Few films of this kind boast such an edgy, luxuriant sound design.
Until Criterion gets its hands on the film, keep this DVD in the permanent collection.
The film’s performances deserve a look though this is a relatively uninspired DVD edition.
Sims anyone?
Buñuel both ushers the lovers into a romantic afterlife and fabulously ponders both Ricardo and Eduardo’s inability to distinguish between human beings and things.
What a curious thing it is to listen to a man read from the pages of Rebecca Miller’s female-empowering Personal Velocity.
Unlike its main character’s homemade wine, this vintage stinker gets funkier as it moves along.
The film’s infamous promotional hook read “It’s only a movie,” but it could have easily been “It can happen in your backyard.”
Considering the source material, an all-around good DVD package fit for that special ghoul in your life.
Here’s more freaky shit from Japanese auteur Takashi Miike.
The film is an obnoxious coming-of-age saga whose ironic characters may as well be rejects from Andy Warhol’s Factory.
Far from definitive, this is still a must-own for fans of the film tired of the crappy 16×9 version that still airs on TBS.
Quentin Tarantino’s second feature is at once ridiculously entertaining and remarkably weightless.
It remains one of the genre’s homelier entries, there’s no faulting a film this lovingly and aptly arcane.
Robert J. Siegel’s film is that rare coming-of-age tale that doesn’t scream Afterschool Special.
Sans Tarantino commentary track, this may not be the definitive edition of the film, but it certainly comes close.
In the end, there’s nothing hiding beneath all the brio.
This impressive feature is well worth a look but with no extras on hand, make this one a rental.
As if Drop Dead Gorgeous wasn’t enough, the equally derisive Slap Her…She’s French is fixated on the spectacle of small-town competition.
While this DVD is ripe with rich extras, the film itself may feel like an afterthought for fans of Gosford Park.