When her husband and daughter are killed in an automobile accident, which she survives, Julie (Binoche) is understandably devastated. She shuts herself off emotionally, never wanting to feel anything again after such a traumatic experience. In the opening scenes of Blue, actress Juliette Binoche displays an incredible range of emotions as her character tries to comprehend her world, which has been shattered. She ends up suppressing raw emotion with detachment.

Over the course of Blue, Julie experiences a series of epiphanies as symbolized by bursts of the color blue and a loud swell of classical music, which acts as an emotional Greek chorus. Music is her voice, channeling the emotion she keeps in check most of the time. As the film progresses, she finds a way to free herself from her past and from the revelations about her husband’s life. She puts herself through a series of exercises to test her feelings – is she ready to face the world without emotion? Julie has shut herself off from the world but eventually learns how to become a part of it again.  Kieslowski draws us into this world so that we become invested in its inhabitants, in particular Julie who endures unimaginable tragedy and must find a way to continue.

If Blue is ostensibly a tragedy, then White is a darkly comic revenge story. Karol Karol (Zamachowski) is a Polish hairdresser who lives with his beautiful young bride Dominique (Delpy) in Paris but she divorces him early on in the film for failing to consummate their marriage. She takes him to court and coldly tells him that she doesn’t love him anymore. Karol soon finds out that his bank account has been frozen and he becomes homeless, which leaves him wondering if he has the strength to go on. Dominique has completely destroyed him and so he goes back to his native Poland where he rebuilds his life and plans an elaborate revenge plot.

Actor Zhigniew Zamachowski has an incredibly expressive face that he uses to make Karol instantly sympathetic but it isn’t too hard after all the horrible things Dominique does to him. Your heart really goes out to Karol just as Julie Delpy’s cold, cruel character really makes you hate her and hope that she gets her well-deserved comeuppance, but as with Kieslowski’s films, it’s never that simple and the ending is surprisingly hopeful.

The first third of White is utterly heartbreaking as poor Karol deals with one soul-crushing injustice after another. In the second third, he rebuilds his life in Warsaw in an inspirational turn of events as he is employed as a bodyguard for a local criminal while cutting hair for his brother on the side. Karol is a quiet, unassuming guy. As a result, people, like his wife and the local crooks, underestimate him. They don’t realize just how clever he is and this is used to his advantage. Finally, the last third of the film is Karol’s payback on those who wronged him. In White, the traditional roles are reversed as Karol is the ingénue while Dominique is led by her sexual drive. Over the course of the film, we see him reassert his own identity while refusing to lose his optimism or romantic nature.

Red concludes the Three Colors trilogy with a moving examination of the notions of fate and chance as a beautiful runway model named Valentine (Jacob) crosses paths with Joseph (Trintignant), a bitter retired judge, when she accidentally hits his dog with her car. She lives in Geneva and maintains a long distance relationship with her irrationally jealous boyfriend over the phone. There is also subplot concerning a young man studying to be a judge and who is also having relationship problems.

Joseph spends his time eavesdropping on his neighbors’ phone calls, an odd hobby for a retired judge. Valentine is struck by his honesty and fascinated with his outlook on life, shaped by years of his profession. Now, he is a voyeur, listening to other people’s conversations while he has no life of his own. She believes that people are basically good while he believes the opposite, which was no doubt cultivated over years of seeing the worst of humanity paraded in front of him. Valentine inspires Joseph to reconnect with humanity while he inspires her to be more independent and proactive in her relationships.

Initially, Valentine comes across as a ditzy model with no common sense (especially in regards to the dog) but Irene Jacob’s soulful performance suggests that there is more to her character and this becomes apparent over the course of the film. Like Julie in Blue, Joseph is emotionally disconnected from others and seems not to care about Valentine hitting his dog with her car. Jean-Louis Trintignant is excellent as the jaded ex-judge and it is fascinating to watch his character go from an indifferent observer to someone that can reconnect with the rest of humanity. Trintignant has wonderful chemistry with Jacob and it is fascinating to see the relationship develop between their characters during the course of the film. With Red, Kieslowski reminds us of the importance of being connected with others and with humanity. By that extension, the entire trilogy is an epic treatise on the strengths and weaknesses of humanity.

Special Features:

Those of you who own the Miramax box set might want to hold onto it as not all of the extras have been carried over to the Criterion Collection edition. For example, the audio commentaries film scholar Annette Insdorf did for each film have not been included. Also omitted are the selected scene commentaries that actresses Julie Delpy and Irene Jacob did for White and Red respectively. While some of Kieslowski’s student films have been included on this new set, Concert of Wishes, Trolley, and The Office have been omitted. Completists will want to hold onto the Miramax edition.

New to this set is “On Blue,” a video essay by film studies professor Annette Insdorf where she gives a brief background to the Three Colors trilogy before examining the themes explored in Blue. She also analyzes the film’s striking style as well as the moving classical score.

“Kieslowski’s Cinema Lesson” sees the filmmaker discussing a specific scene from Blue and the importance of close-ups in the film.

Also included is a selected scenes commentary by actress Juliette Binoche. She talks about meeting Kieslowski for the first time and how they talked about philosophy. She turned down a role in Jurassic Park (1993) to do Blue. The actress gives her impression of the director and what it was like to work with him.

There is a new interview with composer Zbigniew Preisner. He had worked with Kieslowski on several films, including the Three Colors trilogy. By the time they did Blue together the two men had a very familiar shorthand and knew what the wanted. Preisner recalls first working with Kieslowski and talks about his working methods.

“Reflections on Blue” takes a retrospective look at the film with critics and historians talking about the production and offering analysis. They point out that Kieslowski avoided making an overt political statement with these films by focusing on the personal: the tragic life of a woman. The film’s cinematographer, editor and Binoche also offer their thoughts on the film.

Another new extra is “On White,” a video essay by film scholar Tony Rayns. He provides backstory to the film. It was the first film Kieslowski had made since The Decalogue (1989). Rayns also provides details on the socio-political conditions in Poland at the time. In White, Kieslowski confronted the changes to the country since the fall of Communism.

