“Road to Perdition” (DreamWorks, 2002, 117 minutes, one disc, R): Paul Newman may have earned another Oscar nomination for his role as a gangland patriarch in “Road to Perdition,” but the film hardly cleaned up in terms of Academy Award nominations.
Indeed, on the small screen “Road to Perdition” (the Tribune gave it 3 1/2 stars) feels surprisingly flat, coming across more as an assemblage of curious performances (Tom Hanks’ quiet heavy, Jude Law’s reptilian ghoul) than a satisfying whole. Maybe the film’s emphasis on noir formalism over story betrays its comic book roots, but director Sam Mendes’ follow-up to “American Beauty” lacks the deft pop touch of someone like Steven Spielberg (that the bleak material probably needs).
Nevertheless, Mendes talks a good game on his commentary track, intelligently dissecting each scene of the film and the tone the story takes, and making sure to credit late cinematographer Conrad Hall for the rainy and dimly lit images.
Mendes, contradicting his previously stated aversion to deleted scenes, also comments on 11 deleted scenes, all apparently complete and cut from the film at the last minute. Mendes notes that each is little more than an extension of existing scenes, but a couple — specifically a sad scene featuring Jennifer Jason Leigh’s sister and another featuring Anthony LaPaglia as a sniffling, cold-suffering Al Capone — offer some warmth and levity otherwise missing from the chilly film.
The inclusion of a useless HBO “making of” documentary, on the other hand, is yet another affront to the sophisticated tastes of DVD viewers, who can tell publicity fluff from real-deal documentaries.
New and notable
“The Killers” (Criterion, 1946/1964, 102 minutes/94 minutes, two discs, NR): From the comic book noir of “Perdition” to the real thing, Criterion has released a collection of two takes on Ernest Hemingway’s short story “The Killers” in an educational double-disc package.
The first disc includes Robert Siodmak’s adaptation, which stars Burt Lancaster as a doomed boxer and co-stars the stark black-and-white cinematography. While somewhat minor by film noir standards, “The Killers” nonetheless boasts a tricky flashback structure as well as the usual dollops of gloom and tragedy.
For noir aficionados, Criterion has included a wealth of useful material, including Stacy Keach reading the original short story, Paul Schrader’s 1972 film noir essay, a new essay by author Jonathan Lethem, Andrei Tarkovsky’s short student adaptation of “The Killers,” and an interview with writer Stuart M. Kaminsky that happens to be directed by Don Siegel. Siegel went on to direct his own version of “The Killers,” considered one of the first made-for-TV movies.
Siegel’s “The Killers,” found on the second disc, isn’t nearly as good as Siodmak’s, let alone as good as the snippet of Siegel’s autobiography included on the disc. But it certainly illustrates how two different teams of cast and crew can use the same source material for utterly different films. Siegel’s version also comes with several shooting memos and casting suggestions, which brought Ronald Reagan out of retirement for his final film role as a brutal thug.
“The Rules of Attraction” (Lions Gate, 2002, 110 minutes, one disc, R): At their best, Bret Easton Ellis’ novels illustrate the banality of evil. At their worst, they are banal. “The Rules of Attraction” (the Tribune gave it 2 stars) falls into the latter category, but that may be what attracted director Roger Avary to the material. Perhaps he discovered that somewhere between the dead-end nihilism and the shallow narcissism lay an intriguing little morality tale. Or maybe he simply figured the lack of a real story — the film, like the book, is a confrontational parade of sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll set at a New England party school — would give him a lot of room to play with cool camera tricks. That certainly seems to be the case with the stylish yet vapid “The Rules of Attraction,” an energetic proving ground for seat of your pants filmmaking techniques and on-the-fly editing.
Scenes play forward, then backward, then turn around and head in different directions. Split screens show characters walking from different sides of campus until they end up face to face. A summer trip to Europe is depicted as a roller-coaster bacchanal in perpetual fast-forward mode. It’s this specific scene that draws Avary into one of the six — yes, six — full-length “rotating door” commentaries, each of which features a changing selection of cast and crew members. By design these tracks vacillate between technical comments and on-set anecdotes, depending on who is doing the talking. Sadly, Avary only makes that brief appearance, and star James Van Der Beek doesn’t show up at all.
For some reason, Avary dedicates an entire track solely to the incongruous musings of prop comic Carrot Top — yes, that Carrot Top — who reacts to the film as he watches it for the first time. Without his bag of toys and tricks, Carrot Top plays it blue, though the profane novelty wears off quickly.
Rounding up the special features is a Sundance “Anatomy of a Scene” episode, which focuses on the difficulties of capturing the aforementioned split-screen tracking shot. Hopefully more footage like that will show up if Avery releases a second special edition of the film, as he’s already hinting he may.
“I Am Curious …” (Criterion, 1967/1968, 121 minutes/107 minutes, two discs, NR): Infamous for sparking a censorship controversy, the Swedish “I Am Curious … Yellow” and its companion piece “I Am Curious … Blue” couldn’t possibly be duller weapons in the battle for free expression. Pretentious and boring like the worst student projects, both “Curious” films would have long ago been lost to the dustbin of history had they not featured a few moments of nudity and sex.
Criterion’s package of both films arrives full of supplements, but fortunately the special features focus on the cultural brouhaha and not really the films themselves. Even so, the self-righteous nature of the blather filling each disc — trial transcripts, interviews with lawyers, director Vilgot Sjoman’s selective commentary — is somewhat disconcerting, considering that the court win approving the distribution of “I Am Curious … Yellow” was hardly the final salvo in the cultural wars. In fact, the eventual release of “I Am Curious … Yellow” did little more than set the stage for the crossover success of “Deep Throat” and the mainstream ascent of porn, an achievement of dubious merit. Thus these two films should be viewed merely as cultural relics, quaint reminders that the passage of time often transforms shock into tedium.
Etc.
After “Jackie Brown” rescued him from obscurity, Robert Forster returned to whence he came. However, the excellent “Diamond Men” (about two very different generations of diamond salesmen) features yet another strong Forster performance, so hopefully the director commentary and deleted scenes will attract people to the DVD.
The pedigrees of the filmmakers and actors involved in “City by the Sea” and “The Four Feathers” not only don’t save the films, they make each movie seem even more like a missed opportunity. Still, both DVDs do feature commentary and a handful of features that help cushion the disappointment.
Following the release of rare “Ed Sullivan Show” Beatles footage, the group’s popular “Anthology” makes its way is to DVD on April 1.
Out next week: “Three Colors: Blue, White, Red,” “The Day the Earth Stood Still,” “The Osbournes: Season One,” “The Ring,” “Salaam Bombay!”
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