Digital Week – July 9

Sam Peckinpah’s 1973 western about the fateful relationship between lawman Pat Garrett (James Coburn) and outlaw Billy the Kid (Kris Kristofferson) was savaged upon release by the studio and critics, the former ripping Peckinpah’s cut to shreds—six editors worked on the film. But the 50th-anniversary release—11 minutes longer than what came out a half-century ago—and the even longer preview cut makes one realize the film is for the most part unsalvageable in any version, despite sporadic directorial brilliance. The biggest liability is Bob Dylan, who contributes a score of mediocre songs (except for his classic “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door”) and a scandalous non-performance as a ridiculous character named Alias, itself a brazen steal from Lincoln Kerstein’s story for Aaron Copland’s Billy the Kid ballet. As always, Criterion does a thorough job of contextualizing of the film’s fraught history: two UHD discs and two Blu-rays include all three cuts; there’s a commentary on the “new” version, an archival Coburn interview and new featurettes “Dylan in Durango” and “Passion & Poetry: Peckinpah’s Last Western.”

With a cast of heavyweights like Ellen Burstyn, Ewan McGregor, Rys Ifyns, Lara Flynn Boyle and F. Murray Abraham, Niclas Larsson’s film about an elderly woman (Burstyn) whose decision to stay on the sofa at a furniture store brings her three estranged children from different fathers (McGregor, Ifyns and Flynn Boyle) together for a chance to patch things up surprisingly never becomes the intriguingly offbeat comedy-drama it wants to be. It begins as unfunny, warmed-over Luis Buñuel and never goes anywhere, thanks to Larsson’s scattershot script. The cast gives its all, especially Burstyn and Taylor Russell as the young store employee who catches McGregor’s eye, but nothing ends up cohering.

French-Canadian writer-director Monia Chokri’s occasionally trenchant comic study follows the emotional and sexual relationship of heady college professor Sophia and working-class guy Sylvain, who meet cute when he gives her an estimate to restore a decrepit cottage she owns. Too often, Chokri’s writing and directing rub our noses in the couple’s obvious differences—her intellectual crowd and his earthy, of the soil clan—while her copout ending insists there’s no way Sophia and Sylvain can stay together, although we’ve watched them do just that for most of the movie. Holding it all together are terrific performances by Pierre-Yves Cardinal (Sylvain) and Magalie Lépine-Blondeau (Sophia), who make a maturely sexy couple.

Armed with a healthy sense of humor, directors Matt Bettinelli-Olpin and Tyler Gillett take Stephen Shields and Guy Busick’s troublesome script about a preteen vampire who toys with a group of inept criminals that abducted her for ransom and make it a watchable gore fest. Amid the risible plotting and exploding bodies, there are fun moments and tongue-in-cheek performances, topped by Melissa Barrera, fast becoming our reigning scream queen after “Scream,” “Scream VI” and this harmless but efficient dark comedy. The film looks good on Blu; extras include a commentary, deleted/extended scenes, gag reel and on-set featurettes.

For the third set in Severin Films’ collection of foreign horror flicks, a quartet of early-mid ’70s features from Spain—“Necrophagous” (1971), “Cake of Blood” (1971), “Cross of the Devil” (1975) and “The Night of the Walking Dead” (1975)—have been resurrected and given new shelf life. These films were made near the end of Spanish dictator Franco’s repressive reign, hiding transgressive ideas within the genre of Gothic horror. Best is the atmospheric vampire shocker “The Night of the Walking Dead”—with the wonderful Emma Cohen as the heroine—while the least successful is the arty and self-indulgent omnibus “Cake of Blood.” Each film has received a good transfer; extras are led by commentaries on each film and interviews with actors, writers and critics.

Director-writer Adam Green made his low-budget horror movie, “Hatchet,” in 2006—it’s not that much more distinguished than other slasher flicks populating the B-movie landscape over the past few decades, but he’s parlayed that home-movie ethos into three sequels (from 2010, 2013 and 2017) that are each less interesting and watchable than the previous one. Now all four “Hatchets” have been brought together for diehard fans in a set that includes first-rate hi-def transfers of the films, with extras comprising gag reels, interviews, on-set featurettes and a bonus disc, “Hatchet: Swamp Tales.”

Peter Cushing and Sherlock Holmes are an uncomfortable fit in this 1968 British TV series—short-lived, unsurprisingly—six episodes of which are all that has survived and included in this two-disc set. The picture quality is pretty negligible—at times, it’s like watching an old VHS tape—but the main problem is the stories themselves, which are rendered unexciting and routine, with the partial exception of the two-part “Hound of the Baskervilles”: even Cushing looks bored at times. Extras include commentaries on all six episodes and on missing episode clips; audio interview with Cushing; and BBC’s countdown clock for each episode.

Christopher Lee’s lone starring role as the great detective created by Arthur Conan Doyle came in this German-made drama—it was shot in Berlin—directed competently by Terence Fisher, with Holmes and his sidekick Dr. Watson (Nigel Stock) taking center stage. Senta Berger contributes a nice bit, but Lee and Stock’s chatty chemistry isn’t enough to overcome a by-the-numbers storyline. The hi-def image looks decent enough; extras are a commentary, Fisher interview and Fisher featurette.