Cinematical

Every few years, it seems necessary in the course of critiquing home video releases to clarify and designate the difference between all of those terms that distributors and producers come up with to describe films that arrive in stores in a version other than their theatrical iteration. For example, "unrated" no longer simply means that a film is too bawdy or offensive to garner a proper MPAA rating; rather, in many cases it means that the studio re-inserted footage, and didn't bother to screen it for the ratings board at all. "Director's cuts," meanwhile, sometimes really reflect the original vision of a filmmaker for his movie, and sometimes just qualify as an alternate version that was supervised or approved by the director. And most importantly, none of these changes are an automatic indication that the film will be superior to the one that you saw in theaters, even if there's a little more gore or nudity or (God forbid) character development.

Ironically, the new Blu-ray for Heat carries no such designation – to anyone buying it, this is the same film they saw in theaters and on standard-definition DVD. However, at the top of the list of the disc's special features, the topline attraction is "new content changes supervised by director Michael Mann." Even for someone who's seen more than his share of extended, alternate, unrated and director's cuts, this was particularly intriguing, which is why Heat is the subject of this week's "Making The (Up) Grade."

On November 10, 2009, Walt Disney Home Entertainment is releasing a 4-disc Blu-ray set for Monsters, Inc., Pete Docter's feature directorial debut. Much like Finding Nemo set the stage for what Andrew Stanton eventually did on Wall-E, the 2001 Pixar film offers a glimpse of what was yet to come from Docter – who went on to direct this summer's Up, also out next week – but it also reiterates some of the themes that run throughout all of the studio's best work, including the concept of an alternate perspective on a place or idea that seems obvious, and the idea of families that are both familiar and unconventional. But how effectively does it examine and explore those things, particularly in light of what the studio has done since?

Suffice it to say that the Blu-ray set offers not only the best presentation of the film imaginable, but a bounty of extra content that expands the film's universe in new and interesting ways. As for the movie itself?

It's not hard to like any movie that uses the Beach Boys' music, but Wes Anderson makes it especially easy. As Hollywood's foremost purveyor of hipster drama, his pedigree as a reliable selector of appropriately wistful, poignant and all-around unforgettable songs is virtually unrivaled, but Fantastic Mr. Fox exceeds even the work of his earlier films, using "Heroes and Villains," and later, "I Get Around" as populist punctuation that manages to be both specifically relevant and substantively rousing.

As an animated opus, the film is by necessity his most controlled to date, a painstakingly-designed dollhouse where he no longer controls just the music, sets, and costumes, but the performers themselves. Ironically, however, it feels like his loosest as well - a gloriously unwieldy comedy of manners submerged in the minutiae of Anderson's madcap creativity. All of which makes Fantastic Mr. Fox a celebration both of its stop-motion medium and Anderson's aesthetic, while still managing to fully document the spectacular fun in original author Roald Dahl's daffy, distinctive imagination.

When Michael Jackson died a few months ago, I didn't have an opportunity at the time to write down any of my feelings about his passing, much less his career, his legacy, and his impact on my own life. I didn't cry, I don't remember being "shocked," and I didn't really react at all, to be honest, except with some mild degree of incredulity over the way so many people were just wracked with sorrow over the death of someone many of them would have vilified the day before it happened.

But a couple of weeks later, I spoke to my mom, whose well-worn vinyl copy of Off the Wall still takes up a place in my record collection, and who gave me Thriller when I was seven. She mentioned that I was the first person she thought of when she heard the news. Somehow that actually affected me more than his actual death, and I really started thinking about how much his music really meant to me. While that ongoing reflection has mostly manifested itself in repeated plays of both of the albums mentioned, as well as Bad, it made me both curious and apprehensive about This Is It, the documentary Kenny Ortega put together about his final tour.

Last Wednesday I went to see the film, and I wasn't deeply roused by it, either as a Jackson fan or a general filmgoer. Part of this can no doubt be attributed to the fact that the footage was by all accounts never intended to be seen by anyone other than Jackson himself, so any real structure or polish applied to its rough edges in order to create dramatic momentum was done posthumously. But even though I never judged Jackson for endlessly transforming himself into an almost literal shell of his former self, watching him on stage in this documentary, struggling to maintain the energy and focus that once came so easy and natural (or at least looked that way), I couldn't help thinking that Michael Jackson was a figure better celebrated in our memories, even before he passed away.

In spite of what some internet pundits and self-righteous types would have you believe, being a film critic and entertainment journalist does not mean you're handed the keys to Hollywood along with your W-9. Attending screenings and junkets, transcribing interviews, and spending the vast majority of every single day (all day) sitting in front of a computer is far more exhausting than one might expect. In which case, the rare and unique opportunity to have fun and see some truly exclusive stuff is always welcome.

About two weeks ago Disney invited Cinematical to join a small group of print and online journalists for a press day in conjunction with their upcoming return to hand-drawn animation, The Princess and the Frog. In addition to conducting interviews with Ron Clements and John Musker, the guys not only responsible for Princess, but The Little Mermaid as well, our group took a tour of Disney's storied Animation Research Library, and even spent a little time at Disneyland itself on an exclusive behind the scenes tour.

