In 1885, the British garrison in Khartoum is overrun by African followers of Islam with General Gordon being killed as a result. The film opens with a conversation about cowardice as several retired British army veterans swap war stories about the punishment for cowardice during wartime. A young, impressionable boy named Harry Faversham listens to these stories with wide-eyed fear and amazement. Ten years later, he (Clements) is a soldier in the British army and about to be deployed to the Sudan. His father has recently died and he’s engaged to marry the beautiful Ethne Burroughs (Duprez), much to the chagrin of Captain John Durrance (Richardson).

However, Harry never wanted to be a soldier and only enlisted to please his father. So, he resigns his post before shipping out. He has a change of heart when his friends each send him a feather to remind him of their bond and sense of duty to their country. So, he goes incognito to Khartoum and seeks out his regiment in an effort to redeem himself.

Korda does an incredible job of capturing the impressive expansive vistas of the Sudan and its harsh, unforgiving conditions. He does an astounding job with the film’s epic battle scenes whose sheer scale and scope rival only that of Lawrence of Arabia (1962). Korda also manages to simultaneously celebrate British sense of duty and the famous stiff upper lip while also depicting the arrogance of their imperialistic ways. The Four Feathers and its story feel rather dated by contemporary standards with views and attitudes that seem quite antiquated now. It’s a reminder of a time when England was one of the world’s dominant super powers in addition to being a rousing epic adventure of one man’s journey to redemption.

Special Features:

There is an audio commentary by British film historian by Charles Drazin. He starts things off by giving a run down of the prior adaptations and proceeds to make a case for Korda’s being the definitive version. Drazin provides a brief historical backstory to the events depicted in the film. He also gives us a biographical sketch of the prolific Korda family who were deeply immersed in cinema. He does a good job of analyzing the film’s impressive style and its themes while also examining how it diverges from the novel.

Also includes is an interview with David Korda, son of director Zoltan. He talks about his father’s upbringing and about his relationship with his filmmaking brothers as well as how they got into the business.

“A Day at Denham” is a 1939 promotional film that takes us on a tour of London Film Productions’ studios at Denham. Included is rare, behind-the-scenes footage of Zoltan Korda working on The Four Feathers.

Finally, there is a theatrical trailer.

Carlos is presented in three, feature-length episodes that track his rise to power and notoriety; the man at the peak of his powers and his greatest triumph; and his inevitable decline and capture. Early on, Assayas establishes his take on Carlos (Ramirez), presenting him as a vain man who, at one point, is seen admiring his own naked body in a mirror to the strains of “Dreams Never End” by New Order. We also see him espouse his personal philosophy, that true glory is “doing one’s duty in silence. Behind every bullet we fire, there will be an idea because we act in harmony in our conscience.” And initially, he seems to adhere to this but once he becomes a superstar among international terrorists, he embraces and cultivates his inflated reputation.

In the first episode, Assayas shows Carlos’ clumsy attempts to impress Wadie Haddad (Kaabour), co-founder of the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine (PFLP), with a bungled assassination and a failed bombing. This segment builds towards an intense showdown between French domestic intelligence agents and Carlos at one of his girlfriends’ apartment in Paris where we see just how dangerous he is when cornered. The second episode starts off literally with a bang as Carlos and his group arrives at the OPEC headquarters in Vienna and takes oil ministers from all over the world hostage in 1975. This was his highest profile operation done at the height of his powers.

By the end of the second episode, Carlos has been kicked out of the PFLP and he starts up his own terrorist organization, effectively becoming a mercenary. The third episode tracks his inevitable decline as he wages a war of terror on France in the early to mid-‘80s after they arrest his wife and a close associate. It’s costly battle for both sides but more so for Carlos who can no longer rely on his reputation to get jobs or find safe haven in countries that used to be sympathetic towards him. He becomes more vulnerable to attacks because he has more to lose, chief among them a family.

Edgar Ramirez’s magnetic presence really comes across early on as he exudes the cocky confidence of the man and conveys his complete commitment to the cause he espouses so brazenly. The actor has Carlo’s terrorist swagger down cold, showing us the smooth ladies man with his perfectly coifed looks and stylish attire. Known prior to Carlos mostly for his strong supporting turn in Tony Scott’s Domino (2005), he finally gets to be front and center, playing the role of a lifetime: a larger than life historical figure in a sprawling epic. Assayas and Ramirez’s fascinating take on Carlos is that he viewed himself as a kind of rock star, a charismatic personality who clearly saw himself as someone of importance, destined to do great things. This is evident in the way Carlos idolized and emulated Che Guevara during the OPEC raid, sporting the iconic revolutionary’s trademark beret and scruffy facial hair look as if making a statement. Also, the rock star analogy is further explored in the use of post-punk music along with the third episode, which could be seen as Carlos’ “fat Elvis” period of decline. Ramirez commands every scene he’s in, especially the OPEC raid where he prowls around rooms and hallways, expertly orchestrating this attack in order to get what he wants.

In an intriguing break from tradition, Assayas eschews a traditional orchestral score for source music, predominately post-punk rock. The opening track is “Loveless Love” by the Feelies, which sets the tone of the film. As the song builds so does the tension of the scene it play over – that of Carlos attempting to assassinate a pro-Israeli businessman in England. Assayas also uses a few tracks by Wire, one by A Certain Ratio and a memorable action sequence scored to “Sonic Reducer” by the Dead Boys. The attention to period detail and architecture is also excellent as Assayas takes us on a perverse travelogue through Europe and the Middle East with Carlos as our guide.

