THE COMPLETE SHERLOCK HOLMES: Blu-ray (20th Century-Fox 1939/Universal 1942-46) MPI Home Entertainment

Everyone loves a good mystery and in the annals of superior sleuthing, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes mysteries easily rank amongst the all time greats. Holmes' brilliant powers of deduction coupled with his superior intellect and mind-boggling crimes to solve became wildly popular reading at the turn of the last century.

In truth, Conan Doyle only wrote the novels to amuse himself while attending school to become a physician. That the books took on a life of their own that would eventually dictate his was a fallout Conan Doyle never quite came to terms with.

In 1893, in fact, Conan Doyle murdered Holmes in his novel, The Final Problem, but was so besieged by angry outcries from fans that he was forced to resurrect the character anew in 1901's The Hounds of the Baskerville - arguably Holmes' most enduring novel.

In 1918, Conan Doyle died of pneumonia, putting a period to the Sherlock Holmes series of novels though not to the character's continued popularity. In fact, with the advent of the movies, Sherlock Holmes was to find an even more enduring legacy.

The rights to Conan Doyle's novels were first secured by Darryl F. Zanuck at 20th Century-Fox. Zanuck intended making a series based on famed detective and quickly launched into The Hounds of the Baskervilles (1939) and The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes (1939), the two most intricately produced and fondly remembered movies in the series. Both adhere to Conan Doyle's character and, more importantly, to that turn of the century time period that was later jettisoned in favour of making Holmes and Watson 'contemporary' figures.

In the first film, Holmes (Basil Rathbone) and Dr. John Watson (Nigel Bruce) receive a cryptic visit from Dr. James Mortimer (Lionel Atwill) who is gravely concerned that the new heir to the Baskerville estate, Sir Henry (Richard Greene) will suffer the same murderous fate as his relatives at the curse of the hounds. After an attempt is made on Sir Henry's life in the streets of London, Holmes sends Watson and Sir Henry on ahead to the estate where strange goings on lead to more attempts on Henry's life amongst the craggy rocks of Dartmoor.

In fact, Holmes is shadowing Watson and Sir Henry in the disguise of an old peddler. While exploring the moors, Sir Henry becomes smitten with one of his neighbours, Beryl Stapleton (Wendy Barrie), whose brother John (Morton Lowry) is keeping secrets. A flock of red herrings round out this deceptive journey; the Baskerville estate's brooding butler, Barryman (John Carridine), his odd wife (Eily Malyon) and Mrs. Mortimer (Beryl Mercer); a self professed clairvoyant who attempts to hold a séance to learn the identity of the assailant.

At the time of its release, Darryl F. Zanuck did not consider The Hounds of the Baskervilles as one of the studio's major releases. However, it was so wildly successful in the U.S. that Zanuck immediately recast Rathbone and Bruce in The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes (1939); a valiant follow up that was intended to mark the real start of what would become a series for 20th Century Fox.

On this second outing, Holmes arrives too late at the Old Bailey to reveal evidence that would have convicted his arch nemesis, Professor Moriarty (George Zucco) for the crime of murder. Moriarty goads Holmes with the prospect that he will concoct a crime of the century so diabolical and perfectly executed that it will leave Holmes' reputation for crime solving in ruins. In point of fact, he is setting up Holmes for a wild goose chase that will deflect his suspicions from Moriarty's real plan to steal the famed Crown Jewels.

Holmes and Watson are visited by Ann Brandon (Ida Lupino) who fears that her beloved brother, Lloyd (Peter Willes) is destined to suffer the same brutal fate as their father some ten years earlier. True to her suspicions, Lloyd is discovered bludgeoned in the park one foggy eve. Holmes pursues the case, believing that Ann is next to die. After hearing her screams, Holmes captures Gabriel Mateo (George Regas) who confesses to Holmes that it was Moriarty who put him up to his revenge in order to settle an old score against Ann and Lloyd's late father. Racing to the Tower of London, Holmes finds Moriarty in the middle of his thievery and, in the resulting chase, sends Moriarty to his presumed death.

For reasons never fully explained, Zanuck discarded the Sherlock Holmes series after these two films. Universal Studios acquired the rights to Conan Doyle's other novels and immediately set about cannibalizing their literary past by frequently combining several of the novels plots into a single film and by removing the Victorian trappings from the series for economical reasons.