“Kieslowski’s Cinema Lesson” features the director’s views and he talks about the opening scene of the film. He also explains why he included shots of the suitcase and how it ties in with the opening scenes of the other two films.

There are new interviews with actors Zbigniew Zamachowski and Julie Delpy. They talk about how they met Kieslowski and were cast in White. They both talk about working with the director and how he was very exact in his methods with no improvisation.

Another new extra is an interview with co-writer Krzystof Piesiewicz where he talks about working with Kieslowski. They first met in 1982 and Piesiewicz noticed that the director was lost in life having gone through some personal ordeals. They became friends and worked together over 15 years on 17 films.

“The Making of White” features some excellent behind the scenes footage of Kieslowski making the film in Poland. He describes White as a “lyrical comedy” and also a “sad comedy.”

Yet another new extra is “On Red,” a video essay by film critic Dennis Lim. He discusses the film’s themes, chief among them the notion of isolation. He also analyzes Red’s style, in particular, the use of color.

“Kieslowski’s Cinema Lesson” features the director discussing a scene with Valentine and the dog she accidentally hit with her car. He says that it is the film’s first critical moment. The ever eloquent director explains his intentions with this scene and why it was shot the way it was.

There is a new interview with actress Irene Jacob and she talks about her experiences working with Kieslowski on Red. She also discusses her first meeting with him and how that led to her being cast in The Double Life of Veronique (1991). Jacob talks about working with her Red co-star Jean-Louis Trintignant and comes across as a smart and engaging person.

Producer Marin Karmitz talks about the making of Red and tells a story about an elaborate shot that was achieved and the difficult logistics involved. He also recounts a story of how the film received three Academy Award nominations as an American film!

Editor Jacques Witta talks about why certain scenes in Red were cut and his impressions of working with Kieslowski. There are excerpts of this footage which are quite interesting but one can see why they were removed.

“Kieslowski Cannes 1994” is a short documentary about Red’s world premiere at the 1994 Cannes Film Festival where the director famously announced his retirement. There are interviews with the two lead actors who came to the festival to help promote the film. This is a nice snapshot of Red’s debut.

“Kieslowski: The Early Years” takes a look at the director’s early life with interview soundbites from film scholars and collaborators. He moved around a lot as a child and didn’t dream of being a filmmaker but rather fell into it. This featurette provides insight into what motivated Kieslowski to become a filmmaker and how it shaped his later films.

Also included are two student films, The Tram (1966), about a boy flirting with a pretty girl, and The Face (1966), where he played a tormented artist.

There are two short documentaries, Seven Women of Different Ages (1978), which looks at several ballet dancers, each one on a different day of the week, and Talking Heads (1980), a fascinating film where 40 different people of various ages are asked the three same questions.

Also included are trailers for all three films.

“Behind the Scenes of Red” features footage of Kieslowski directing the film juxtaposed with the actual scene as it appeared in the film. This featurette provides some insight into how he worked.

Finally, a new addition to this set is “Krzysztof Kieslowski: I’m So-So,” a 55-minute documentary made in 1995 shortly after he retired from filmmaking. He talks about his life and films. As always, Kieslowski speaks eloquently and thoughtfully about a variety of topics in this fascinating portrait.

Drained from such a harrowing ordeal and frustrated over the whole mess, Lynch took some time off to develop a more personal project that he had been working on while filming Dune. Surprisingly, De Laurentiis decided to give Lynch another chance, but only with the stipulation that he take a cut in his salary and work with a reduced budget of only $6 million. In return, the young director could have total artistic freedom and control over the final cut of the film. Lynch surprised everyone with his hauntingly beautiful ode to small-town America, Blue Velvet (1986).

The brilliance of this film is apparent right from the opening montage that begins with the image of blood red roses in front of a stark white picket fence and continues with a fireman waving from his truck, to a crossing guard motioning children across a street. Everything is heightened in color and slowed down to an almost surreal level, which invokes the feeling of being in a dream. Lynch reinforces these romantic images of 1950′s Americana with Bobby Vinton’s classic version of “Blue Velvet” playing on the soundtrack. By using colors and music to create a dreamy, nostalgic mood, Lynch draws us into his strange world.

Jeffrey Beaumont (MacLachlan) has returned home from college after his father suffers a stroke. While walking home from the hospital one day, he finds a severed ear lying in a field. The ear draws Jeffrey into a mysterious world of intrigue and dangerous characters. There is Dorothy Vallens (Rossellini), an exotic looking singer who is involved in a bizarre, sadomasochistic relationship with local psycho, Frank Booth (Hopper), a man of truly frightening proportions. To aid Jeffrey in his adventure, he enlists the help of Sandy Williams (Dern), the beautiful girl next door, whose father just happens to be the detective in charge of investigating the severed ear. As the film progresses, Jeffrey is torn between the dark, seductive world of Dorothy and the safe, wholesome world that Sandy represents. The mystery culminates when these two worlds inevitably collide.

Blue Velvet clearly demonstrates Lynch as an artist at the top of his form. This is due in large part to the exceptional crew he assembled for this film. Long time collaborator, Alan Splet (who had worked with Lynch ever since Eraserhead) contributed the complex sound scheme that ingeniously complements Lynch’s images. This is evident in the unsettling “moaning hallways” of Dorothy Vallens’ apartment building that seem almost organic in nature due in large part to Splet’s disturbing soundscape. Splet also shines in the film’s surrealistic montages where sound and image are distorted to a nightmarish level.

Frederick Elmes’ lush cinematography is also a crucial element to the unique look that permeates Lynch’s films. This look is Lynch’s trademark style and harkens back to his other fascination: painting. His background lies in the fine art of painting and as a result Blue Velvet contains scenes that have a still life quality to them. In contrast, Elmes’ technique evokes classical Hollywood cinema in the way scenes are lit and staged and yet they effortlessly slip into surrealism with the aid of Lynch’s often absurd situations. The perfect example of this blend is the famous “joyride” sequence where Frank takes an unwilling Jeffrey and Dorothy to Ben’s (Stockwell), a place where obese women sit passively while Ben, complete with Kabuki white make-up and “suave” demeanor, lip-synchs to Roy Orbison’s “In Dreams.” In this scene, Elmes combines film noir lighting with a dark color scheme that enhances and establishes the eerie, dream-like mood synonymous to all of Lynch’s films.