With its color-coded sequences and its objective direction that is slick and confident, Carlos resembles Traffic (2000) and Syriana (2005). These films are all ambitious and expansive in scope as they expertly blend personal politics with bigger political movements. Carlos is a towering achievement, a fascinating study of a man who was a reflection of the times in which he lived in and is embodied by Ramirez’s powerful performance spanning several decades. Assayas’ film is very relevant to our times as it examines the complex machinations of international terrorism with the agendas of terrorist groups clashing with that of the governments of countries all over the world. Carlos sees the struggle of the oppressed against imperialist regimes as a war that he helps fight. With the end of the Cold War, he is marginalized and considered a relic from a bygone era. Assayas has crafted an incredible film that is smartly written, well-acted and masterfully directed.

Special Features:

The first disc includes a theatrical trailer.

The second disc starts off with “Shooting the OPEC Sequence,” a 22-minute featurette examining how Olivier Assayas shot Carlos and his team’s raid on the OPEC headquarters on December 21, 1975. The director offers his thoughts on what he hoped to achieve with the film over footage of the cast and crew working on location. This extra provides some insight into his working methods.

There is an interview with Denis Lenoir, one of the film’s two cinematographers. He shot the second half of Carlos and talks about his approach towards the job. He didn’t prepare much for the film because he came in halfway through and goes into some of the technical aspects (i.e. film stock, lighting, etc.). Lenoir also talks about how Assayas works.

Lenoir also provides a selected-scene commentary, going into detail about the technical aspects of six scenes from the film. For example, he mentions the kinds of lenses he used, the lighting scheme and whether he used hand-held cameras or not.

The third disc features a 43-minute interview with director Olivier Assayas. He gives his take on Carlos and the times that shaped the man. The filmmaker talks about his intentions for the film. He admits that it did not originate with him because he would’ve considered too complicated a task to undertake and was actually approached to direct. Assayas talks about growing up during Carlos’ heyday and also about making the film itself.

There is also a 20-minute interview with actor Edgar Ramirez. He was drawn to the film because it dealt with the mechanics of terrorism and politics. The actor speaks eloquently about his take on Carlos and how the OPEC raid defined him. Ramirez also speaks about how he prepared for the role, including all kinds of research he conducted as well as gaining and then losing weight for the various periods of Carlos’ life.

The fourth and last disc starts off with “Carlos: Terrorist without Borders,” an hour-long documentary that aired on French television in 1997. It fleshes out many of the events depicted in the film and provides some background into Carlos’ politics as well as his rise to prominence. The doc mixes compelling news footage (including actual footage of Carlos) with talking head soundbites to paint a fascinating portrait of the man.

Also included is a 1995 interview with Hans-Joachim Klein, the German left-wing militant that was conducted by Daniel Laconte who went on to help produce Carlos. Most interesting, Klein wears a disguise and talks about how he must lie on a daily basis lest he be discovered by those who want to get him. At times, he comes across as more than a little eccentric.

Finally, there is “Maison de France,” an 88-minute documentary about the 1983 bombing of the Maison de France in West Berlin that was orchestrated by Johannes Weinrich for Carlos. It puts the incident in context with the political climate at the time. There is pretty gripping news footage of the bombing and the location is revisited in recent years to see how it has changed.

When ground control receives mysterious transmissions from the only three inhabitants on the Solaris space station, they send cosmonaut and psychologist Kris Kelvin (Banionis) to check it out because the powers that be believe the people on the space station are experiencing hallucinations from unknown phenomena. He arrives to find the station in disarray and Snaut (Yarvet), one of the inhabitants, acting twitchy. He tells Kelvin that one of them has committed suicide and that Sartorius (Solonitsyn) has also gone crazy. Kelvin tries to figure out what went wrong and begins to experience hallucinations in the form of his deceased wife Hari (Bondarchuk). She committed suicide awhile ago and Kelvin is still dealing with feelings of grief and guilt. He knows she’s not real but still finds himself under her thrall and desperate to redeem himself.

Like Kubrick, Tarkovsky favors long takes, deliberately slow pacing and employing a widescreen frame to depict the unfolding drama. Solaris is the cinematic equivalent of a mood ring as Tarkovsky alternates between a cold blue look and a warm, sun-kissed look that depends on the kind of emotion he wants to convey. He also alternates between black and white and color film stock.

Five years before Star Wars (1977), Solaris features a lived-in future world that flies in the face of the sterile look of 2001. Like Kubrick’s film, it is a meditative take on science fiction, investing the genre with deep emotions and intelligence as Tarkovsky wrestles with notions of identity and humanity as personified by Donatas Banionis’ haunted, soulful performance. Many years later, Steven Soderbergh made his own version of Stanislaw Lem’s novel in 2002 but his approach was closer to Kubrick’s vision of science fiction than Tarkovsky’s. The Russian film remains one of the undisputed masterpieces of the genre and this new edition, by the Criterion Collection, is a fitting tribute.

Special Features:

The first disc features an audio commentary by film scholars Vida Johnson and Graham Petrie, co-authors of The Films of Andrei Tarkovsky. They talk about a few of the Russian filmmaker’s key collaborators who worked with him on several films. Johnson touches upon the relationship between Tarkovsky and his lead actor, which lacked in communication at times. Petrie examines the differences between the source novel and the film. There is a nice mix of analysis and production information on this track.

The second disc includes nine deleted and alternate scenes. We see more of Kelvin and his dead wife Hari. Some of these scenes flesh out the character of Kelvin but one can see why they were removed.

Actress Natalya Bondarchuk is interviewed and talks about when she first met Tarkovsky and her impressions of him. Interestingly, she had already read Lem’s book. She speaks admiringly and honestly about her performance in the film.

