Digital Week – June 26

French provocateur Catherine Breillat hasn’t made a film in nearly a decade following a stroke, but her long-awaited return doesn’t disappoint, as she adapts a Dutch film, “Queen of Hearts,” that dissects the relationship—first antagonistic, then sexual, finally emotional—of a 40ish wife, Anne, and her teenage stepson, Théo. Breillat, in her usual rigorous way, explores the psychological state of Anna—who also, ironically, is a respected lawyer—and, despite some narrative misplays (a few important scenes are elided), allows her to tell her truth, even when it’s based on a torrent of lies. As Théo, Samuel Kircher is simultaneously (and plausibly) a child and a man, while Léa Drucker gives a towering performance of feminine sexual confidence as Anna, a woman who makes a wrong decision and keeps making them.

Unearthing lost footage of the heretofore rarely known 1971 women’s world cup in Mexico, directors Rachel Ramsay and James Erskine have made an engrossing documentary exploring the cover-up of women’s issues on a global scale a half-century ago. Revisiting the found footage with several original players on the teams from Mexico, Denmark, France and England, the filmmakers also enlist U.S. soccer superstars Brandi Chastain and Alex Morgan, who provide the important context of being introduced to their sport’s trailblazers decades before they themselves were the faces of women’s soccer, which continues growing in popularity worldwide.

This ponderous and blackly comic 2023 exploration of Croatia’s seedy underbelly, the final film of director Lukas Nola before dying of cancer at age 58, in 2022, has some unsavory characters exploiting, double crossing, harassing, and blackmailing each other, as 40-year-old businessman Miro—after having sex and sharing cocaine with her—discovers dead escort Maja in his hotel bathroom, and things unsurprisingly spiral from there. Nola wanted to make a heavily satiric drama about the cynicism and corruption in his home country, but since everyone is appalling it ends up with loads of thickly laded-on dramatic irony alongside many metaphoric shots of birds and animals. Lena Medar as Maja in the early scenes and Hrvojka Begović as Miro’s wife Darija later on enliven the proceedings when they appear, at least.

This modest 1949 melodrama by the formidable filmmaking team of Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger might not be as expansive and eye-catching as their other classics from this era—1947’s “Black Narcissus” and 1948’s “The Red Shoes” immediately preceded it—but it’s a superior psychological character study that also functions as an engrossing wartime melodrama. Leading to an exciting bomb-defusing climax, the film boasts excellent performances by David Farrar as the crippled hero Sammy and Kathleen Byron as Susan, the woman who believes in him. The 4K restoration looks tremendous.

Guy Ritchie’s talent for directing amusing if innocuous action flicks—such as “Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels” and “The Gentlemen”—continues with this entertaining spy caper about British secret agents during WWII, based on real events. Ritchie will never be subtle, but for a movie like this—filled with espionage and big set pieces—that isn’t needed, and the cast is having great fun too: best are Henry Cavill as Gus March-Phillipps (purportedly Ian Fleming’s basis for James Bond) and Eiza Gonzalez, whose winning turn as Marjorie Stewart, the feistiest of femmes fatales, steals the picture. The film looks splendid in UHD; lone extra is a making-of featurette.

Dev Patel’s directorial debut is loud and clanky but never boring, even if it sometimes seems desperate to be exciting as we follow Patel as a nameless misfit who makes a little cash fighting in underground rings until he finds the opportunity for payback from the elites who destroyed his honor. The endless action set pieces are cleverly done but soon induce exhaustion over the course of two hours—still, it’s filmed with a real rage, and if you find yourself on Patel’s wavelength, you might get more out of its redemption narrative. The 4K image is eye-poppingly good, but there are no extras.

There’s an unresolvable dichotomy in Prince’s 1984 film debut: whenever his superb music is heard or performed onstage, the movie soars into the stratosphere; but his acting (and everyone else’s) is so atrocious that whenever he speaks or tries to show emotion, you can’t help but burst out laughing at the histrionic ineptitude. But yes, those great songs—highlighted by the classic title track, featuring Prince’s most emotive guitar solo that approaches David Gilmour’s on “Comfortably Numb”—make one ignore the risible performances by Prince, Apollonia, Morris Day and the entire Revolution. Director Albert Magnoli earns more demerits for continuously cutting to the awestruck club audience whenever Prince is onstage. It all looks and—especially—sounds glorious in 4K; extras comprise a commentary by Magnoli, producer Robert Cavallo and cinematographer Donald E. Thorin; “First Avenue: The Road to Pop Royalty” featurette; and music videos for several Prince hits as well as songs by Morris Day and the Time and Appolonia.

