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Dennis Burger

Review: The Tender Bar

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The Tender Bar (2021)

review | The Tender Bar

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George Clooney helmed this diverting little tale that seems to have slipped under almost everyone’s radar

by Dennis Burger
January 20, 2022

The Tender Bar is not an easy film to frame. It is the latest example of one of two trends—the shift in distribution for non-blockbuster films from cinemas to streaming or the dumping of films intended for theatrical distribution onto online platforms as a consequence of the pandemic—but I’m not sure which. Not that it really matters. This most recent directorial effort by George Clooney, based on the 2005 memoir of the same name by J. R. Moehringer, has been so poorly promoted by Amazon Prime (its home either by intent or circumstance) that most viewers will likely never know it exists at all. 

In any other era of filmmaking, that would be fine. But given how dry the wells of content are running at the moment, it might be worth your time to go hunting for this one. At the very least, there are plenty of worse ways you could spend 106 minutes of your life, and that’s simultaneously the kindest and most damning thing I can say about the film itself. 

The main thing that keeps The Tender Bar from being much more than a pleasant diversion is that it just sort of meanders through a decade or so in the life of its lead character, played by Daniel Ranieri as a child and Tye Sheridan as a young adult. Young JR deals with daddy issues, goes to college, falls in love, gets his heart broken, gets a job, loses said job, and spends a lot of time hanging out with his uncle in a bar, but none of it really means much of anything. And as a result, the film isn’t really about anything.

I haven’t read the book, so I can’t speak to how faithful the adaptation is. But just based on what I’m seeing on the screen, it feels to me like screenwriter William Monahan felt compelled to adapt as many of the novel’s plot beats as possible but didn’t give much thought to how they’re connected, nor that time passes differently in film than it does in print. More importantly,  he didn’t stop to consider that film needs to be thematically more concise. And I say that because there are quite a few themes hinted at in the finished film but none of them gets enough screen time to really resonate. 

On the upside, The Tender Bar is very competently shot and directed. Its compositions are  pleasant, though never very interesting. Its editing is very workmanlike, and as such most of its structural problems seem inherent in the script. And its soundtrack is purely predictable 1970s nostalgia fuel, with none of the idiosyncratic panache you get from a James Gunn or Quinten Tarantino film, but none of the completely dropped balls you get when the music supervisor just has no familiarity with the era in which they’re working. 

And much the same could be said about the film’s audiovisual presentation. Right off the bat, it wants you to think it was shot on film, but telltale clues throughout let you know it was shot on digital and put through some pretty heavy film-look processing. IMDb offers next to nothing informative about the technical specifications but I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that it was shot on a variety of Arri Alexa cameras, then processed with some reasonably convincing faux grain and color graded to push secondaries and earth tones to the forefront. 

Amazon delivers the film in UHD with HDR10, the former of which helps bring out some of the grungy details and textures of the bar the film returns to time and again, and the latter of which mostly serves to eliminate banding, although there are a few scenes in which some punctuations of brightness add depth to what would have otherwise been rather flat scenes. 

The Dolby Digital+ 5.1 soundtrack, meanwhile, seems content to deliver dialogue with excellent intelligibility while mostly using the surround channels to bring the music out into the room. It’s the sort of mix that would work just as well on a really good high-end soundbar. 

If it sounds like I’m being over hard on The Tender Bar, that’s not my intention. It’s fine, and given how little new content there is to talk about otherwise, I don’t regret watching it. Shockingly, my favorite thing about the film is Ben Affleck’s performance as Uncle Charlie, the most uncle-y uncle who ever uncled his way through a story about uncles. Affleck positively shines here, turning in the performance of his life, for whatever reason. And yeah, it’s a shame the rest of the film doesn’t rise to meet his energy—despite having an oddly compelling cast—but let’s not dwell on that. Treat The Tender Bar like a not-very-special episode of The Wonder Years (the original one, not the reboot) and you’ll probably have a perfectly agreeable time with it. 

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 UHD resolution helps bring out some of the grungy details and textures of the bar the film returns to time and again, while HDR10 mostly serves to eliminate banding. 

SOUND | The Dolby Digital+ 5.1 soundtrack is content to deliver dialogue with excellent intelligibility while mostly using the surround channels to bring the music out into the room.

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Cineluxe Basics: HDR

Cineluxe Basics: HDR

Cineluxe Basics | HDR

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Having HDR gear & content is key to having a better-than-movie-theater experience at home

by Dennis Burger
updated May 30, 2023

Odds are good you’ve come across the term “HDR” when considering a TV or looking at a movie listing or just in conversation. And, without any context, it might seem like just another ubiquitous buzz word, like “1080p” a few years ago. But not since the transition from analog to digital video in the late ‘90s/early ‘00s have we had a home video technology this legitimately transformative. HDR (or “high dynamic range”) is worth paying attention to—and seeking out—because it makes it possible, for the first time, to have an indisputably better-than-movie-theater experience in your home.

Thanks to HDR, video transfers of movies can now reproduce the range and subtlety of colors found on 35mm film, resulting in images with much more depth and dimension than ever before. So if you have a choice between an HDR and non-HDR version of the same film (or TV show or game), opt for HDR. And make sure all the gear in your home cinema is HDR-capable.

But why? Well, without diving too deeply into the technology, here’s a quick explanation of what HDR does, as well as some real-world examples of the differences it can make in your viewing experience.

What is HDR & why does it matter?

HDR displays are upwards of 10 times as bright as our old HDTVs, and HDR movies are mastered with peak brightness up to 40 times brighter than a Blu-ray disc or HD stream. But the truth is that such extremes of brightness are usually sporadic and fleeting, and are almost always limited to a small section of the screen, not the entire image. Arguably a bigger advantage is that HDR provides from four times the shades of gray between pure black and pure white as well as 64 times as many unique colors as older home video standards were capable of recreating.

To put that in context, remember the old 64-pack of crayons that made you the envy of all the school kids whose parents would only buy them the basic 16-pack? Imagine instead if you’d had 1,024 crayons in your school satchel instead. (If you want to get technical—and more accurate—HD video was limited to ~16.8 million colors, whereas HDR unlocks a palette of nearly 1.1 billion different shades. But numbers that large are almost impossible to wrap your brain around.)