Cinematographer Vadim Yusou is interviewed. He had worked with Tarkovsky on several films, including his grad film. He offers initial impressions while talking about the Russian filmmaker’s working methods. Yusou also talks about Tarkovsky’s intentions with Solaris.

The film’s art director Mikhail Romandin is interviewed. He talks about meeting Tarkovsky for the first time. He tells some engaging anecdotes about how poor they all were back in the day and, naturally, about his work on Solaris.

In an interview with composer Eduard Artemyev, he talks about his first meeting with Tarkovsky and how he went about composing Solaris’ unique soundtrack, utilizing the then emerging electronic music.

Finally, there is an excerpt from a Polish documentary about Stanislaw Lem who did not like Tarkovsky’s take on his novel. While the film placed an emphasis on Earth, Lem was interested in outer space.

The first shot of the film is of a crocodile sinking rather ominously into the water, followed by a stunning shot of sunlight streaming through the leaves of a tree as a voiceover narration says, “what’s this war in the heart of nature? Why does nature vie with itself?” These ruminations about the nature of war and the environment play over a montage of absolutely beautiful scenery and we meet Private Witt (Caviezel) living among the natives in an Eden-esque paradise but this is soon shattered when he spots a Navy patrol boat nearby. The AWOL soldier is brought back and made a stretcher bearer in C Company by First Sergeant Welsh (Penn) who sees the war in a very different way than Witt. He is more of a realist to Witt’s philosopher. They’re all shipped off to Guadalcanal where they’re ordered to invade and take the island from the Japanese forces because of its strategic importance.

Malick spends the rest of the film dwelling on the aspirations and fears of a handful of soldiers. There’s Lieutenant Colonel Tall (Nolte), a career officer desperate to take the island so that he can be promoted to general. Private Bell (Chaplin) is dealing with the news that his wife is leaving him and tries to find a reason to still care about this war. However, it is the relationship between Witt and Welsh that lies at the heart of The Thin Red Line as their two opposing ideologies clash – Welsh is the jaded cynic and Witt the idealistic dreamer. The scenes they share are some of the strongest in the film. That being said, the combat scenes are well-choreographed kinetic set pieces where men are arbitrarily killed. We see the fear and confusion on their faces and how some of them mask it with bravado or grim determination. These sequences are noisy and jarring and contrast nicely with the calmer, more contemplative moments.

The Thin Red Line is filled with all kinds of breathtaking imagery that stays with you long after it ends, like a line of soldiers that walk through tall grass and casually pass by a short, old aboriginal man who doesn’t even acknowledge their presence as if he’s out for an afternoon stroll. There’s the numerous shots of the lush rainforest and the animals that inhabit it as if Malick seems to be saying war means nothing to them or to nature – they will be here long after we’re gone. Another sublime moment occurs when C Company is climbing a grassy hill and the light changes before our eyes and the sun goes in behind a cloud and out again.

The film is anchored by strong performances from the likes of Sean Penn, Jim Caviezel, Nick Nolte, Elias Koteas with others like Woody Harrelson and John Cusack in minor but notable roles, and then there’s the blink-and-you’ll-miss-them bit parts by then up-and-comers like Adrien Brody, Nick Stahl and Thomas Jane. One gets the feeling that they are all in the service of one man’s vision and that would be Malick.

He immerses us in this world so that at times it seems like we are right there with these soldiers and at other times he pulls back and reflects on the nature of war and its effect on man and the environment. The Thin Red Line is one of the most beautifully shot, poetic war films ever made. It wrestles with some pretty weighty themes and is unafraid to take the time and ponder them. Malick assumes that his audience is intelligent and not just interested in the visceral kicks of soldiers shooting each other and getting blown up. He is aiming for something more profound and using James Jones’ book as a jumping off point. Whether Malick is successful or not is up to the viewer to decide but it is readily apparent that he has created something special with this film.

Special Features:

The Thin Red Line was previously released twice by 20th Century Fox in fairly bare bones versions that included several of the Melanesian songs featured in the film and an impressive DTS soundtrack. The Criterion Collection has worked with Malick to give his film a very impressive facelift both visually and aurally while also including an impressive collection of supplemental material.

The first disc features an audio commentary with long-time Malick collaborator, production designer Jack Fisk, producer Grant Hill and cinematographer John Toll. They talk about how the opening scenes with the natives were shot very documentary-like with a small crew at the end of principal photography. They also point out the various locations they shot in and how it affected them and the film. Hill touches upon the casting process and how they got some of the marquee names to appear in the film. Naturally, they talk about working with Malick but not as much as I’d like. With these crew members, this is a more technically-oriented track short on anecdotal material.

Also included is the theatrical trailer.

The second disc starts off with a more than 30-minute featurette that showcases cast members Kirk Acevedo, Jim Caviezel, Thomas Jane, Elias Koteas, Dash Mihok, and Sean Penn talking about how they were cast and their experiences making the film. They all give fascinating impressions of what Malick is like and what it was like to work with him. The actors did a lot of research and preparation, living and training like soldiers and, as a result, they really bonded with one another. Penn describes how a typical day of shooting might involve Malick shooting a scene with dialogue for a half day and then spending the second doing it again but without any dialogue. This is fantastic extra loaded with tons of anecdotes.

Dianne Crittenden is interviewed about the casting process and she explains what Malick was looking for in the actors that ultimately appeared in the film. We see audition footage of actors that were cast (Nick Stahl’s is quite impressive) and, more interestingly, glimpses of the ones who didn’t – Josh Hartnett, Philip Seymour Hoffman, and Crispin Glover. Malick wanted actors that did not look contemporary and Crittenden saw people from theatrical acting groups all over the United States.

