Discworld


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Published: Aug 25, 2009

Play Time

You won't find it on the demo reel at Best Buy, but Criterion's Blu-ray of Jacques Tati's 1967 masterpiece may be the best argument yet for the format's existence. Shot in 70mm, the film was designed to be, in its auteur's words, a "democratic" experience in which the viewer's eye can roam its capacious tableaux at will. Although Tati's beloved M. Hulot floats in and out, the film's only concession to commercial pressures, Play Time is a narrative without a protagonist, one in which every character plays a supporting role. On DVD (and perhaps on 35mm, though I've never seen it that way), the film mimics the depersonalization it means to lampoon. Individual figures disappear into a pixellated haze. But in high definition, the focus holds all the way back, allowing you to see how Tati reuses the same actors in each of the film's brilliantly comic set pieces. Not only is the film inferior in standard-def; it's tempting to say it doesn't exist. That's not to say Blu-ray can equal the crystalline, almost surreal clarity of 70mm — at least not on my mildly outdated setup — but it's certainly got a fighting chance.

Jeanne Dielman, 23 quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles

Topping even Tati's chef d'oeuvre in significance is the first-ever release of Chantal Akerman's 1975 masterpiece, the touchstone for a generation of long-take abstractions. Following the quotidian chores of a widowed housewife (Delphine Seyrig), which include turning tricks to make rent, in exhaustive detail, the film uses duration to alter our perception of time, casting daily chores as unexamined rituals. The supplements, particularly an on-set doc shot by Band of Outsiders' Sami Frey, are almost as engrossing as the film itself.

Dollhouse, Season 1/Battlestar Galactica

The Complete Series Sci-fi aficionados, or just fans of women in skimpy outfits and limited free will (which, I know, amounts to the same thing), will get all tingly over these two sets, both available in beauteous Blu-ray — although the latter is tarnished slightly by its cumbersome packaging, apparently designed under the assumption that consumers have an empty pedestal in their living room just waiting for a cardboard and plastic objet d'art. The big draw for Dollhouse is the unaired "Epitaph One," a dystopian flash-forward that takes the show's mind-implanting technology to its logical and terrifying end. Joss Whedon's first series since the ill-starred Firefly took a while to find its legs (and earn some breathing room from the network), but by the end of the first season it had evolved into a gripping slow-burn mystery, albeit one with an Eliza Dushku-shaped dead spot at its center. (Shot concurrently with the official season finale, "Epitaph" is necessarily light on the show's ostensible star, and you don't miss her.) Although it's still slotted in the Friday night death zone, Dollhouse was miraculously granted a second season, which gives you until Sept. 25 to catch up.

BSG's fanbase needs no juicing, but the complete set makes the series' welter of episodes, movies and half-seasons a snap to navigate. Creator Ronald Moore certainly lacks Whedon's knack for zestful dialogue — there's far too much chest-pounding and use of the word "shall" — but the show's conceptual underpinnings are consistently engaging, and their realization sometimes thrilling. Universal's Blu-ray comes with a disclaimer warning viewers that certain "stylized visual elements" may not have the plastic sheen tech-heads crave, which is their way of saying the artificial grain in the outer-space battles is intentional. The affectation seems a bit contrived, but it's still a welcome break from the overworked images of most mass-market products.

See More Other noteworthy releases from recent months include the restored version of John Cassavetes' Husbands, now with 11 extra minutes of masculine torment, a high-def version of Ang Lee's Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (unfortunately trapped in a boxed set with Zhang Yimou's Hero and House of Flying Daggers; read a review of Ang Lee's Taking Woodstock), Christian Petzold's Yella and The State I Am In come on the heels of Jerichow's recent release, and John Gianvito's Profit Motive and the Whispering Wind, an experimental meditation, inspired by Howard Zinn's People's History of the United States, that visits the graves of American progressives, mourning and celebrating them at once.

And should your buying outpace your storage space, try turning to the DVDPro sleeves from MMDesign. They're not cheap, about $1 per disc, but they're the first solution I've found that allows you to hold onto the disc and the artwork while tossing the case (or even better, recycling the No. 5 plastic, which can be done at Whole Foods). An array of pouches, racks and filing cabinets are also available to accommodate collections from the minimal to the truly massive.

(s_adams@citypaper.net)