Andrei Rublev Sanity Check

Andrei Rublev is a medieval painter known for his Catholic frescoes, and this is his three and a half hour, black and white life story.  Wait, where are you going?  No, 1966's Andrei Rublev is actually a fascinating early work by Andrei Tarkovsky that's full of life.  We've got naked pagans, invading mongrels, exhilarating balloon rides reminiscent of the opening of 8 1/2, sadistic torture and great art.  Not to over-promise on the cheap thrills, this is a beautifully shot art film with lots of discourse on religious philosophy.  But it's not some boring biopic; it's a vibrant, impassioned film; a genuine masterwork if ever there was one.

a grim moment only seen in The Passion of Andrei cut

Criterion first released it on DVD back in 1999.  Artificial Eye later released it in the UK in 2002, and eventually beat Criterion to the blu-ray punch in 2016.  But both of their releases was a shorter cut, which... well, let's get into that.  Tarkovsky first released a 205 minute version (alternatively titled The Passion According To Andrei), which the Russian government censored, and made him make a 185 minute version.  So Criterion had released the uncut version and Artificial Eye released the cut version.  BUT, in later years, Tarkovsky has said in interviews that he prefers the shorter, tighter cut, so that's arguably his director's cut.  Fans were divided.  But in 2018, Criterion made the best choice and released both cuts on blu-ray in a definitive new, 2-disc set.

1) 1999 Criterion DVD; 2) 2018 Criterion 185m BD; 3) 2018 Criterion 205m BD.

All three discs present the film in roughly 2.35:1 (the 1999 DVD is 2.37:1), though you can see the original DVD was non-anamorphic, which is why I left the negative space around the first set of shots.  It's also cropped tighter around the sides compared to the blu-rays, both of which were restored in 2k. All the booklet says is that, "[t]his new digital transfer was created in high-definition resolution on a Spirit Datacine film scanner from a 35mm internegative and restored by Mosfilm."  It doesn't even hint at there being two different transfers, though these scans are clearly dissimilar (though they're both 2.35; you can see the framing is not identical).  My guess is that the longer version was scanned from a film print; it's much lower contrast, shows considerably more weathering, and fine detail like film grain is smoothed over, unlike the shorter cut.  They both blow the old DVD away, though, so even though it's inferior, you won't be dissatisfied cranking up either disc.

All three discs have the original Russian mono, in LPCM on the two blus, with optional English subtitles.  The subs on the extended cut blu-ray, unfortunately, are burnt in.  Though it's not too offensive, as we English speakers are unlikely to ever watch this film without subtitles, but they're optional on the shorter cut and the original DVD, which tells us the probably had a different source for the extended cut in 1999 than in 2018.

Now, the original DVD featured a partial (understandable, given this film's length) audio commentary by film scholar Vlada Petric.  It also had a featurette where Petric addresses the camera directly, interspersed with excerpts of Tarkovski being interviewed, taken from the 1984 documentary A Poet In the Cinema.  And it includes a fold-out booklet with notes by critic J. Hoberman.

Criterion updated their release for 2018 with a bunch of new stuff.  There;s a new featurette that interviews cinematographer Vadim Yusov and actor Nikolai Burlyaev (he played Boriska and had previously performed the titular leading role in Ivan's Childhood) and two vintage 1966 featurettes: one about the writing of the script, and a shorter one showing Tarkovski at work on location.  Then there's an interview with one expert and a visual essay by another.  There's the trailer, and they've also included Tarkovski's entire student film (many previous Tarkovsky films included a five minute clip), 1961's The Steamroller and the Violin.

1) 2002 Facets DVD; 2) 2018 Criterion BD.

Steamroller had previously been available as a stand-alone DVD release from Facets Video, which yes, I do have.  It's completely barebones (except for some text menu stuff), so we just had the 46-minute film itself on the disc.  And as we can see here, it's clearly been restored since then.  Facets presents the film in 1.30:1, while Criterion offers it at 1.41:1.  Perhaps the biggest distinction is that the DVD was interlaced, which the BD corrects.  But we can also see the colors are less washed out, detail is clearer and there's even some soft film grain, which has been totally smoothed out of the SD transfer.  The two transfers seem to be taken from the same source, noting the identical film damage, but this is clearly a new scan giving us the film in proper HD.  Both discs just present the original Russian mono in lossy 2.0, but the subtitles are now removable, where they were previously burnt into the Facets.