The film’s three editors, Leslie Jones, Saar Klein and Billy Weber are interviewed. Weber says that his favorite part of the film is a section that Jones worked on because it was so representative of Malick and his worldview. Klein says that Malick wasn’t too crazy about directing the battle sequences and just wanted to work with the actors. Weber and Jones talk about the initial five hour cut of the film and how they cut it down and how it changed with the addition of music and narration.

There is an interview with the film’s composer Hans Zimmer. He talks about meeting Malick and how they simply hung out together for a year before filming started. They never talked about the script but instead had more philosophical discussions. The director encouraged Zimmer to experiment and compose music that enhanced John Toll’s cinematography.

For fans of the film that know about all the footage that was shot and the actors that were cut completely out of the film, the addition of outtakes is particularly exciting. Included are eight scenes that run a total of 13 minutes. It’s nice to see more footage of actors like John C. Reilly and Adrien Brody who were marginalized in the final cut. Reilly gets to go off on a rant in a scene with Jim Caviezel. Brody, who just looks scared throughout the film, actually gets to speak here. Best of all, we see footage of Mickey Rourke, an actor cut out of the final version, in a stirring scene as a sniper who shares a scene with Caviezel.

Also included is an interview with Kaylie Jones, the daughter of novelist James Jones. She talks about the novel and her father’s intentions in writing it. Most interestingly, Jones talks about her father’s upbringing and his experiences in World War II and how it fostered his anti-war sentiments as well as informing the novel.

There are five vintage theatrical newsreels that reported the status of the Pacific conflict in Guadalcanal to those at home. These are fascinating examples of war-time propaganda and feature valuable historical footage.

Finally, there are samples of Melanesian chants and music recorded for the film that play over behind-the-scenes stills.

It didn’t and received negative press over the portrayal of a Black Confederate guerrilla played by Jeffrey Wright. There were rumblings of problems between Lee and the studio suggesting that what he originally envisioned did not make it to the big screen. With this new version, created exclusively for the Criterion Collection, Lee takes another crack at Ride with the Devil in an attempt to restore the film to his original intentions.

Set during the Kansas-Missouri border wars, an informal outfit of southern sympathizers known as the Bushwhackers engaged in vicious guerrilla warfare with the occupying Union army and their northern equivalent, the Jayhawkers. Caught up in this chaos are two best friends, Jack Bull Chiles (Ulrich) and Jake Roedel (Maguire). Jake’s father wants him to leave the state for a safer place as war is imminent, but he wants to stay and fight with his friends. Jack’s father is killed by marauding Jayhawkers which makes it pretty easy for him to pick a side to fight on. A year later and Jack and Jake have joined the Bushwhackers and are killing Union soldiers and sympathizers. We learn that, for some, like Black John Ambrose (Caviezel), they fight for the cause, while for others, like Pitt Mackeson (Meyers), they enjoy killing. The film follows Jack and Jake, and those around them, over the course of the war showing how it affects them and alters their lives forever.

The cast acquits themselves just fine but I didn’t quite buy Tobey Maguire as a hardened southern guerrilla fighter. He looks and sounds like he’s still rooted in a contemporary setting despite the period garb and dialogue. The real surprise is Skeet Ulrich who has been sometimes referred to as the poor man’s Johnny Depp. Here, he does a good job of immersing himself in his role. He has gone on to show an impressive range on television with a lead role in the short-lived Jericho. The always reliable Jeffrey Wright has perhaps the most fascinating arc over the course of the film as his character goes from a subservient African American fighting for the South to a self-emancipated man in charge of his own destiny.

Ang Lee displays a knack for action in the shoot-outs that occur sporadically throughout the film between the Bushwhackers and the Union army. He infuses a sense of tension and danger through editing as people are killed our wounded without a moment’s hesitation. Like the Civil War epic that came after it, Cold Mountain (2003), Lee’s Ride with the Devil doesn’t shy away from the brutality of the violence or its after-effects, culminating in the Lawrence, Kansas massacre where almost 200 men died at the hands of the Bushwhackers. The film also shows the harsh living conditions that these people endured as they tried to evade the Union army. While Ride with the Devil is not Lee’s best film, it certainly isn’t his Heaven’s Gate (1980) either. Perhaps this new version will acquire its share of admirers where the previous one did not.

Special Features:

There is an audio commentary by director Ang Lee and producer/screenwriter James Schamus. They start things off by talking about the source material and the origins of the film’s title. Schamus explains that at the time they made Ride with the Devil, the studio was in turmoil and the film was given a brief theatrical release, never finding its audience. They point out the footage that was put back in and the reasons why. Both Lee and Schamus praise the young cast and talk briefly about what some of them brought to their respective roles. This is an engaging and informative track.

Also included is a commentary by cinematographer Frederick Elmes, sound designer Drew Kunin and production designer Mark Friedberg. Surprisingly, these guys put what we are watching in some kind of historical context. In fact, they talk at length about the historical aspects. Naturally, they also cover some technical aspects of the film but in a way that isn’t dry or boring.

Finally, Jeffrey Wright is interviewed exclusively for this DVD. He talks about working on the film and how he felt that it took a sophisticated look at race relations in America. He talks about his initial impressions of Lee and how he got the role. Naturally, the ever-eloquent Wright speaks at length about his character and journey he takes over the course of the film.

Amazingly, Soderbergh raised the $58 million budget entirely outside of North America which allowed him much more creative freedom. The result was a four and half hour epic that refused to champion or demonize Che and instead opted to objectively depict his rise in Cuba and his fall in Bolivia. This approach ultimately doomed Che’s chances in North America where, despite breaking the film up into two more digestible parts, it received limited distribution. Predictably, it divided critics and was criminally ignored by all of the major award ceremonies – rather fitting for a film about someone who refused to rest on his laurels, always hungry to get back to the jungle and get back to work.