That may seem excessive, especially if you think of the sky as one color, blue. But in fact, there’s near-infinite variation in the shades of blue as you look straight up and then let your eyes drift toward the horizon. With older home video standards—even Blu-ray—you could only have 256 possible shades of blue; with HDR, you have 1,024, which means you’re far less likely to see the stripy transitions between one subtle shade and its neighbor—a video artifact known as “banding.”

Having more steps between the darker and lighter parts of the image also means HDR has a lot more breathing room in the shadows, so details and textures don’t get lost. That makes nighttime scenes and darker interiors much easier on the eyes, since the folks fiddling with the knobs in the mastering suite don’t have to make the hard choice between overly brightening a scene or having key elements of the image lost in a puddle of inky black. 

See the difference for yourself

It’s one thing to talk hypotheticals, it’s another to actually see the difference between a film released in SDR (standard dynamic range, the term retroactively applied to all video formats before the advent of HDR) and one in HDR. 

The Wizard of Oz
If you want to see the benefits yourself, by far my favorite HDR demo is The Wizard of Oz. Unlike older home video releases, which cranked the saturation of literally every color on the screen just to ensure that the Wicked Witch’s green skin and Dorothy’s ruby slippers reached proper intensity, the expanded color palette of HDR allows those elements to pop while also leaving enough crayons in the box to render the subtle pastels of the Lullaby League. It wasn’t until I saw Oz projected in 35mm that I first realized how much nuance there is in its palette. HDR recreates that in a way older home video technologies never could.

Avengers: Endgame
Another great example—and one that’s a good bit more modern—is the final battle in Avengers: Endgame, where Doctor Strange opens up teleportation portals in the midst of a climactic throwdown with cosmic baddie Thanos so his reign of terror can finally be put to an end. Here, the impact of HDR is almost as much emotional as it is aesthetic. In HD (indeed, even in 4K without the benefit of HDR), it’s a moving and emotional battle sequence. But once you add HDR10 or Dolby Vision to the equation (those being the two main flavors of HDR), you start to feel less like a passive viewer and more like a part of the scene. The blinding edges of Strange’s teleportation portals don’t merely light up the screen, they light up your room. The last rays of sunlight flirting with the horizon don’t merely highlight the actors, they constrict your pupils. HDR literally triggers a physiological reaction that makes this epic battle feel . . .  well, perhaps “real” is the wrong word, but certainly more believable.

Batman Returns
A 4K HDR release that surpasses even the best commercial cinema experience is Tim Burton’s Batman Returns. It’s important to remember that in the era of 35mm projection, the film you were watching was at least a second-generation copy of the original negative. Better HDR masters are scanned straight from the negative. So, in the case of the second Michael Keaton Batman flick, you can see shadow detail and depth in the models and matte paintings representing the streets and sewers of Gotham City that I know for a fact weren’t evident in the film’s original big-screen release.

If you want to do more exploring on your own, a great place to start is our Cineluxe list of 4K HDR Essentials, in which we’ve handpicked a dozen home video releases that highlight the very best of what HDR is capable of. 

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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the image above shows distinct banding in the blue sky

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Review: Scott Pilgrim vs. the World

Scott Pilgrim vs. the World (2010)

review | Scott Pilgrim vs. the World

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Scott Pilgrim fans will rejoice at both the new remaster and new Atmos mix

by Dennis Burger
July 22, 2021

This review was supposed to be done weeks ago. Scott Pilgrim vs. the World was technically released to UHD Blu-ray on July 6, 2021. The day it was supposed to arrive, though, Amazon informed me they didn’t have an estimated ship date. So I went to Best Buy—no Scott Pilgrim. I hit Walmart—no Scott Pilgrim. I scoured every online source for shiny silver discs and no one could get me a copy in physical form in anything approaching a predictable timeframe. Thankfully, the disc finally arrived from Amazon this past weekend.

If I hadn’t already decided this would be my last disc purchase, this whole experience would have pushed me hard in that direction. The reality is, discs are a niche product at this point. There’s only one replication facility left in North America that can produce UHD Blu-rays, as far as I know, and when they get backed up, or when there’s more demand than expected for a title like Scott Pilgrim, getting your hands on a copy becomes a frustrating affair. 

But you’re not here to read a treatise about the current state of a dying format. You’re here to read about Scott Pilgrim vs. the World and whether the new Dolby Vision remaster was worth the wait. And indeed it was—but not quite in the ways I expected. 

I’ve always just assumed that this, one of my favorite movies, was shot digitally. But about ten seconds into watching the new remaster, I jotted a quick note on my notepad: “This looks like 35mm!” Indeed, the movie was shot on photochemical film and as good as the old Blu-ray was, it just wasn’t revealing enough to deliver the nuance of fine film grain. 

There’s just no denying it in 4K. And mind you, this is a remaster, not a full-on restoration. The original 35mm camera negatives weren’t rescanned. This is an upsample of the old 2K digital intermediate. But it still represents enough of a boost in resolution and fine detail that the film’s analog origins are there to be seen, clearly and unambiguously.

And as subtle a difference as that is, it’s enough to change the entire vibe of Scott Pilgrim for me. It’s a weird movie, if you’ve never seen it—it’s another one of those films that is simultaneously a thing and a critique of that thing. It’s a pop-culture-reference-packed comic book movie that playfully mocks all of the shortcomings of pop-culture-reference-packed comic book movies. It’s a sendup of everything ridiculous about video games, made by and about people who completely adore video games. It’s a takedown of hipsters despite being hipsterish as heck. It sort of takes the piss out of vegans and feminists and the LGBT community but with complete and utter love and respect for anyone who falls under any of those umbrellas. It walks the fine line of laughing with rather than laughing at. 

But perhaps the biggest seeming contradiction at the heart of the film is that it’s a grungy garage-band rock-and-roll picture (with, by the way, the single best original motion-picture soundtrack since Almost Famous, thanks to the songwriting talents of Beck and the vocal and musical talents of the actors, all of whom performed the music seen in the film themselves), but it’s also a super-slick special-effects extravaganza. 