Hence, Sherlock Holmes and The Voice of Terror (1942), Sherlock Holmes and The Secret Weapon (1943) and Sherlock Holmes in Washington (1943) are all timely themed around World War II with Holmes and Watson invariably being challenged to outsmart the Nazis. The first of these films is loosely inspired by Conan Doyle's 'His Last Bow' and finds Holmes determined to unearth an organization of Nazi saboteurs who are using radio to instil fear in Britain's population. In 'The Secret Weapon', Holmes smuggles a scientist to the West whose bombsight is much sought after by the Hitler's armies. 'In Washington' has Holmes and Watson on the trail of an abducted British secret agent smuggling microfilm with vital war information out of the country.

Based on Conan Doyle's 'The Adventures of the Musgrave Ritual', Sherlock Holmes Faces Death (1943) thankfully finds Britain's most amiable sleuth back in his own country and in more familiar territory. Holmes helps Watson learn the truth about a hospital where military men recovering from shell shock are reportedly being plagued by ghosts. Although the film is still in a 'then' contemporary setting, it contains some trademark touches from the original two films - namely ominous glowing fog banks and a big brooding gothic manor - that help make this movie one of the better offerings from the Universal period.

In The Spider Woman (1944) Holmes fakes his own death to expose a series of supposed suicides as acts of murder. Arguably, the best film from the Universal lot is 1944's The Scarlet Claw. Holmes and Watson find themselves in Quebec in the tiny hamlet of La Mort Rouge where murders are being committed, presumably by a hideous monster that haunts a nearby bog. More than any other film from the Universal tenure, The Scarlet Claw resurrects the spooky mood and sense of foreboding that was the backbone of the series.

Evidently, Universal took the hint from their success with this latter entry because the follow up film, The Pearl of Death (1944) has plenty of fog and craggy back lot moors to mask its rather threadbare plot involving a stolen sacred gem known as The Borgia Pearl.

In retrospect, Universal was never a very forward looking studio when it came to series films. Unlike MGM, who tended to carefully space out the absences between instalments to their Andy Hardy, Dr. Kildare, Thin Man and Tarzan serials, thereby creating excitement and anticipation surrounding each subsequent movie, Universal simply abused the good graces of its audience with a bombardment of like minded product. Although this greed for profit did not seem to hurt the popularity of the Sherlock Holmes series, it also did not do much for its integrity.

The two subsequent films in the series bear out this weariness with very like-minded plots. The House of Fear (1945) has Holmes and Watson investigating seven men living in a remote Scottish castle who are being picked off by a mysterious murderer one at a time. In The Woman in Green (1945) men's bodies turn up all over London with their fingers missing. The diabolical Professor Moriarty makes his welcome return in this latter effort.

Confined spaces seem the order of the day in Pursuit to Algiers (1945) and Terror By Night (1946). In the first film, Holmes and Watson escort an heir to the throne of his home country via ship with secret agents lurking about. In the latter, Holmes and Watson must pit their investigative deductive prowess against a murder/jewel heist aboard a train.

Both films are particularly good at creating a sense of claustrophobia that greatly enhances their suspense. The film that closed out the series is also one of its most popular; Dressed to Kill (1946). Holmes and Watson attempt to crack a secret code after people who own music boxes wind up dead.

The death of the Sherlock Holmes series was only partly predicated on dwindling box office returns. At the end of the war, Hollywood turned a corner in film production with rising costs that would effectively kill the B-movie and movie serial by 1950. In retrospect, the most endearing aspect of this series is its utterly charming syncopation between the two leads. Basil Rathbone and Nigel Bruce have exceptional on screen chemistry. They're a little bit Tracy and Hepburn and a little bit Abbott & Costello, but with an intangible magic all their own.

Whether they're plunged into the heart of the Victorian age or remade for the 20th century, as depicted by Rathbone and Bruce this duo remains timeless. Even in their worst film, arguably The Voice of Terror, these two old souls manage to find something to amuse the audience with their repartee.

It was rare then and virtually nonexistent today to have a team so in rhythm that they could ostensibly recite the telephone book aloud and still draw an audience. The character of Sherlock Holmes has since been played and replayed by many a skilled thespian over the decades including Jeremy Brett and, most recently, Robert Downey Jr. But when the filmic chapter is finally closed on the adventures of Sherlock Holmes, Conan Doyle's super sleuth will have only one name synonymous with that character and that name is Basil Rathbone.

