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How to Cram for Infinity War in as Few Films as Possible

w to Cram for "Infinity War" in as Few Films as Possible

How to Cram for Infinity War in as Few Films as Possible

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Prepping for Infinity War shouldn’t require wading back through the whole MCU—here are 6 films that will take you straight to the head of the line 

by Dennis Burger
April 24, 2018

Like many of you, I’m sure, I already have my tickets to see Avengers: Infinity War this weekend. Unlike most of you, I hope, I won’t be using those tickets. A nasty abscess and a brief flirtation with sepsis have nipped those plans right in the bud. But oddly enough, this unintentional timeout has given me a chance to do something I probably wouldn’t have had time for otherwise: Actually prepare myself for the movie.

Mind you, I don’t have time, nor the desire, to watch every Marvel Cinematic Universe film leading up to Infinity War. But it is the 19th in the series and the culmination of every one of the films before it, so the assumption is that you’ve seen most if not all of them at some point since their release. And I have; I simply need a refresher to get me in the right mental and emotional space heading into this monumental event film.

So, while my buddy Dave was sitting by my side in the hospital last night, patting my head and asking if he could have all my Hot Toys figures if this whole thing goes south, we brainstormed the lazy nerd’s essential viewing guide for heading into Infinity War. Good nerds that we are, we had rules, of course. 

First rule: Six films, max. Reason: So people can actually get this marathon done before this weekend. 

Rule B: We’re not worried about the location and particular powers of every Infinity Stone (the powerful gems, remnants of six singularities that pre-exist our universe, which have served as MacGuffins for many Marvel films to date and which give Infinity War its name). Reason: You’d literally have to watch nearly every Marvel movie to get that, which violates Rule One. Plus, you can just look up any number of YouTube videos about the Infinity Stones and catch up that way. 

Rule the Third: Try to include as many relevant characters as possible in as few films as possible without having to watch Avengers: Age of Ultron. Reason: Age of Ultron was just terrible. No, seriously, y’all—that was a bad movie.

Rule 4: This list has to work equally well for people who’ve seen all the films and people who haven’t. Reason: Because some people haven’t. 

So, with those rules in mind (and with a morphine drip in my arm, so take it for what you will), here’s my list of films that should serve as a quick refresher course in the overall state of the Marvel Cinematic Universe leading up to the events of Infinity War

Captain America: Winter Soldier. Nope, don’t you dare blame the morphine for this one. I realize Winter Solider is a fully terrestrial film with no hint of the cosmic or mystic sides of the MCU that are obviously going to be so important in the new film. But it’s essential viewing because it sets the stage for everything that happens to Earth’s Mightiest Heroes in the years that follow it. On top of that, it’s simply one of the best action movies ever made (and a pretty solid espionage flick at that), irrespective of its status as a Marvel movie. 

Winter Soldier is also an essential re-watch because Captain America: Civil War doesn’t make much sense without it, and Civil War is really the film that leaves the Avengers in the personal, emotional, and legal states they’re in heading into Infinity War. If you can’t quite figure out why Captain America looks like The Walking Dead’s Rick Grimes in the Infinity War trailer, this one has your essential reminders. Civil War also serves as Spider-Man’s introduction to the MCU, and he looks to play an incredibly important part in the new film. (For what it’s worth, you can watch Spider-Man: Homecoming on its own if you want. It’s a hoot and a half. But it’s not essential viewing for the purposes of Infinity War prep.)

Next up: Guardians of the Galaxy, a film high in the running for best pop-music soundtrack of all time, and also our best glimpse at who this big, bad villain named Thanos really is, what he wants, and what he’s willing to do to get it. What’s perhaps most interesting is that we learn less about Thanos from his actual screen time than we do by watching his favorite “daughters,” Nebula and Gamora, who play central roles in this one.

And you just have to follow that up with Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2. Dave reached over to check my temperature when I threw this one out, because it’s not an obvious pick. It has less to do with Thanos and the Infinity Stones than its predecessor. But again, it goes back to learning about Thanos by proxy. The interactions between Nebula and Gamora in this film tell you a lot about who the Mad Titan is. Vol. 2 also sneaks in a lot of history about the cosmic side of the MCU that I have a sneaking suspicion will become way more relevant in this upcoming film. 

Of course, you also need a heaping helping of immersion in the mystic side of this universe, and for that we turn to Doctor Strange. I’ve seen more than a few headlines recently along the lines of “Why Doctor Strange is Important to Infinity War,” and I haven’t clicked on any of them. Because spoilers, duh. But I can tell you it’s a pretty safe bet the Time Stone featured so prominently in this film is at least one of the reasons Thanos’ sights are set on Earth in the new film. So, if nothing else, consider this (along with Guardians of the Galaxy) your essential primer on the power of Infinity Stones individually. It also has Rachel McAdams in it. Rawr. 

Last up, Thor: Ragnarok, the film that, as best I can tell, leads right into Infinity War. It also answers the important questions: Where the heck were Thor and Hulk during Civil War? And how are they gonna get back to Earth? Also, make doubly sure you stick around for the mid-credits scene. But seriously, you should already know that by now.

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.

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Review: Venom

Venom (2018)

review | Venom

This one might not go as deep as some of the other Marvel films but works as a check-your-brain-at-the-door actioner

by John Sciacca
December 27, 2018

I’ll freely admit that I’m a superhero-movie fan. Ever since seeing the Christopher Reeve Superman: The Movie as an 8-year-old, I’ve loved watching these heroes battle to save the planet up on the big screen, and now in the comfort of my own home.

No franchise has done more to raise the bar of the superhero genre than Marvel, which, for the past 10 years, has been crafting a spectacular, epic tale that has gradually been drawing an entire universe of characters together in a battle for half the galaxy that began in Avengers: Infinity War and will culminate in the upcoming Avengers: Endgame. (Not part of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, but still spectacular superhero viewing includes Wonder Woman and Christopher Nolan’s Dark Knight trilogy, especially The Dark Knight, which transcends the superhero genre into the realm of simply spectacular cinema.)

I bring this up because as much as I enjoy superhero films, I knew virtually nothing about Venom prior to watching it. In fact, my only previous knowledge of the character was his appearance in the 2007 Spider-Man 3. From that film, I learned that Venom was an alien entity that bonded with Peter Parker and kind of became like a bad version of the character, wearing a black version of Spidey’s costume.

With this latest reboot of the character, I expected Venom to continue the MCU trend of bringing multiple characters together or would at the very least include Tom Holland, who has taken over Spidey’s mantle starting in Captain America: Civil War and continuing in Spider-Man: Homecoming and Avengers: Infinity War. Well, umm, no.

While this was made in association with Marvel Studios, Venom is a standalone Sony Pictures release bearing no obvious connection to the MCU or even to Spider-Man. This is part of a complicated legal and licensing agreement between Sony and Marvel that you can read more about here. 

So, unless you’re a hardcore Venom fan, you can scrap everything you think you might know about the character and just go into this cold. In fact, knowing nothing might actually be the best way to go, as you aren’t burdened by any required geek-cred knowledge of back stories, interwoven plot lines, or fear of missing any fanboy Easter eggs.

This is an origin story, attempting to introduce and launch a new expanded universe of Spider-Man characters. But the film’s biggest shortcoming is the casting of (or maybe it’s the direction or the dialogue given to) Tom Hardy, who plays both Edie Brock and Venom. Brock 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.