Steamroller's not a terribly moving film or anything.  It's more of interest to Tarkovski scholars than general film fans (though I'm sure it's much better than anything most of us smart-ass critics could make, 'ey?), but it does display some of his talents and artistry that would flourish in his later works.  So it's nice to finally get it in HD.  The blu-ray also carries over the commentary, and upgrades the booklet to a fold-out poster with the same notes on the back.  But they did lose the featurette, which is a shame, since that gave us a chance to hear about this movie from Tarkovsky himself.  Maybe Criterion plans to slap the entire Poet In the Cinema doc on a future release?  Anyway, this is such an essential release that never seemed to get the coverage it deserved.  Blu-ray.com didn't even review it.  Are we living in crazy times?

FREE DVDS!!!

Folks, you might find this hard to believe, but the state of physical media in this world was once so much more plentiful, that studios would just give you some for free!  Major motion pictures, Oscar Award winners, hit TV shows, junk, you name it.  You could just pick them up at a store, find them mailed to your house unsolicited, or get with a box of cereal.  No kidding.  I lived through it and I saved the evidence.  So let's have a look; it can't all be boutique label comparisons.  I gotta live up to the name of this site and post something offbeat once in a while.  So let's start at the bottom and build up to the most interesting.

It's easy to understand why these first couple discs were given away for free; they're basically just novel forms of advertising.

In 2005, I was buying something at Suncoast Video in my local shopping mall.  And on the check-out counter was an open box of DVDs that said "FREE- TAKE ONE."  So I did.  It was a little promotional DVD for Tyler Perry's film Madea's Family Reunion, which was coming to theaters in a couple months.

So what's actually on there?  Not that much.  After a couple warnings and logo screens, for The Tyler Perry Company and Lion's Gate, we get the teaser trailer for the film.  That's followed by the full theatrical trailer.  And finally that's followed by what might have been interesting for big Perry fans at the time, but isn't worth much now that the film's out and readily available: a two minute clip from the upcoming film.  It's all non-anamorphic and improperly interlaced.  But looking it up, it seems like the home video release of this movie doesn't include the teaser or trailer, so maybe there's like one super hardcore fan out there who's happy to own this DVD.

if you only click to enlarge one screenshot in your entire life...

And along the same lines but a little more compelling is DVD Inside: The DVD Entertainment Magazine from Artisan Home Entertainment.  Calling this a "magazine" is exceedingly generous - it's basically just a collection of, as it says on the front cover, "over 30 movie trailers."  They're divided into exciting categories such as "What's Out There," This Holiday Season" and "$15.00 and Under."  But there is a magazine-like aspect, starting with a weird ass 30-second video of a woman talking to a creepy CGI man on his television (don't worry; he ends up in prison!).  Another woman speaks to us on the menu screens, explaining what all the options are.  And like the Madea DVD, it also tries to get us excited over an exclusive clip - in this one from their upcoming T2: Judgement Day restoration.  It's also non-anamorphic and and problematically interlaced, so I wouldn't say they do a good job of selling it.

But there is something marginally worthwhile on this disc, too.  An exclusive interview with Steven Soderbergh and Terence Stamp at a Virgin Megastore about their film, The Limey.  It's only a couple minutes long, but the actual Limey releases don't have any on-camera interviews and are generally starved for extras, so at least it's something.  There's no year on this, but given what they're marketing, this must be from 2000-2001, and it has buy.com branding on the back.  They had a whole website and (actual paper) magazine subscription service where they would send you a whole bunch of stuff; and they produced DVDs with whole movies on them (search "InsideDVD" on EBay).  But this is the weird freebie I got.

This next disc, I don't know, my parents just randomly got it in the mail one day in 2008?  The actual name of the disc is TWC_NY_MAILER.  It's a promo disc for TNT's show, The Closer.  It starts with a joint commercial for The Closer and Saving Grace, focusing on how they've "redefined what it means to be a woman on television."  Then it gives you a complete episode of The Closer, apparently from season 3.  That's it, no gimmicks or ploys, just a free episode of the show in the mail.  And despite being newer than the other discs, it's still non-anamorphic and badly interlaced.  But hey, back before most people had streaming, a free episode of a show in the mail was kind of a neat, random surprise.

everything's playing in that little box in the middle.

