Quality Control

When it comes to DVD releases this season, more is not necessarily better.

by Sam Adams

With Apple and Google getting into the Internet TV game, and Netflix taking steps toward an all-streaming model, the movie industry is betting that, as with music, consumers will choose convenience over quality. There's nothing wrong with firing up the Roku to catch up on 30 Rock, but it's a little surprising that people who've shelled out for pricey flat-screens are then willing to feed them subpar content. But that's why they make chocolate and vanilla.

On the other hand, the industry has been shameless in churning out trumped-up high-def retreads with little in the way of quality control — seriously, is there any point to a Blair Witch Project Blu-ray? When it comes to paying premium, it's caveat emptor all the way.

As ever, the Criterion Collection's releases are a safe bet, and they're unique in not charging extra for Blu-ray. Criterion's big-ticket year-end release is The BBS Story, a seven-film box set chronicling the short-lived but influential production company whose output included Easy Rider, Five Easy Pieces and The Last Picture Show (as well as less timeless "classics" like the Monkees' Head). Easy Rider's rebellion may seem merely quaint these days, but the electricity of Jack Nicholson's early performances is enough to make you weep for the days before he phoned in his parts long-distance.

Even Stanley Kubrick skeptics bow before the power of Paths of Glory, one of few anti-war films that actually merits the tag. There's no heroism in the story of three soldiers court-martialed for refusing to take part in a suicide mission, just the sick brutality of men's lives laid to waste.

Although Warner Bros. maintains the most impressive commitment to archival releases of any Hollywood studio, they've let the entirety of Charlie Chaplin's oeuvre drift out of print, leaving Criterion to pick up the slack with a sterling Blu-ray of Modern Times. But the sentimental splendor of Chaplin's features has never quite measured up to the comic brilliance of his two-reel shorts. Compared to the hurtling momentum of Buster Keaton's The General, Modern Timesplays like a series of set pieces, linked by theme but reinforcing rather than amplifying each other. That's what makes Flicker Alley's Chaplin at Keystone (pictured) such a wonder. Spread over four discs, the collection is evenly split between Chaplin's directorial efforts and early films in which he acted for directors like Mack Sennett. With new scores by the Mont Alto Motion Picture Orchestra, Robert Israel and many other veterans, it's an astonishing and comprehensive look at Chaplin's development, so enjoyable you may not realize how enlightening it is.

Warner has released its share of upscale titles this year, including well-appointed deluxe editions of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest and Doctor Zhivago, but the real action has been on the company's Warner Archives site (wbshop.com), where each week brings a slew of on-demand releases culled from the studio's vault. Generally taken from existing, unrestored transfers and released without extras, the discs are pricey for what they are, but they've taken to running regular sales that drop them down to more manageable rates. Among the more delightful of recent issues are Robert Altman's long-awaited Brewster McCloud, and the silent/sound double shot of The Unholy Three and The Unholy 3, with Lon Chaney as an evil ventriloquist who plots crimes with the help of a midget and a circus strongman. They make great gifts for cinephiles who think they have everything, since they may not be aware these versions even exist.

If you don't fancy gathering the family 'round the set for a viewing of Madam Satan, Disney's reissue of Fantasia (paired with the unworthy sequel Fantasia 2000) meticulously restores the original's vibrant colors, and lets you skip the dull bits, as well. And while it isn't totally immune to the ravages of age, the Back to the Future trilogy remains a joy to behold, even if diminishing returns rapidly set in with parts 2 and 3. Considering the technological cul-de-sac down which Robert Zemeckis has lost himself, apparently never to emerge, it's a bittersweet pleasure to look back on the days when he cared as much about actors as effects.

(s_adams@citypaper.net)