MPI Home Entertainment delves into its catalogue for this deluxe Blu-ray release of The Complete Sherlock Holmes, featuring all 14 original movies in the series. Regrettably, the first two made at 20th Century Fox have not been restored. Remarkably, the gray scale on both The Hounds of the Baskerville and The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes holds up well. Age related artefacts plague both titles but none that will severely distract.

Film preservationist Robert Gitt provides a bit of background on the valiant restoration efforts made by UCLA'S Film & Television Archive on the remaining 12 Universal titles. Frankly, some were in an appalling state of disrepair by the time Gitt and his team came upon them, particularly Dressed to Kill; missing both its 'title card' and end titles. All of the Universal titles were missing their trademark Universal 'globe' logo that preceded them as well as the 'Universal presents...' title card, after the studio allowed its rights on these films to lapse. With so few original camera negatives in existence it is a minor miracle that the films in this collection look as good as they do.

Although the gray scale balance on all of the titles in this set is somewhat brighter than on previously issued DVDs, the films do not appear to have had their contrast levels artificially boosted. I will not bore herein with a film by film critique of the image quality. Suffice it to state for the record that many of the films in this set look quite good. However, even the ones that are in rougher shape do not look so bad as to dissuade one from enjoying these movies as art.

The most impressive in this set all exhibit a considerable amount of fine detail and film grain as grain and not digitally harsh grit. The most popular of the Universal titles, The Scarlet Claw, regrettably is also the only film in this collection for which no original elements exist. In their absence, MPI has managed a minor coup by using digital wizardry to correct many of the inherent visual shortcomings.

The audio on all films is mono. Yes, there is hiss and pop present on many of the features - particularly The Hounds of the Baskerville, but you're not buying vintage titles like these for their pristine sonic clarity. With what they had to work from, MPI has done a marvellous job preserving these movies for future generations.

Extras are a bit scant. The six audio commentaries that accompany the more time honoured titles are all exceptionally informative, genuinely augmenting the viewer's appreciation for each film. Some very rough newsreel footage of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and theatrical trailers on seven titles - all in very rough shape - round out the extras. Highly Recommended!

FILM RATING (out of 5 - 5 being the best)

Overall score 3.5

VIDEO/AUDIO

Overall score 3

EXTRAS

2

THE TEN COMMANDMENTS: Blu-ray (Paramount 1956/1923) Paramount Home Video

The single costliest and highest grossing film of 1956 was Cecil B. DeMille’s The Ten Commandments, an elephantine Bible-fiction spectacle designed to dwarf all others that had gone before it, including DeMille's own 1923 version. That the resulting film is eye-popping and extravagant beyond all expectation is little wonder. On a pure visual scale, few epics before or since can lay claim to as much staggering wealth on display. After a lengthy and most celebrated career in films, this was DeMille's last movie and it proved to be a whopper.

Mind-boggling are the statistics trumpeted by Paramount’s publicity – as lengthy and as involved as the film’s main title sequence. Consider just one of them - 60,000 extras dressed in as many costumes , performing their exodus from the largest free standing set (Pharoh's city in Egypt) ever built for a motion picture. The strain of managing such a super production undoubtedly took its toll on DeMille who suffered a major heart attack while on location – necessitating some quick subbing in by no less than the film's star, Charlton Heston, briefly in the director's chair. DeMille recovered from his coronary in a record 3 days and returned to filming.

Still, it is the comprehensiveness of the narrative that has always been suspect, at least as far as historians and Biblical scholars are concerned. Yet, given the vast research conducted, the screenplay by Joesph Holt Ingraham, Arthur Eustace Southon, Dorothy Clarke Wilson, Aeneas MacKenzie, Jesse L. Lasky Jr., Jack Gariss and Fredric M. Frank is a wonderment of concision. If artistic liberties have been taken (and, no doubt they have) then these have at least yielded a superlative example of the well-crafted classic Hollywood narrative.

The Ten Commandments is not without its flaws. While the scope and size of this project is impressive, DeMille himself seems a tad too preachy - too reverent perhaps and too ensconced in the factoid information he spews throughout the movie's running commentary. Also, in his attempt to extol awe and humility from the audience, the acting style DeMille employs from his stars throughout the film is straight from the silent movie age with grandiose gesturing and exaggerated facial expressions.