Fortunately, your suspension of disbelief over Hardy’s journalistic prowess doesn’t need to last long, as he soon bonds with the alien symbiote Venom, who was brought back from a space exploration mission and kept locked in a lab looking for a compatible host. Once Hardy absorbs Venom, the rest of the film has him coming to terms with his new amorphous, shape-shifting, and head-chomping alter-ego as the movie transitions from one action piece to another as the duo looks to take down the techno-billionaire bad guy. Actually, I found Hardy more believable post-infection since his body adapting to the “parasite” offers an explanation for his semi out-of-it behavior. 

One thing Sony knows how to do is release fantastic-looking 4K HDR films, and Venom is no exception. Detail and color are first-rate throughout, but especially during the multiple night scenes in San Francisco, where the city looks stunning. These shots take full advantage of HDR to produce bright lights and vibrant colors while retaining deep and solid black levels. 

Venom has no shortage of big action scenes and visual effects, which all look terrific. One of the best scenes is a chase through downtown San Francisco (happening around the 54-minute mark) that highlights the best of what Venom is: Pure balls-out mayhem, with a liberal dose of SFX thrown in for good measure. Just don’t count how many times The Rialto theater appears in the background. Rather, sit back and enjoy the cars smashing and Brock/Venom racing manically through the crowded streets on a motorcycle. 

The Dolby Atmos soundtrack is equally impressive, offering a very dynamic mix that will definitely give your system a workout. There are tons of moments where the height channels are called into action, whether it’s drones or helicopters flying overhead, gun mayhem, or just the ambience representing the acoustic space on screen. Bass is particularly impressive, having a ton of weight and impact, with explosions that you’ll feel in your chair. Venom’s voice is also recorded with a very cool effect, booming from all around and sounding like it’s coming from inside your head.  

The Kaleidescape download includes five pre-marked scenes, along with several bonus features, including multiple making-of docs, deleted scenes, and a special “Venom mode” that engages “informative pop-ups throughout the film to provide insight on the movie’s relationship to the comics and to reveal hidden references that even a seasoned Venom-fan may have missed!”

Venom belongs to that increasing group of films that sees a real divide between critics and fans. While scoring a meager 28% on Rotten Tomatoes, it managed an 85% audience score. In short, I’d say Venom is a classic big summer, popcorn action film where it pays to check your brain at the door and just sit back and marvel (no pun intended) at the terrific visual effects and pummeling Atmos audio track. If you’re looking for some home theater eye and ear candy, Venom won’t disappoint. 

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 | Detail and color are first-rate throughout, but especially during the multiple night scenes in San Francisco, where the city looks stunning

SOUND | The Atmos soundtrack offers a very dynamic mix that will definitely give your system a workout, including tons of moments where the height channels are called into action

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Review: Captain Marvel

Captain Marvel (2019)

review | Captain Marvel

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This controversial entry in the MCU helps to fill in some of the holes in the various plotlines leading to Endgame

by John Sciacca
May 29, 2019

Like millions of other people, my family and I have been following the Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU) as it gradually built to the global phenomenon of a climax that was Avengers: Endgame. But my favorite film in the franchise remains Avengers: Infinity War, and if you’ll recall from the end-credits scene, just as Nick Fury (Samuel L. Jackson) is about to disappear into a Thanos-snapped dust cloud, he pulls out an ancient-looking pager and manages to send off one final message. As the pager falls from his fingers and starts sending the message, its screen changes to reveal a logo familiar only to hardcore Marvel fans.

That brief scene introduced us to one of the most powerful characters in the MCU, Captain Marvel (Brie Larson), and perfectly set up the 21st and final Marvel film that would precede Endgame. I’ll admit, I didn’t recognize the logo, nor did I know who Captain Marvel was or anything about her story, so I went into the film fresh and curious about what bits of the MCU puzzle this might fill in. For the record, Marvel Studio’s president, and producer of every film in the MCU, Kevin Feige said, “Captain Marvel is going to be the most powerful superhero in the MCU,” so that should give you some perspective. (And those who have seen Endgame—which, seriously, by now should be all of you—will attest to her abilities.)

While Marvel films are usually met with excitement and anticipation, there was actually a lot of hate surrounding Captain Marvel’s release. So much so that Rotten Tomatoes adjusted its rating policy when it was clear trolls were posting negative reviews and hatred over Larson’s casting and acting before the film was even released. Adding to the controversy, Captain Marvel was originally a male character in the comics (although different characters have taken up the Captain Marvel mantle, and there is precedence for the character to be a woman), and many felt casting Larson was a way to push a social agenda. All of which didn’t interest me or sway my opinion in the least. 

Give me a good movie I can sit and enjoy for two hours, and I don’t care if the lead is a man, woman, animal, or robot. I’ve got two daughters and I’m all for female empowerment. (And for the record, my 12-year-old loved it, saying “Captain Marvel was so cool and tough!”) And, if you avoided Captain Marvel for fear it would try to cram some social agenda down your throat, I’d strongly suggest you reconsider. 

The first thing you’ll notice about Captain Marvel is a change to the opening credits scene. I won’t spoil it here, but let’s just say the folks at Marvel once again know how to give you the feels.

It seems like the Marvel team knew Captain Marvel would be a new character to many and they chose a storytelling style that played into this, as we discover things about Larson’s character’s past along with her. The story opens with Vers (Larson) as an elite member of the Kree Starforce Military living on planet Hala. Vers suffers from amnesia and just has snatches of visions and images of a previous life but none of which she can assemble into a cohesive whole. 

During a mission to rescue a deep-cover operative from a band of alien shapeshifters known as Skrulls, Vers is captured and her memories are probed by the Skrulls as they try to determine the location of some experimental tech she was involved with in her previous life on earth as Air Force fighter pilot Carol Danvers. 

These memories lead both the Skrulls and Vers to Planet C-53—aka Earth—where we encounter a digitally de-aged and fresh-on-the-job S.H.I.E.L.D. agent with two working eyes by the name of Fury. (“Not Nicholas. Not Joseph. Just Fury.”) From here, the film moves forward with a steady stream of action, with Danvers gradually regaining memories of her life on earth as they piece together clues to hunt the experimental tech developed by Dr. Wendy Lawson (Annette Bening) and avoid Skrull shapeshifters hot on their trail.

Taking place in 1995, the movie features a soundtrack that includes lots of era-appropriate tunes including “Waterfalls,” “Come as You Are,” “Just a Girl,” and “Man on the Moon.” Sometimes the songs are subtle and in the background, other times they take center stage à la Guardians of the Galaxy and Star-Lord’s Awesome Mix Tapes. There are also some other nice ‘90s-era references to bygone culture like Blockbuster and Radio Shack. 

Visually, Marvel is a treat. Filmed in a combination of 6.5K and 8K and taken from an 8K negative, the movie has gobs of detail in every scene. Closeups abound with texture, letting you see the pebbling and grain in Fury’s shoulder holster or an alien’s skin or the metallic surfaces of the various spaceships. There’s a scene about 10 minutes into the movie where they visit a planet that’s covered in a smoky, hazy mist. This is a total video torture test for noise and banding, especially as the smoke is illuminated in a variety of ways from lights, fire, and streaking laser bolts, but the image is always stable, clean, and noise-free. 