And again, that element has always worked on Blu-ray, but it works so much better in Dolby Vision, since you can see the grit and organic chaos of film stock under the computer graphics and other special effects. It’s not simply that Dolby Vision makes Scott Pilgrim look better—it legitimately allows it to work better as a piece of art, as a story about the weirdness of nostalgia, as a big old bag of very intentional contradictions. 

There are still one or two brief moments where you can see the consequences of the 2K digital intermediate—a bit of lost resolution here and there in the backgrounds or in quickly panning shots. But they’re so fleeting I’m not sure it would be worth the effort to do a ground-up restoration. 

One thing I want to be very clear about is that the Dolby Vision color grade and dynamic-range expansion are very rarely in your face. By and large, the chromatic character of the imagery remains the same. There are a few splashes of color that ring through with more vibrancy and purity. There are also some nice specular highlights on display from time to time. But the new color grade really keeps those splashes of color and brightness in its back pocket and only pulls them out for punctuation. The biggest difference in terms of dynamic range is that blacks are blacker, shadows are better resolved, and the overall image has a more natural dimensionality and depth. 

The new Dolby Atmos remix, on the other hand, rarely shows similar restraint. It’s big, bold, loud, and an outright violation of your subwoofers’ rights. Normally, I would hate this kind of mix, but for such a ridiculous spectacle as this movie is, it just works. I wouldn’t change a single thing about it.

Of course, none of this will make a lick of difference if you’re not a fan of Scott Pilgrim vs. the World. And if you’ve never seen it, all I can say is that a quick watch of the trailer will tell you whether you’ll love it or loathe it. (I’ve never met anyone who thought it was “just OK.”) 

But if you’re already a card-carrying member of the Scott Pilgrim fan club, this new Dolby Vision release is an essential upgrade. Just maybe skip the hassle of trying to get it on UHD Blu-ray. I spot-checked the disc against the Vudu and iTunes streams and there’s virtually no meaningful difference between them in terms of picture quality. Level-match the soundtracks and there’s no real difference in audio fidelity, either.

So, yes, grab this new Dolby Vision remaster at your earliest convenience. But if you don’t have a Kaleidescape, just go ahead and buy it via MoviesAnywhere. I’m glad I have the disc on my shelf, since I know it’ll be there when my internet service is out and I need my Scott Pilgrim fix right this very now. But if I had to do it over again, I would have just bought the digital copy and saved myself a massive headache. 

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 new color grade really keeps splashes of color & brightness in its back pocket and only pulls them out for punctuation. As for the increased dynamic range, blacks are blacker, shadows are better resolved, and the overall image has a more natural dimensionality and depth. 

SOUND | The new Dolby Atmos remix rarely shows restraint. It’s big, bold, loud, and an outright violation of your subwoofers’ rights.

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Review: Big Fish

Big Fish (2003)

review | Big Fish

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4K HDR restores the impact of 35mm film to what might turn out to have been Tim Burton’s last great movie

by Dennis Burger
January 6, 2022

More than almost any other film, it’s nearly impossible for me to be objective about Tim Burton’s Big Fish. For one thing, I almost had a bit part in it but that fell through. For another, it was filmed—almost literally—in my back yard. My niece attends the private college that stood in for Auburn University in the picture. My wife and I often take long walks through the dilapidated sets of the Town of Spectre, which is on an island just north of town and serves these days as a goat sanctuary. 

But all that takes a backseat to my feelings about Tim Burton’s body of work and Big Fish‘s place in it. As a huge fan of his earlier films, I found this one to be a welcome return to form after the disappointing Sleepy Hollow and Planet of the Apes. It really felt like a potential turning point for Burton. I saw Big Fish as a new beginning, the first step on a journey that had a more genuine human element, without so much of the affected weirdness Burton became known for after he stopped being a legitimately weird outcast and transformed into a popular Hollywood darling. Instead, it ended up being his second-to-last legitimately good film and his final worthwhile live-action work. So it’s hard for me to watch Big Fish and not get distracted by thoughts of what could have been.

But you don’t care about any of that, do you? Nor should you. Chances are good that if you’re reading a review of a nearly two-decade-old film, you already know exactly what you think about it. You just want to know what it looks like in 4K and how well the new Dolby Atmos mix works with or against the material.

Long story short: Both are astonishing. Big Fish has never been a film that worked well on home video, as the tired old Blu-ray master was overly soft with a weirdly unbalanced and idiosyncratic color palette that did the cinematography no favors.

By contrast, the new UHD/HDR presentation is revelatory. Don’t get me wrong—this is still a somewhat soft and gauzy image. There isn’t a razor-sharp edge to be found within its 125-minute runtime, even in closeups. But the increased resolution of UHD and—one assumes—the new scan of the negative unlock textures in the faces, fabrics, and environment that the old Blu-ray never even hinted at. There’s also a delicious bed of organic film grain Sony thankfully saw fit to leave alone, so you’ll see none of the digital noise reduction and subsequent edge enhancement that so often plagues films with similar aesthetics. 

What you end up with is what was on the photochemical film—nothing more, nothing less. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. In addition to the rich textures and the palpability they lend to the film, the new HDR grade also unlocks subtlety in the color palette I had long since forgotten existed. Skin tones are consistent throughout, and the larger gamut gives the image room to be muted when it needs to be and intensely saturated when appropriate. Kaleidescape’s HDR10 presentation is also abundant with lovely shadow detail, and although you won’t spot many if any eye-reactive extremes of brightness (although the nighttime sequences in Spectre make for a dazzling display of shadow and light), there’s enough bandwidth in the value scale to give the image a wonderful sense of depth and dimension. It deserves to be seen on the best screen you have access to. 

In terms of the audio, I didn’t notice at first that Kaleidescape’s download comes with a new Dolby TrueHD Atmos mix. Don’t take that to mean there’s nothing going on in the overhead channels. There is. But the mix is so well-balanced and thoughtful that the overhead effects don’t draw your attention away from the screen. For the most part, they serve as connective fabric between the all-important front soundstage and the surrounds, making the entire mix more cohesive and far more immersive. Dialogue intelligibility is fantastic, and there’s a wonderful richness and warmth that works to the benefit of Danny Elfman’s score.