A little less straight forward is this promo disc for Lost that came free inside an issue of TV Guide from 2009ish.  No whole episodes here, but for fans, it had some interesting odds and ends.  The menu screen constantly plays ocean sounds the entire time unless you click the mute button, which you absolutely will want to do, because all of the video plays inside a window on the menu screen.  So yes, the ocean sounds play during, and conflict with, the audio from the videos.  It starts with a trailer for season 2 and a teaser for season 3.  But then we get some deleted scenes from season 2, and a couple behind-the-scenes featurettes, including an interview with JJ Abrams.  I looked it up, and some of this stuff wound up on the Lost season 2 boxed set, but one of them was only on the Spanish and German sets, and these particular deleted scenes appeared on any of them.  Something interesting for the Lost devotee who has everything.

But enough of these scraps!  Didn't I say entire, major motion pictures were given away for free?  Yes, like these two from 2005: 12 Angry Men (the original) and 1998's The Man In the Iron Mask, which were part of Kellogg's Movie Lovers Collection.  See, once you collected five "tickets" from your cereal boxes, you could print out an order form and mail them, select from one of eight titles.  The others were: Agent Cody Banks, Hackers, It Runs in the Family, Return to Me, Baby Boom and Honeymoon in Vegas, and later, they re-ran the program but with Fox DVDs.  So you just mailed them an envelope, and they mailed you back the DVD in a glossy paper sleeve.  You could even cut off part of the sleeve and use it as a $2 coupon on MGM special editions in stores... but I'm too much of a collector to cut up my DVD covers.

Anyway these, to be clear, are not special editions.  They're completely barebones.  They don't even have menu screens.  They're also fullscreen 1.32:1 editions, which was a little surprising, since MGM had already released the correctly framed widescreen versions at that time.  And yes, they're interlaced.  Apparently, all free DVDs must be interlaced, no matter what.  Maybe it's intentional sabotage to make viewers want to double-dip?  It was a little hard to complain, though, when they didn't even ask us to pay for shipping.

But the best gifts are surprises, right?  So here's an Academy Award winning movie that arrived completely unsolicited and unexpected, delivered in a paper envelop inside our morning newspaper (specifically, The Home News Tribune): Smile Pinki: A Real-World Fairy Tale.  It won the Oscar for Best Documentary Short in 2008.  It's a documentary about, and funded by, a charity called Smile Train, which performs free cleft lip and palette surgeries on impoverished children in India, focusing on one particular little girl named Pinki Sonkar.  It's a little schmaltzy and self-congratulatory - if you pay attention to Academy voting in the documentary categories, they often favor causes they like over what happens to actually be the best movie - but it's genuinely well done, filmed on location and following her journey first-hand.  I believe the reason Smile Train distributed this disc free of charge was a way to promote their charity, and hopefully make back the expense in new donations.  You can't be mad at that, especially when the only consequence for us was a free movie.

That's Chris Melonie in the dark green.  They just... let him do that.

Again, of course, it's non-anamorphic and interlaced.  English subtitles are burnt in and not always easy to read.  And obviously it's completely barebones, right?  No, that's where you're wrong!  There are actually hours of bonus features!  There's a featurette about how Pinki was flown to America so she could walk the red carpet at the Oscars and a traditional 'making of' featurette.  And then there is tons and tons of video by and about Smile Train.  It's like an infomercial broken up into pieces: "Walter Cronkite Reports," "10th Year Anniversary," "Report from Bangladesh," etc.  And there's tons of celebrity endorsement videos, by people like Diane Sawyer, Christie Brinkley and Alex Trebek, plus the chairman and founder (that's two separate people) of the charity.  There's even a piece about actor Chris Meloni (star of Law & Order SVU and Wet Hot American Summer) traveling to India and wvwn performing part of one of the children's surgeries.  Honest, for real!  Hey, it's all for a good cause, but I can't imagine any human being on Earth actually watched all of it.  But the stuff that actually acts as DVD extras for the movie are nice to have, and certainly unexpected.  Just like the disc itself.

But that's what life was like before 2010, young readers.  Sometimes the world just gave you DVDs, whether you asked for them or not.

Criterion Catch-Up 2, Part 6B: The Other Five Moral Tales

...continued from Criterion Catch-Up 2, Part 6A.

