The film suggests something like a western-inflected musical riff on Design for Living.
A solid commentary track and handsome transfer should help raise this underrated film’s stock.
Kino’s 4K release offers the ultimate experience of one mean, bleak trip to hell.
The often-overlooked middle film in Sergio Leone’s “Dollars” trilogy is a taut, nasty thriller, and Kino gives it its due with a terrific A/V transfer.
Kino finally gives a milestone in film history its definitive release, rescuing it from what seemed like the eternal damnation of inconsistent video presentations.
The film's devotion to the quotidian aspects of a mythical small-town western life is nearly religious.
Leone truly came into his own with the capper to his Man with No Name trilogy, and it now looks better than ever home video.
This Blu-ray invites us to reassess an undervalued oddball from the height of Eastwood’s stardom.
Kino outfits Siegel’s underrated gothic masterpiece with an appropriately luscious restoration.
Eastwood’s directorial debut is a thriller with the loose, impressionistic swing and free-floating sting of a midnight jazz song.
Kino outfits Eastwood’s bleak western with a sturdy transfer that honors its savage beauty.
Joe Kidd ambles onto Blu-ray with an exemplary transfer and a couple of interesting extras.
Ironically, Clint Eastwood is as condescending of Jewell as the bureaucrats he despises.
There are no real supplements on this disc, but Eastwood’s eccentric and moving film speaks quite well for itself.
The film finally ends up souring its perspective on responsibility with a hardened take on the limits of the American dream.
A Fistful of Dollars uses American myths as fodder for a visionary director’s formalist carnival.
The 1967 omnibus film The Witches still manages to cast a spell at times, owing to the contributions of its talented cast and crew.
The evocative, perhaps purposeful awkwardness of The 15:17 to Paris alternates with ordinary awfulness.
Clint Eastwood’s Unforgiven brought the revisionist revenge film into the 1990s and, by extension, the 21st century.
Sully presses the case that the complexity of the human condition distracts us from the pure dignity of a noble act.