, that shift between the flat, enhanced-stereo approach and the full-blown Atmos experience serves as the audience’s primary indicator of whether we’re experiencing the world as Ellie experiences it or the mundane modern world in which she is quickly losing her grasp on reality.

As I’m writing all of this, I know it sounds like a gimmick. But this trick is so artfully—and at times subtly—orchestrated that it doesn’t feel at all gimmicky in the moment. So if you’re planning on venturing out into a commercial cinema to see Last Night in Soho while it’s still being publicly exhibited, make sure you do so in a one equipped with Atmos. But I imagine most Cineluxe readers will be better served by a good home cinema setup and access to a PVOD rental of the sort Kaleidescape is offering right now.

Kaleidescape’s download delivers its sumptuous cinematography with all the detail and texture you could hope for, preserving the subtle film grain and wonderfully capturing cinematographer Chung-hoon Chung’s nuanced color palette. As with the audio, the imagery is a study in contrasts, with a predominantly earthy look that’s punctuated by splashes of primary hues and neon lighting. A handful of scenes might have been better served by the enhanced peak brightness and dynamic metadata of Dolby Vision, but Kaleidescape’s HDR10 presentation nonetheless gives the picture a lot of breathing room at the lower end of the value scale, opening up the shadows and giving the image a lot of depth where appropriate.

And for a film whose substance is tied largely to its style, that’s important. Last Night in Soho won’t be to everyone’s taste, and even if you love it as much as I do, I think you’ll find some flaws with it. Wright attempts to load the film with a bit more meaning than its narrative framework will support. And in paying homage to the whole of the 1960s—from its fashions to its music to the diversity of its cinema, ranging from Polanski to EON Productions—he’s bitten off a bit more than he can chew. All of which makes Last Night in Soho flawed by any objective measure. But it’s one of the most fascinatingly flawed films I’ve seen in ages, which makes it a shoo-in for Day One purchase the instant it’s available on home video proper.

PICTURE | The Kaleidescape download delivers the movie’s sumptuous cinematography with all the detail and texture you could hope for.

SOUND | The Atmos soundscape positively explodes into its full potential during the flashback scenes, packed with immersive overhead audio effects and aggressive use of the surround channels.

Review: The Dark Knight Trilogy

review | The Dark Knight Trilogy

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The UHD Blu-rays of Christopher Nolan’s iconic superhero trilogy make these films as vivid as they were when first seen in theaters

by John Sciacca
December 6, 2021

As my daughter Lauryn has gotten older—she just turned 15—it has been wonderful revisiting classic films as a family now that she’s old enough to appreciate— and not be scared by—them. We’re caught up on all the Star Wars films, she’s a huge fan of virtually everything in the Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU), she loved the six-season journey that was ABC’s Lost, and we’ve sat through the new 4K HDR extended versions of The Hobbit and Rings films. As a parent and movie buff, it’s really great to relive these classics through her eyes, getting a chance to experience them again with someone who is watching for the first time—especially when some of these are movies I’ve previously watched multiple times.

Another great benefit is that many of these films are now receiving 4K HDR makeovers, making it a perfect time to go back and rewatch a favorite in a way you’ve likely never experienced it before. And, as is likely the case with many readers, my entertainment system has progressed by leaps and bounds since I’ve watched these movies years ago, which certainly makes it feel like a completely new experience in many cases.

The latest series of films we watched was Christopher Nolan’s Dark Knight trilogy, which started in 2005 with Batman Begins, followed in 2008 with The Dark Knight, and concluded in 2012 with The Dark Knight Rises.

I remember watching Tim Burton’s Batman in 1989 and loving it. It was hands-down the best Batman we had at the time—especially with the ultra-campy ‘60s Adam West version as our previous touchstone. But, let’s be honest—time hasn’t been as kind to it. And watching it some 40 years later—even with a new 4K HDR transfer and Dolby Atmos sound mix—things like Prince’s soundtrack, the dancing, the goofiness, and even some of the Burton-ness just feel dated.

Prior to watching Nolan’s trilogy, I told Lauryn that beyond being just great superhero movies, these are just great movies, specifically The Dark Knight with Heath Ledger’s fantastic Academy Award-winning portrayal of The Joker, which transcends the superhero genre by exploring depths and boundaries rarely attempted in movies with characters wearing capes.