The movie also greatly benefits from HDR, with lots of brightly lit screen displays and readouts throughout that really pop. There are also lots of scenes in dark interiors that benefit from the wider dynamic range, letting you appreciate the detail of the set design. Near the end, when Marvel embraces her full powers, she literally glows with energy and power, and the effect works especially well in HDR.

Sonically, while many recent Disney releases have stumbled, Captain Marvel’s Dolby Atmos mix does a lot to correct this. They seemed to have eased off on the heavy-handed compression and uneven bass mixes that have plagued other releases (see my review of Avengers: Age of Ultron), and this movie has some very scene-appropriate low end that will take your subwoofers to church and flutter your pant legs. Explosions have dynamic depth and punch, and space engines thrum with authoritative bottom end.

The audio mix is definitely active and immersive but not overly aggressive. The height speakers are used to good effect to expand the sonic ambience and sense of space, and come into play during the big action scenes. One especially nice and clever use of the height channels is during the scene where they’re picking through Danver’s memories, with off-camera voices moving about overhead.

While not required viewing prior to seeing Endgame, Captain Marvel does a nice job of filling in some little holes and fleshing out the MCU, and would technically be the first film in the timeline (if you start counting from when Captain America comes out of his ice coma). Its end-credits scene also does a nice job of marrying right into Endgame and explaining why Captain Marvel was absent from the big battle in Wakanda. 

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 | Captain Marvel is a treat, with gobs of detail in every scene and closeups that abound with texture

SOUND | The Atmos mix helps correct the anemic soundtracks of other Marvel releases with some very scene-appropriate low end that will take your subwoofers to church and flutter your pant legs

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Review: Avengers: Endgame

Avengers: Endgame

review | Avengers: Endgame

The first, long chapter of the MCU saga comes to satisfying close in this three-hour film, which also makes for a satisfying home viewing experience

by Dennis Burger
July 31, 2019

Avengers: Endgame comes to the screen with an incredible amount of baggage for any one film to carry. It has to serve as the emotional and narrative conclusion of 11 years’ and 21 films’ worth of Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU) stories. It has to serve as the second half of a film released a year earlier. It also has to work as a self-contained narrative on its own terms—one that satisfies both hardcore fans who’ve seen all 21 of those previous Marvel movies numerous times as well as more casual moviegoers who may have seen some of them only once, if at all.

The fact that Endgame manages to check all of those boxes without crumbling under its own weight is a bit of a minor cinematic miracle. That it ends up being so much more than a mere obligatory box checker is a testament to the talents of the film’s directors (Joe and Anthony Russo) and writers (Christopher Markus and Stephen McFeely).

To get into why, though, we need to dip our toes into spoiler territory, for both Endgame and 2018’s Infinity War, but I’ll try to keep things as vague as possible on both fronts, for the pair of you who’ve seen neither film. At the end of Infinity War, we were left in a weird place for a big, blockbuster superhero franchise. The villain had won. Half the population of the universe—and half of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes—had been “blipped” out of existence at the snap of a finger. Mind you, we live in a world where films are announced years in advance, and it didn’t take a savvy viewer to put two and two together and realize some of those dead heroes were only a film or two into a multi-film contract, which meant they would be coming back, somehow or another, by the end of this film.

Think about that weird conundrum for long and it quickly becomes apparent that Endgame ran the serious risk of not only narratively undermining Infinity War by undoing its deaths but also of emotionally undermining it so severely that the first part of this two-part story lost all impact for future viewings. I think the most dedicated Marvel fans amongst us all sort of went into Endgame knowing this would be the price we had to pay in order to see the resolution of this storyline.

Except that ends up not being the case at all. Instead of undermining Infinity War—narratively and emotionally—Endgame ends up enriching it, making it more interesting and impactful. If the thematic arc of Infinity War could be boiled down to coming to terms with defeat, Endgame at its core is a film about consequences. As with any good epic (in the Tolkien, not the Hollywood, sense of the word), Endgame is a film about the high cost of victory. So, rather than robbing Infinity War of emotional and narrative weight, this film piles an extra heaping helping of solemnity on its forebear and all the films that came before it. 

Once its end credits roll, what we the viewers are left with is not only a satisfying yet bittersweet conclusion to the rambling and seemingly disconnected narrative that began with 2008’s Iron Man, but also one that makes us reflect on everything that has happened to the MCU’s characters along the way. It even redeems some of the MCU’s weaker efforts, like 2013’s Thor: The Dark World, although perhaps only in retrospect. (And no, I’m not confident enough in this statement to actually suffer through that movie again to find out for sure.) 

But as I said, Endgame would be a wholly unsatisfying film if it were merely a massive nostalgia romp. I won’t recount the plot here, because if you’ve seen the movie you already know it, and if you haven’t, I would sound like I was having a stroke. But what makes the film work on its own terms is, in part, the economy of its storytelling. That may seem an ironic statement to make about a three-hour film, but the Russos, Markus, and McNeely have managed to craft an engrossing narrative that feels perfectly paced, because when the plot is simple and straightforward, they use that opportunity to ramp up the richness and diversity of the story’s themes. And by contrast, when the narrative gets more complex (as will happen when you’re playing around with comic-book quantum physics and the fabric of spacetime), they use simpler and more straightforward thematic underpinning to maintain a coherent through-line. 

The film also uses the luxury of its relatively long running time to give the characters a lot of room to breathe. Upon second viewing, I was taken aback by how much of it is devoted to people sitting around, simply talking to one another. It’s refreshing, and it’s exactly what was required to give these characters one last chance to grow, and express their growth, in shockingly adult ways. Coming out the other end of the film, I wonder if most viewers realize that only about half an hour of screen time is really dedicated to stereotypical blockbuster comic-book action scenes.

Unsurprisingly, it is those scenes that shine the brightest in Kaleidescape’s 4K/HDR presentation. And I mean that literally. This is some of the most effective use of HDR I’ve seen, especially in the big battle at the end, where stunning contrasts are used not merely for eye candy but to reinforce the emotions of the sequence. I watched this epic throw-down back-to-back in Blu-ray quality and 4K with HDR, and while it certainly got my nerd heart pumping in mere 1080p HD, I was literally moved to tears by the climactic turning point of the battle as it played out in high dynamic range. 

But if you’re just in it for the eye candy, the Kaleidescape transfer works on that front, too, even if the vivid and detailed presentation does at times make some of the special effects ever-so-slightly too obvious. Audio enthusiasts who’ve grumbled at Disney for their sometimes-lackluster audio mixes will also be delighted by the richness of the soundtrack and its effective use of bowel-loosening bass and the aggressiveness of the Dolby TrueHD Atmos track’s height channels. Truth be told, those effects were a little too distracting for my tastes and I preferred the included DTS-HD Master Audio 7.1 mix but it’s nice that both options are available. 

There is one other audio track that absolutely cannot be ignored, although you’ll only find it on the Blu-ray quality download (which is included with your 4K HDR purchase): The audio commentary by the Russos,  Markus, and McFeely. If you listened to their commentary for Infinity War, you know what you’re in for. If not, I’m jealous that you get to experience it for the first time. As with the previous film, their commentary is less a scene-by-scene breakdown of how the film was made and more a masterclass in storytelling, character development, and filmmaking, making it essential listening even if you typically skip commentaries.