I think that the key to understanding Del Toro and Soderbergh’s take on Che comes from an interview with director where he said, “clearly this is a guy whose priority is going into the jungle and starting a revolution. That is the most important thing in his life … If you take away all the words and just look at what he did, the guy kept going back into the jungle.” Del Toro and Soderbergh were faced with the daunting task of making a film about an iconic historic figure, someone whose image has graced countless t-shirts and posters. Che is an extremely polarizing figure and so it makes sense that they would step back and take a more objective look at the man. Then, it would be up to the audience to decide how they felt about him.

Those looking for a crowd-pleasing underdog story a la Erin Brockovich (2000) will be disappointed by Che. The famous Argentinean is not as easy to like as the scrappy Brockovich. As depicted in Che, he’s a much more complex individual. He cares about the cause and those that fight with him but does not feel the need to show a lot of emotion. When he’s in the jungle it is all about the task at hand and living in the moment. Che never loses sight of what his objective is and his conviction never wavers, not even in the face of death. He’s like a Method actor that stays in character on and off-camera during a shoot.

Part One juxtaposes Che’s efforts to remove Batista from power in Cuba in 1958 with him addressing the United Nations in 1964 and in doing so we see Che in his element, putting into practice guerrilla warfare tactics, and we see Che the superstar espousing his beliefs to the media in New York City and the international community at large. At first, the Bolivia campaign as depicted in Part Two starts off well enough with Che sneaking into the country and meeting with his fellow revolutionaries. We see them get supplies and train in preparation for the task at hand. However, the country’s Communist party refuses to support an armed struggle, especially one led by a foreigner. The support of the peasants, so crucial in Cuba, is lacking in Bolivia, making food hard to come by. A feeling of dread creeps in as government troops gradually close in on Che, cutting off any avenue of escape.

Soderbergh maintains an objective stance by refusing to show any close-ups of Che. We always see him from a certain distance and often grouped with others. During the battle at El Uvero on May 28, 1957, Soderbergh conveys the noisy, chaotic nature of combat as men are seemingly wounded at random but there is never any confusion visually about what is going on. Twice during the battle, he takes us out of it by having a voiceover by Che where he espouses his philosophy of guerrilla warfare. With a widescreen aspect ratio, Soderbergh opens things up in Part One and this is particularly evident during the battle scenes. In Part Two, this all changes, as the smooth camerawork is replaced with hand-held cameras and a more standard aspect ratio which creates a claustrophobic feel and look. The long takes and deliberately slow pace may frustrate some expecting a more traditional biopic but I found it a welcome change from the cookie cutter mentality of most Hollywood depictions of history.

During the Cuban campaign it is evident that Che is very much a man of the people, whether it is making contact with and befriending peasants that he comes across in the jungle or treating a wounded comrade. However, Che eschews character development in favor of showing the nuts and bolts of a revolution. As Che says at one point, “A real revolutionary goes where he’s needed. It may not be directly in combat. Sometimes it’s about doing other tasks … finding food, dressing wounds, carrying comrades for miles … and then, taking care of them until they can take care of themselves.” The film takes this philosophy to heart by showing the day-to-day activities of Che and his fellow revolutionaries. We see him dressing wounds, the wounded being carried through the jungle and strategizing with his men and Fidel Castro (Bichir).

Benicio del Toro effortlessly becomes Che and tones down his tendency to sometimes resort to Brando-esque acting tics (see The Way of the Gun) and plays the iconic revolutionary as a man confident of his own convictions. He conveys Che’s sharp intellect with his eyes and also does an excellent job with the physical aspects like his recurring asthma that constantly plagued him. Del Toro provides us insight into the man’s character through attitude, behavior and the way he acts towards others.

Che is ultimately a study in contrasts. What worked in Cuba did not work in Bolivia. Soderbergh’s film illustrates the differences. In Cuba, the revolutionaries were able to get the trust and support of the peasants while in Bolivia they feared the rebels. It must also be said that Castro played a key role in the success of the Cuban revolution and his absence in Bolivia, the galvanizing effect he had, is sorely missed. With Che, Soderbergh has created an unusual biopic that does its best to not try and manipulate you into feeling one way or another about the revolutionary. Instead, it shows two very different examples of the man’s philosophies put into practice and how they played out – one a success and the other a failure. Che was a polarizing historical figure long before this film came along and will continue to be long afterwards.

Special Features:

The first disc includes an audio commentary for Part One by Jon Lee Anderson, chief consultant on Che and author of Che Guevara: A Revolutionary Life. He starts off by calling Che a “hippie rebel,” and a product of the 1960s. He talks about the corruption and decadence of Cuba under Batista and how this provoked men like Che and Fidel Castro to start a revolution. Anderson provides extensive historical background to what we are watching which fills in a lot of gaps and often explains what is being shown, putting it into context.

Also included is a theatrical trailer.

The second disc sees Anderson return for an audio commentary for Part Two. He explains Che’s fascination with Bolivia at an early age and why he chose that country to start a revolution. He talks about the political conditions in Bolivia that made it ripe for a revolution. Like he did with Part One, Anderson provides the backstory and elaborates in detail on what we are watching.

The third and final disc starts off with “Making Che,” a 50-minute documentary that takes a look at how the film came together. It started with producer Laura Bickford and her interested in Jon Lee Anderson’s book. She got Benicio del Toro involved and they spent years doing research and deciding what part of his life to depict. The film’s screenwriters talk about the challenge of condensing so many events into one film and so Soderbergh decided to split it up into two films. The director explains his depiction of Che, including the omission of the man’s more questionable actions, and his approach to the film. This is an excellent, in-depth look.