There are several things Nolan does that elevates this trilogy above others. First, he weighted the cast with fantastic actors. Throughout the three films we have Christian Bale in the double role of Bruce Wayne and Batman, Michael Caine as butler-cum-conscience Alfred, Gary Oldman as Commissioner Jim Gordon, and Morgan Freeman who runs Wayne Enterprises’ Applied Sciences Division as Lucius Fox, anchoring the principal cast. Each of them has won at least one Academy Award and been nominated for multiple—a ton of firepower to build your franchise around. For villains, we get Ken Watanabe, Liam Neeson, Cillian Murphy, Heath Ledger, and Tom Hardy. And that doesn’t even mention the multiple other characters that weave through the story, like Anne Hathaway, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Marion Cotillard, Nestor Carbonell, Maggie Gyllenhaal, and Aaron Eckart. The films are packed with A-listers and the quality of the acting shows throughout.

Second, Batman has always been the hero most grounded in reality, and Nolan really makes that feel real here. Bale is believable as billionaire playboy Wayne—buying hotels, dating supermodels, and driving Lamborghinis—but he’s also not invincible, and is a complete physical wreck by the third film. But Wayne isn’t alone in his endeavors, and it’s the equally important team of Alfred—who handles many of the logistics and runs things behind the scenes to allow Wayne to keep his secret identity—and Fox, who gives the perfect (and plausible) answer as to how and where Batman gets all those wonderful toys—that really make the story work. Between the three of them, it’s far easier to buy into the action and that Batman would have this tech at his disposal and be the savior Gotham needs.

Third, Nolan manages to walk the style line between Marvel and DC, even before they existed as such. Coming in three years before Iron Man (the first film in the MCU) Batman Begins was the first modern big-budget superhero film, and Nolan set the tone, again choosing to ground it more in reality and shoot with a mentality towards making a great movie instead of just a great superhero movie. Where Marvel’s formula leans towards being light when it needs to, and DC—especially with the Zack Snyder films—tends to go overly dark and somber, Nolan found a way to be serious and mature but still fun. The light moments are far more a well-placed clever comment from Alfred or Lucius than something gratuitously placed for a laugh.

Finally, and perhaps the most important thing, Nolan doesn’t rush things. The shortest film in the trilogy is 140 minutes, with the longest running 165, giving Nolan plenty of time to let things develop and unfold. This is particularly evident in Batman Begins, where we don’t even see Wayne as Batman until an hour into the film. Think about that—for the first 43% of a superhero movie, we don’t even see the superhero. Instead, Nolan takes Wayne and us on a lengthy journey lasting years to get the training needed to believably transform him from a soft socialite into a hard vigilante, while interspersing the history of Gotham and the Wayne family along the way. The same is true with The Dark Knight Rises, where the first 45 minutes pass without a Batman sighting, instead letting us see the toll it has taken on Wayne. Nolan lets the story build, develop, and speak for itself, instead of feeling the insecurity of needing to insert the hero into every scene. And by including the same principal cast throughout the films, we have nearly eight hours to become invested in these characters.

All three films were originally filmed in 35mm but have been remastered for their UltraHD release, and these new transfers are taken from true 4K digital intermediates. As I’ve said before, don’t expect film-to-4K transfers to have the tack-sharp look of modern digital productions, but that doesn’t mean they don’t have a ton of detail, especially on closeups. You can definitely see all the fine lines and wear on Bale’s face, the texture in fabrics, the construction of his vehicles, and both the grit and polish of Gotham.

What makes these transfers really pop, though, is the HDR grading. Much of the action takes place at night or in dark interiors, and the HDR gives us a foundation of deep, solid blacks with which to pop bright highlights, resulting in images that are far more realistic. There is also more headroom to pump highlights into reflections glinting off glass or metal, or the brightness of an explosion, or headlights/sirens during night chases. And when you combine the sharpness, clarity, and detail of 4K with the inky blacks and bright pops of HDR, such as in long exterior shots of Hong Kong or Gotham, you end up with images that are beautiful to behold.

Nolan is fairly well known at this point for his dislike of immersive audio formats like Dolby Atmos, so all three of these films make do with a 5.1-channel DTS HD-Master mix. Fortunately, when routed through the upmixer of a modern processor (DTS: Neural in my case), you get a terrific sense of immersion. While you get some ambient sounds on the streets of Gotham, it’s the big action scenes that really show off your system, with sounds frequently encircling the entire room, including up overhead. Whether it is people under the trippy influence of Scarecrow’s (Murphy) gas, or Batman crushing over things in the Tumbler or flying around in The Bat, or the stadium-filled echo of the young boy (“What a lovely, lovely voice”) singing the National Anthem, the mix delivers.