I’m going to go out on a limb and guess this was somewhere in the neighborhood of my 30th viewing of Big Fish at home. But this was the first time I was able to set aside all of the intrusive thoughts I mentioned above and just soak in the film on its own terms. That’s how good this UHD HDR presentation is. It is, at the risk of sounding hyperbolic, like looking at projected 35mm. 

And as the credits rolled, I did get hit with that unshakable bittersweetness that arises from this being one of my favorite Burton films but also his last good one. But for just over two hours, I was able to put all that down and get lost in this magical but all-too-human movie, with its spectacular environments, ridiculous scenarios, and tender sincerity. The long and short of it is, this new UHD release captures Big Fish‘s essential cinematic nature in a way no previous home video format could come close to replicating.

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 | This UHD/HDR presentation is revelatory, with the increased resolution unlocking textures in the faces, fabrics, and environment that the old Blu-ray never even hinted at.

SOUND | The Atmos mix is so well-balanced and thoughtful that the overhead effects don’t draw your attention away from the screen but instead serve as connective fabric between the front soundstage and the surrounds.

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Review: C’mon C’mon

C'mon C'mon (2021)

review | C’mon C’mon

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This Joaquin Phoenix road picture transcends the genre thanks to a standout performance from Phoenix’ nine-year-old costar

by Dennis Burger
January 4, 2022

Any film that attempts to bite off as much as Mike Mills has done with C’mon C’mon invariably ends up choking on its own aspirations. By that I mean most films that attempt to be this thematically rich and that try to juggle so much meaning eventually drop a ball or two. The thing is, I suspect Mills would tell you C’mon C’mon is incredibly simple and straightforward, and perhaps he’s right. Perhaps its density is an emergent property of its characters and the positions in which he’s placed them. But for whatever reason I can’t stop thinking about this film and marveling that it never falls apart. 

Narratively, I suppose you’d have to describe it as a road picture. The plot involves Johnny (Joaquin Phoenix), a public-radio audio journalist who has to take a break from an assignment to babysit his nephew, Jesse, whom he barely knows. Jesse’s mom Viv (Gaby Hoffmann) has been called out of state to tend to her estranged husband as he struggles with a mental breakdown. When there’s a holdup on that front and Johnny has no choice but to hit the road again, he brings this odd little nine year old with him, first from L.A. to New York, then to New Orleans. 

Like most good road pictures, the cities themselves serve as characters, but it’s really the relationship between Johnny and Jesse that propels the story, and the bulk of the scenes are set in bathtubs and beds, as well as through cross-country phone calls and text messages. I know none of that sounds very exciting but it’s an incredibly gripping film from start to finish, largely due to pitch-perfect performances by Phoenix and wunderkind Woody Norman, who plays Jesse so effortlessly you almost have to suspect Mills patted him on the back and said, “Go be a kid.” 

But little clues throughout suggest that, aside from a bunch of performances from non-actors that serve as Johnny’s interviewees, this may well be Mills’ most tightly scripted film. Despite that, the sort of impossibly clever dialogue that has dominated his work is nowhere to be found here. Instead, he seems to work through his penchant for having his characters speak in literary prose by having them read books—to one another and to themselves. With that out of his system, the rest of the dialogue sounds like it flows straight out of the brains of his characters in the moment.  

And that’s a consequence of honesty. This isn’t merely Mills’ most genuine film, it’s also one of the most unapologetically frank films I’ve seen in ages and undoubtedly one of the most cinematic (by which I mean I can’t conceive of way this story could have been told in any other medium). 

The script cuts straight to the heart of the weirdness that arises from children and adults interacting, especially when those adults are holding onto baggage from their own childhoods. It’s about adults struggling to understand the emotions of children who don’t yet have the vocabulary to express their feelings, juxtaposed with those children’s lack of inhibitions and their ability to articulate things adults can’t—or won’t. You could say the entire film is about juxtapositions. But if I start rattling off further examples, we’ll be here all day. 

So I’ll just say this: One of the ways Mills explores the importance of honesty is by juxtaposing that truthfulness with artifice—indeed, deceit. And that extends all the way to the look and sound of the film. C’mon C’mon was shot monochromatically—I would call it black & white but there’s a hint of warmth to the imagery that isn’t quite prominent enough to qualify as “sepia toned”—and at first there seems to be no good reason for that. Whether it was a conscious or subconscious decision, though, I think Mills is using the monochromatic palette to reminds us that screens aren’t reality, that even something that seems as genuine as this film is a meticulously crafted construct.

There’s also some auditory evidence I’m on the right track here. For much of the first act, I wondered why the audio was mixed in Dolby Atmos, given that it was largely a monophonic-verging-on-stereo experience to that point, aside from a few musical cues. There’s a scene early on, though, in which Johnny—desperately trying to make any meaningful connection with Jesse that he can—gives the boy his microphone and recording equipment and takes him to Santa Monica for a fun day out. And it’s during this scene—in which we experience the world as Jesse hears it, through his microphone and headphones, then filtered through the magic of sound mixing and out our home cinema speakers—where the mix explodes in every dimension. It’s simply a marvelous sensory experience but it’s done in a way to remind you that, Hey, what Jesse is experiencing—intoxicating though it may be—is one level removed from reality. And what you, dear viewer, are experiencing is at least a few levels further removed. 

And so it goes for the rest of the film, which is served beautifully by Kaleidescape’s PVOD download. The HDR10 transfer gives the imagery room to breathe, especially at the lower end of the value scale, and it delivers this captivating study in light and shadow flawlessly, with no banding, moiré, or misplaced or softened textures. It isn’t a razor-sharp film but it doesn’t need to be to have effect. Kaleidescape also delivers the Dolby TrueHD Atmos soundtrack unimpeachably, and while it may not be the most dynamic or consistently hard-hitting of mixes, it’s still one you want to experience through a good center channel. On rare occasions, the mix gets so dense I expected dialogue intelligibility to be a problem, though it never is. 