Writer-director Cord Jefferson’s often savagely funny satire of how deeply racism is embedded in the American psyche, based on Percival Everett’s 2001 novel, “Erasure,” explores the many ramifications of frustrated author Thelonious “Monk” Ellison’s transparent attempt to write a banal novel that white publishers and audiences will lap up as “authentically Black”—and is disgusted when it actually takes off as a major literary phenomenon. Jefferson’s film also tenderly chronicles Monk’s mostly dysfunctional family, and these scenes, playing off the more sardonic authorial episodes, provide the dramatic heft. The magisterial acting comprises Jeffrey Wright’s towering portrayal of Ellison, Sterling K. Brown’s wounded brother Cliff, and a fantastic female quartet: Tracee Ellis Ross (Monk’s sister Lisa), Issa Rae (successful author Sintara Golden), Erika Alexander (Monk’s love interest Coralie) and the ageless Leslie Uggams (Monk’s family matriarch Agnes). Although there aren’t any extras, context is everything and an interview or commentary would be helpful. There’s a first-rate Blu-ray transfer.

In his latest directorial effort, George Clooney dramatizes how the underdog University of Washington rowing team and its coach overcame the odds to represent the U.S. in the 1936 Berlin Olympics. Clooney has made a conventional, inspirational movie that tells an interesting story competently and without any surprises—it effectively builds to the gold-medal showdown against the Germans (with Hitler in attendance, of course). There’s a fine cast led by Joel Egerton as the coach to Courtney Henggeler as his supportive wife, while Alexander Desplat’s jaunty score sounds overly familiar—but also effective. There’s a quite good hi-def transfer, but in keeping with many new releases, nothing in the way of any extras.

The vaults of obscure B movies have been opened, what’s been pouring out includes this pair of B&W cheapies that push the boundaries of lasciviousness as far as they could in the early ’60s (1963, to be exact). “Common-Law Wife” follows an old coot, unhappy with his current gal pal, wants to get together with Baby Doll, who is his young niece; not to be outdone, “Jennie, Wife Child” shows a young bride, bored with her older husband, get it on with an attractive young farmhand. Both movies are about what you’d expect, though the amateurishness is kind of endearing; the hi-def transfers are sharply defined. Extras are commentaries on both films and an hour-long doc, “That’s Hicksploitation: The Origin of Southern Sinema.”

This 1965 omnibus film set in various Paris neighborhoods is a definite time-capsule that’s forgettable because none of the filmmakers makes his short memorable as both narrative and a locale. In fact, only Claude Chabrol’s final segment, “La Muette”—despite heavy-handed O. Henry irony—scores; it’s too bad that someone like Jean-Luc Godard whiffs. Nicely restored in hi-def, the film’s graininess brings a sense of authenticity to the project; extras are short archival interviews with producer-actor Barbet Schroeder and directors Jean Rouch and Eric Rohmer.

Barry Jenkins’ epic adaptation of Colin Whitehead’s colossal, Pulitzer Prize-winning novel that transforms the titular railroad an actual train that transports enslaved people to freedom is straitjacketed by that potent metaphor that becomes less potent reality. Whereas in the book, the railroad remains in the reader’s mind (however real it is for the characters), that we can see it in Jenkins’ series turns allegory into blunt melodrama, however skillfully directed and forcefully acted by a huge cast. There are indelible moments that wonderfully visualize Whitehead’s prose, although at ten hours, the accumulation of hideous details becomes oppressive. Criterion’s hi-def transfer looks pristine, and the voluminous extras include commentaries by Jenkins, cinematographer James Laxton, and lead editor Joi McMillon; a new graphic-novel adaptation of an unfilmed chapter; “The Gaze,” a companion film by Jenkins; and deleted scenes.

The fiendishly talented pianist Yuja Wang is as well-known for her fashion sense as she is for her extraordinary performances—indeed, she changes her form-fitting outfits twice during this 2022 Vienna recital. But none of that takes away from her ability to project curiosity and intelligence while playing several difficult pieces, from Scriabin and Kapustin to Beethoven and Ligeti—all done effortlessly but impressively. Both hi-def audio and video are first-rate.

In this tense drama series, passengers on a plane that took off in 2013 end up landing five years later, yet all aboard feel that it was only a few hours—from this intriguing “Twilight Zone” premise comes myriad plot strands both personal and professional, including deaths in families, new relationships and marriages, and other rude intrusions of life. Throughout these 62 episodes over four seasons, the intersections of the various subplots are laid bare, and if some of the segments become dramatic dead ends, there’s enough of interest here to make the long trip worthwhile—and there are fine performances by a large cast led by Melissa Roxburgh and Josh Dallas.