As a result, DeMille's brand of thought-numbing grandeur tends to lack in genuine heart or soul. His story is populated by a moving tableau of stick-figures and garish dumb show. In short, the movie becomes a prime example of substance eclipsed by its overwhelming style. Very loosely based on the Holy Scriptures, the story begins with Ramses I (Ian Keith) declaring that every Hebrew man child shall be put to death in order to stave off rumours that a Messiah has been born to deliver his slaves from bondage. One child slated for murder is Moses. But Moses’ mother, Yochabel (Martha Scott) sets her son upon the waters of the Nile in a floating basket where he is discovered by Egyptian princess, Bithiah (Nina Foch); Seti's sister. Fast forward; the now adult Moses (Charlton Heston) has been reared in the royal house as a Prince of Egypt. He courts the affections of Nefriteri (Anne Baxter), the sultry daughter of Seti II (Cedric Hardwicke), who favours Moses for the throne over his own son, the arrogant Ramses II (Yul Brynner). But when word comes to Moses of his true birthright through the hateful lips of Memnet (Judith Anderson) he renounces all claims to the throne and becomes a slave.

With the aid of his wily overseer, Dathan (Edward G. Robinson), Seti's master builder, Bacca (Vincent Prince) exposes Moses as a fraud. The discovery of Moses’ Hebrew heritage shatters Seti’s faith in family and he exiles Bithiah from his court. Nefriteri is forced to marry Ramses who is declared Seti's successor and Moses is banished into the desert where he will presumably die. Instead, Moses finds his true calling through the voice of God, the good graces of Joshua (John Derek) and the love of a loyal woman, Sephora (Yvonne DeCarlo). He returns to Egypt after Seti’s death to challenge Ramses supremacy as the ruler of all Egypt.

Ramses is unmoved by Moses declaration to 'let my people go.' To test Moses faith, and the power of his God, Ramses commands that the slaves shall make their regular tally of bricks without straw or die at the hand of his guards. Despite this deprivation in materials, the tally of bricks remain the same.

However when Moses returns to Ramses court he is once again challenged to prove his God is God. In compliance, Moses transforms his staff into a snake. One of the court's mystics attempts to prove that this is nothing more than a magician's trick by also transforming his own staff into a serpent. But when Moses snake consumes the other, the court is horrified.

Next ,Moses uses his staff to turn the Nile as red as blood. The inhabitants are petrified and plead with Ramses to release the slaves. But when Ramses receives word that a mountain in the Cataracts was discovered spewing red earth into the sea he blames this natural occurrence for the Nile's present condition.

Moses returns to Ramses court and declares that 40 days of darkness shall follow. Indeed, after a hailstorm of fire, Egypt falls under a lengthy shadow. Ramses challenges Moses one last time, declaring that if any more plagues result he will turn the Nile red with the blood of every first born in the land. The die is cast and the last fateful prophecy is fulfilled.

Moses instructs his loyal followers to smear blood across their doorways so that this divine pestilence will not enter their houses. But Ramses does not believe that any plague can harm him or his family. As such his only son perishes.

Ramses releases the slaves from bondage. However, as Moses leads the Israelites into the desert, Nefriteri taunts her husband with the promises he once made to destroy Moses. Her goading inflames Ramses desire for revenge. He amasses his army and races toward the Israelite encampment butted against the banks of the Red Sea.

Dathan attempts to woo the terrified masses to his side, but Moses raises his staff against the waters, barring Ramses way with a pillar of fire while parting the sea so that they may escape to safety. Only after the Israelites have crossed to the other side do the waters rejoin, colliding with Ramses armies and bringing about their utter destruction. Ramses returns to Nefriteri, declaring "his God is God."

Yet, all is not well in the Israelite camp. Confirmed in their freedom, the Israelites have constructed a golden calf as their new idol of worship. They partake in all forms of human debauchery until Moses return from Mount Sinai with God's laws, The Ten Commandments. Appalled by what he sees, Moses casts these stone tablets down into their midst. They shatter the earth and consume all hedonism in one powerful blast of wrathful fire.

God shows Moses the promised land but bars his way, recalling the prophet to heaven, his work on earth fulfilled. The film ends with the glowing stone tablets carved into the mountain side and the film's tag line, 'So as it was written, so let it be done' double exposed along the bottom of the frame.

Biblical scholars have readily decried DeMille's interpretation of God's voice as it teaches Moses the way to righteousness. In the film, the voice (actually belonging to Charlton Heston) is rather ominous, freakishly so with a low timber and commanding presence. Scholars argue that contact between God and Moses was less humbling and, in fact, very much like a conversation between friends'; God employing Moses as his trusted emissary on earth.

