Digital Week – September 24

Although French writer-director Coralie Fargeat’s body-horror feature is simply ludicrous, it does have a few scenes that will stay with you, whether you want them to or not—but for the most part, this tale of an aging Hollywood beauty queen who takes an elixir in a desperate attempt to remain young and attractive is too pleased with its one-note plot device to be anything more than a demented little satire that glories in its constant sprays of vomit and, especially, blood, especially in a witless finale (comprising several fake endings) that’s a cross between “The Elephant Man” and “Carrie,” of all things. Elsewhere, Fargeat genuflects at the altar of Kubrick, with countless visual allusions to (i.e., ripoffs of) “The Shining” and an aural one to “2001,” but they only show up Fargeat as a poseur. Much has been made of Demi Moore’s performance as the wannabe ageless Elisabeth Sparkle—she’s not bad, but the makeup and visual effects outact her. Much better is Margaret Whalley, who brings true sparkle to the role of Elisabeth’s younger self, Sue. Too bad both women are at the mercy of a filmmaker who never knows when to say enough, let alone cut. (Then there’s the ridiculously hammy Dennis Quaid, who seems to have been directed by Fargeat with a taser.) If you’re in the mood for a 140-minute directorial sledgehammer, then your mileage may vary. 

In what’s easily her best screen performance, Elizabeth Banks plays a successful surgeon who must own up to an error made under her watch during what should have been a routine operation that goes wrong. Writer-director Christine Jeffs starts out by creating a methodical, pinpoint drama that mirrors her heroine’s personality and lifestyle, but soon goes off the dramatic rails with contrived occurrences (one involving her girlfriend’s dog and the other the young resident who made the mistake while under pressure) that prevents the film from becoming an illuminating character study, despite Banks’ intense portrayal.

The final Black Sabbath show—before a delirious hometown crowd in Birmingham, England, in 2017—is everything fans could ask for: the goodbye of the most influential originators of heavy metal in a 100-minute concert crammed with their most famous (and infamous) songs, from the opening darkness of “Black Sabbath” to the closing chug of “Paranoid.” Ozzy Osbourne is in surprisingly good vocal form, considering he has been pretty much unable to sing live since, riffmaster Tony Iommi churns out memorable blasts from his guitar and Geezer Butler’s bass playing is as propulsive as ever. Fill-in drummer Tommy Clufetos, much younger than the core trio, keeps the beat relentlessly. The hi-def video and audio are stupendous; lone extra is in-studio footage of the band creating a final handful of songs in “The Angelic Sessions.”

In his first major role, Bob Hoskins gives a dazzling portrayal of a London underworld leader who finds himself in a ramped-up turf war that includes the long tentacles of the IRA—as bombs explode and supplicants end up dead. John Mackenzie’s brutal 1980 gangster flick colorfully depicts the eruption of violence, and it’s chockful of great moments, like the shower scene with a young Pierce Brosnan (in his film debut); alongside Hoskins is a terrific Helen Mirren as his loyal but fiercely independent moll. The film looks good and grainy in UHD—extras include “An Accidental Studio,” a 2019 documentary about George Harrison’s Handmade Films, which produced the film; an hour-long making-of feature; Mackenzie’s commentary; and interviews with cinematographer Phil Méheux and screenwriter Barrie Keeffe.

In co-writer and director Jordon Prince-Wright’s earnest but oh so familiar war drama, naïve Aussie teen Jim Collins leaves his family’s farm in the outback to enlist in an army regiment going to France to fight in the Great War (WWI); he assumes he’ll only be gone a few months—but ends up trying to survive a years-long morass that showed the futility of the fighting. Although much is telegraphed, there are a couple of powerful moments, notably in cutting from the trenches to Collins’ home, with Levi Miller’s sensitive Jim holding it tenuously together.

This 1977 concert by hard rockers Rainbow in their best incarnation—leader and guitarist Ritchie Blackmore with powerhouse vocalist Ronnie James Dio front and center—features jams on nearly every song: the 105-minute concert comprises only eight tunes. That instrumental-vocal interplay makes this a top-notch show, whether the extended, sizzling rendition of “Man on the Silver Mountain” or the epic one-two finale punch of the 27-minute barnburner “Still I’m Sad” and blistering 16-minute “Do You Close Your Eyes.” Two CDs include the audio of the entire concert; one DVD provides decent-looking video and three excellent audio options to choose from.