Blue Velvet also marked the first time Lynch worked with composer Angelo Badalamenti who provides a seductively lavish score. To complement Elmes’ classical Hollywood look, Badalamenti’s score mimics the melodramatic soundtracks of Douglas Sirk’s films with its dramatic swells during intense moments and calm lulls with romantic interludes. Blue Velvet would mark the beginning of a long-lasting partnership with Badalamenti who has since composed the music for every subsequent project that Lynch has done.

It has been twenty-five years since Blue Velvet shocked and divided audiences with its peculiar vision of America. Many critics loved the film, some declaring it one of the best films of the 1980′s. Almost the same number hated it. For every Pauline Kael who gave it a favorable review, there was a Rex Reed who thought it to be “one of the sickest films ever made.” Yet for such vehemence, Blue Velvet has endured. Its legacy is widespread. Many articles and essays have been written about Lynch’s film since its release in an attempt to unlock many of the film’s mysteries and symbols that are buried throughout. Its look and mood has influenced many films since. One only has to look at Lynch’s own career with Twin Peaks, a tamer, televised version of Blue Velvet, to see the auteur’s continuing fascination with perverse, small-town mysteries. Blue Velvet established Lynch as a masterful director with the ability to create an atmospheric world with fascinating characters that eerily mirrors our own.

Special Features:

Good news for fans of this film, Blue Velvet has never looked or sounded better than on this new Blu Ray version with the transfer personally approved by Lynch himself. All of the extras from the previous special edition have been included as well as several hidden Easter Eggs that featured additional interview soundbites not included in the documentary under the title, “Vignettes.”

“Documentary: Mysteries of Love” is a fantastic, in-depth 70 minute retrospective documentary that takes us through the making of the film, from its origins to its enduring legacy. It mixes archival interviews with David Lynch with new ones with MacLachlan, Dern, Rossellini and Hopper who all talk about how they were cast and what it was like working with Lynch. Hopper, in particular, talks about how, at the time, he had just come out of rehab and had no career. His agent even warned him not to do it but he wanted to work with Lynch. This is a detailed look at the various aspects of the movie, including the texture cinematography and the layered sound design with all sorts of great anecdotes told by cast and crew who are clearly proud of this being involved in this masterpiece.

 “Siskel and Ebert ‘At the Movies’ 1986” features the two famous film critics sounding off on the film. Ebert hated it and felt that it was cruel to the actors, in particular Isabella Rossellini while Siskel defends it, comparing it favorably to Psycho (1960).

Arguably, the greatest addition to this edition and the Holy Grail for Lynch fans is a collection of deleted scenes that run 50 minutes. Long thought lost with only stills surviving, they were included in the last DVD incarnation. However, this footage has recently been discovered and included. There is a lot of fascinating stuff, here, including more of Jeffrey’s backstory and more of Frank’s weird habits. One can see why they were cut but it is great to finally see them and how much more light they shed on this mysterious film.

There is a photo gallery of behind-the-scenes pics and posters.

Finally, there are two T.V. spots and a trailer.

Niccolo Farra (Milian) is a film director whose wife leaves him. So, he starts an affair with a woman named Mavi (Silverio), a patient of his sister’s. One of her other lovers sends a man to warn Niccolo to stop seeing Mavi but he continues to do so. He is trying to get another film going but all he has is a vague idea and is struggling to find that creative spark that will get things going. Niccolo meets another woman named Ida (Boisson), a down-to-earth actress who he fancies as possibly the muse for his next film. She’s much more comfortable in her own skin than Mavi and he finds her confidence attractive.

The film’s show-stopping sequence involves Niccolo and Mavi escaping into the country and getting lost in a thick fog. At one point all that is visible is an ominously blinking traffic light. There’s a dream-like quality to this sequence as we see Niccolo disappear and reappear in the fog. This weather acts as a metaphor for his relationship with Mavi.

It’s tough to feel any kind of sympathy towards Niccolo – he’s a bored rich guy dealing with his own issues that aren’t all that compelling. His interactions with other affluent people aren’t all that interesting, including his affairs with women that lack the eroticism they are supposed to have. Too often it feels like Antonioni is coasting, going through the motions in a largely unengaging film, which is too bad because the actors do a good job but they have little to work with.

Special Features:

A rather long-ish theatrical trailer.

Taris (1931) is a brief portrait of French swimming champion Jean Taris. The jaunty theme music sets an upbeat mood from the get-go. Naturally, we see the man in action and marvel at what a masterful swimmer he was. Vigo juxtaposes this footage with that of less than graceful swimmers frolicking in a pool. Taris demonstrates the right technique to become a competitive swimmer. Still, for such a traditional subject matter, Vigo’s handling of it is anything but as he artfully employs slow motion while alternating sound above water and silence while underwater.

Vigo shifted gears with Zero de conduite (1933), a fictional short film about a boy rebelling from a boarding school. Clearly drawing on his own experiences as a child, the filmmaker sympathizes with the boys while satirizing the authority figures, one of whom he refers to as “tightass.” We see several of the students goofing off while the teachers are portrayed as strict disciplinarians with the exception of one who imitates Charlie Chaplin therefore making him the lone teacher sympathetic towards his students. The students represent the exuberance of youth, energy and vitality and it’s hard not to get caught up in their story.

L’Atalante (1934) was Vigo’s most accomplished and last film. He was quite ill during its making as he suffered from tuberculosis for most of his life. This feature-length film focuses on a newlywed couple. Right after the ceremony, they embark on a barge and soon experience marital strife. This film shows Vigo maturing as an artist and makes one wonder how he would have evolved as a filmmaker. Sadly, his life was cut short at only 29, just a few weeks after L’Atalante was released. However, Vigo’s legacy is impressive with filmmakers like Francois Truffaut and Lindsay Anderson drawing inspiration from him in their own work. Most significantly, when Sidney Lumet won his honorary Academy Award in 2007, he name-checked Vigo in his acceptance speech.