It’s a shame that the rest of the extras don’t rise to the same level. Also included with the Blu-ray quality download is about an hour’s worth of bonus documentaries that you can mostly ignore, except for the eight-minute tribute to Stan Lee that was included after the film in its soft theatrical re-release back in June. You’ll also want to check out the last of the six deleted scenes (which, by the way, doesn’t include the excised clip that was tacked onto the aforementioned theatrical re-release). 

Hopefully, at some point Endgame will get a double-dip home video release whose bonus features dig a little deeper into the rich tapestry that is this film. Until then, though, this one is a must-own. 

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 |  Some of the most effective use of HDR ever, especially in the big battle at the end, where stunning contrasts are used not merely for eye candy but to reinforce the emotions of the sequence

SOUND | Anyone who’s grumbled about Disney’s sometimes lackluster audio mixes will be delighted by the richness of the Atmos soundtrack and its effective use of bowel-loosening bass and the aggressiveness of the height channel effects

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Review: The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent

The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent (2022)

review | The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent

Nicolas Cage’s love letter to himself proves to be predictably self-indulgent and only mildly amusing but entertaining nonetheless

by John Sciacca
June 14, 2022

Before Facebook co-opted the term, being “meta” denoted a creative work “referring to itself or to the conventions of its genre; self-referential.” By that definition, The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent might very well be one of the most meta films to ever come out of Hollywood. 

With the giant number of movies Nicolas Cage has appeared in—with 109 credits on his IMDB page as I write this—he’s developed a bit of an “I’ll do anything” reputation. But it’s important to remember that among that list of questionable choices are some truly brilliant films including Raising Arizona, Moonstruck, Honeymoon in Vegas, The Rock, and Lord of War. It’s also an acting career that has resulted in a Best Actor Academy Award nomination for Adaptation along with a win for Leaving Lost Vegas.

Massive Talent felt like it was inspired by the excellent “Get in the Cage” skit from Saturday Night Live, where Andy Samberg plays an exaggerated and over-the-top Nick Cage who eventually has the real Nick Cage on with him. “As everyone knows,” Samberg/Cage said, “my dream as an actor is to appear in every film ever released. However, until now I’ve only been able to muster a measly 90%, bringing shame on my dojo.”

What Cage demonstrated in this skit was a fantastic self-awareness and an ability to poke jabs at the roles he took on, describing the two key qualities of a Nick Cage action film: “All the dialogue is either whispered or screamed . . . and everything in the movie is on fire.”

In Massive Talent, Nicolas Cage plays himself going through a bit of an existential crisis. He’s just been passed over for a film role, is having trouble connecting with his 16-year-old daughter Addy (Lily Sheen), owes $600,000 to the hotel he’s been living in for a year, and has occasional arguments with “Nicky,” a younger, more over-the-top, emotionally volatile version of himself who wants Cage to make better choices. When his agent Fink (Neil Patrick Harris) floats him an offer to go to Spain to attend the birthday party of Javi Gutierrez (Pedro Pascal), a billionaire superfan who is willing to pay Cage $1 million to attend, he reluctantly accepts. 

When he arrives in Mallorca, CIA agents Martin (Ike Barinholtz) and Vivian (Tiffany Haddish) tell Cage that Javi is really a major arms dealer who he has kidnapped the daughter of a politician, and they need Cage to be their man on the inside. To do so, he must channel the skills and abilities of some of his past roles. 

The film is packed with references, name drops, and even scenes from films throughout Cage’s career, including a nod to his “Nouveau Shamanic” acting ability. Cage is excellent, leaning into the incredible situation in which he’s been thrust in classic “Come on!” fashion; but where the film really shines is in the chemistry and exchanges between Cage and Pascal, especially during one LSD-fueled joy ride. 

While a “comedy,” the humor is certainly subtle, and for me produced more smiles than laughs. One of my favorite examples was a scene where Cage sees a life-sized statue of himself from Face/Off that Javi has in his collection of Cage memorabilia.

“Is this supposed to be me . . ?” Cage asks. “It’s . . . grotesque. If you don’t mind me asking, how much did you pay for this . . . disturbing statue?”

“About $6,000.”

“I’ll give you $20,000 for it.” 

I also felt a real kinship to Cage when he described making his daughter watch some of his favorite older films and then discuss them. 

Shot on Arri at 4.5K resolution, this home transfer is taken from a 4K digital intermediate, and the images are clean and sharp throughout. What really stood out was the clarity and tight focus on the actors, who are often in the front of the frame with background objects blurred behind them. You can really see Cage’s unusually smooth forehead, countered against the lines and pores in Pascal’s. The resolution also lets you appreciate the fine detail and textures in stone walls and bridges, or the patterns and details in Cage’s shirts. 

The HDR grade gives a nice natural presentation to the images and benefits low-lit interior scenes, a night party scene bathed in golden colored tones, and scenes where bright sunlight is streaming in through windows in darkened rooms. Perhaps the most dynamic-looking scenes are some of the early ones driving at night in LA with bright city and street lights, and the sun-drenched exteriors in Mallorca.

While the Kaleidescape download features a lossless Dolby TrueHD Atmos soundtrack, it puts most of its emphasis on the front channels, with some of the action spreading a bit out left and right of center. The surround channels are reserved primarily for some simple fill and atmospherics like outdoor sounds off in the distance, with the music being mixed in a room-filling manner. There is a bit of gunfire in the third act with bullet strikes that hit far offscreen, but this isn’t a movie you’ll queue up to demo your theater sound system. For the most part, this mix concerns itself with delivering clear and intelligible dialogue locked to the center channel, and it does that admirably. 

While The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent has broader appeal than for just the Cage superfans, it is ultimately a love story about Nick Cage, starring Nick Cage as Nick Cage, focusing on the fantastical life of Nick Cage, for fans of Nick Cage. And for fans, that’s high praise.

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 | Images are clean and sharp; the HDR grade gives a nice natural presentation and benefits low-lit interior scenes

SOUND | The TrueHD Atmos mix puts most of its emphasis on delivering clear and intelligible dialogue via the front channels, with some of the action spreading a bit out left and right of center

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Review: Black Widow

Black Widow (2021)

review | Black Widow

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This empowered-female action film also takes on weighty issues of family and freedom

by Dennis Burger
July 9, 2021

If you’re clicking on a review of Black Widow right now, I can only assume you’re here in search of one more person’s opinion about whether it was worth the wait. The simple answer is is: Yes. If you don’t mind, though, I’m gonna ramble on for a bit about why.

I’m normally not one to invest much energy in the horse-race discussion about movies like this. But in the case of Black Widow, it’s hard to ignore. It was supposed to come out last year but ended up being one of many casualties of the global pandemic. Meant to kick off Phase 4 of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, it got beaten to that punch by WandaVision, Falcon & The Winter Soldier, and Loki. It’s probably the biggest Disney movie to date to be available via Premier Access, three months ahead of its free-to-view streaming release on October 6, 2021. 

But none of that really matters because none of it has any bearing on the quality of the movie. And yet, it’s a hard discussion to avoid.

