July 16 – Digital Week

After the sublime 2013 memory piece “The Wind Rises,” the great animator Hayao Miyazaki announced his retirement; but 10 years later, along comes this often inscrutable, heavily symbolic but tremendously affecting feature—don’t hold its Oscar for best animated feature against it! During WWII, young Mahito’s mother, a nurse, dies in a hospital fire—after his father marries her sister and they move to her country estate, Mahito’s grief and guilt are embodied in a talking heron, who takes him to an anthropomorphic world where he must fight for survival—and for closure with his mother. Only Miyazaki could make something so sentimental and borderline risible and make it sublimely funny, touching and trenchant simultaneously. Needless to say, the animation looks amazing in 4K; the accompanying Blu-ray’s extras comprise storyboards, music video for the song “Spinning Globe” and interviews with composer Joe Hisaishi, producer Toshio Suzuki and supervising animator Takeshi Honda. There’s also an English-dubbed version with the voices of Robert Pattinson, Christian Bale, Florence Pugh, Willem Dafoe and Mark Hamill; stick with the original Japanese for authenticity.

This silly but watchable 1996 disaster thriller pits tornado chasers vs. Mother Nature—and, more often than not, nature wins: director Jan de Bont and writers Michael Crichton and Anne-Marie Martin (Crichton’s then wife) for the most part lose, especially when it comes to such howlers in the dialogue as, when a twister barrels down toward them, one character yells out, “Let’s run for it!” Well, duh. The $100 million budget obviously went to the vast array of technical effects, well-done but not overwhelmingly impressive (especially now, where some seams show in 30-year old technology). Actors like Helen Hunt, Bill Paxton, Jami Gertz, Todd Field, Cary Elwes, Lois Smith and Philip Seymour Hoffman try their best but are defeated by ridiculous plotting and the twisty effects. The 4K image looks quite detailed; extras include a new retrospective featurette and bonuses from earlier releases: three on-set featurettes, music video for Van Halen’s song “Humans Being” (Eddie and Alex also contribute a moody instrumental, “Respect the Wind”) and a commentary by du Bont and effects supervisor Stefen Fangmeier.

If a menage a trois among a female tennis player turned coach and the male tennis pros in her life, each on opposing career trajectories, sounds like fun, director Luca Guadagnino and writer Justin Kuritzkes make sure to scuttle that possibility. This impossibly cutesy rom-com is crammed with flashbacks within flashbacks to try and present some variety, but even Guadagnino knows it doesn’t help, since he uses a surfeit of camera tricks and ridiculous angles to keep things bouncing. Then there’s the awful use of Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross’ pounding electronic score, always beginning or ending at the wrong time, as if the music cues are slightly off. The threesome enacted by Zendaya, Josh O’Connor and Mike Faist is more authentic on the court (they all look and move like tennis players) than off, where the trio is saddled with stilted dialogue and must deal with desperate symbolism like a windstorm of Biblical proportions that actually happens twice. It’s all about as sexy as a celebrity doubles match. The hi-def image looks excellent but, as with so many new releases, there are no extras.

The latest film by the world’s greatest living director, 84-year-old Italian master Marco Bellocchio, is yet another of his gripping and operatic dissections of historical subjects that touch on politics and religion—this time he tells the horrific but true story of a six-year-old Jewish boy torn from his parents’ grasp because a former housekeeper said she baptized him when she thought he was dying as an infant. With his usual sweeping flair and acute observation, Bellocchio fills the screen with indelible images that not only cast a wide net on anti-Semitic mid-19th century Italian (read: Catholic) society but also the excruciating pain and loss felt by the Mortara family as their beloved son and brother remains forever out of their reach. Bellocchio builds his film on two towering performances—by Barbara Ronchi as the boy’s mother and Enea Sala as the young Edgardo, one of the strongest child performances I’ve ever seen. Supremely well-chosen music by Rachmaninoff and Pärt complement a superb original score by Fabio Massimo Capogrosso. The haunting but gorgeous final shot of mother and son is as unforgettable as the rest of this masterpiece; Francesco Di Giacomo’s glistening cinematography is accentuated beautifully on Blu-ray. Extras are a short Bellocchio intro and 20-minute director interview.

I’ve never been a fan of the real Coen brothers’ films, so warmed-over Coens—which is what this aggressively, even nonsensically nihilistic drama about a bunch of nonentities who end up offing one another (along with several unfortunate bystanders) at a rate even the brothers wouldn’t countenance—comes off even more contrived. Too bad writer-director Francis Galluppi is more concerned with getting these people together and letting bad luck take care of them until it doesn’t matter who’s standing at the end. The film looks fine on Blu; lone extra is a making-of featurette.

In his eminently watchable documentary about legendary music producer Brian Eno, Gary Hustwit borrows Eno’s own way of creating for the film’s structure, as certain ideas, visuals or bits of music lead to other, sometimes not entirely successful tangents. Eno talks quite engagingly and candidly about his life, career and thoughts about the importance of art to nourish the human brain, both in new footage as well as vintage interviews. There’s also priceless footage of Eno at work, both alone doing his ambient music (like the original Windows 95 “jingle”) and with some of his biggest collaborators, from Roxy Music and David Bowie to U2 and the Talking Heads. One gimmick is that the film—at least in its first run at Film Forum in NYC—will never be the same twice, rearranged and completely different footage making a “new” film each time, a fitting metaphor for its enigmatic, endlessly fascinating subject. 

Anyone with fond—or not so fond—memories of David Lynch’s “Mulholland Drive,” in which two women sleepwalk through a surreal Hollywood, will relive that film during every minute of George Baron’s unabashed copy, which the director makes no bones about, even referencing Lynch in his discussions of his own film. The difference is that Lynch’s fully developed visual sense can make such dicey material work at times, whereas the best Baron can do is emerge as an instant epigone aping the Lynchian style without any substance. 

Annie Baker, who has won awards for her (overrated) plays, makes her screen writing and directing debut with this at times insightful but mainly insufferable exploration of the relationship between Janet, a hippie-ish single mom, and Lacy, her restless 12-year-old daughter. As in her plays, Baker writes clever dialogue that’s not as meaningful as she intends; her assiduously oddish characters often claw at stretches of meaninglessness, whether in their words or silence. As a director, she alternates establishing shots and glaring closeups to snippets of music from Laurie Anderson to Bach that populate her eclectic soundtrack. Her distaff cast, comprising Julianne Nicholson, Zoe Ziegler and Sophie Okenedo, performs sensitively, while the men, embodied by Bill Paxton and Elias Koteas, are pretty much ciphers.