Special Features:

The first disc includes audio commentaries on all of the works by Michael Temple, author of Jean Vigo. On A propos de Nice, he gives a brief biographical sketch on Vigo and examines his legacy and impact on French cinema, including the French New Wave. Temple explores the genesis and making of the film in a way that is not dry but quite interesting.

There is also an alternate edit of the film that is slight longer.

On Taris, Temple looks at it in relation to A propos de Nice. On this film, Vigo was commissioned and used it to learn about and play around with film techniques.

On Zero de conduite, Temple claims that this is Vigo’s signature film. He examines the autobiographical elements – his feeling towards his father and his anarchist beliefs. Temple touches upon why the film was banned in France by the government because of content and its attitude towards authority.

Finally, on L’Atalante, Temple examines the tragedy that surrounded it – i.e. Vigo died shortly after completing it and the studio re-edited it. Temple explores how Vigo took a simple premise and transformed it into a classic of French cinema. He points out that the most of it was shot on location during the early days of sound, which was very difficult to pull off, especially with Vigo in ill health.

The second disc starts off with 40 second animated “Tribute by Michel Gondry” who celebrates Vigo’s film in his own, distinctly idiosyncratic way.

“Cineastes de Notre Temps” is a 98-minute documentary on the career of Vigo that aired on French television. Several people who worked with him on his films give their impressions of the man and tell filming anecdotes. This profile does a good job conveying why Vigo is so highly regarded in France.

“Truffaut and Rohmer on L’Atalante” features the two French New Wave directors talking about Vigo’s film. The former recounts when he first saw Vigo’s films and the profound effect they had on him.

“Les Voyages de L’Atalante” examines the evolution of the film over the years, from its initial butchered version to a more complete one assembled and released in 1990. Included are fascinating rushes from filming that shed some light on Vigo’s working methods.

Finally, there is “Otar Iosseliani on Vigo” with the Georgian-French filmmaker talking about how Vigo influenced his films.

Joy (Henderson) is an emotionally fragile little mouse of person who enjoys working with ex-convicts. She is celebrating an anniversary with her drug addict, ex-gang member husband over the most uncomfortable dinner date ever committed to film. Harvey (Lerner) is a divorced man with a son and is seeing Joy’s sister, Trish (Janney). The couple hit it off by sharing a dream of being buried in Israel when they die. Trish’s youngest son Timmy is a little boy working on an essay about what it means to be a man for his Bar Mitzvah. William (Hinds) is a pedophile recently released from prison in New Jersey and he takes a bus to Florida in an attempt reconnect with his oldest son and perhaps start a new life. When he’s not stalking his family, he meets a married woman (Rampling) at a bar. She hates herself and is misanthropic about life in general but has sex with him anyway. Andy (Reubens) is the ghost of Joy’s ex-boyfriend or may represent her guilt and remorse over their failed relationship. Helen (Sheedy) is the black sheep of her family but still keeps in touch with Joy. She’s a successful screenwriter and lives in an ultra-modern mansion.

Solondz has certainly cornered the market on giving a voice to social outcasts, flawed characters who often hate who they are – damaged people trying to find their way in the world. He doesn’t judge them and attempts to find something admirable amongst their flaws. Life During Wartime feels like the bastard offspring of Ingmar Bergman and John Waters with a dash of Daniel Clowes for good measure. Solondz shoots his film with the same solemn formal camerawork as Bergman but with Waters’ outlandish characters and Clowes’ deadpan sense of humor. It’s an odd mix and certainly not everyone’s cup of tea.

Special Features:

“Ask Todd” has Solondz answer several questions submitted by fans on Criterion’s website. He talks about why he picked filmmaking over other artistic endeavors and explains the genesis of Life During Wartime. He never planned to make a sequel to Happiness but a few years ago began thinking about the characters in that film. Solondz touches upon the casting choices he made and why he picked the ones he did for this film. He talks about working with child actors on the difficult subject matter of the film. He also talks about the significance of gumdrops in the film and also mentions some of his influences, chief among them television.

“Actors’ Reflections” features several cast members talking about working on the film. Ciaran Hinds gives his impressions of what he thinks Solondz was trying to say with this film. Michael Kenneth Williams knew nothing about Solondz or his films before acting in Life During Wartime and said that the director didn’t initially see him in the role. Shirley Henderson and Ally Sheedy talk about their respective characters and how they identified with them.

There is an interview with the film’s director of photography Ed Lachman. He talks about the film, provides commentary for six selected scenes and answers five questions. He was familiar with Solondz’s work and found that hew as very compassionate towards his characters. Lachman provides examples of the look Solondz wanted. He also talks about how he got into filmmaking. Initially, he was into fine art and has subsequently imposed those ideas in his own work.

Finally, there is a trailer for the film.

Malle establishes the film’s irreverent credentials right from the start by making fun of the reputation French people have for not washing regularly (“They’re not even Paris’ prize stinkers.”). Uncle Gabriel (Noiret) meets his precocious 9 ½-year-old niece Zazie (Demongeot) at the train station and is entrusted by her mother to look after the child for two days. She wants to take the Metro but they are on strike much to her chagrin (“It ain’t about politics. It’s about bucks,” a taxi cab driver tells her.). She’s an adorably insolent child who gives her uncle and the cab driver a hard time.

Malle takes us through the streets of Paris at high speed in a carefree way that presents a romantic view of the city. Zazie repeatedly wants to ride the subway, refusing to go to museums or acknowledge the historical architecture Gabriel points out as they drive through the city. The next morning, Zazie wakes up before her uncle and goes out to explore the city on her own where she meets a colorful assortment of characters along the way.

Malle wisely parallels the books’ experimentation with words by doing the same with the film’s visuals with a playful style that utilizes sped up film, jump cuts and time-lapse photography. There are visual gags aplenty as Zazie walks through a market and a little boy is on sale in a stand with a sign that reads, “Second Hand.” There is an amusing bit where she eats messy clams and keeps staining a vain man’s expensive suit until he’s reduced to a nervous wreck. There is also a surreal chase through the streets as the man in the dapper suit chases multiple version of Zazie around in a manic cat and mouse game.