Black Widow was always going to be a movie whose release was a little weird, temporally speaking. The bulk of the plot takes place between Captain America: Civil War (2016) and Avengers: Infinity War (2018) but it’s a story that couldn’t really be told until after Endgame (2019), not necessarily for narrative reasons but for emotional ones. To fully make sense of the character of Natalia Alianovna Romanoff (Scarlett Johansson) in this story, you have to understand not only the redemption arc she’s been on since first introduced to the MCU in Iron Man 2 but you also have to know that she’s the type of person who would make the sacrifice she did in the last Avengers movie. 

All of that makes Black Widow a puzzle piece that you can only place in time, not merely space. But that’s sort of fitting for a character as complex as Natasha. I won’t bother to even begin to attempt to explain the plot. Doing so would make me sound ridiculous. It’s got a thousand tiny moving pieces and it plays a very dangerous game with them in that it all flirts with being just a little too much. I’m normally turned off by plots this complex. Give me a simple story any day of the week—but writing simple stories is difficult. 

Here’s the thing, though: The convolutions of the script don’t seem to be a product of laziness but of necessity. Story writers Jac Schaeffer (WandaVision) and Ned Benson (The Disappearance of Eleanor Rigby), along with screenwriter Eric Pearson (Thor: Ragnarok), seem to understand that this one had to do a lot of heavy lifting and cover a lot of ground. It also manages to pull off a trick few stories do successfully—it manages to be a critique of a thing while also being that thing itself. Black Widow is a comic-book action movie, yes, but it’s also a subversion of the genre, a sendup of its tropes, and a cheeky rumination on the dangers of idolizing these impossibly perfect characters. 

It only works because the writers understood three key things: 

Firstly, pacing: For every big action set piece (and there are plenty of them, with car chases that rival Baby Driver and fight sequences that are every bit as stupid and amazing as anything in the John Wick series), there’s at least as much time devoted to quieter, tenderer character moments. 

Secondly, tone: The movie deals with a lot of heavy material, from psychological manipulation to the exploitation of vulnerable women to Cold War hangover, but it always strikes the right balance between sincerity and levity. It knows when to take itself seriously and when not to. It’s heartbreaking one moment and legitimately hilarious the next. 

Thirdly, and perhaps most importantly: It just knows what it’s about, and although it would take two hours to recount the narrative beat by beat, it’s easy to explain what it all means. Ultimately, Black Widow is about family—specifically that weird and contradictory set of emotions that comes from interacting with your family now that you’re an adult, that troubling realization that your parents were just cosplaying as adults for your entire childhood, and the baffling combination of rage and familiarity that only your relatives can drag out of you simultaneously. 

It’s also about freedom—not only the necessity thereof but also the cost and why that cost is worth paying. While playing around with that theme, the story also touches on notions of free will and animal instinct. But all of that really points back to freedom.

And that’s it. As many twists and turns as there are in the plot, all of them ultimately support the themes of family or freedom, or both. That’s what keeps Black Widow grounded throughout, keeping it from devolving into utter chaos.

Can I just say, though, that this is yet another blockbuster movie I’m so glad I didn’t have to suffer through in a packed cinema? Disney+’s presentation far surpasses the quality of any commercial cinema I could reasonably reach in a half-day’s drive, and I also got to enjoy it without suffering the distractions of an auditorium full of chatty extroverts and their rowdy kids. At home, I could give it my full attention and even take a tinkle break halfway through without being forced to choose between skipping an action sequence or a bit of character development.

The Dolby Vision presentation is taken from a 2K digital intermediate, as most MCU movies are, which was itself sourced from original footage captured in a mix of 4K, 6K, and 8K. Fine detail abounds, not merely in closeups but also in long shots (which many of the action sequences are—a welcome break from the claustrophobic framing of most high-octane movies these days). Colors are gorgeous and the high dynamic range is employed spectacularly.

There are a few very minor and very fleeting blemishes, but I’m not sure whether they’re a consequence of post-production, Disney+’s encoding, or the fact that I streamed it on Day One, simultaneously with millions of other people.  Evidence for the latter comes from the fact that, on my Roku Ultra, with my 250mbps internet connection, the stream didn’t switch from 1080p to 4K until about two-thirds of the way through the Marvel Studios logo that precedes the movie. Disney+ normally launches at 4K for me.

The evidence that these blemishes are baked into the master is circumstantial. During a shot very early on that takes place in a shadowy bathroom, there’s about a quarter second of very, very minor banding as the flat tiles of the environment give way to the shadows. But the very next shot is in the same environment with the same tonal variation, and there’s no banding. There’s also a long shot of Natasha’s trailer that exhibits a touch of moiré for a few frames. But a few minutes later there’s another shot of the exterior photographed from the same distance in roughly the same light, and there’s no moiré. 

So I can’t be sure if these momentary imperfections can be blamed on streaming or taxed servers or what. But thankfully they add up to no more than a cumulative second over the course of a 135-minute film. Otherwise, Black Widow looks stunning. 

It also sounds way, way better in my home than it would in any movie theater I’ve ever sat in. Mind you, the Dolby Atmos track seems to have been mixed for large auditoria, not home cinemas, so it can be a little too dynamic in spots. I also had to turn the volume on my preamp up to +3dB (with 0dB being cinema reference level) in order to unlock the full fidelity of the track, especially the bass. If you have a well-designed sound system, though, you’re in for a sonic treat. If, on the other hand, you’re trying to watch Black Widow with a soundbar as your only audio system—even a really good soundbar—you’re quickly going to discover what it feels like to pack ten pounds of you-know-what into a five-pound bag.

It remains to be seen, of course, whether Disney continues to support these day & date releases via Premier Access as Hollywood attempts to force a return to normal over the next year. All I can say is this: If I have the option to watch future Star Wars and Marvel movies—the only movies I really feel compelled to see Day One—in the comfort of my home, in quality this superior to even a good cineplex, for just $29.99? Sign me the heck up. I’ll never need to sully the bottom of my flip-flops with sticky popcorn grease ever again.

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 | Fine detail abounds in both closeups & long shots, colors are gorgeous, and the high dynamic range is employed spectacularly

SOUND | The Atmos track seems to have been mixed for movie theaters, not home theaters, so it can be a little too dynamic in spots, but if you have a well-designed sound system, you’re in for a sonic treat

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Review: Contempt

Contempt (1963)

review | Contempt

Only Jean-Luc Godard could create an epic that’s all about intimacy

by Michael Gaughn
June 12, 2022

Godard again. If A Woman Is a Woman is the most accessible of his films, Contempt (Le Mépris) is the most mainstream, with a CinemaScope presentation, exotic locations, and a cast featuring Brigitte Bardot and Jack Palance. Where Woman Is a Woman takes a decidedly oblique look at the Hollywood musical, here Godard directs his loving, withering gaze at the Hollywood epic. 

Of course the whole exercise is droll, with the “epic” scenes staged with what would clearly be the catering budget for a Hollywood production. The main characters in the film within the film of The Odyssey are literally a bunch of statues, with the whole shot in extreme widescreen, which Fritz Lang famously quips “wasn’t made for man—it was made for snakes and funerals.”