Ah, color, lovely color!  Yes, even though 1967's The Collector is Tale #4, it was made third, meaning Eric Rohmer went from early black and white, to color, then back to black and white: one more small reason viewing these films in the intended order rather than release order feels right.  Anyway, color is especially appropriate for this tale about the power of external beauty.  Lazing around on an old chateau by the beach, two chauvinist cads (one in particular) wind up throwing themselves on the rocky shores of a young woman named , with a reputation for being a temptress.  The humor is up in this one, and you'll learn a lot about the philosophy of dandyism.  Probably more than you're ready for.  But it's worth it; this movie is so fun.

2006 Criterion DVD top; 2020 Criterion BD bottom.

We've moved onto a new page, so I'll just reiterate, all of these Criterion DVD transfers are letterboxed, which was arguably a good thing on old tube TVs, but it's a welcome improvement to see the new BDs take advantage of their full potential resolution.  The previous Tales all started at 1.31:1 on DVD, which was adjusted to 1.37 for their blus.  The same is true here except this DVD is 1.32:1.  Just casually tossing your eyes down the page, immediately you'll have noticed that the blu-ray's colors are more vivid and the contrast is stronger.  This one's a new 2k scan of the original 35mm negative, and the difference is obvious.  Not just film grain (although, yes) but lots of fine detail is restored compared to the soft, milky image of the old transfer.  All these blu-rays are clear improvements, but it's all the more appreciable with these later ones.

And again, while both discs have the original French mono with optional English subtitles, the blu-ray bumps it up to an uncompressed LPCM track.

Also again, we're saving all the short films in these sets 'till the end, but there are a couple of Collector-specific extras on hand, in both the DVD and BD boxed sets.  Well, primarily one, a vintage television interview with Rohmer that runs almost an hour (presumably it originally filled the entire hour slot with commercials).  Anyway, it's great and very direct, revealing a lot of his history and thinking behind the film.  There's also the original theatrical trailer.

Finally (because, again, Moral Tale #6, Love In the Afternoon, has already been covered here), we arrive at Claire's Knee from 1970.  The beautiful lakeside property in this film makes The Collector's chateau look like a dump.  Unfortunately, we've hit the cosmically ordained "creepy middle-aged guy leches over teenage girls" story in our saga, but Rohmer handles it as elegantly as anybody could, and it's far more self aware than most modern attempts.  This isn't a Woody Allen-style romanticization of line-crossing May/ December relationships - though it may come off that way at first - but a sincere and critical exploration of that more unfortunate aspect of human nature.  But admittedly, it comes off more skeevy now than it did in its day.

2006 Criterion DVD top; 2020 Criterion BD bottom.

Well, we're back to 1.31:1 versus 1.37:1.  This DVD has a bit of a red hue, which the blu-ray color corrects, despite having a more natural warm tone.  You can see how much richer the colors are in that first set of shots, where the DVD comes off as far more pale.  This is another fresh 2k scan of an original 35mm camera negative, and while grain capture is a bit patchy, it's light years beyond the DVD's transfer, which doesn't even hint at it's film grain origins. 

As always, both discs provide the original French mono with optional English subtitles, but the blu-ray kicks it up to LPCM.

For extras, we get the theatrical trailer again.  And as with My Night At Maud's, we get another vintage television clip.  This time it's nine minutes with stars Beatrice Romand (who's gone on to appear in at least five other Rohmer films), Jean-Claude Brialy and Lawrence de Monaghan.  We're told Rohmer doesn't appear because he refuses to be filmed as he is "quite unsociable."  It's rather superficial and chatty, with the actors basically just pressed to give their impressions of Rohmer as a person.  Also, the picture quality's pretty rough.  But it's a rare bit of video, so it's nice to have it preserved here.

And so now it's finally time for those shorts, which I guess we shall tackle chronologically.  And I'll just take this moment to remind you the 1958 short Veronique and her Dunce, which is in both Criterion boxes (indeed, all the shorts and extras are the same across the 2006 and 2020 sets) has already been covered here.  We'll start with Charlotte and Her Steak, a brief 1951 clip starring Jean Luc Goddard as a young man who tries to make one woman jealous by visiting the titular Charlotte, who does indeed cook and eat a steak.  It plays like a brief chapter in a story otherwise left untold - in an opening screed, they call it a sketch - but it's a well written scene for what it is.