There are ten deleted scenes from Part One with optional commentary by Soderbergh. He puts this footage in context and explains why it was cut. These scenes provide some insight into Che and it’s nice to be able to see them.

Also included are four deleted scenes from Part Two with optional commentary by Soderbergh. Much of this footage illustrates Che’s philosophy of guerrilla warfare.

“End of a Revolution” is a 1968 documentary about the aftermath of Che’s failed revolution in Bolivia, the origins of it and a look at the forces that prevented it. The featurette begins with stills of Che’s dead body and a journalist describing the scene, his voice full of emotion. The doc does a nice job of profiling Bolivia and its people; for example, we see the brutal living and working conditions of the tin miners.

“Interviews from Cuba” features interviews with participants and historians of the Cuban Revolution conducted by producer Laura Bickford and actor Benicio del Toro. The participants talk about how they met Che and their impressions of him. They also discuss their views on the revolution. The historians talk about the key influences on the revolution and take us through significant moments of it.

Finally, there is “Che and the Digital Cinema Revolution!” Soderbergh’s film was the first feature to use the Red digital camera because of its quality and versatility in the terrain he would be shooting in. He did not have a lot of time to shoot Che and needed a camera that would allow him to shoot fast and not require a lot of artificial light. The cameras almost weren’t ready for the start of principal photography but Soderbergh stuck to his guns was able to get them just in time. This doc does a nice job taking a look at the challenges of using the Red camera and how it was the ideal technology for this particular film.

Adapted from an F. Scott Fitzgerald short story of the same name by Eric Roth, the Academy Award-winning screenwriter for Forrest Gump (1994), there was speculation that Fincher had finally sold out and was going for the gold with an Academy-friendly film. While Benjamin Button was nominated for 13 Oscars, it only won three technical-oriented awards and once again Fincher came up empty handed. Is this film really the director kowtowing to the establishment or has he managed to yet again sneak a subversive message under the radar?

In New Orleans, on the eve of Hurricane Katrina, a very old woman named Daisy (Blanchett) lies on her deathbed as she tells her daughter (Ormond) the story of a clockmaker (Koteas) who lost his only son in World War I. He builds a clock that runs backwards as a gesture, a hope that all those who died in the war could come back to life, including his son. The clock, like the film’s protagonist, epitomizes time in reverse even if the rest of the world is not. Daisy asks her daughter to read from the diary of a man she knew named Benjamin Button (Pitt).

Benjamin was born at the end of World War I. However, as a baby, he looked like a miniature old man. Horrified, his father (Flemyng) took the baby and dumped the child on a stranger’s doorstep. A kind lady by the name of Queenie (Henson) takes young Benjamin in and raises him as if he was one of her own. Like the clockmaker’s clock, Benjamin ages in reverse – the older he gets in years, the younger he looks physically. He’s raised in a nursing home and is surrounded by death and those at the end of their lives while he’s just at the beginning of his, which gives him an odd outlook on life as you can imagine.

In 1930, Benjamin meets Daisy as a little girl while he still looks like a little old man. He confides in her his condition and a bond between them is established that will last their entire lives. As soon as he’s old enough and physically able, Benjamin strikes out on his own, acquiring life experiences, like working on a tugboat, traveling all over the world, and helping tow in ships destroyed during World War II. All of the people he meets have a story to tell – the tugboat captain (Harris) who is a tattoo artist or the woman who tried to swim the English Channel or the man hit by lightning seven times – and he learns something from all of them.

Something seems to happen whenever Fincher and Brad Pitt work together. They always seem to bring out the best in one another and this is no different. Pitt exudes a warmth that has never been evident before and he makes us care about what happens to Benjamin. Early on, Pitt is able to convey an openness as his character experiences new feelings, meets new people and grows up. Benjamin enjoys meeting people and listening to their adventures but he is not a passive, blank slate. He seizes opportunities to have his own adventures and see as much of the world as possible. In recent years, Pitt has really come into his own as an actor and improved with age, using his clout to push through fascinating films like Babel (2006), The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford (2007) and now Benjamin Button, arguably his best performance to date.

Fincher has also entered a new, fascinating period in his career that began with Zodiac and continues with this moving meditation on the passing of time and what it means to get old. We are the sum of our parts and of what we have learned (or haven’t learned) from our life experiences. Fincher’s trademark meticulous attention to detail is incredible with this film, from recreating 1930s New Orleans to New York City in the 1950s, he transports us to another time and place, which is what films are supposed to do. Benjamin Button is filled with beautiful imagery, like the scene where Benjamin and Daisy take a tugboat ride in the early morning fog, or the eerie, late night attack on an enemy submarine, or Daisy dancing seductively for Benjamin in the moonlight. There are also magical, intimate moments, like the late night conversations Benjamin has with the wife (Swinton) of a spy in the kitchen of a hotel in Russia. Fincher has created an intimate character study on an epic scale.

Special Features:

The first disc features an audio commentary by director David Fincher. He talks about the arduous task of applying Cate Blanchett’s old age makeup and how it affected her performance. He talks about how they avoided sappy sentimentality whenever possible. Fincher also talks about how they cast various roles in the film and what they were looking for. He tells all kinds of interesting and engaging filming anecdotes about the challenges of shooting on location with his trademark dry sense of humour. This is another outstanding track by Fincher as he offers eloquent observations and tells entertaining stories.

As with all special edition DVDs of Fincher’s films, Benjamin Button documents various aspects of the production in detail. Entitled, “The Curious Birth of Benjamin Button,” this making of documentary is broken down into several digestible sections.