But all of Godard’s films have that kind of sardonic carapace, and you’re likely to feel little more than annoyed or mildly amused if you don’t take up the challenge of trying to pierce their protective shell. For all its trappings of a travesty epic, Contempt—as Godard states explicitly during the opening credits—is a meditation on how the movies frame and channel our desires. The pivot for this is all the many shots of Bardot nude, which range from pinup to the bedroom intimacy of a couple in love. 

But staying at that level would be love on Hollywood’s terms. Godard for the most part either eschews or exaggerates most of the traditional gestures used to express desire in movies, for instance brilliantly taking our dependence on the soundtrack to tell us what to feel and pumping George Delerue’s music cues so far past 11 that it feels like the film’s on the brink of a core meltdown. The music here isn’t used to just Mickey Mouse or accompany the action but is compensatory, both a parallel commentary and a force of nature. The lead characters are too cool with their emotions, too distanced from them to realize how deeply, almost inexorably, those surging undercurrents are guiding their actions—but the score makes it clear they’re playing with fire.

The masterstroke, though, is Godard turning widescreen on its head, most effectively deployed in the virtuoso half-hour-long scene in Bardot and Michel Piccoli’s unfinished apartment where we watch their marriage implode in real-time, shown in a 2.35:1 aspect ratio that transforms their domestic space into a battlefield and makes their feints and jabs, regroupings, and head-on assaults the offensives of massed armies. Godard here journeys back to the roots of Homer, using the movie spectacle as his sleek but insubstantial modern vessel.

The point of the above is that there’s plenty of meat here—so much that the film reveals some satisfying new level on every viewing—but that doesn’t mean it’s all prepared and presented with equal flair. The most egregious fumble is Palance, who often feels robotic, and who Godard encourages to behave like the worst kind of caricature of the ugly American. Godard’s disdain is so fierce it blinds him, resulting in a performance so predictable and one-dimensional it ultimately defangs some of his most telling points.

 If A Woman Is a Woman is an evocative and indispensable record of Paris in the very early ‘60s, Contempt is an equally valuable document of the last, intense upwelling of modernism before it was devoured by the postmodernist beast, of the offshoot style that began to emerge in the mid ‘50s and was just beginning to get its bearings and bear its richest fruit when it was cut down and purged by the conformist, lowest-common-denominator impulses of mass culture, the army of the children of the machine. 

But while the current online manifestation of A Woman Is a Woman is satisfying enough for now, the version of Contempt on Amazon Prime (which I would imagine is the same that’s on Google Play and elsewhere) can be maddening, offering tantalizing glimpses of how the film originally appeared but ultimately feeling like a faded family photo from the era. Studio Canal created a 4K intermediate  for a theatrical release a few years ago, which could be a good thing or a bad thing, but hopefully we’ll get a chance to glimpse it soon enough. 

Be warned that the sound is pretty awful, but it’s apparently just being true to the source tracks. Delerue’s music is distorted throughout, as is much of the dialogue track, and the quality of the dialogue recordings is all over the place, especially in the projection-room scene. But I wouldn’t want it any other way. Better a movie that bears traces of its origins than one that feels artificially pure, the product of endless lines of code.

One, kind of pointless, regret, though—because not much can be done about it—is that the original mix was mono. That seems like a lost opportunity, especially given all the widescreen blocking in Bardot and Piccoli’s apartment, where it seems like stereo could have been used to play off all the different presentations and meanings of distance. 

Contempt is ultimately about how Hollywood romanticizes everything, even when it’s being sadistically cruel, and the dismal odds of anything resembling real emotion being heard above all the style- and genre-driven din. Nobody would ever use the words “gregarious,” “ebullient,” or even “warm” to describe Godard. There is something  fundamentally cold about both him and his work. But you can sense him, in his early films at least, constantly trying to fend off the deadening chill of alienation, using abstraction, of all things, to keep his films fundamentally and intensely human.

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

PICTURE | Watching Contempt on Prime can be maddening, offering tantalizing glimpses of how the film originally appeared but ultimately feeling like a faded family photo from the era

SOUND | Be warned that the mono sound is pretty awful but it’s apparently just being true to the source tracks

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Review: The Northman

The Northman (2022)

review | The Northman

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Not the gore fest its reputation would lead you to expect, this turns out to be a hypnotic exploration of the intersection of history, myth, and reality

by Dennis Burger
June 8, 2022

I knew pretty much two things about Robert Eggers’ The Northman before digging in. I’d heard that it is perceived as a gruesomely violent film. I also knew that it’s yet another retelling of one of the most oft-told tales in Western culture, the legend of Amleth, told perhaps most comprehensively by Saxo Grammaticus in Gesta Danorum but reborn again and again through the ages as characters ranging from Shakespeare’s Hamlet to Disney’s Simba, the eponymous Lion King. 

Amleth is not the hook that drew me into this story, though. The archetype I’m here for is his father, King Aurvandill, also known as Ørvendil or, in Anglo Saxon, as Ēarendel, a name that will immediately grab the attention of any Tolkien fan. 

Almost none of this has any bearing on The Northman as a film. I bring it up merely to point out that there’s something resonant and archetypal about this story. There’s a reason it keeps getting told and retold, that its central characters inspire entirely different legendaria, that we’re drawn to it like flame, despite knowing that flame burns. 

And perhaps the best thing I can say about this stupefying work of cinema is that Eggers seems to get that. In crafting his own version of this well-trod tale of revenge—while attempting to return to Saxo as much as possible without erasing the impact and importance of future adaptations such as Shakespeare’s—the director/co-writer seems to understand that to truly convey why the impulses and emotions central to this story are so destructive, we must explore why they’re so seductive. 

It’s a neat trick to be able to pull that off without venturing too close to glorifying bloodshed at one extreme or moralizing from a modern perspective on the other, but Eggers and co-writer Sigurjón Birgir Sigurðsson (aka Sjón, aka Johnny Triumph of The Sugarcubes) have found a nice middle ground here largely by taking a show-don’t-tell approach to the storytelling. 

What they’re showing, though, is so utterly and delightfully weird that I can’t begin to imagine what the pitch meetings with the studio heads at Regency Enterprises must have been like. In one sense, you can’t help but get the impression The Northman is Eggers’ way of countering a lot of the ahistorical nonsense of The History Channel’s popular TV series Vikings. You can see onscreen the obsession with historically accurate (or at least not laughably inaccurate) attire, architecture, even hairstyles. Few meaningful liberties are taken with the material world in which the film is set.

On the other hand, not all of the film takes place in the realm of the material, or at least it seems not to. There’s an acknowledgement that so much of this story is based on legend, not real historical figures, and there also seems to be a concerted effort to incorporate the spiritual beliefs of the peoples portrayed as accurately and evocatively as possible. Passages of the film straddle the line between acid trip and fever dream, and it’s not always clear whether the fantastical elements are intended to be viewed as the dreams and visions of the characters or the actual reality of the story being told. Sometimes the distinction is evident, but not always. 

Perhaps what makes it difficult to tell at times whether we’re seeing the world as it supposedly is or purely as the characters imagine it is because The Northman is simultaneously one of the most theatrical films I’ve seen in ages and also one of the most cinematic. Those competing aesthetics create a sense of tension that permeates the work throughout. 