I could say more. Hell, I could write a book about this film and feel like I’d only scratched the surface. But C’mon C’mon is so packed with universal truths—and subtle, seemingly intentional deceptions—that I worry any more said on my part would color your own interpretations of the material. All I can do is implore you to watch it at your earliest convenience and on the best home cinema system you have access to. 

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 HDR10 transfer gives the imagery room to breathe, presenting this captivating study in light and shadow flawlessly, with no banding, moiré, or misplaced or softened textures.

SOUND | Kaleidescape delivers the Dolby Atmos soundtrack unimpeachably. It might not be the most dynamic or consistently hard-hitting of mixes but it’s still one you want to experience through a good center channel.

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Review: Ran

Ran (1985)

review | Ran

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4K brings subtle improvements to the presentation of Kurosawa’s late-period riff on King Lear

by Dennis Burger
July 29, 2021

Discussing Akira Kurosawa’s Ran publicly is a strange feeling for me, so my apologies if I seem a bit more awkward than usual here. This film has always been a private indulgence for me, a secret pleasure. When new people come into my life, I might sit them down and make them watch Amélie, or Almost Famous, or Scott Pilgrim vs. the World, or The Conformist. But never, ever Ran.

Part of that boils down to being protective of it. You tell me you don’t like 2001: A Space Odyssey or The Searchers or Tokyo Story? It’s all good. Different strokes and all that. Sit next to me in the dark and watch Ran, though, and if you come out of the experience feeling anything less than reverence, I’m probably never inviting you over for movie night ever again. 

At least, I assume that would be the case. I’ve never even shared the experience with my wife, simply out of fear that she would take custody of Bruno in the divorce.  

Part of that forced isolation while viewing Ran, though, comes down to the recognition that this isn’t an easy film to watch. It’s exhausting, though not in the ways we would normally hang that adjective on a work of cinema. It’s methodically, deliberately exhausting. That fatigue is an essential element of the film. 

It’s also, at times, a brutal film, both emotionally and physically. And although the violence is mostly cartoonish, with its cheap blood-squirting effects and its overwrought death scenes, it hits me harder in this film than almost any other. The carnage may look fake, but it feels real. 

That makes it a questionable choice for a feel-good get-together with friends. All that said, this is a film I think needs to be in the collection of any serious cinephile, for more than one reason. Firstly, it’s Akira Kurosawa’s last truly great film. (Madadayo is very good, but falls just shy of greatness). Seen from a more charitable perspective, though, it’s incredible that the auteur managed to make such a vibrant work at the age of 75. 

Kurosawa’s age definitely shows in the film, but not in its production. Ran—which, by the way, translates roughly into something like chaos, discord, turmoil, turbulence—is in many ways the filmmaker’s grandest statement on human nature. It has been described as a beautifully nihilistic work but I think that’s far too reductive. With this film, as with many of his best works, Kurosawa shines an unflinching light on human nature and the most ignoble tendencies of man. But describing the film as nihilistic assumes Kurosawa saw in us no capacity to rebel against our basest instincts, to rise above. Ran is a warning, a parable, a lesson from which to learn. He shows us humanity at its worst to inspire us to be better.

It’s also reductive to simply write Ran off as an adaptation of King Lear, as so many have done. Kurosawa didn’t recognize the parallels between the story he wanted to tell and the Bard’s famous play until late in the scripting process. Lear certainly influenced Ran in ways, some subconscious, but to pretend the latter is a direct adaption of the former—the way Throne of Blood (1957) very deliberately transposed the plot of The Scottish Play in space and time—would hang some additional baggage on the movie that it was never designed to carry. 

Chances are good, though, that if you have any interest in purchasing this new 4K HDR release, you couldn’t care less about what I think of the film. You may even think the above opinions are daft. That’s fine.

What I think we’ll agree on, though, is that this is the best-looking home video release of Ran to date. Just don’t go in expecting monumental improvements over the excellent StudioCanal Blu-ray from 2016, which was taken from the 4K restoration used for here. 

In my “4K HDR Wish List” from February, I said that I thought Ran, of all Kurosawa’s films, would “benefit most from the enhanced resolution and especially the expanded color gamut of 4K HDR. Watching the Blu-ray release, you can tell there’s ten pounds of color here crammed into an eight-pound bag.”

Well, I was wrong on both counts. There are, at best, a handful of scenes where the benefits of UHD resolution can be seen, and the colors are just as muted, just as reserved, just as measured as was seen on the Blu-ray. This new restoration was overseen and approved by cinematographer Shôji Ueda, so it’s safe to assume it’s true to the original vision for the film. But, as it turns out, 8-bit 1080p video was more than sufficient to unlock most of the detail and almost all of the colors found on the original camera negative.

There are some improvements in contrasts, which contribute to an image with more depth and nuance. Am I saying you shouldn’t upgrade to the 4K HDR version? Of course not. Why wouldn’t you want to own the best presentation of the film seen to date? Just go in knowing the improvements are incremental at best. There are also a few noticeable instances of edge-enhancement and grain that look more digital than organic but that was true of the 2016 Blu-ray as well and can’t be pinned on Kaleidescape’s otherwise unimpeachable presentation of this somewhat flawed but still much appreciated remaster. 

The only options for audio on Kaleidescape are the original Japanese in stereo or remixed DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1. I don’t care how much of a purist you are—opt for the latter. It’s a textbook example of how films of this vintage and importance should be remixed. It’s largely a three-channel affair, with surrounds mostly used to add ambience and space to the mix. But dialogue sounds fantastic and is always utterly intelligible, locked firmly as it is in the center channel. 

I do have a slight beef with the English subtitles, which can’t be turned off or modified in any form. The problem is that they’re mostly white, with but one pixel of black surrounding each letter to give it some contrast. For the bulk of the film, that’s perfectly fine. But in shots that are brightly lit, in which the lower portion of the image is mostly gray or white or very light tan, the subtitles get a bit lost in the image. 

Other than that, the only major flaw with the Kaleidescape release is that Lionsgate, which is distributing this new 4K HDR release in the U.S., seems to have once again given Apple the exclusive on bonus features. That means iTunes is your only option if you want to enjoy the incredible feature-length documentary AK, short of buying the disc. That said, the Kaleidescape 4K HDR release is surprisingly cheap—just $14.99. So if you have that option, grab it. 