Malle gets a terrific performance out of Catherine Demongeot as the irrepressible child who just wants to ride the Metro and wreaks havoc on those around her in the meantime. One can see the same playful tribute to cinema and irreverence for stuffy convention with Richard Lester’s Beatles film, A Hard Day’s Night (1964). Imagine if the film Amelie (2001) was entirely about the title character when she was a child and like that film Zazie dans le metro is a playful love letter to Paris with a free-spirited protagonist. Malle’s film is love-action cartoon, or an issue of Mad magazine brought to life, with exaggerated camera angles, nonsensical set pieces and an anarchic spirit that thumbs its nose at convention and authority. This is a film in which we see Paris through the eyes of a child but it also is a celebration of cinema that plays fast and loose with logic and style.

Special Features:

An interview with Louis Malle from a 1960 French news program. He liked the challenge of adapting a difficult novel and using it to critique the grammar of cinema while still retaining the author’s satirical approach. He talks about screening the film for Charlie Chaplin and his reaction to it.

Actress Catherine Demongeot is interviewed for French television in 1960. We see her at home playfully reciting key lines of dialogue from Zazie dans le metro. The young actress keeps her answers brief and to the point all with a bemused expression.

There are two interviews with author Raymond Queneau. The first is from a 1959 French T.V. program where he talks about writing the book and his working methods in general. The second interview was done in 1961 and he talks about what makes him laugh and what doesn’t. Interestingly, he comes across as a mostly humorless man.

“Le Paris de Zazie” is a short documentary by Malle’s assistant director Philippe Collen who gives us a tour of the Paris locations used in the film. He points out that a lot of the film was actually shot in the studio. He tells several filming anecdotes that pertain to the locations used.

Also included is an interview with Jean-Paul Rappeneau who co-wrote the screenplay with Malle. He touches upon the challenge of getting the film rights and then finding a way to translate such an unusual novel into a film.

There is an audio interview with filmmaker and photographer William Klein who acted as the artistic consultant on the film. He talks about how he got involved and what it was like to work with Malle.

Finally, there is an original theatrical trailer.

A young girl named Lily (Harrison) is driving along a deserted country road when she comes across a war of some sort, pitting women against men. We see female soldiers being ruthlessly executed and Lily manages to escape the military checkpoint by driving into the countryside. She stumbles across a herd of sheep with a dead man hanging from a tree. Lily finally comes across a country house where she finds a pig in a child’s highchair and upstairs a cat on a piano. She encounters a bed-ridden old lady (Giehse) having a nonsensical conversation with a mouse and then herself. The other inhabitants include an androgynous and incestuous brother and sister couple (Dallesandro and Stewart).

Malle lingers on shots of various insects and animals in nature only to reveal a unicorn grazing in a field. Animals play an important role in Black Moon as they give the film a surreal, fairy tale atmosphere. The film doesn’t follow any semblance of a traditional linear narrative and is largely devoid of dialogue. Instead, Malle opts for a series of surreal set pieces. The French director has crafted a self-consciously bizarre film that, at times, evokes surrealist filmmaker Luis Bunuel and follows dream logic with Lilly’s sexual awakening modeled after Alice in Wonderland. One’s enjoyment of this film will be based on your interest and tolerance in abstract imagery and non-linear narratives.

Special Features:

There is a 1975 interview with Louis Malle on French television. He provides some insight into Black Moon. He was interested in depicting an irrational world. This is quite a good primer to understanding what he’s trying to say with the film and what some of its images mean.

Also included is a Stills Gallery of behind the scenes photographs of the cast and crew at work.

Finally, there is an original theatrical trailer.

Roeg immediately establishes the artifice of cinema in the opening scene where he and his camera crew are preparing to shoot a scene in front of a cinema showing Creature from the Black Lagoon (1954). The year is 1954 and the Professor (Emil) is a man who looks very much like famous scientist Albert Einstein. He is working on complex equations in his hotel room. Outside the window on the street, the Actress (Russell), who looks a lot like Marilyn Monroe, cheekily recreates the famous street vent scene from The Seven Year Itch (1955). The Senator (Curtis), a politician who evokes Joseph McCarthy, is hanging out in a nearby bar. He comes up to the Professor’s hotel room and tries to convince him to help speak out against what he perceives as the threat of Communism, arguing that it is as worthy a cause as battling Nazi Germany in World War II, flashbacks of which haunt the scientist’s dreams.

After the Senator leaves, the Professor is visited by the Actress who complains about her fame and being objectified in the film she’s currently making while also demonstrating her knowledge of the Theory of Relativity. They are about to have sex when the Ballplayer (Busey) interrupts them. He’s the Actress’ husband and is obviously meant to evoke Joe DiMaggio, who was married to Monroe in real life.

Roeg does his best to avoid the staginess of adapting a play into a film but Johnson’s dialogue still feels stage-bound. One has to admire the attempt to deconstruct these American icons and what they represent: science, politics, entertainment and sports. However, it’s done in a way that relies too much on pretentious film theory. Film is a visual medium and Insignificance (1985) might have been more successful if it showed us rather than told us.

Special Features:

“Making Insignificance” is a promotional featurette made at the time of the film’s release with interview soundbites with the cast. They talk about their characters and praise working with Roeg. There are all kinds of on the set footage or the director at work with the actors.

Nicolas Roeg and producer Jeremy Thomas are interviewed. They talk about the significance of the characters and the actors that played them. Naturally, they talk about the play and adapting it into a film.

There is an interview with editor Tony Lawson who talks about some of the great directors he’s worked with over his career: Sam Peckinpah, Stanley Kubrick, and, of course, Roeg. He talks about their approaches to editing with an emphasis, as you would imagine, on Roeg.

Finally, there is a theatrical trailer.

