DVD

The Tree of Life

by James McNally on October 10, 2011 · 1 comment

in DVD

The Tree of Life
eOne released The Tree of Life on DVD and Blu-ray in Canada on October 11, 2011. Help sup­port Toronto Screen Shots by buying it on Amazon.ca.

The Tree of Life (Director: Terrence Malick): When I first saw Terrence Malick’s long-awaited fifth film back in the spring, I simply couldn’t write about it. Certainly still in the top spot for my Film of the Year, it hasn’t become any easier to artic­u­late my thoughts about a film so per­sonal and yet so uni­versal. I can say with cer­tainty, though, that the film looks every bit as stun­ning on Blu-ray as it did pro­jected the­at­ric­ally, and that means that you should cer­tainly add it to your collection.

The Tree of Life has been described as Malick’s most per­sonal film yet, fea­turing a family very much like his own in a time and place very sim­ilar to where and when he grew up. At the heart of the story is a tragedy, the loss of a beloved child, and the oldest son’s remem­brances of his brother, his own child­hood, and espe­cially his rela­tion­ships with his mother and father. As young Jack (Hunter McCracken) leaves child­hood behind for the tur­bu­lence of adoles­cence, he’s torn between the com­fort of his mother’s (Jessica Chastain) uncon­di­tional love and his more con­flicted feel­ings toward his strict father (Brad Pitt). There is an ever-present nar­rator, though the voices change. Sometimes it’s the voice of his mother, some­times his father, and some­times you wonder if it might even be God.

Quite apart from the remem­brances of Jack (played as an adult by Sean Penn), there is an entire sequence visu­al­izing the form­a­tion of the Earth and the begin­ning of life itself. Malick worked with spe­cial effects expert Douglas Trumbull to make these look as nat­ural as pos­sible, depending on com­puters only when abso­lutely neces­sary. The imagery is stun­ning throughout, both the spe­cial effects stuff and the warmly nos­talgic cine­ma­to­graphy by Emmanuel Lubezki, who worked with Malick on his pre­vious film The New World.

The Tree of Life is Malick at his most Malickian, and by that I mean that plot and char­acter are not revealed through tra­di­tional nar­rative, but more by the accu­mu­la­tion of details and impres­sions. Music is important and the camera sweeps around like a paint­brush on a canvas. The voi­ceovers can seem a bit pon­derous to someone not expecting a film about the Big Questions, but if you’re pre­pared to be stirred emo­tion­ally, exist­en­tially and, dare I say spir­itu­ally, this film will simply knock you out.

The most helpful thing I can say about this film is that it’s a mirror. What you end up thinking or feeling about it will be very much determ­ined by what you bring into the exper­i­ence. That’s why I’m so excited to have such a beau­tiful work of art in such a pristinely presented package. The Tree of Life is a film that will deeply reward patience and repeated view­ings, at least for me.

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Community: The Complete Second Season
Editor’s Note: Community: The Complete Second Season was released on DVD in the US and Canada on September 6 by Sony Pictures Television. You can help Toronto Screen Shots by buying from Amazon.ca or Amazon.com.

A few months ago, after much nag­ging by friends, I began watching Community on Netflix Canada. Since I have just fin­ished the first season, I was glad to know that the second season of this uncom­monly smart sitcom was coming to DVD just in time. The title is a ref­er­ence to “com­munity col­lege,” that second-class cit­izen of higher edu­ca­tion. In the first season, we were intro­duced to a ragtag group of char­ac­ters who meet at a Spanish study ses­sion and who quickly learn to put the “com­munity” into com­munity college.

The hook in the first season is that we’re fol­lowing Jeff Winger (Joel McHale), a former lawyer who has been dis­barred after it’s dis­covered that he faked his degree. He’s come to Greendale Community College in order to take the fastest (and easiest, he thinks) route back to a well-paying legal career. But we quickly learn that it’s the other char­ac­ters who are much more inter­esting. This is truly an ensemble cast, and there are no weak links at all. But for that reason, the show does take a few epis­odes to really start firing on all cyl­in­ders, as the audi­ence comes to know each character’s quirks. I’ve not yet watched the second season, but have been told that it’s better than the first, and that would be no sur­prise. With so many strong char­ac­ters, there are nearly end­less pos­sib­il­ities for funny storylines.

All I know is that I’m very much looking for­ward to sit­ting down with Jeff, Britta, Pierce, Abed, Troy, Annie, Shirley and Señor Chang as soon as pos­sible. In fact, if I can watch all of these today, I’ll be all caught up for the third season, which premi­eres tomorrow night on NBC.