Sometimes the Dolby Atmos soundtrack comes off like something I would have heard while working at my local Shakespeare Festival, and others times it almost seems to be trying to recreate reality. At other times still, it goes places only a modern movie sound mix can go. In many instances, the UHD HDR10 transfer—taken from a 4K intermediate, itself taken from a Super 35 negative framed at 2:1—looks like a work of cinema from the 1980s, with backdrops that appear to be matte paintings and nocturnal exteriors that appear to have been shot day-for-night despite the fact that they weren’t. At other times, the cinematography by Jarin Blaschke looks as naturalistic and un-stylized as possible for a film shot on Kodak stock.

What I’m trying to convey is that The Northman isn’t a sort of straightforward blockbuster-looking movie. It’s a bit weird and organic and grungy and filmic. Blacks aren’t always rock-solid black, and often (though far from always) the finest of details are obscured by filters and fog and smoke and fine film grain. But it’s all so beautiful to behold, even if it’s not quite what most videophiles would consider home-cinema demo material. There’s so much texture to the image that it brings the environments and the people that inhabit them to life wonderfully. HDR doesn’t do much here except enhance shadow detail, but that hardly matters since the UHD resolution unlocks nuances in the imagery I have to imagine would be lost in HD.

And you could say much the same about the Atmos mix. It’s not interested in keeping the knob dialed to 11 on every speaker in your room. It’s ostentatious when it needs to be, and quiet when it needs to be. It may not be the title you cue up to show off your sound system, but it’s one that requires a well-engineered system to appreciate, given how dynamic it is. Just for kicks, I decided to watch some of the film through my TV’s built-in speakers and found it to be incomprehensible. 

As for the much-ballyhooed bloodshed—it may just be that this aspect of the film was all anyone wanted to discuss when it first debuted in cinemas, but I found the violence to be far less gruesome than it could have been, much less so than expected, at any rate. Only two or three shots could be legitimately accused of being gratuitous, and I think I would be on the defensive side of that debate. 

More often than not, the worst violence or gore happens just offscreen, or just a few fractions of a second after the scene cuts away. The carnage is more implicit than explicit—which is not to say that it isn’t felt. It surely is. But it never ventures into the exploitative territory of something like, say, the original RoboCop or the more recent Bone Tomahawk. 

If my thoughts here seem a bit scattershot, that’s a fair criticism. I’m still trying to sort out exactly what I think and feel about The Northman, although I’m aching to watch it again—not necessarily for the story, since it’s one we all know by heart, but rather the cinematography, the symbolism, the performances, the set design, the costumes, the score, the sound mix . . .  the sheer experience of it all. 

It’s a bummer the Kaleidescape release lacks so many of the bonus goodies found on the UHD Blu-ray—including an audio commentary, roughly 40 minutes’ worth of featurettes exploring the historical context of the film and its shooting locations, and deleted scenes—but such is the case for Universal releases on Kaleidescape. In the online domain, these supplements seem to be Apple exclusives.

Even without the bonus goodies, though, The Northman is a must-own if you think you can endure the occasional abstractions, the sometime stream-of-consciousness storytelling, and the infrequent sword to the face. I went into it thinking I knew what kind of film it would be and uncertain of whether I would like it. I came out the other side ever-so-slightly obsessed with this deliciously strange slice of cinema. 

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 |  HDR doesn’t do much here except enhance shadow detail but that hardly matters, since the UHD resolution unlocks nuances in the imagery that would be lost in HD

SOUND | This may not be the title you cue up to show off your sound system but the Atmos mix does require a well-engineered system to appreciate, given how dynamic it is

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Review: A Woman Is a Woman

Probably Godard’s most accessible film, this remains a charming dissection of the American musical—and an indispensable record of Paris in the early 1960s

by Michael Gaughn
June 4, 2022

Watching a Godard film is a lot like taking an exam in 20th-century philosophy administered by a brilliant but sadistic college professor. No matter how certain you are of your answers, he will always find some fiendishly abstruse and cryptic way to prove you wrong, relishing making you feel like a dope in the process. Godard is the film snob’s equivalent of a secret handshake, the thing the cognoscenti deploy to mock and spit on the peasantry.

And it doesn’t help that his work became more and more harsh and inscrutable as the ‘60s went on, until he reached his Vertov Group period, doing highly politicized, abstract films in collaboration with Jean-Pierre Gorin that are for the most part both wearisome and gratingly coy. 

But there is still that initial period of the early ‘60s where, yes, he was aggressively and blatantly reinventing cinema, but he was doing it playfully, with abundant energy and wit, not yet embarrassed by his obviously sincere romanticism. Films like Bande à part, Contempt (Le Mépris), Alphaville, and Pierrot le Fou remain fresh and unmatched and, from beginning to end, exhilarating. Maybe the most accessible of that early batch is Godard’s riff on the Hollywood musical, as a way of riffing on the whole artifice of movies, A Woman Is a Woman (Une femme est une femme). 

You don’t need to get film-school analytical to explain the joys of this movie. It’s easier to just tick them off: Anna Karina, who the camera (and clearly Godard) loves and who devours the camera in turn; Raoul Coutard’s véritê shooting style, in subtle but evocative Eastmancolor, which keenly documents early ‘60s Paris without turning it into a series of postcards; the gags, which are admittedly quirky and smartass but still startlingly funny; and that constant playing with and questioning of film technique, which somehow hasn’t dated a day and energizes the movie in a way that can never be done by coloring within the genre lines.

Godard was always a radical, but he was a radical who knew he had a large international audience, especially in America, and while his affection for American culture soured as the ‘60s went on, and while his skepticism is apparent throughout A Woman Is a Woman, he also knew Hollywood was the lingua franca of moviemaking at the mid century, and you can sense he’s almost in awe of what it was able to churn out. 

This is probably best on display in the long scene where Karina and Jean-Paul Belmondo sit at a table in a small cafe while she struggles with whether to sleep with him to spite her live-in boyfriend. It’s all very New Wave-y with a lot of oblique comments and a lot of jump cuts. But then Karina asks Belmondo to play a Charles Aznavour record on the jukebox, and the movie basically just stops for three and a half minutes while the tune plays out. Yes, that was revolutionary for the time, and is still radical because, unlike the theme-park experience of most contemporary movies, which essentially straps you in for the duration then guides every millisecond of the ride, inducing carefully graduated jolts along the way, Godard wants you to use that caesura to inject your own thoughts and feelings into the film, to essentially collaborate with him—which is why A Woman Is a Woman can never be the same for any two people who come across it, or for any one person viewing it more than once. 

But that moment, by leaning on pop music, is also very Hollywood, is Godard knowing that, if he was going to unravel the fabric of the typical movie-watching experience that drastically, he needed to toss a sop to make it palatable. Sadly, his subversive impulse here would, like everything, be ultimately coopted and corrupted by mainstream filmmaking, leading to the now pervasive use of pop songs as a crutch to cover up the filmmakers’ basic lack of creativity (and feeling).

But you don’t have to watch A Woman Is a Woman at anything approaching that level to enjoy it. Even skimming its surface brings pleasures you won’t find elsewhere. Coutard’s cinematography is groundbreaking, justly famous, and remains sublime. There are salient examples everywhere but a couple of the most striking (both night shots) are Karina and Jean-Claude Brialy standing in front of a shop window with “Lancome” in white neon behind them and Brialy stepping out onto the apartment balcony with the boulevard lights floating off into the distance. The former is very much like what Russell Metty was doing in Douglas Sirk films like All That Heaven Allows, but shot simply, on location, without soundstages or lighting grids, and with a documentary-size crew. 