But if you have the 2016 Blu-ray already and you’re not obsessed with very minor, momentary, sporadic improvements in picture quality that you’d probably only notice in a direct A/B comparison, you can probably safely stick with the disc you already 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 | This is the best-looking home video release of Ran to date, but don’t go in expecting monumental improvements over the excellent StudioCanal Blu-ray from 2016.

SOUND | The DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1 track is a textbook example of how films of this vintage and importance should be remixed.

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Review: The Book of Boba Fett

The Book of Boba Fett (2021)

review | The Book of Boba Fett

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Amazon Prime | All Watched Over by
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This new Disney+ series isn’t so much a sequel to The Mandalorian as it is an attempt to freshen up the Star Wars mythology

by Dennis Burger
December 30, 2021

Here’s what you need to know before dipping into The Book of Boba Fett, the first episode of which is now streaming on Disney+. First off, go back and watch the first two seasons of The Mandalorian if you haven’t already. Narratively, this new series by Jon Favreau follows pretty much straight on from that show and represents something of a fork in its narrative. But don’t confuse this with The Mandalorian Season 2.5. Favreau and team seem to be hellbent on keeping things from getting too stale, from falling into traps of the sort that snared fan-servicing but thematically hollow Star Wars offshoots like Rogue One. 

Favreau’s tale of an old bounty hunter stepping in and filling the void left by an old crime lord (namely, Jabba the Hutt) avoids the biggest sins of far too many stories set in the new and ever-expanding canon of Disney-era Star Wars in that it doesn’t make the Galaxy Far, Far Away feel like it could all fit within the walls of Pinewood Studios. He seems determined to make this universe feel larger, not smaller.

The first episode, directed by Robert Rodriguez, makes a lot of allusions to existing franchise mythology. But it doesn’t simply pull out Tusken Raiders, for example, and dangle them in front of you as if to say, “Hey, remember these weird donkey-braying mummy Bedouin you loved as a kid? Here’s a quick and cheap dopamine fix to buy us some goodwill for a bit.” The Book of Boba Fett borrows from the past when it needs to (from both established canon and the orphaned Legends series of books and comics) and charts a new path when it’s appropriate, striking exactly the right balance between nostalgia and novelty. 

None of this would work if Favreau didn’t fundamentally understand what makes Star Wars tick. And he proves again and again that he does indeed get it by breaking rules that seem almost sacrosanct and nonetheless getting away with it. That extends at times to even the structure of the story itself, which breaks from linear tradition and is all the better for it. If you’d informed me ahead of time that the bulk of this first episode would be told through a series of flashbacks, I would have replied, “That ain’t Star Wars!” And yet, somehow, magically, it is. 

That’s largely due to Favreau continuing to tinker with the franchise’s east-meets-west formula in interesting ways. He borrows liberally and unapologetically from so many of the classic films and TV shows that inspired the original films but he’s not mining the same veins over and over. Instead of The Man with No Name he pulls more from A Man Called Horse. Instead of Buck Rogers, he leans hard on the work of Ray Harryhausen. Instead of shogun we get . . . space ninjas?  Apparently, that’s a thing now? But again, it just works.

Even though the first episode is something of a narrative and thematic departure from The Mandalorian, there is understandably a lot of aesthetic and stylistic continuity. Like its forebear, The Book of Boba Fett is a pretty underlit show, and it seems to have been plopped into an HDR container mostly just to avoid the artifacts that still occasionally plague SDR streaming. You won’t spot many or any extremes of brightness here, although the expanded dynamic range does allow for a handful of incredibly low-lit scenes without any loss of depth or detail. And I didn’t spot a single instance of banding, moiré, or misplaced textures of the sort you can get when HEVC gets bit-starved.

The Dolby Atmos mix also follows the style of The Mandalorian, giving the environments and music room to breathe without being overbearing. Speaking of the music, Ludwig Göransson returns to deliver some themes and leitmotifs but the bulk of the score seems to have been composed and conducted by Joseph Shirley, who filled in some musical gaps in Season Two of Mando. Shirley’s work isn’t quite as funky or avant-garde as Göransson’s but it does fit the somewhat different mood of this series. 

With only one episode available out of a planned seven, it’s impossible to know if The Book of Boba Fett will live up to its potential once all is said and done. But it’s off to a heck of a good start.

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 | You won’t spot many or any extremes of brightness here although HDR does allow for a handful of incredibly low-lit scenes without any loss of depth or detail.

SOUND | The Dolby Atmos mix follows the style of The Mandalorian, giving the environments and music room to breathe without being overbearing.

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Review: Don’t Look Up

Don't Look Up (2021)

review | Don’t Look Up

This Adam McKay end-of-the-world black comedy comes up short but features standout performances from Leonardo DiCaprio and Jennifer Lawrence

by Dennis Burger
December 28, 2021

Perhaps the most intriguing thing about Adam McKay’s new apocalyptic black comedy/satire is that it legitimately cuts straight to the heart of why our political systems, news media, and culture are so dysfunctional. Maybe that shouldn’t be surprising, given that McKay did the same for our financial systems with The Big Short, but it still stupefies me when anyone in Hollywood turns in a legitimate critique of our power structures and institutions without devolving into “our team good/their team bad” rhetoric. 

As such, Don’t Look Up will probably either infuriate or disgust anyone with super strong partisan leanings because in creating a hypothetical disaster scenario—newly discovered comet is plummeting toward earth and will result in an extinction-level event in six months—and imagining how our leaders and news media and indeed we ourselves would react, McKay doesn’t lay the blame of the hilariously awful response at the feet of one political party or media outlet. Indeed, one of the film’s neatest tricks is that it frames our political maladies as a wholly bipartisan issue without resorting to both-sides whataboutism. 

Much of that has to do with the fact that the story was co-developed with David Sirota, one of the most prescient and poignant—not to mention reviled—political commentators and journalists working today. You can see Sirota’s fingerprints on a lot of the story beats, from the way President Orlean (Meryl Streep) reacts to the news of impending doom by speculating about how it will affect the midterms to the rank superficiality of the media’s response (embodied brilliantly by Cate Blanchett and Tyler Perry). 