Explosions, gun shots, and vehicle crashes—of which there are plenty across the three films—also have plenty of authority and weight, with your subwoofers definitely energizing the room to tactile levels. There was one scene where the loud THWACK! of an arrow suddenly slamming into a target made both my wife and daughter jump.

I also happen to love the Hans Zimmer and James Newton Howard scores, especially for The Dark Knight with The Joker’s theme, which has a frantic, crazed quality that drives the tension; and the music definitely gets room to expand across the front channels and overhead. The Dark Knight opens with a bank robbery, and the long drawn out and unsettling string notes inform you something sinister is about to happen.

Dialogue is mostly intelligible, though there were some moments—particularly in the third film with Bane (Hardy) speaking behind a mask—where the combination of music, mayhem, and on-set recorded dialogue made some lines a bit tricky to hear, but certainly nothing like the sonic mess of Nolan’s Interstellar or Tenet.

With his Dark Knight trilogy, Nolan accomplished one of the toughest feats in Hollywood—making a sequel that is better than the original. In fact, The Dark Knight is the fourth highest-rated film on IMDB’s Top 250, behind The Shawshank Redemption, The Godfather, and The Godfather: Part II. And as good as it is, The Dark Knight Returns is arguably better in ways.

This trilogy belongs in any collection, especially now that it has been given the 4K treatment, and if it has been more than a few years since you’ve watched these films, they make for a terrific movie weekend.

PICTURE | The HDR grading really makes these 4K transfers pop. With much of the action taking place at night or in dark interiors, HDR provides a foundation of deep, solid blacks with which to pop bright highlights, resulting in images that are far more realistic.

SOUND | Since Christopher Nolan doesn’t like Dolby Atmos, all three films make do with 5.1-channel DTS HD-Master mixes. Fortunately, when routed through the upmixer of a modern processor, you get a terrific sense of immersion.

Review: Venom: Let There Be Carnage

review | Venom: Let There Be Carnage

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It’s not high art, but both audiences & critics seems to like this followup better than the first Venom effort

by John Sciacca
December 6, 2021

Going over my review for the original Venom, I wrote, “[Eddie] Brock (Tom Hardy) is supposed to be this killer investigative journalist, but, honestly, Hardy comes across as just too slow, clunky, and dim-witted to be even close to believable in this role, and the early scenes with him as a journalist were the hardest for me to just sit back and enjoy. Actually, I found him more believable post-infection since his body adapting to the ‘parasite’ offers an explanation for his semi out-of-it behavior.” And that is one of the biggest reasons why the sequel, Venom: Let There Be Carnage, actually works better and is more entertaining, because we skip past the first film’s tedious and laborious first act, largely ignore Brock as a journalist, and just jump to the, well, carnage.

The film also trims 15 minutes from the original’s run time, getting down to a tighter 97 minutes that doesn’t overstay its welcome. Don’t get me wrong, Carnage certainly isn’t high-brow entertainment, but it comes to deliver a big, over-the-top, popcorn-munching actioner, and in that respect, it succeeds. And even the critics agree.

Where the first film received a paltry 30% Rotten Tomatoes score, this new one is clinging to a barely-fresh 60%. Of course, that matters little to Hollywood, and Venom scored where it needed to, mainly bringing in more than $850 million worldwide, which all but guaranteed a sequel—which was teased in the film’s mid-credits sequence where Brock goes to visit a convicted killer in San Quentin State Prison who proclaims that once he is released, there will be “carnage.”

While watching Venom isn’t a prerequisite to “enjoying” Carnage, it’s helpful to understanding how Eddie became Venom and their “special” symbiotic relationship, as well as providing backstory on some of the returning characters, such as ex-girlfriend Anne (Michelle Williams) and shopkeeper Mrs. Chen (Peggy Lu).

Also cribbing from my Venom review, if you go into this expecting to see your favorite web-slinger or other Marvel Cinematic Universe characters, you’re going to be disappointed. Venom and Carnage stand off in their own section of the MCU . . . for now. Let’s just say, the multi-verse is coming and you should definitely stay for Carnage’s mid-credits scene, which will open up a whole new world.

The film opens in a flashback as Cletus Kasady (Woody Harrelson) and girlfriend Frances Barrison (Naomie Harris) are living in St. Estes Home for Unwanted Children. Frances is taken away by police but during the transfer, she unleashes a powerful sonic scream, deafening Officer Mulligan (Stephen Graham) and allowing her to escape.