The opening track, “Porpoise Song,” with its psychedelic imagery, anticipates the British acid house movement by many years and quickly establishes that this isn’t going to be a traditional film by any stretch of the imagination. Gone is the bubblegum pop and in is the Sgt. Pepper’s-esque experimentation. At one point, the band members appear as dandruff in Victor Mature’s hair only to be swept up by a giant vacuum cleaner. Hell, Frank Zappa even shows up with a talking cow to give some sage advice. The Monkees, with Rafelson’s help, gleefully bit the hand that fed them and proceeded to deconstruct their image in a way that no pop group at their level of success had done before or since. Imagine if Justin Bieber decided to star in a film directed Darren Aronofsky.

The critical and commercial success of Easy Rider (1969) scared the hell out of the Hollywood studios at the time of its release. Executives thought that they knew what the public wanted to see: safe comedies like Pillow Talk (1959) or the Frankie and Annette beach party movies. Along came this counter-culture film that featured contemporary rock ‘n’ roll music, two hippie protagonists and a nihilistic ending. And audiences loved it. Easy Rider ushered in the last great decade of American movies in the ‘70s.

After selling their stash of cocaine, Billy (Hopper) and Wyatt (Fonda) decide to ride their motorcycles from California to Florida (by way of the South) where they plan to live off the money. They travel the back roads of American and encounter all sorts of people: suspicious small-townsfolk, an oppressive sheriff and a rancher and his large family who invite them to a meal. The deeper they go into the South, the more resistance they meet because of how they look.

Easy Rider is a fantastic snapshot of the times. It signaled the end of the not-so idyllic ‘60s, where having long hair could deny you a room in a motel because the manager didn’t like the way you look. Time running out is a constant theme throughout Easy Rider. When Billy and Wyatt start their journey, Wyatt throws away his watch. Later on, he finds a discarded pocket watch just before they leave the commune. Also, as they are leaving, the hitchhiker they picked up warns Wyatt that time is running out. It eerily foreshadows the film’s disturbing finale and gives a feeling of impending doom that hangs over the entire film.

Five Easy Pieces (1970) is one of those complex character studies that typified some of the best American films from the 1970s. Bobby Dupea (Nicholson) is a former piano prodigy who spends his days working on an oilrig with his best friend Elton (Bush). As Bill Murray would later say in Stripes (1981), he’s “part of a lost and restless generation.” He’s someone who doesn’t suffer fools gladly which makes one wonder why he lives with Rayette (Black), a nice enough person but clearly not Bobby’s intellectual equal and he barely tolerates her needy behavior. One gets the feeling that Bobby is punishing himself.

He is a restless soul as evident in a fascinating scene where, frustrated at being stuck in a traffic jam on the interstate, he gets out of his car and starts playing the piano on a back of a nearby truck. Bobby wants to fit in – hence the blue-collar employment – but he keeps sabotaging his jobs and relationships with an acute self-awareness and his rejection of familial responsibilities. This is a slice of life film whose story doesn’t begin properly until 30 minutes in when Bobby finds out that his estranged father is ill and decides to take road trip to see him. Nicholson delivers a brilliant, gritty performance that would typify a lot of his work in the ‘70s. He’s not afraid to play an unlikable guy who treats those around him poorly. Bobby is full of anger – at the world, at others and at himself.

Drive, He Said (1970) marked the directorial debut of Jack Nicholson. By this point in his career, he had already tried his hand at screenwriting and, of course, acting, so directing seemed like the next logical step. The film concerns the relationship between Hector Bloom (Tepper), a talented college basketball player, and his increasingly radical roommate Gabriel (Margotta). The first thing that strikes one about this film is how topical it is as it deals frankly with sex and nudity (both male and female) – something that was being explored explicitly at the time and how politicized college campuses had become because of the Vietnam War, the civil rights movement, and so on.

In A Safe Place (1971), Tuesday Weld plays a beautiful free spirit in this whimsical experimental film. Scenes often cut abruptly to others and the film lacks a concrete story but is anchored by a strong performance by Weld. Along for the ride is Orson Welles as a mysterious magician who performs several tricks. The lack of a linear narrative can make this a frustrating experiment for some. In some respects, it’s a snapshot of its time and could never be made now.

Made in the early ‘70s, The Last Picture Show (1971) firmly established director Peter Bogdanovich as one of the premiere American filmmakers of that decade. It is also his undisputed masterpiece in a wildly uneven career. Based on the novel of the same name by Larry McMurtry, the film is a lament for the absence of simpler times and a simpler way of life. It’s set in a dusty Texas town in the early 1950s with the focus on three aimless teenagers: Sonny (Bottoms), Duane (Bridges) and Jacy (Shepherd). Sonny and Duane play for the local high school football team and endure constant criticism from their elders for their poor play. Social life for the teens revolves around the small town’s lone movie theater. Our three teen protagonists are bored and can’t wait to get out of their town where nothing ever happens.

Timothy Bottoms, Jeff Bridges and Cybill Shepherd were all young, up-and-coming actors at the time and are excellent in their respective roles. It is easy to see why an actor like Bridges went on to become such a versatile thespian. Even this early on in his career he displays an uncanny knack for embodying a character. Bogdanovich does a good job with this material and the rich, textured black and white cinematography, coupled with the run-down Texas town, feels like it could exist in the same world as the characters in Hud (1963), another film based on a McMurtry novel.

Bob Rafelson reunited with Jack Nicholson for another tale about disillusioned and disaffected Americans with The King of Marvin Gardens (1972). Like their best collaborations, it’s a character study, exploring the relationship between two estranged brothers. David (Nicholson) is a depressed radio show host in Philadelphia. One day, he receives a phone call from his scam artist brother Jason (Dern) who is stuck in a jail in Atlantic City. Once he gets out, Jason ropes David in on a real estate scam. The gregarious older sibling makes it out to be too good to be true and that’s because it is.

Jack Nicholson is fascinatingly cast against type as a reserved, button-downed intellectual. David is a quiet, responsible person, which is in sharp contrast to Bruce Dern’s motor-mouthed Jason, a guy always on the make. He’s a consummate bullshit artist and the cynical David sees right through his hustle. The King of Marvin Gardens is an intriguing snapshot of an Atlantic City that doesn’t exist anymore. At the time, it was in decline but all of the old architecture was still gloriously intact and Rafelson shows it off to the degree that it is almost another character in the film. It’s interesting to note that the film’s offbeat rhythm anticipates Vincent Gallo’s Buffalo ’66 (1998) complete with a woman dancing by herself in a spotlight. Dern and Nicholson play well off each other and are believable as brothers. They have a familiar short hand and get on each other’s nerves much like real siblings do.