2006 AE DVD top; 2006 Criterion DVD mid; 2020 Criterion BD bottom.

Well, I'll tell you up front: don't expect remasters for any of these shorts.  They're included as extras and treated as such.  The just barely shifts from 1.34 to 1.33 to 1.35, respectively, and that's not down any difference in the framing, just a very imperceptible pinching of the image.  The blu-ray's an upconvert, so they're all just using the same master, which has some damage, dirt, scratches, judder and just a generally old and gruff presentation.  The opening credits are literally crooked.  And then there's some modern edge enhancement added to the mix.  All three discs have lossy French mono, but at least the subtitles are removable.

2006 AE DVD top; 2006 Criterion DVD mid; 2020 Criterion BD bottom.

Next we have the 1964 short, Nadja In Paris.  She's an exchange student studying abroad in... some French city, I can't remember which.  It's a sort of a brief, personal travelogue essay as she narrates footage of her time wandering around, chatting with the locals and visiting the museum.  It doesn't look that much fun to me.  The blu-ray is a pinch wider (1.35:1, as opposed to the DVDs' 1.33), but otherwise there's really no notable difference between the transfers.  The French audio is mono (obviously), and the English subtitles are removable on all three discs, so that's nice.

Now, these next three shorts aren't in the Artificial Eye set, only the Criterion(s).

2006 Criterion DVD top; 2020 Criterion BD bottom.

First up is a twenty-minute education film about the philosopher Blaise Pascal from 1965, appropriately titled On Pascal.  It's really an episode of a vintage TV show (En profil dans le texte), where two guests, an author and a priest, discuss/ debate their feelings on his writings.  The DVD is 1.32:1 and the BD is 1.34.  Both discs have lossy audio with removable subtitles.  The DVD has a faintly blueish hue, while the BD is more green.  Both are interlaced, but one benefit of HD is that the combing is smaller/ subtler, so it's by a very thin margin, but I'd actually call the 2020 release an improvement.

2006 Criterion DVD top; 2020 Criterion BD bottom.

Next we have the 1966 short A Modern Coed.  This is another documentary piece, not a fictional work, where a female student stars and narrates, a la Nadja In Paris, but this one spends more time actually at school.  It's kind of an early feminist observational piece.  The only real difference in terms of the image is a slight pinch in the DVD's AR, which is 1.33:1, that the BD shifts to 1.34.  The French audio is lossy mono on both discs, which each have removable English subtitles.

2006 Criterion DVD top; 2020 Criterion BD bottom.

This leaves us at the last Criterion short, the considerably more modern The Curve from 1999.  It's not really a Rohmer film, written and directed by actress Edwige Shakti, who of course also stars.  Rohmer is just credited as technical adviser, but she's clearly taking a lot of inspiration from him.  She plays the model of an art student who meets up with his grandfather to discuss the curve of her back as a symbol of female beauty and comparing her to various works of art.  It plays like a clunky student film, and probably was something along those lines.  For Rohmer completists, though, it's a nice little bonus.  The film is 1.32 on the DVD and 1.34 on the BD and interlaced on both.  It was shot on miniDV, though, so that's likely inherent to the footage.  Even though it's a new film, the audio is still mono, and lossy on both discs.  As always, the subtitles are removable.

But wait, we have one more short film - this one's only in the Early Rohmer set, and not the Six Moral Tales boxes.  It's an hour+ 1968 TV documentary called The Lumiere Brothers, about the early cinematic pioneers.  It's basically two sit-down interviews with fellow filmmakers Jean Renoir and Henri Langlois with some clips inserted.  It's a bit dry, mostly just static shots of these guys in their chairs talking towards the cameras, but a rare and knowledgeable discussion by and about some important film masters.  It's framed at 1.31:1, and the film has some flecks, but looks pretty good overall.  The audio is mono in Dolby Digital 2.0 with removable subtitles.

Eric Rohmer: The Early Works just has the two DVDs in a clear amary case.  But the Criterion boxes are packed.  The discs are housed a fold-out digi-pack that's housed in a slipbox.  Also inside is a 64-page booklet with a series of essays and a vintage Rohmer interview.  And more impressively, a 262-page collection of all of Rohmer's original Six Moral Tales stories.  Criterion's BD box is easily the way to go for all six films and the accompanying shorts.  But Sign Of the Lion is only available on DVD as part of the massive French Potemkine set (briefly discussed here), so many of us Rohmer fans are still holding onto the AE DVDs, too.