Community: The Complete Second Season comes on four DVD discs and con­tains all 24 epis­odes. Special fea­tures include:

  • Commentary on every episode
  • “Creating Wonderland”
  • Abed’s Uncontrollable Christmas: Original Storyboard Animatic and In-Process Animatic
  • Season Two Cast Evaluations
  • DJ Steve Porter Remixes Season One
  • The Paintball Finale: From Script to Screen
  • Outtakes
  • Deleted Scenes

Episode guide for the entire series from Wikipedia

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Incendies

by James McNally on September 14, 2011

in DVD

Incendies
eOne released Incendies on DVD and Blu-ray in Canada on September 13, 2011. Help sup­port Toronto Screen Shots by buying it on Amazon.ca.

Incendies (Director: Denis Villeneuve): Surely the best Canadian film of last year, and deservedly nom­in­ated for an Academy Award®, Incendies tells an epic and yet per­sonal story of war, divided fam­ilies, and dev­ast­ating secrets. When their mother dies sud­denly, twins Simon and Jeanne are shocked that her will assigns them the task of returning to their Middle Eastern home­land to deliver two let­ters, one to the father they thought was dead, and one to a brother they never knew they had.

Though the country is never referred to by name, it’s almost cer­tainly Lebanon, which suffered through a bitter civil war that raged from 1975 until 1990. The film flashes back and forth between the present (the twins’ quest to find their missing rel­at­ives) and the past (their mother Nawal’s long and sur­prising journey from her home­land to Canada), and through the mas­terful editing, we dis­cover some shocking family secrets at pre­cisely the same time as Simon and Jeanne, even though we’ve been fol­lowing Nawal’s story too. It’s an impressive feat, and just one of many in this superb and moving film.

Incendies

The only bonus fea­ture on the disc is a 44-minute doc­u­mentary fea­ture entitled “Remembering the Ashes,” but it’s worthy of a watch. It focuses on the many extras used in the film, and it was inter­esting to dis­cover that almost all of them were Palestinian, Lebanese or Iraqi refugees living in Jordan. As we see the film crew shooting sev­eral of the more violent scenes, the extras share their own exper­i­ences of war. On the other hand, it’s depressing to hear the local vil­la­gers defending the prac­tice of honour killing as well as boasting of their implac­able hatred of “the Jews.”

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Trigger

by Monika Bartyzel on August 25, 2011

in Actors,DVD

Trigger
This post comes cour­tesy of Monika Bartyzel, freel­ance writer and junkie of Canadian cinema, fre­quently seen at Movies.com and pre­vi­ously sites such as Cinematical and Moviefone.ca. I’m hoping to con­vince her to con­tribute more of her insightful writing in the future.
Trigger (Director: Bruce McDonald): Trigger is a love letter – a love letter to Toronto, to growing old, to memories, to music, and – most import­antly – to the late Tracy Wright. It’s a film with dual mean­ings – the story as it lives out in the film, and the real world in sub­text. Luckily, it’s not one where reality trumps fic­tion or fic­tion obscures reality. Instead, coin­cid­ental cir­cum­stance merges both in a way that works beau­ti­fully as a tale of weathered friend­ship as well as a show­case for the many tal­ents of Wright.

For the unini­ti­ated: In 2008, Canadian film­maker Bruce McDonald re-watched My Dinner with Andre, and was itching to do a bare­bones piece using the same discussion-over-dinner style. He lured scribe Daniel MacIvor with the idea, who in turn con­vinced the film­maker that it should break out of one loc­a­tion and become the story of two men out in Toronto. It became two women, Tracy Wright was invited to par­ti­cipate, and when she learned that she had six months to live, the film was fast-tracked and shot with aston­ishing indie speed, becoming one of her last films.

The world of Trigger is simple. Two women (Wright’s Vic and Molly Parker’s Kat), who haven’t seen each other for years, meet for dinner. Vic is the aging rocker who has kept the bare-bones life­style, and struggles to bal­ance her own cyn­icism with her quest for spir­itual relief. Kat is the rocker-gone-mainstream-success, the woman who puts on a show but yearns for the hon­esty of her pre­vious life. Within moments, their inner dams are broken and skel­etons start climbing out of their psyches – addic­tion, pain, betrayal, feel­ings of use­less­ness… Each woman is the knowing face of the other’s past, both the only person who can really under­stand them and the exact person who is too dan­gerous to see. It’s impossible for either to main­tain false civility as their inner demons are released, teasing both danger and catharsis.

The Andre-ish start quickly bubbles into a Before Sunset struc­ture as the women step out­side and tra­verse the city over the course of one night. Each locale – res­taurant, home, club – seems to bring out a new rev­el­a­tion, many of which have an eerie sim­il­arity to Wright’s real world out­side of the film. (A sim­il­arity that MacIvor assures is a coin­cid­ence.) The pair dis­cuss addic­tion, friend­ship, fam­ilies, work, life, mor­tality, and all of the minu­tiae and drama that clutch onto our lives.