“The First Trimester” documents the pre-production phase and Fincher kicks things off with a surprisingly moving preface where he recounts the death of his father and how that drew him closer to the material. This section takes us through the origins of the project and how Steven Spielberg almost did it with Tom Cruise. We go through the long screenwriting process that lasted several years. We also see Fincher and his crew scouting locations that would span several years and countries. Also included are storyboard and art direction galleries.

“The Second Trimester” examines principal photography with all kinds of behind-the-scenes footage. We see several sets being built with various key crew members talking about their work on the film. Several major cast members talk about how they got involved and their impressions of the film and of Fincher’s legendary reputation. We also get to see how the tugboat was built on a soundstage where all of its scenes were shot. There is fascinating insight into the elaborate aging makeup. Aspects of costume design are also covered, including a gallery.

“Third Trimester” takes a look at the film’s groundbreaking visual effects. We see, in great detail, how they seamlessly digitally grafted Brad Pitt’s face onto other actor’s bodies. It is amazing to see just how much work was involved. We also see how they did the CGI for the tugboat scenes and other things, like the background plates for scenes that took place in exotic locations. Other aspects, like sound design and Alexandre Desplat’s atmospheric score, are examined. It’s great to see Desplat at work and interview soundbites where he talks about his working method.

“Birth” features footage of the film’s premiere in New Orleans with the cast and crew reflecting on the experience of making the film and what it means to them. Also included is a gallery of production stills.

Finally, there are two theatrical trailers.

Lady Sarah Ashley (Kidman) is a headstrong English aristocrat who travels to Northern Australia in 1939 to meet her husband at their ranch Faraway Downs. Within a few minutes of arriving, she meets her guide to this strange new land, a man known as the Drover (Jackman), a hard-drinking, two-fisted Australian version of a cowboy. They take an instant dislike to each other: she thinks that he’s crude and uncultured and he thinks that she’s too prim and proper.

They arrive at Faraway Downs to find her husband dead (apparently at the hands of an Aboriginal) and the ranch in disarray and in danger of being foreclosed. Mr. Carney (Brown), the local tycoon with a monopoly on the local economy, has his right-hand man, Mr. Fletcher (Wenham) try to sabotage Lady Ashley. In order to save Faraway Downs, she has to drive 1,500 head of cattle to Darwin and so she enlists the help of the Drover. Along the way, they befriend a young Aboriginal boy named Nullah (Walters) whom she protects from being taken away and forced to assimilate with white folks.

As with his previous films, Luhrmann populates Australia with broad, stereotypical characters and tells a classic story. The film revels in archetypes: Ashley is a pure, upstanding woman, the Drover is the rugged western hero, Fletcher is the dastardly villain, and Nullah is the adorable child who narrates the story. As he proved with is previous films, Luhrmann has an uncanny knack for casting. Who can forget the undeniable chemistry between Leonardo DiCaprio and Claire Danes in Romeo + Juliet and the sparks that flew between Ewan McGregor and Nicole Kidman in Moulin Rouge!? He’s at it again with this new film with the casting of Hugh Jackman and Kidman as the romantic leads.

Jackman finally fulfills those early comparisons to Clint Eastwood as he plays the Drover as a tough, dependable hero who’s not afraid to show his vulnerable side. He’s never been more charismatic as he proves to be equally adept at the physical demands and the emotional range that the role requires. No one knows how to photograph Kidman quite like Luhrmann. She looks stunning, even covered in a layer of dirt and dust from a cattle drive. At first, her stuffy English aristocrat comes off as a cartoonish stereotype but as her character becomes acclimatized to the country and she develops a bond with Nullah, she becomes warmer and more empathetic.

Beginning in 1939 and climaxing with the Japanese bombing of Darwin in 1942, Luhrmann’s Australia mixes the larger-than-life melodrama of Gone with the Wind (1939) with the exciting cattle drive in Red River (1948) and with a dash of The Wizard of Oz (1939). His film clearly harkens back to the kind of cinema that they just don’t make anymore with very little CGI used and everything built from scratch and on location. Australia is the kind of ambitious Technicolor epic that might have been made by John Ford or George Stevens. It is a marvel of absolutely stunning cinematography – only Luhrmann could make the desolate outback look vibrant and alive. He alternates between sun-drenched day scenes and night scenes that appear to be impossibly illuminated by the stars.

One should not go into Australia expecting realism. Luhrmann presents a mythologized take on his country. Love him or hate him, you have to respect Luhrmann for not being afraid to wear his heart on his sleeve. He’s arguably the most romantic filmmaker working today with the possible exception of Wong Kar-Wai. And with Australia, he has made an unabashed love letter to his homeland on a grand scale.

Special Features:

Not much – two deleted scenes. One features the Drover convincing Ashley to stay after her husband dies and another featuring an angry staff serving Ashley dinner. Luhrmann has said in interviews that he’s planning a special edition DVD later this year making this version strictly a rental.

It’s been a year since Peter (Moseley), Susan (Popplewell), Edmund (Keynes) and Lucy (Henley) were in Narnia and they long to return. As if to answer their wishes, the subway station they are in is magically transformed into a beach in Narnia. They find out that in Narnia time, over 1,500 years have passed and the magical creatures are almost extinct. A malevolent race of humans known as the Telmarines rule the land led by King Miraz (Castellitto). He tries to assassinate his nephew, Prince Caspian (Barnes) so that he can become king.

However, Caspian narrowly escapes and takes refuge in the nearby forest where he finds solace with the remaining Narnians. Not surprisingly, he’s not too popular with them because of what his people have done. Caspian pledges to help the Narnians regain their freedom but his people quickly prepare to wipe out the Narnians once and for all. The wild card thrown into the mix is, of course, the four children who fight alongside Caspian and the Narnians.

