The Ultimate Carson Collection: His Favorite Moments from The Tonight ...
Viewers old enough to remember Johnny Carson may have forgotten what a superb entertainer he was-a laid-back Middle-American ringmaster whose ice-cool sense of control ruled The Tonight Show, yet who was confident enough in his own talent to play straight man to colleagues and guests. The three-disc Ultimate Johnny Carson contains mostly material that has already been aired in various Carson-themed specials; many of the clips are cut short, and the entire set is poorly organized (the menus don't make as much sense as they should). Still, it's a thrill to see so much Carson footage collected in a single place.
Volume 1 promises the best of the 60s and 70s; Volume 2 covers the 80s and 90s, plus a rarely-seen 1982 prime-time special titled "Johnny Goes Home," in which the host revisits his boyhood in rural Nebraska. (It's more rueful than funny, but fascinating anyway, if only because it offers a rare glimpse of a notoriously closed-off, private star publicly exploring his past with a mix of affection and ambivalence.) Volume 3 preserves Carson's final show (May 21, 1992) in its entirety.
Extras include script notes, written questions, a history of The Tonight Show, some rarely-seen, circa-1960s Danger Johnny films spotlighting the host's adventures in golfing, racing and other physical activities; selected Carson covers from national magazines and a (regrettably small) selection of "More to Come" art that flashed before and after commercial breaks. There are snippets of comedians Carson made into national stars, including Flip Wilson and Roseanne Barr, plus numerous animal acts, some of which ended with Carson getting scratched, bitten, shat upon or otherwise humilated, to hilarious effect. (Most of the pre-1970s stuff comes from faded, black-and-white kinescopes-an inescapable fact, due to NBC's notoriously boneheaded, supposedly accidental erasure of most of the first 10 years' worth of Tonight episodes.)
Most of the show's more widely reproduced clips are present and accounted for, including the Ed Ames tomahawk throw; Bette Midler serenading Johnny on his final show with "One for My Baby"; Johnny interrupting one of Ed McMahon's disastrous on-air pitches for Alpo by barging onto the set and digging into a bowl of dog food; Dragnet star Jack Webb interrogating Carson about the "copper clapper caper," and a drunken 1969 powwow between Carson, Dean Martin, Bob Hope and George Gobel that climaxed with Carson declaring, "Exactly what time did I lose control of my own show?" Answer: never.
-Matt Zoller Seitz
More than any other DVD I've ever watched (with the single exception of Antonioni's L'Avventura), In Praise of Love turns a tv monitor into the equivalent of a great museum canvas. Cinematographers Christophe Pollock and Julien Hirsch and the great sound recordist Francois Musy help make every moment exciting. Godard compels one's interest even when this story of a young filmmaker, Edgar's (Bruno Putzulu), maneuvering through the network of art galleries and film financing becomes deliberately, perversely obscure. Edgar attempts to make a movie about love-and one about the Holocaust-while also struggling to accept the political compromises of an attractive young woman, Elle (Cecile Camp). His complicated ethics can be overlooked as typical Godardian puzzlement, but the images cannot be denied.
Even though Godard's 1990 Nouvelle Vague took color photography/beauty as far as it could go, In Praise of Love (which is divided into two sections-the present shot in b&w film, the past shot in color video; each segment shown in backwards order) makes the artistic demands of cinema an immediate, nearly futuristic concern. The "story" is relayed as poetry, through rhyming imagery and abundant allusions (a bateau-mouche at night, waves overlapping a melancholy man standing in a door frame) but every moment makes you gasp at the visual-emotional possibilities in filmmaking and film-watching.
Godard gambles that today's video-game generation might be well-versed in comprehending complex visual imagery that doesn't so much narrate as provide sensation. That's where the prophet Godard becomes as timely and relevant as he was in the 1960s. Xbox experts should especially enjoy his ingenuity. As for the film's Spielberg- and U.S.A. bashing, I can take it simply because Godard is always pontificating, and one abstractly appreciates the poetry of his rhetoric. Plus he's about the only director in the world who can compose a shot that puts Spielberg to shame.
-Armond White
John Huston read the book shortly after it came out, loved it and, for the next two decades, tried to get it turned into a picture. After the end of WWII, he finally got his chance.
With a cast that included Bogart, Tim Holt and his own father (the great Walter Huston) as the rag-tag team of prospectors searching for gold in the mountains, Huston went on to make not only a classic adventure tale, but a film that was very odd for its time.
First of all, Huston (as he often did) insisted that it be filmed on location instead of on one of the Warner backlots. It wasn't unheard of, but it was rare. Humphrey Bogart (fresh off of one of my all-time favorites, Dark Passage), instead of playing a "cynical but lovable anti-hero," played Fred C. Dobbs, a desperate and not terribly likable man who disintegrates before our eyes into paranoia, madness and murder. And the film itself, despite studio encouragement to the contrary, had a downbeat ending.
Audiences in 1948 weren't especially thrilled. They liked happy endings, and they liked their Bogart better when he was a heroic tough guy. Nevertheless, the movie earned three Oscars, and went on to be referenced in a number of Warner Bros. cartoons. Today it's regarded as one of the greatest American films ever made-and a high-water mark for Huston, his father and Bogart alike.
Unlike most of the other major studios, Warner Bros. has been very slow and methodical when it comes to releasing their classic films on DVD. It can be extraordinarily frustrating. To their credit, though, they put clear effort into their products. This new two-disc edition of Sierra Madre not only contains a pristine new transfer of the film, but has set it up to be presented as it would have been at the time-complete with a newsreel and two Bugs Bunny cartoons (which include Sierra Madre references). The second disc comes with a fascinating new "making-of" featurette, a radio play based on the movie and an indispensable feature-length documentary about John Huston's life and career. I'm not usually a big fan of extras, but these are actually worthwhile.
The Treasure of the Sierra Madre was long one of those films I passed over when I was in the mood for some Bogart. I'd think "Sun. Dust. Sweat," before deciding to watch Dark Passage one more time. Seeing it now, however, I'm reminded again what a truly remarkable-and fun-movie it is.
-Jim Knipfel