These moments seems incred­ibly intimate to real life while also being per­fectly con­tained in the film, existing as a nat­ural form of method acting rather than moments where real life rips atten­tion away from the fic­tional film. They are much like the scenes in Before Sunset when Ethan Hawke’s Jesse talks about his mar­ital dis­con­tent, soon after his own real-life mar­riage dis­solved. While the stories aren’t the same, the emo­tional truth is, and unleashing just that little amount of real-life pain gives the fic­tional journey all the more weight – the pres­ence of real, never-to-be-released tears trumping care­fully planned crying. In fact, that slight blending of fic­tion and reality allow us to feel the wall the act­resses built between them­selves and the material, which in the con­text of Trigger, feels like the char­ac­ters’ own safety mechanisms.

Bruce McDonald’s straight­for­ward film­making is an apt com­panion to their inter­per­sonal explor­a­tion. There are no stun­ning visuals or slick cam­er­a­work to make this feel like a big pro­duc­tion. The camera just lurks, almost voyeur­ist­ic­ally cap­turing the exper­i­ence, and rather than con­trolling our atten­tion, it’s all up to the act­resses – par­tic­u­larly Wright. When the cine­matic moments are closest to real life and Wright speaks, the camera is con­tent to stay on her, lov­ingly but also quietly mes­mer­ized, just like those times when we get so caught up in a moment or piece of beauty that the rest of the world, the screen, or the film fades away. Instead of a slick package dic­tating our reac­tion with angles, light, and swelling music, it’s up to Wright and Parker to make us feel, which makes each moment that much more real – there’s little between the per­form­ance and the audience.

It helps that everything seems to be a reflec­tion of the other. There is Vic and Tracy Wright – two sep­arate stories that coin­cid­ent­ally come together into a whole, and the glue is the time and place – Toronto. Each loc­a­tion reflects an aspect of the story, from the crisp­ness of a classy res­taurant reflecting the ini­tial false civility of the affair, to a school emphas­izing the fact that you can long for the past, though your cur­rent self can never fit into it. Wright was an important piece of the indie film and theatre scene in the city, and Trigger man­ages to express her moments in time as well as her tal­ents – not the glitz and glam but the hands-on, dirty, cre­ative energy.

Each piece inter­mingles with the rest and con­tinues to flow back and forth between all these aspects in a way that could only work as well in that time, place, and cir­cum­stance. When Vic says “I don’t care about the des­tin­a­tion; I’m more con­cerned about the velo­city,” it speaks as much to real life as it does to the plot’s exper­i­ence and the nature of nos­talgia in both the city and beyond. It speaks to growing old, to strug­gling to find a place, to set­tling, to con­vin­cing your­self that the false is good, to trying to find faith, and most cer­tainly to let an act­ress thrive in a role she wasn’t usu­ally awarded, while giving her a vehicle to express some of her final moments in time.

As a DVD treat­ment, how­ever, one can’t help but wonder (or hope) if this release is the place­holder before a spe­cial edi­tion. The film is pack­aged with two all-too-brief “extras” – a few short clips of the table read the actors did before the film, and a trailer for TO in 24, the latter of which isn’t clearly explained to be a trailer (it’s titled “One Breath”), and seems like a random short film slapped on to fill space.

Obviously, this film is min­im­alist and there likely wasn’t the budget for spe­cial fea­tures like a making-of, a ret­ro­spective of Wright’s work, a look at the Toronto musical talent fea­tured in the film, or other highly pro­duced goodies. That said, there are a myriad of options that could have bolstered the release that would have taken much less effort – a brief blip from the filmmakers/collaborators about Wright, her filmo­graphy and bio­graphy, the TIFF Q&A’s, or even Don McKellar’s letter to friends upon her death, which was sub­sequently pub­lished for the fans who mourned her. As a pro­duc­tion that came together in a shock­ingly brief amount of time, Trigger is at least beg­ging for a com­mentary or two, to talk about how all of this came together, and how they pulled it off so fast and so well.

Perhaps in the future. For now, how­ever, I urge you to watch the film, and use the links below as your spe­cial features.

eOne released Trigger on DVD in Canada on July 26, 2011. Help sup­port Toronto Screen Shots by buying it on Amazon.ca.

Earlier Work:

The Letter Don McKellar Wrote to Friends After Her Death:

Q&A from TIFF 2010 Premiere

Daniel MacIvor Writes about Tracy:

In Memoriam:

Notes on Her Memorial:

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Husbands
Husbands screens tonight, Monday July 18, 2011 at 6:30pm, at the TIFF Bell Lightbox as part of the series Masks and Faces: The Films of John Cassavetes. The series runs from July 14–31.