The film is also bolstered by pitch-perfect performances from Leonardo DiCaprio and Jennifer Lawrence, the astronomers who discover the comet and attempt to warn the world. Both are so believable as real human beings that it’s sometimes easy to forget all of their previous roles. 

For everything it has going for it, though—and all of the above just scratches the surface of the genius of the script and many of the performances—Don’t Look Up is unfortunately hobbled by some major structural problems that keep it from being anywhere near as impactful as it could have been. 

Its biggest sin is egregiously overstaying its welcome at 2 hours and 18 minutes. There’s a really tight and biting 90-minute black comedy to be found somewhere within the raw materials scripted and shot for the film, and McKay simply couldn’t find it. You can feel him trying his hardest, but the editing is a mess. If you have anything resembling an editor’s bent, there’ll be times when you find yourself yelling at the screen, “Why was this scene necessary?” and other times when you can feel the absence of essential connective tissue, resulting in blatant plot holes and non sequiturs. 

For all the brilliant performances, there are also roles that feel woefully miscast. Hard as it is for me to type these words, Meryl Streep just has no clue what movie she’s in. And the ever-brilliant Mark Rylance—who plays this film’s eccentric Silicon Valley billionaire—is uncharacteristically bad, which I’m choosing to blame on McKay’s direction, not Rylance’s instincts. 

Make no mistake about it: There’s more about Don’t Look Up that works than doesn’t. Stack up a list of pluses and minuses and the former would dwarf the latter. But given that its flubs are rooted in the fundamentals of filmmaking, it can be a frustrating to watch, no matter how worthy of your time it may be.

Maybe you can take solace in the fact that it’s a beautiful film to behold, but perhaps not in the ways you might expect. Don’t Look Up was originally intended as a Paramount theatrical release but eventually ended up as a Netflix exclusive. It was shot on 35mm—with a mix of flat and anamorphic lenses—and finished in a 4K digital intermediate before, as best I can figure, being printed back out to a 35mm negative. 

As such, it has a wonderfully organic look, with plenty of light grain and that gorgeous analog halation that’s still nearly impossible to recreate in the digital domain without significant processing. The color palette is also delicious, and Netflix’ Dolby Vision presentation captures all of the above beautifully, with only a few brief instances of moiré indicating that the encode might have benefited from a handful of momentary bursts of higher bitrate of the sort you normally see on Disney+ and Apple TV+. 

The Dolby Atmos soundtrack, meanwhile, is nice and dynamic but rarely too aggressive. The most important thing is that dialogue is rendered with tip-top intelligibility, but when there’s the rare need for some more adventurous mixing, the soundtrack rises to the occasion.

I’m glad we don’t do star ratings or thumbs-up/thumbs-down assessments at Cineluxe because I would be crippled with analysis paralysis in attempting to encapsulate the merits and demerits of Don’t Look Up. It’s simultaneously one of the year’s best films and one of its worst. It’s as fascinating as it is frustrating. It tries to be Network, Dr. Strangelove, and Veep all at the same time but more often than not, those allusions simply serve to remind you it’s not quite as good as the works that inspired it.

Seriously, though, watch it for DiCaprio’s and Lawrence’s performances, if nothing else.

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 film has a wonderfully organic look, with plenty of light grain and that gorgeous analog halation that’s still nearly impossible to recreate in the digital domain without significant processing.

SOUND | The Atmos soundtrack is nice and dynamic but rarely too aggressive, with the dialogue rendered with tip-top intelligibility.

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Review: Shaun the Sheep: The Flight Before Christmas

review | Shaun the Sheep: The Flight Before Christmas

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Aardman presents a half hour of holiday-themed family-friendly sheep-fueled stop-motion slapstick

by Dennis Burger
December 21, 2021

We here at Cineluxe have a bit of a Christmas tradition, in that we do our best to curate high-quality holiday films worth watching with your family in your home cinema. But when you get right down to it, how many of us have the time to sit and watch a whole movie this time of year, what with the hustle-bustle and family gatherings? If that resonates with you, I’ve got some good news: Shaun the Sheep: The Flight Before Christmas—Aardman’s new animated holiday special on Netflix—is a perfectly delightful little seasonal romp, and it’s in-and-out in half an hour.

If you’re a Shaun the Sheep fan, you know pretty much exactly what to expect here: 10 minutes of setup followed by 20 minutes of chaotic slapstick hilarity and Buster Keaton-esque pratfalls, mixed with a heartwarming but non-shmaltzy message that’s not terribly deep but neither overbearing. If you’re not already a Shaun the Sheep fan and don’t recognize the name Aardman, it’s worth pointing out that this is a spinoff of the beloved Wallace & Gromit series, although that duo doesn’t make an appearance here.

I won’t dig into the plot as I don’t think it’s possible to do so without sounding like a raving lunatic. But I will say that it’s cute and inoffensive but altogether cheeky, and it’s perfectly appropriate for all ages. I could legitimately envision myself sitting down to watch it with my 78-year-old dad or my 7-year-old niece, and I’m honestly not sure who would enjoy it more. 

Stuck as I am reasonably close to the midpoint between those ages (plus or minus a decade), I think the thing I enjoyed most was the artistry of it all. Aardman has been doing stop-motion for decades upon decades now so you’d think there wouldn’t be much room for improvement. But compositionally speaking, the filmmakers have made some interesting choices here. Camera angles are dynamic. The character animation is, at times, elevated to the level of old Looney Tunes cartoons. 

And all of this is aided by a 4K Dolby Vision presentation that really lets you appreciate the details of the stop-motion puppets. The combination of higher resolution and expanded dynamic range makes the textures of the plasticine models and the faux hair and wool feel palpable. There’s a wonderful radiant quality to the tinsel and lights and other shiny accoutrements of the holidays. There’s a lovely amount of depth and a genuine sense of space that’s a huge step above last year’s Shaun the Sheep: Adventures from Mossy Bottom, which was shot and released in HD only. Indeed, the image is so detailed and dynamic that it almost takes on the quality of 3D, just without the glasses and the headaches. It may be family fare but the picture is inarguably reference quality. 