Special Features:

On the Head DVD is an audio commentary by The Monkees – Micky Dolenz, Davy Jones, Michael Nesmith, Peter Tork. Rather appropriately, they talk about how they got their own television show and then the film. They are all pretty candid about how badly the film performed at the time and how it was their attempt to trash the image of the band from the show.

“From The Monkees to Head” is an interview with director Bob Rafelson. He talks about the genesis of the T.V. show and how The Beatles influenced it with A Hard Day’s Night (1964). He goes on to talk about how the show led to the film and how everyone around him told him not to make it.

“BBS: A Time for Change” is a 30-minute featurette on BBS, an independent production company that existed from the late 1960s to the early 1970s. This is an excellent look at the genesis of this company and its place in cinematic history.

There are screen tests for all four Monkees that were done before the T.V. show. They were integrated into the pilot episode and helped launch the show. Their personalities really come out in this footage. We also see two of The Monkees paired up with two other guys that never made the final cut.

“The Monkees on The Hy Lit Show, 1968” is a rare T.V. appearance by the band to promote Head. It takes place next to a boxing ring (?!) and it is interesting to see them try and explain their film.

“Promotion” includes several theatrical trailers, T.V spots and radio spots for the film. Also included is a collection of stills and behind-the-scenes photographs.

On the Easy Rider disc, there is an audio commentary by co-writer and director Dennis Hopper that was recorded in 2009. He kicks things off by talking about the genesis of the film. He also talks about his motivation for making the film and what he was trying to say with it. He points out bits of dialogue and visual inserts that were improvised. There are several lulls throughout as Hopper tends to get caught up in watching the film.

Also included is a 1995 commentary by Hopper, Peter Fonda and production manager Paul Lewis. This is a much livelier track as everyone shares filming anecdotes like Phil Spector lending his limousine and bodyguard to the film. They also point out where various scenes were shot and how also just how stoned Jack Nicholson was during the famous campfire sequence.

There are two trailers.

The second disc starts off with a 30-minute BBC2 documentary entitled, “Born to be Wild”. It features Hopper, Fonda, Karen Black and cinematographer Laszlo Kovacs. Hopper and Fonda talk briefly about how Roger Corman taught them to make a film fast and cheap. Of course, they address the casting of Nicholson and how Hopper didn’t see him in the role. Everyone tells some good filming anecdotes in this highly enjoyable extra.

Carried over from the 35th Anniversary Edition is “Easy Rider: Shaking the Cage,” an hour-long retrospective documentary featuring new interviews with Fonda, Hopper, Seymour Cassel (who worked on the crew) and Black. Hopper says that the film was an attempt to counter the mainstream fluff like the Frankie and Annette beach party movies that ignored sex, drugs and contemporary rock ‘n’ roll. This is a top-notch look at all the wild stories of filming Easy Rider, including the infamous Mardi Gras shoot.

“Hopper and Fonda at Cannes” features a segment from French T.V. of Fonda and Hopper at the 1969 Cannes Film Festival with their film and they briefly talk about it.

Finally, there is an interview with Steve Blauner, one of the founders of BBS. He talks about the genesis of the company and about their start in T.V., creating The Monkees. He points out that the money from the show paid for Easy Rider.

If you own the 35th Anniversary Edition of the film you might want to hold on to as the commentary that Hopper does on it is not included, nor is the excellent BFI Modern Classics book on Easy Rider by Lee Hill or the bonus CD with select songs from the film.

The Five Easy Pieces disc starts off with an audio commentary by director Bob Rafelson and interior designer Toby Rafelson. Toby points out that the entire film was shot on practical locations. Originally, she didn’t want to do the film but Bob convinced her when he told that he was going to use their own furniture (!). By keeping it under budget and on time, he had final cut and could also cast whomever he wanted. Naturally, Bob talks about working with Nicholson on this engaging track.

“Soul Searching in Five Easy Pieces” features an interview with Rafelson where he talks about the film’s development. He was nervous about doing Five Easy Pieces because it was the first time he worked with actual, serious actors. He had written two screenplays but didn’t like them. He showed them to screenwriter Carol Eastman and she threw them out and wrote her own.

“BBStory” is a 2009, 46-minute documentary about BBS Productions and features the likes of Rafelson, Peter Bogdanovich, Jack Nicholson, Karen Black, and several others. It starts off with the social and political conditions that gave birth to the company. The studio system was collapsing and BBS made films that reflected the times that people were living in.

“Bob Rafelson at AFI” features excerpts from an audio recording of Rafelson speaking at the American Film Institute. He talks about his career and the films he made for BBS.

Finally, there are two teaser trailers and one full-length trailer.

Drive, He Said starts off with “A Cautionary Tale of Campus Revolution and Sexual Freedom,” a featurette where Jack Nicholson, Bruce Dern and co-producer Harry Gittes talk about making this film. It was about college campus revolution and at one point during filming a real riot broke out on the campus they were at. They went ahead and filmed it without permission. Nicholson talks about shooting the basketball sequences and how he cast actual players.

Also included is a trailer.

A Safe Place includes an audio commentary by director Henry Jaglom. He points out that the film was originally a play starring Karen Black. By adapting it into a film he wanted to make it more abstract, exploring the internal nature of Tuesday Weld’s character. Jaglom is quite eloquent and engaging on this track.

“Henry Jaglom Finds A Safe Place” sees the filmmaker talking about the influence of improvisational theater and the New Wave of European cinema. He was interested in creating stories about the inner lives of women.

“Notes on the New York Film Festival” sees Jaglom and Peter Bogdanovich talk with film critic Molly Haskell about The Last Picture Show and A Safe Place in 1971. It’s great to see them all in their prime talking so confidently about their work. The two directors banter playfully with each other in this enjoyable extra.