Husbands (1970, Director: John Cassavetes): I’m not cer­tain which of the films of John Cassavetes would be the best point of entry for a new­comer, but I don’t think I’d recom­mend Husbands, which was my own intro­duc­tion. Considered the god­father of American inde­pendent cinema, Cassavetes worked as an actor and dir­ector on other people’s films in order to fin­ance his own unique studies of ordinary people acting out. In Husbands, it’s about the mys­teries of the middle-aged male psyche, and it’s one loud and crazy ride.

His pre­vious film, Faces (1968) had been an unex­pected hit, and so not only did he find someone to help fin­ance the film (Italian pro­ducer Bino Cicogna, whom Cassavetes had met while working in Italy on Machine Gun McCain in 1969), but later on, he con­vinced Columbia to release the film the­at­ric­ally. Nevertheless, Husbands was a com­mer­cial failure, des­pite some intense performances.

It’s essen­tially a three-hander. Harry (Ben Gazzara), Gus (John Cassavetes) and Archie (Peter Falk) attend the funeral of the fourth member of their group, and, trying to work through their grief, go on an epic bender, which lasts sev­eral days and takes them from New York to London.

Although the tagline is “A Comedy about Life, Death and Freedom,” there are only a few places where I laughed, and uncom­fort­ably at that. Instead, Cassavetes’ exam­in­a­tion of male friend­ship, grief, and mid­life crises becomes more and more har­rowing as it goes on. This bender is a des­cent into a sort of howling exist­en­tial hell.

Not being familiar with the rest of Cassavetes’ work as a dir­ector, it was ini­tially dif­fi­cult for me to tell whether these emotionally-stunted, crass and abrasive char­ac­ters are meant to evoke our sym­pathy or not. Their “charm” cer­tainly becomes more trans­parent the more time we spend with them, and Cassavetes enjoys drawing scenes out to almost absurd lengths. An early scene of a drunken sin­galong in a bar must run at least 20 minutes, and by the end, with our trio bul­lying a woman into adding more “pas­sion” to her per­form­ance, our opinion of these guys has cer­tainly changed for the worse.

Husbands

So it’s not a huge sur­prise when Harry comes home to change the next morning and ends up in a phys­ical con­front­a­tion with both his wife and her mother. As the defacto leader of the trio, he’s the most aggressive. Before his ill-fated trip home, he’s told Gus and Archie, “Aside from sex, and she’s very good at it, I like you guys better.” He fol­lows this up with a few repe­ti­tions of the phrase, “Let’s go home and get it over with.”

After his violent out­burst, he grabs his pass­port and tells his friends that he needs to get away; oth­er­wise, he’d just go back inside and apo­lo­gize and he doesn’t want to do that. All these guys seem power­less when it comes to their wives and chil­dren and other respons­ib­il­ities, but their “acting out” just seems to con­firm their imma­turity, des­pite the macho trappings.

Under the cover of con­cern for their friend, Archie and Gus decide to go with him, to “tuck him into the hotel and then come back home,” they assure each other. As soon as they arrive in England, they want to gamble, drink and pick up women, as if these activ­ities are what bind men together. The only member of the trio who tries to com­mu­nicate any­thing deeper is Archie, but poor old Peter Falk always seems to end up talking to him­self. He’s the sort of actor who seems to end up doing that in almost everything he’s ever done.

There’s another long scene in London, where our three tough guys suc­ceed in get­ting three attractive women back to their hotel rooms. Gus has picked up a woman who’s men­tally unbal­anced, and the other two appear to have hired pros­ti­tutes, but in any case, the fol­lowing “seduc­tion” scene is one of the most creepy and joy­less I’ve seen in a long time. It is kind of funny to realize that the only people willing to spend time with these guys are either crazy or are being paid.

It’s a strange thing, though. Although I couldn’t wait for the film to end, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it for days. These loud brutes, “drama kings” if I can coin a phrase, are trapped not only in their jobs and mar­riages, but in their con­cep­tion of what being a man is all about. Their attempts to con­nect with each other, to grieve their friend and their passing youth, all end in shouting and viol­ence. Their rage is inar­tic­u­late but exposes some­thing, except they don’t have the vocab­u­lary to express this vul­ner­ab­ility. Perhaps I’m reading more into the film, but I want to give Cassavetes credit for for­cing the audi­ence to spend two and a half hours in the pres­ence of such unre­con­structed brutes. Their humanity comes out not in what they say but in what they’re unable to say. This is no comedy. It’s a tragedy.

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