The Dolby Digital Plus Atmos track, meanwhile, isn’t quite so technically adventurous. Vocal clarity isn’t a problem since there is no discernible dialogue. The ovine characters bleat and grunt and the human characters speak in a sort of muttering mumble reminiscent of the nonsense vocal tracks from The Sims. By and large this is a front-heavy mix, and you likely won’t notice much going on in the surrounds or overhead channels, but that’s perfectly fine. The soundtrack serves its purpose, and fidelity is top-notch.

By the way, it’s worth mentioning that The Flight Before Christmas isn’t the only half-hour Aardman stop-motion holiday special to drop on Netflix this year. There’s also a little film called Robin Robin. The animation in that one is a bit of a departure from the studio’s normal style, and it’s worth a look for that fact alone. But I didn’t care for the musical numbers nor the voice acting. 

So if you have time for only one new stop-motion-animated half-hour Christmas special this year, opt for Shaun the Sheep. It remains to be seen whether it ends up becoming a holiday favorite, but it’s cute,  laugh-out-loud hilarious, perfectly timed, has oodles of genuine personality, and is one of the most visually engaging things Aardman has done to date. 

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 4K Dolby Vision presentation makes the textures of the stop-motion puppets feel palpable, gives a radiant quality to the tinsel and lights, and creates a genuine sense of space.

SOUND | The front-heavy Atmos mix doesn’t have much going on in the surrounds or overhead channels but the soundtrack serves its purpose, and fidelity is top-notch.

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Review: Coco

Coco (2017)

review | Coco

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This often subtle visual presentation of Pixar’s Day of the Dead tale makes a strong argument for HDR in digital animation

by Dennis Burger
September 10, 2021

It may seem strange to begin a review of Coco with a discussion of a man who had nothing to do with the film but hopefully this will all make sense in a few paragraphs. I am, to put it mildly, a magic enthusiast. I have a drawer in my dresser dedicated to all manner of illusions, from prop thumbs to Svengali decks to Scotch & Soda coins, and the list goes on. So it stands to reason I have an all-time favorite illusionist—a mischievous little imp known as James Randi, who performed for years as The Amazing Randi before transitioning into a career as a professional skeptic and debunker. 

What makes Randi my favorite magician is that he was honest about being a liar, famously stating, “I’m a trickster, I’m a cheat, I’m a charlatan. That’s what I do for a living.” The one time I got to see him perform illusions in person, he explained his craft in detail. He walked the audience through his tricks, exposing not only the mechanics but also why the audience fell for them.

And all of the above is simply context for what I’m about to say: One of my all-time favorite magic tricks is Pixar’s Coco. And yes, it is a magic trick. It’s illusory, after all, packed with deception and misdirection and sleights of hand both subtle and coarse. But what makes it such a great magic act is exactly what made Randi such a great magician—even after you recognize and understand the deceptions, they still work, they still have power, they’re still artful and masterful. 

And that is just one of the many reasons why Coco sits high on my all-time favorites list of Pixar films, and why it’s worthy of discussion today, some four years after its release. Another reason is the film’s thematic complexity—which I’m forced to contend with as I attempt to convey what the film means, what it has to say. The simplest I can come up with is that it’s ultimately about the struggle—the tug-of-war—between one’s intrinsic search for identity and obligation to family and society. But that’s too simple. It would be more accurate to say it’s about the complex way in which our identity is formed both from within and from without. More obviously, it also beautifully deals with death, legacy, and the afterlife in a way that feels mutually compatible with spiritual thinking and a more secular outlook on life. And somehow it manages all of this while feeling organic and spontaneous. 

Of course, a more obvious reason to discuss the film at this juncture is that Kaleidescape is currently running a Pixar Fest through September 14, with special pricing on select films from the studio’s catalog. Coco currently comes in at $14.99 in UHD/HDR. I mean, come on. At that price, it’s irresistible, even if you’re a Disney+ subscriber—and I know that may be a hard sell, but let me explain why. Firstly, Kaleidescape’s download comes with so many of the bonus features that are missing on Disney’s streaming service, including a wonderful (but far too brief) documentary called “The Real Guitar,” which is otherwise only available on disc or Apple TV. 

Kaleidescape’s UHD presentation is rich with subtle textures and the HDR10 color grade is a significant step up from the Blu-ray release. Coco is a gorgeous film at any resolution, mostly owing to its fantastic art design and animation but the HDR adds some meaningful enhancements that make the illusion all the more convincing. The expanded color gamut allows for a slightly more pronounced contrast between Miguel’s Día de las Muertas makeup and the actual bony flesh of the dead, for example, accentuating why the deception almost works, but not quite. The fluorescent glow that permeates the Land of the Dead also radiates with more intensity, making it all feel that much more magical. 

Kaleidescape’s Dolby TrueHD Atmos soundtrack is a textbook example of object-based surround done right. Panning and object placement are perfect within the base soundfield and the overhead channels are used to expand and enhance the ambiance and reverberance of the world without thwapping you over the head with distractions. 

It’s interesting to note that there are more significant differences between Kaleidescape’s presentation of the film and the stream available on Disney+ than would usually be the case. And that’s mostly because Kaleidescape relies on HDR10, while Disney+ has the film in Dolby Vision. It’s not a matter of which is better—in this case, it largely comes down to personal choice, as both have their merits. The Dolby Vision grade is more vibrant, with a more intense color palette and higher-intensity brightness in spots, making it obvious bait for videophiles. The HDR10 grade is more muted—at least in the land of the living—which makes the visual contrast between the two worlds stand out a bit more. Both look gorgeous, but again—and this is the main kicker for me—Disney+ only adds a few deleted scenes and one short featurette, whereas the Kaleidescape download comes with almost all the bonus goodies available on disc. Those supplements, as well as the more reliable access afforded by downloading the film once instead of streaming it on demand, make Kaleidescape’s release incredibly easy to recommend as a permanent part of your movie library. 

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 | Kaleidescape’s UHD presentation is rich with subtle textures and the HDR10 color grade is a significant step up from the Blu-ray release.

SOUND | The Dolby TrueHD Atmos soundtrack is a textbook example of object-based surround done right.

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