Also included are outtakes of Orson Welles blowing his lines and four screen tests.

There is a trailer as well.

The Last Picture Show includes an audio commentary by director Peter Bogdanovich and actors Cybill Shepherd, Randy Quaid, Cloris Leachman and Frank Marshall. The director explains why he shot the film in black and white and says that the town was divided about them filming there. He goes into the casting choices with some interesting stories. Shepherd says that she never acted before doing that film and gives her impressions of working on it as do the other participants.

Bogdanovich returns for another commentary, this time by himself. There is some overlap from the previous track making it kind of redundant. Not surprisingly, he dwells on the nuts and bolts of filmmaking and discusses its themes.

Also included are two trailers.

The second disc includes “The Last Picture Show: A Look Back,” an hour-long documentary made in 1999 with most of the key cast members and Bogdanovich and author Larry McMurtry recalling their experiences of making the film. It takes us through the genesis and filming to its reception. There is a fair amount of crossover of information from the commentaries but if you’re not into listening to commentaries then this is for you.

“A Discussion with Filmmaker Peter Bogdanovich” sees him talking about how he got into show business, what directors influenced him and, of course, The Last Picture Show.

“Picture This” is a documentary about Bogdanovich and key cast members reunited to make the sequel, Texasville (1990) while also talking about their experiences making the original film. It also paints a fascinating portrait of the people that lived in the town.

Also included are 16mm screen tests of several actors in the film.

There is location footage that Bogdanovich shot while scouting places to shoot for the film.

“Truffaut on the New Hollywood” features filmmaker Francois Truffaut talking briefly about the New Hollywood directors in 1972 on French T.V. He also offers high praise for The Last Picture Show.

For The King of Marvin Gardens, there is a selected-scene commentary by Bob Rafelson. He talks about some of the stylistic choices he made. After Five Easy Pieces, he wanted to make a more abstract film. He talks about the film’s style and comments on the characters.

“Reflections of a Philosopher King” sees Rafelson and actress Elle Burstyn talking about the characters in the film and how they came to be and evolved over the course of filming.

“Afterthoughts” features Rafelson, cinematographer Laszlo Kovacs and actor Bruce Dern talking about the style of the film and how it was achieved and why. There is some overlap from the previous extras but Dern and Kovacs’ comments are quite good and funny as hell.

“About Bob Rafelson” is brief text biography of the man’s career.

Finally, there is a trailer.

In a beautifully shot prologue – depicted in black and white and in slow motion – a husband (Dafoe) and wife (Gainsbourg) make love while their unsupervised little boy jumps out his bedroom window and dies. Von Trier juxtaposes the ecstasy of lovemaking with the horror of a little child dying. Understandably devastated by the loss of their child, the husband and wife attempt to cope with their feelings. She becomes so depressed that she has to be hospitalized. He’s a therapist and decides to treat her himself. In an act of hubris, he thinks that he can cure her, tossing aside the commonly held belief that a therapist should not treat his own family members.

The first third of Antichrist is a brilliantly acted drama as Willem Dafoe and Charlotte Gainsbourg’s characters bear their souls and talk about how they feel in regards to their child’s death. Both actors strip everything down and do an excellent job of portraying two people trying to deal with an unimaginable tragedy – he, the clinical caregiver and she, the grief-ridden patient. Gainsbourg, especially, is riveting as the traumatized mother wracked with paralyzing anxiety and guilt. When she tells him that the place she fears the most is the woods, he decides to take her to a remote cabin in a heavily forested area in an attempt to help her confront her fears. They continue her therapy but the woods is presented as a dark, foreboding place that affects her in very disturbing ways.

Von Trier has taken the notion of a woman emotionally unraveling from a film like A Woman Under the Influence (1974) and enveloped it in the supernatural horror genre as our two protagonists return to nature only to succumb to its most primal aspects – what she perceives as an evil environment where chaos reigns. He thinks he has her all figured out and foolishly assumes he can cure her but as she demonstrates, in the film’s shocking climax, he has no idea what she is feeling or experiencing. She punishes him in a way that evokes the shocking climax of Takashi Miike’s Audition (1999). With Antichrist, Von Trier has created a horror film for adults that is thankfully devoid of the silly affectations that mar predictable slasher films like the Saw series.

Special Features:

The first disc includes an audio commentary by director Lars von Trier and film scholar Murray Smith. They start things off by discussing the stylized black and white prologue and how it was achieved. Von Trier is not big on analysis, often struggling to articulate what the film means and instead talks about the technical filmmaking aspects. He touches briefly upon the differing acting styles of Willem Dafoe and Charlotte Gainsbourg. Von Trier also talks about how Russian director Andrei Tarkovsky’s films, specifically, Solaris (1972), influenced Antichrist. He is not the most eloquent commentator but plugs away with the help of Smith who tries to keep things going by constantly asking questions.

Also included are three trailers.

The second disc includes “Cast and Director Interviews.” Lars von Trier talks about anxiety attacks that he’s had since he was six-years-old and how they informed Antichrist. Making the film was a form of therapy for the director. Charlotte Gainsbourg says that she was offered the role at the last minute, read the script, wanted to do it, and agreed to do the film. She knew of Von Trier’s work but had never met him. She gives her impressions of the man and his working methods. Willem Dafoe talks about how he got involved in the film, which was early on. He was aware of how tough an experience it was for Von Trier to make and supported him at every opportunity. Ever the eloquent speaker, Dafoe is a fascinating interview subject.

“The Making of Antichrist” examines various aspects of the production, including the visual effects, the sound and production design, and makeup effects. There are all kinds of behind-the-scenes footage that sheds fascinating light on Von Trier’s working methods. Various cast and crew members are interviewed and talk about their area of expertise.

Finally, there is “Cannes 2009,” which takes a look at the film’s world premiere at the Cannes Film Festival and how it was received there. We see Von Trier, Dafoe and Gainsbourg doing all kinds of press junkets as they promote the film. There is even some footage of the infamous press conference where Von Trier responded to a tabloid journalist with a wonderfully cheeky reply. Both Dafoe and Gainsbourg are interviewed separately and recount some experiences making the film.