A Blu-ray in Your Bonnet

An Easter parade of religious-themed movies on disc

by Tony Dayoub

The upswing in catalogue titles (meaning everything that is not a new theatrical release) finally making it onto Blu-ray may be one indicator of the improving economy. While Warner Home Video has been the least reluctant to wade into these less commercial waters, most of the other labels have heretofore neglected a considerable backlog of older, but significant, films. Late [in 2010], Paramount Home Entertainment, the stingiest of the labels in this regard, finally released a restored version of 1951’s The African Queen, which had been missing on home video since the days of VHS tapes (!). This was a sure sign that any of the oft-quoted “consumer obstacles” frequently blamed for such notable absences had become less important.

Easter Parade

by Tony Dayoub

In the spirit of Passover and Easter, here's an excerpt from my latest feature for Nomad Editions Wide Screen:

...Done right, the restored versions of classic films often look better, sharper, and truer to their original film elements than they may have ever looked before, particularly on something with the deep and wide visual range of a Blu-ray disc. More specifically, the movies that look best are the larger formatted blockbusters of the 1950s and ’60s — shot on CinemaScope, VistaVision and other rival formats to compete with the growing popularity of television.

Of these, the most popular and critically acclaimed were often the biblical epics. They had proven to be quite successful during the silent era, making the name of directors like the one most closely associated with the genre, Cecil B. DeMille. It was he who famously responded when asked why he liked to make such films, “Why should I let 2,000 years of publicity go to waste?” So when studios began developing large-scale films to compete with TV, the biblical epics were among the first to be mounted for production...

CONTINUE READING AT NOMAD EDITIONS: WIDE SCREEN

Movie Review: Clash of the Titans (2010)

by Tony Dayoub

Why revisit a great movie when there are so many lesser movies that could be improved by a remake? Louis Leterrier's Clash of the Titans is a huge improvement on its predecessor. And let's be honest, whatever feelings of nostalgia get stirred up when thinking of Ray Harryhausen's 1981 version, the designation of "classic" hardly applies. The acting in that one is wooden even by fantasy genre standards, with Laurence Olivier slumming as Zeus (no doubt after Alec Guinness' appearance in Star Wars made such a thing acceptable) and Siân Phillips generously wearing a permanent grimace on her face in order to not outdo the stiff Judi Bowker who plays her daughter. Concessions to the trends in fantasy at the time—like the requisite robot sidekick, in this case a metallic owl named Bubo—only served to highlight the great expanse between Harryhausen's increasingly antiquated effects technology and the ILM visual FX burgeoning at the time. Eight-years-old at the time, I saw the original on opening day in 1981 and recall it fondly much less for its story or visuals than for its two scenes of gratuitous nudity (not unusual in a PG-rated film back then). Ironically, today's political climate allows Titans to retain a PG-13 rating by eschewing the nudity but amping up the violence.

Blu-ray Review: Quo Vadis (1951)