As one character puts it, Narnia is a much more savage place and quite different from when we last saw it. Everything is in ruins and all the magical creatures, that once thrived, are very much in the minority. There seems to be a much greater emphasis on plot and story and less on character, which is a shame because what made the first film so enjoyable was the interaction between the four children. In Prince Caspian, they’re too busy giving orders or strategizing. That being said, Peter Dinklage is very funny as a sarcastic dwarf while Eddie Izzard provides the voice for a very precocious mouse.

Prince Caspian is certainly a darker film than The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe, with much more at stake. Creatures that were once enemies are now allies against a common foe. In some respects, this film has the same kind of epic battles and sieges as The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers (2002), only without the proper balance of compelling characters and large scale battles.

Special Features:

The first disc features an audio commentary by director Andrew Adamson and actors Ben Barnes, Georgie Henley, Skander Keynes, William Moseley, and Anna Popplewell. They talk about doing some of their own stunts and riding horses while Adamson points out which scenes were shot in various countries. They shot the majority of the film on location as opposed to the first film which relied mostly on sets. Everyone tells all kinds of filming anecdotes on this engaging track.

The second disc starts off with “Inside Narnia: The Adventure Returns,” which takes a look at what motivated Adamson to make another Narnia film. Originally, he wasn’t interested in making another big budget film on such a large scale than the first film but enjoyed working with the four children and found a way to personalize the material.

“Sets of Narnia: A Classic Comes to Life” examines how the filmmakers translated the book’s sometimes sparse descriptions into detailed sets. It’s nice to see that they used actual locations and constructed sets whenever possible.

“Big Movie Comes to a Small Town” takes a look at filming a small town in Slovenia. It is surrounded by mountains and has a beautiful river that the filmmakers used for a crucial set piece in the film. At one point, a crew of 1,200 people moved into this small town to work on the film.

“Previsualizing Narnia” examines the prep work done with rough, computer animation so that the filmmakers could have an idea of what the film would look like.

“Talking Animals and Walking Trees: The Magical World of Narnia” takes a look at the fantastical creatures in the film and the role nature plays in the story.

Also included are 10 deleted scenes with audio introductions by Adamson. This footage fleshes out certain characters and the relationships between them but ultimately was repetitive or unnecessary.

“The Bloopers of Narnia” is a collection of blown lines, physical slip-ups and goofing around that is fairly amusing to watch.

“Secrets of the Duel” examines how they shot the film’s climactic swordfight between Peter and King Miraz, including all of the prep work that went into it – choreography, costumes and gear.

“Becoming Trumpkin” takes a look at how Peter Dinklage became his character, including the make-up applications.

Finally, there is “Warwick Davis: The Man Behind Nikabrik,” which examines an average filming day for this veteran genre actor, including hours in make-up and so on.

300 is a fast ‘n’ loose take on the Battle of Thermopylae between the Spartans and the Persian army. The Spartans, led by King Leonidas (Butler), faced incredible odds. There were only 300 of them and thousands upon thousands of Persians. The film begins by establishing the harsh, war-like nature of the Spartans and how their society works. Trouble arises when Persian messengers arrive in Sparta telling Leonidas to submit to their leader, Xerxes (Santoro). Naturally, he rejects their offer by killing the messengers.

Leonidas is eager to take the battle to the Persians but the Oracles disagree. It is against Spartan law to disobey them but, hey, Leonidas is the king so he assembles 300 of his best warriors and they set out to find the Persian army. The Spartans find just the right geographical location that allows the Persian army to funnel in making their vast numbers irrelevant so long as the Spartans don’t lose too many of their army. The Persians send wave after wave of men to die at the hands of Leonidas and his very determined men. As the battle drags on, Xerxes throws all kinds of variations at the Spartans: a giant, a heavily armoured rhino, a wave of arrows that blots out the sun and even crude grenades.

Gerard Butler is suitably buffed up for the role and gleefully chews up the scenery with rousing speeches to rally his troops when all looks lost. He’s got plenty of charisma to spare and convincingly portrays a leader of men, the kind of king that men would follow to the gates of Hell if he ordered them. Like Russell Crowe did in Gladiator, he commits fully to the role and sells the clichéd dialogue as if it was Shakespeare.

Director Zack Snyder films everything through a sepia filter giving 300 the look an old photograph. It’s a stunning film to behold with every frame looking like it came right out of Miller’s comic book. The battles are viscerally depicted with plenty of limb-hacking, decapitations and bone-crunching violence to satisfy any action film fan.

300 blends the epic sword and sandal brutality of Gladiator (2000) with the cutting edge SFX and the pulp sensibility of Sin City. The voiceover narration is the epitome of cheesy pretension, laughably solemn, giving the film an appropriately pulpy vibe, but pulpy times call for pulpy dialogue. One really has to enjoy 300 for what it is – an exciting thrill-ride with loads of lofty pronouncements, R-rated violence, monsters and beautiful women. Oliver Stone’s Alexander (2004) might have been more successful if it was more like this film. If they ever try to make another Conan the Barbarian film, they’ve got their visual blueprint. Snyder understands that this film’s strengths lie in its breathtaking visuals and that the dialogue is merely window-dressing. This is melodramatic, visual storytelling at its purest.

Special Features:

The single disc edition features only an audio commentary by director Zack Snyder, screenwriter Kurt Johnstad and director of photography Larry Fong. Snyder tends to dominate the track, pointing out images in the film that come straight from Miller’s comic book. He has an annoying habit of continually pointing out what was added later with CGI by often saying, “That’s a CG shot,” and so on. There are also too many lulls as the participants get caught up in watching the film. This is a pretty disappointing track.