Hud is a mournful lament for a passing of a way of life and a meditation on the ways forward.
This lackluster presentation of Corman’s alternately groovy and goofy LSD drama seems to take a cue from the hallucinogenic drug experience.
Third time’s the charm for Shout! Factory, whose new Blu-ray box set marks the show’s most definitive home-video release yet.
Held up for years, this release of Edward Yang’s four-hour masterpiece makes up for the wait with a superlative A/V transfer.
Twilight Time honors the film with pristine preservation and a series of rich extras.
The film looks and sounds great thanks to Arrow Video’s meticulous Blu-ray presentation.
Frankenheimer’s masterpiece gets a sparkling new transfer that brings out the most of its skewed interiors and domestic horror.
In a perfect world, Fleischer’s rowdy super-production would be in regular 70mm rotation at our few surviving repertory movie houses.
One of the best films of the French New Wave, so it’s a shame that Criterion’s Blu-ray offers a flawed A/V presentation and thin supplements.
This release is Arrow Video’s symbolic demand to unlock the auteurist prescriptions of many prestige, home-video releases.
A formally audacious genre experiment that’s somewhat lacking in empathy for the culture that provides its pretense for boundary-pushing.
Kino’s superlative presentation enables us to see the film’s modernist approach to genre as a transitional impulse in Lang’s early career.
Agnès Varda’s 1988 features are two of her most evocative, and provocative, films.
The presentation is simply okay, but it’s refreshing to see this startlingly lurid, well acted, and egregiously underrated thriller accorded any love at all.
Creed cannily funnels decades of American social tension into a tense and moving interracial buddy story.
Those students or cinephiles looking to trace the contemporary blockbuster’s roots should add Lang’s Woman in the Moon to their list.
Arrow Video commences a welcome Shô Kosugi renaissance with their razor-sharp Blu-ray of Pray for Death.
This Blu-ray of The Graduate is one of Criterion’s most ambitious—and comprehensive—single-disc releases.
Few films from the 1960s that have been absent on home video for this long arrive looking like they were shot yesterday.
This wry variation on Rohmer’s style of romantic comedy is a must-own, even if the Blu-ray is slightly marred by an unrestored negative.
Three films from the Taviani brothers receive a commendable Blu-ray debut on this three-disc set from Cohen Media Group.