Tuesday afternoon at no less than the offices of Jerry Bruckheimer himself, Cinematical joined a small group of reporters from other online entertainment and gaming sites to screen the forthcoming theatrical trailer for Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time, Mike Newell's adaptation of the popular video game series of the same name. Following two screenings of the trailer, which runs approximately two and a half minutes, Bruckheimer and game creator Jordan Mechner answered questions from the group and discussed the development of the film.

While I'm no video game aficionado, the trailer seemed to have the right kind of quasi-interactive action that most modern games do – the "Prince," played by Jake Gyllenhaal, breezily navigates several death-defying scenarios in the short clip, including dodging an avalanche, diving off of a precipice into a swordfight, and fighting off the attention of the comely Gemma Arterton. According to dialogue and voiceover narration, the film essentially follows the Prince as he discovers and protects a sword that can literally turn back time; after several bullet-time sequences where Gyllenhaal transforms into a golden statue (well, more golden than normal), villain Ben Kingsley confesses that he wants to take control of the weapon in order to destroy the world, or control it, or something.

The great opportunity with new presentation formats for established forms of entertainment is that newcomers can be introduced and experience them for the very first time; the burden with them is that longtime fans have to forage through multiple editions and decide which one is best. Enter "Making The (Up) Grade," Cinematical's examination of these new, alternate, special editions of films that have long since become favorites. This week's selection, Easy Rider, is one of those cases where people may or may not have purchased the film before, but because it's been so thoroughly discussed and dissected in cinematic culture for the past forty years, it seems almost a redundant choice for any person who considers him- or herself a cinephile.

Is this new 40th Anniversary Blu-ray really better? Let's take a look and see.

While Terrance Zdunich has worked behind the scene on everything from "The Starship Troopers Chronicles" to Into The Wild, he really became a phenomenon unto himself in the last two years, when his collaboration with director Darren Lynn Bousman, Repo: The Genetic Opera, made its slow but inevitable move to the silver screen. Not merely helping conceive and design the film but functioning as one of its primary performers – playing the mysterious, ubiquitous Graverobber – Zdunich proved himself a versatile artist whose canvas lies in more than one medium.

Since the release of Repo last year, Zdunich hasn't slowed down, even though the trek from its original stage show – which we put on as a one-man performance – to a feature film was arduous to say the very least. But with the army of Repo followers growing by the day, Zdunich recognized the value – if not the importance – of continuing to create new properties and opportunities for fans to experience his uniquely creative world view. As such, he has created The Molting, a 12-part series that is every bit as odd and intriguing as its predecessor. The first installment, "Guilty Susie," is available now, and it sets the stage for an epic saga about a dysfunctional American family whose lineage traverses and interconnects with the entirety of human history. (Or at least that's what it says on the book's website, anyway.)

If there's a thin line between confidence and arrogance, Ti West straddles it. Not unlike many of the characteristics ascribed to his films, however, that's a compliment rather than a criticism: his sense of self-worth as a filmmaker is predicated on personal responsibility, and because he participates in the writing, directing and editing of his films (among other duties), he is eager to take the credit, or blame, for the end result, which is why he's insistent – or, as he admits, "a little difficult" – about the fact that he wants what makes it to the screen to be his vision rather than the result of test-marketing or some other form of studio interference.

The House of the Devil is his latest film, and thankfully it arrives in theaters this week unimpeded by any such changes. Cinematical recently sat down with West at a Los Angeles press day for a short one-on-one discussion of the film, which follows a college sophomore (Jocelin Donahue) who gets more than she bargains for when a lucrative babysitting job turns into a night of abject terror. In addition to discussing the film's note-perfect recreation of 1980s horror conventions, not to mention period details, West talked about striking a balance between mundane boredom and mortifying terror, and finally, learning lessons even from lackluster filmmaking experiences.

Cinematical: How did this evolve, and how did you develop the aesthetic for House of the Devil? It's an incredibly faithful recreation of a 1980s horror movie.

While the majority of Cinematical's "Shelf Life" columns thus far have targeted specific releases that relate to new films, the truth is that we came up with this series so that we could go back and watch movies we wanted to see, whether it was to experience them for the first time after an eon of reactions and expectations, or just to see whether we were the same people we were when we first saw them, or just maybe, to champion an overlooked gem that disappeared into the ether after its initial release. This week's selection, On Her Majesty's Secret Service, falls into the third category, and we're happy to revisit it instead of some completely random movie that most folks already know they like.

The Facts: Directed by Peter Hunt, who previously edited three of the earlier films in the series, On Her Majesty's Secret Service marked the arrival of actor George Lazenby in the already-iconic role of James Bond. Lazenby notably only played the character one time, refunding money he was paid to appear in the next installment, Diamonds Are Forever, and according to the actor, declining to reprise the role because he thought the character was out of touch with modern audiences by the start of the 1970s. Meanwhile, other rumors swirled around his departure, including friction with the producers, but the film nevertheless ranked as another hit for the franchise, pulling in some $87 million worldwide.