Meanwhile, Eddie/Venom are still coming to terms with their unique living arrangement—biting people’s heads off is no longer acceptable—and Eddie is back working as a journalist. Kasady, now a convicted serial killer on death row in San Quentin, will only speak with Eddie following their original interview (shown in Venom’s mid-credit scene). During one of these visits, Kasady bites Eddie—“I have tasted blood before. And that is not it!”—and he absorbs the symbiote that becomes Carnage.And, well, cue the action and mayhem as Kasady/Carnage goes on the loose in San Francisco looking for his lost love Frances/Shriek.

Carnage is directed by Andy Serkis, who is largely regarded as the king of motion-capture performances from his roles as Gollum in the Lord of the Rings franchise and The Hobbit, King Kong, Caesar in the Planet of the Apes reboots, and Supreme Leader Snoke from Star Wars: Episodes VII and VIII. Serkis certainly understands working in big budget, big action, VFX laden films, and he keeps things moving here—and that’s maybe why it feels a bit thin, as Carnage seems to care less about character development and relationships other than Brock/Venom, and more about getting to the next big CGI-filled battle.

The movie looks to lighten things up with a lot of dialogue between Eddie and Venom, as the two argue back-and-forth about acceptable behavior and Eddie’s life choices. One small nit here is that Venom’s voice (which sounds similar to Bane’s from The Dark Knight Rises) as well as Carnage’s can be a bit difficult to understand at times. Both voices are heavily manipulated digitally and mixed with a lot of bass, which will certainly test your audio system’s calibration, crossover, and level settings. Get it too heavy-handed and these voices will be a boomy, muffled mess; go too light and you’ll miss that deep resonance that gives them the right weight. But even dialed-in, dialogue—especially the Eddie/Venom exchanges—can be slightly challenging to understand.

Shot on a combination of 4.5 and 6.5K, this transfer is taken from a 2K digital intermediate, which isn’t unusual for such effects-heavy films. Interestingly, Serkis switched to a 1.85:1 aspect ratio for Carnage which plays “fuller” at home on a 16:9 screen, rather than the 2.39:1 scope presentation preferred for most action films. As with most digitally shot productions, images are clean and sharp throughout, and closeups exhibit a ton of detail, such as the fine pores in Hardy’s face or the crisp pattern on shirts or tight detail in a prison’s chain link fence.

Visually Carnage has a ton to offer, and the HDR presentation really helps images pop. There are a couple of standout scenes that are visually stunning, such as Venom having a night out on the town and the film’s big finale in a church. You can really see the benefits of the HDR grading during night shots in San Francisco, where there are neon lights and headlights a plenty, or the vibrant red of Brock’s Ducati and its glowing brake lights, along with the high brightness of flares and explosions. When Venom steps into a club, you get a ton of bright colors from costumes worn by other club-goers and glow-sticks and other objects that react to the blacklights. The cathedral is it lit by glowing, warm light, with the lighting and shadows looking appropriately dark and natural, along with a beautiful stained-glass window.

Sonically, the Dolby TrueHD Atmos soundtrack offers a lot of demo-worthy and dynamic moments, with a steady combination of subtle atmospherics to establish scenes along with over-the-top action (literally, in the case of the height speakers). For subtler moments, notice the sounds in a hospital early on as well as in the prison, with little establishing sounds happening all around and PA announcements coming overhead, or the sounds of swirling winds high atop a building. Another nice Atmos demo is the placement of the TV audio in Brock’s apartment. As he goes to answer the door and then moves around the room, notice how the TV’s audio slides and shifts around the room.

Action scenes also certainly take advantage of all your speakers, with objects and characters thrown to every side and corner of your room, helicopters and rain/thunder pounding overhead, a Venom tornado that swirls 360 degrees around you, sonic blasts from Shriek, and more.

As mentioned, the bass levels of Venom’s/Carnage’s voice can be a bit tricky but the film also has several moments of truly momentous subsonic bass that will push your subwoofers to their limits. The opening especially has some massive bass you’ll feel in your chest, along with loads of slam from things being thrown/smashed during fights, Venom yelling/jumping/stomping, the collapse of buildings, or the thunderous gong from a massive bell.

Venom: Let There Be Carnage isn’t a great film, but it is an entertaining one that looks and sounds great. It’s one of those where you just sit back, don’t think too hard, and enjoy. But it’s most promising moment is actually its mid-credits scene, and it is perhaps in Venom’s third act where we’ll really get to see the story shine!

PICTURE | Images are clean and sharp throughout, closeups exhibit a ton of detail, and the HDR presentation really helps images pop.

SOUND | The Dolby TrueHD Atmos soundtrack offers a lot of demo-worthy and dynamic moments, with a steady combination of subtle atmospherics to establish scenes along with over-the-top action.

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