America's mid-20th century love affair with the Biblical epic began with Mervyn LeRoy's Quo Vadis (1951). And a new Blu-ray by Warner Home Video goes a long way to proving why that's the case. The saturated colors and epic setpieces that dominate the film's mise-en-scène are reason enough to sit back and enjoy the spectacle. But Peter Ustinov's scenery-chewing performance as the last Roman Caesar, Nero, is another great justification. This film was the template for future movies of its ilk, and should be seen for that if for no other reason. Like The Robe (1953), or Ben-Hur (1959), Quo Vadis is based on a historical novel that examines the nascent religion of Christianity through the eyes of an outsider. Here it is loyal Roman commander Marcus Vinicius (Robert Taylor), who falls in love with a Christian slave, the beautiful Lygia (Deborah Kerr), while struggling to remain loyal to the increasingly mad Emperor Nero. Lygia's entreaties for Vinicius to join her in following Christ's teachings are initially dismissed. But as the Roman civilization's descent into populist vulgarity begins to mirror Nero's own mental decline Vinicius starts to see the truth of Lygia's beliefs. Like in later epics, Christ is depicted from behind or as someone partially offscreen. Notable historical figures make extended cameos, mixing with the fictional characters. These include Petronious (Leo Genn), and the prophets Peter (Finlay Currie) and Paul (Abraham Sofaer), in addition to Nero. Ustinov steals the movie with his performance as the petulant last Emperor of Rome. At once haughty and crass, Nero is obsessed with adding to his already well established grandiosity. Frequently, he does this by diminishing others, be it in his ill treatment of his courtiers or in the execution of both his mother and wife (before the events depicted in the film). But as the fledgling Christian religion begins to gain his notice, he saves his greatest ire for them. He devises evil ways of executing them, feeding them to the lions and later setting them aflame on wooden stakes in two memorable scenes in the movie. Ustinov portrays the mercurial Nero in even his most heinous acts as both mannerly and mannered, an effective contrast that serves as a metaphor for the excesses of Rome. Co-cinematographer Robert Surtees, who would later win an Oscar for Ben-Hur, captures the at times orgiastic spectacle of Rome in wonderfully brilliant colors that the above photograph doesn't do justice. This is where the Blu-ray holds its greatest power. It reveals the rainbow of colors that so often fails to be depicted in films about the Roman Empire. One has grown accustomed to the white togas of the Roman Senate so often seen in such films. But as more recent exercises like Caligula (1979) and HBO's Rome (2005-07) have demonstrated, Ancient Rome was hardly sedate when it came to fashion or architecture. And Surtees manages to display all of the glamor and grandeur without the benefit of the widescreen splendor of CinemaScope, which wouldn't make its first appearance until The Robe debuted two years later. Quo Vadis has its flaws, primarily in the casting of lead Robert Taylor. His somewhat anachronistic take on Vinicius seems more appropriate to a low-budget war movie than the world of the ancient Romans. And it's a little more difficult to ignore the star than supporting actor Edward G. Robinson's similar performance as Dathan in DeMille's The Ten Commandments (1956). But Ustinov as Nero more than makes up for it, providing one of the film's strongest moments as he plucks his lyre while Rome burns. Audiences would flock to see the Bibical epic for the opportunity to see often apocryphal historic events play out onscreen. This trend began with Quo Vadis. Still courtesy of Warner Home Video.

Charlton Heston

by Tony Dayoub

I've seen Charlton Heston in parts great and small. I've seen him keenly underplay a line, and also play so over-the-top that you wonder if he's even in the same movie as his fellow actors. Not only was Heston, the actor, a man of contradictions, but so was Heston, the activist. He courageously supported the civil rights cause in the 60s, while being an outspoken member, and eventual president, of the NRA in his later life. But personally, as well as to many film buffs of my generation, he will always be one of the seminal figures in my own entry into the world of cinema.

He generally played larger-than-life heroes in films by some of Hollywood's greats: Brad Braden in Cecil B. DeMille's The Greatest Show on Earth (1952); Moses in DeMille's The Ten Commandments (1956); Mike Vargas in Orson Welles' Touch of Evil (1958); Rodrigo Díaz de Vivar in Anthony Mann's El Cid (1961); John the Baptist in George Stevens' The Greatest Story Ever Told (1965); the title character in Sam Peckinpah's Major Dundee (1965); and Michelangelo in Carol Reed's The Agony and the Ecstasy (1965). He won his only Oscar for the part of Judah Ben-Hur in William Wyler's Ben-Hur (1959).

The first film that I remember him from was Franklin J. Schaffner's Planet of the Apes (1968), where he played the misanthropic astronaut, Taylor. He was arrogant, tough, wily, and the perfect foil to Kim Hunter, Roddy McDowall, and Maurice Evans as the apes. He also brought some of his own activism to the subtext of the part. The cynical loner Taylor, who spends the first half of the film asserting mankind's flaws to his fellow astronauts, must spend the second half of the film defending mankind's virtues to their ape oppressors. His tragic, utter defeat, when he realizes mankind ultimately brought their fate down upon themselves, helps to create one of the most memorable finales in all of cinema.

He would go on to play some memorable parts in the remainder of his career: the eponymous Will Penny (1968); an older, defeated Taylor in Beneath the Planet of the Apes (1970); Robert Neville in The Omega Man (1971); Detective Robert Thorn in Richard Fleischer's Soylent Green (1973); evil Cardinal Richelieu in Richard Lester's The Three Musketeers (1973), and it's sequel (1974).

He died Saturday night at the age of 83.

Recommended Films: Touch of Evil, Ben-Hur, El Cid, Major Dundee, Planet of the Apes, Will Penny, The Omega Man