And while Amazon Prime’s presentation isn’t the last word—you long for a 4K release while praying nobody will be dumb enough to attempt what currently passes for a restoration—it’s so true to the elegant grit of the original film that very little is lost by watching it this way. The colors are rich but never over pumped, and the subtlety of the gradations—essential to presenting this film—is for the most part maintained. It’s legitimate to hope something better will some day come along, but it will need to be significantly better than what’s offered here to mean anything at all.

The audio isn’t pristine, but it wasn’t at the time, and the patina of the era—reflected in the heavy reverberation in a lot of the music cues—is essential to the film’s impact. Putting the score on an equal footing with the dialogue and then bringing cues in and out like he was arbitrarily flicking an on/off switch was a big part of what Godard was after, using the lulling reassurance we usually take from wall-to-wall film music to yank us out of our complacency—kind of like taking a toy from a baby to ultimately return it in the end. So, while the score isn’t very well mixed by contemporary standards, it’s actually a stunning mix if you’re focusing on the needs of the film, which is as it should be.

There’s only one real irritant here: The size, thickness, and black border around the subtitles, which are all out of scale and a constant distraction. Retaining the original crappy-looking titles baked into the print would have been a huge improvement all the way around. 

There is really only a handful of movies that qualify as true classics, a number small enough to rest comfortably in the palm of your hand; films that transcend the zeitgeist, fleeting emotional attachments, and the aura created by relentless marketing and that tap into far deeper and more sustaining currents than the vast majority of fare. This is one of them. But given the aversion, which still persists, to foreign films—or at least to the ones that don’t try to ape American films—it’s necessary to make the case a little more forcefully here than you have to for the Hollywood standards. So let’s try this: You can’t say you know and love movies if you haven’t at least tried Godard. And possibly the best place to begin that journey is the current release of A Woman Is a Woman.  

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

PICTURE | Amazon Prime’s 1080p presentation isn’t the last word but it’s so true to the elegant grit of the original film that very little is lost by watching it this way

SOUND | The audio isn’t pristine but does a serviceable job of maintaining the patina of the era, which is essential to the film’s impact

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Review: The Lady from Shanghai

The Lady from Shanghai (1947)

review | The Lady from Shanghai

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Probably Orson Welles’ most eccentric—and biting—film, Shanghai features two for-the-ages supporting performances

by Michael Gaughn
June 1, 2022

Why review an older film like The Lady from Shanghai if it’s not a restoration or appearing in 4K for the first time? Partly because certain older films are far more vibrant and relevant than others and it’s worth it to pluck the gems from the pile. Partly to underline for anyone who’s gotten burned by checking out catalog titles online that the consistency of the quality of their presentation has improved tremendously of late. And partly because, in a culture obsessed with living in a perpetual present and with erasing history on its way to erasing memory, it’s important to push back by emphasizing the value of the past.

Citizen Kane kind of sells itself. It hasn’t yet been pulled down from its pedestal—and hopefully never will be—so you don’t really need to say a lot about the film itself when reviewing something like the 4K release. But what about the other Welles, the stuff he tried to make within the studio system but that was inevitably extensively retooled on its way to release, the films you have to work at a little to appreciate because you have to peer around all the obstructions erected by the studio if you want to catch glimpses of the film Welles originally made?

The Lady from Shanghai wasn’t just reshot and recut by Columbia, it was savagely beaten into submission. But enough of Welles’ effort survives in the theatrical release, even though broken and bruised, to make watching it a satisfying experience. In fact, the tension between what he created and what the studio did to it actually played into his hands, making the film even edgier, even more collage- and dreamlike.

Shanghai comes from the period when Welles had exhausted almost all his credit in Hollywood and was on the verge of becoming a caricature, ensconced so deep inside his arrogance that he was all but blind to when he just looked silly.  That too much of his smugness shows through to make him believable as a wide-eyed innocent in no way diminishes the value of this film. He offers up so much else to be savored that it’s more than worth it to look beyond his perpetual gloat.

Shanghai is usually labelled a film noir, and I guess that pertains, as far as it goes—but it doesn’t go far enough to define what it really is, which is a dense cluster of character studies of a depth and incisiveness—and of the kind of people—Hollywood hardly ever allows. And the irony of that is that this movie isn’t really that much about the romantic leads, Welles and Rita Hayworth, but about the two law partners, Grisbee and Bannister. You can watch it for the stylistic stuff, but you’ll be missing the real meat if you don’t surrender utterly to what Everett Sloane and Glenn Anders put forth. 

Sloane delivers one of the best performances ever captured on film—the kind of thing he might have been able to do in Kane if he wasn’t relegated to playing a thinly-drawn ethnic stereotype and if he and Joseph Cotten weren’t in constant danger of Welles eating them alive. You’re led to believe early on that his character is the villain, and he is, in a way, but who’s the villain, and the definition of villainy, is so slippery in this film that you’re left more with the impression of a brilliant but broken man whose physical paralysis has come to cripple his entire being. 

As for Glenn Anders—there’s something miraculous about what he pulled off here. His performance is famously eccentric, but gloriously so, and fully, and impishly, fledged. It shouldn’t work, but it does, partly because Anders and Welles make his madness insidious. While Sloane’s crafty attorney is to some degree descended from Victorian mustache twirling, Anders is something new, the craziness of a heedless society embodied, that craziness then spreading out and permeating the rest of the film. (It’s hard not to watch Anders now and not see anticipations of Jack Nicholson’s Jack Torrance in The Shining.)

Partly because of all the reshoots, and partly because of the state of the film, the look of Shanghai is all over the place, but the moments that are solid—especially the camera lingering over Hayworth on the Circe, the probing closeups of Sloane, and the jarring closeups of a sweating, twitching Anders—look strikingly good in 1080p on Prime. Unless somebody does a digital makeover and turn this into a kind of 4K comic book à la The Godfather—which isn’t likely—Shanghai will always look this uneven. But if you see this movie as off-kilter to its core, as you should, then that’s OK.

(A quick update on the whole “films looking good on Prime” thing: I’ve been spotchecking titles, pretty much at random, and you can’t take this as gospel, but I would say the odds are about 3:1 of a film looking pretty damn good if you dive into the catalog offerings. There’s a lot of room for improvement, of course, but Prime is becoming a boon for anyone who cares about the entire breadth and depth of film and not just the fleeting shiny objects of the moment.)

As usual, there’s not much to be said about the sound. It probably wasn’t that good to begin with, and this presentation is probably faithful to whatever there was to work with. Wish they’d balanced out the disparity between the dialogue and the music cues, and between some of the scenes, but that’s not a dealbreaker. 

Every time I want to dismiss Orson Welles as more than a bit of an overweening jerk—which he was—I find myself getting pulled deep into something like Lady from Shanghai or Touch of Evil, works so sublime and subversive and of their own world they almost forgive all his many sins. Almost.

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

PICTURE | The look of Shanghai is all over the place, but the moments that are solid—especially the closeups—look strikingly good in 1080p on Prime

SOUND | The sound probably wasn’t that good to begin with, and this presentation is probably faithful to whatever there was to work with

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