Whatever the truth of it, there is little to deny the film's enduring impact on pop culture as a largely secular appreciation of the Bible. Under DeMille’s direction, the first half of this film plays like Peyton Place retrofitted for the chariot and toga set. Palace intrigue, family incest and infidelities abound in glorious Technicolor. But the latter half of the movie is dedicated to pure spectacle. With God’s guiding hand (and Paramount’s gifted art department) Moses brings about various convincing plagues.

The most impressive spectacle, and the one most frequently revived when clips of the film are shown in retrospective documentaries, is the parting of the Red Sea. This full scale miniature effect was achieved in long shot using two glass boxes filled with blue tinted water. By gradually removing the glass panels that separate the water and photographing the spilling forth at a high speed, then playing it backward at a normal 24 frames per second, the effect is completed. Since its original theatrical release, The Ten Commandments has earned (in adjusted amounts) $446 million making it the fifth highest grossing film of all time. Today, it remains amongst the top ranked and most beloved movies of all time and a perennial Easter favourite.

A few interesting footnotes: many of the costumes used in 20th Century-Fox's The Egyptian were reused in this movie. Charlton Heston's own son, then a newborn, played the infant Moses. In fact, DeMille timed his shooting to coincide with the actual birth. For many years prior to the advent of home video, various churches would screen the movie to sell out crowds to raise money for their congregations. Since 1973, ABC has broadcast The Ten Commandments every Palm Sunday where it frequently continues to top the Nielson ratings. The band Metallica was inspired by the plague sequence to write 'Creeping Death' one of their most readily performed rock classics. Paramount’s Deluxe Blu-ray easily eclipses all previous reissues on DVD. The film is advertised as 'meticulously restored' and there is absolutely no reason to doubt the claim. On Blu-ray The Ten Commandments is an even more awe-inspiring spectacle to behold. The film is spread across two discs for maximum utilization of Blu-ray's superior bit rate. Colours that were merely loud on the DVD are now utterly bold, rich and fully saturated on the Blu-ray.

The older transfer's edge enhancement, shimmering of fine details and pixelization have been eradicated for an image that is smooth and completely faithful to the original VistaVision presentation with a modicum of grain still present but represented as grain rather than digital grit. Flesh tones tend to be slightly more orange on the Blu-ray but are probably closer in keeping with the original filmic presentation. The audio has also been noticeably improved upon for this Blu-ray debut. It's still 5.1 but DTS and with a refined sonic palette that distinguishes subtly between music, dialogue and effects. As for dialogue, it is very crisply rendered and spatially pleasing.

Extras include a brand new 75 minute documentary on the making of the film that is fairly comprehensive, as well as the inclusion of all the original extra features from the DVD, 6 part featurettes, audio commentary and theatrical trailer. DeMille’s 1923 silent version is also included as is a DVD copy of the 1956 film (to what purpose, I'm not sure). The 1923 image has dated badly but is still watchable with an adequately preserved gray scale. Bottom line: Paramount proves once more that it has forsaken its old spendthrift attitude where home video was concerned. They have outdone themselves in resurrecting this magnificent epic for a new era in entertainment! Highly recommended!

FILM RATING (out of 5 - 5 being the best)

3.5

VIDEO/AUDIO

4.5

EXTRAS

3.5

THE DEVIL'S OWN: Blu-ray (Columbia 1997) Sony Home Video

It took producer Lawrence Gordon six years to bring The Devil's Own (1997), a subdued political thriller, to the big screen. By then the original story by Kevin Jarre had undergone major rewrites to flesh out the supporting character of Tom O'Meara into a leading man and much of the film's IRA critique and criticism had been distilled into traditional Hollywood cloak and dagger nonsense that, at least in the final analysis, fails to come together except in fits and sparks.

The film stars then rising talent, Brad Pitt as IRA assassin Francis 'Frankie' Austin McGuire. When he was just eight years old, Frankie watched as his Republican sympathizing father (Martin Dunne) was murdered by a masked Loyalist gunman while he sat at the head of the family's dinner table.

Fast forward to 1992, and Frankie is now a Provisional IRA foot soldier whose blood lust for revenge has only intensified with time. After a harrowing showdown with British agent, Harry Sloan (Simon Jones) in the streets of Belfast, Frankie is taken to a safe house in the country and given a fake passport by fellow freedom fighter, Martin MacDuf (David O'Hara). Frankie's mission is to go to New York City and contact Billy Burke (Treat Williams) a black market gun runner, buy surface to air missiles and then sail away on a repurposed boat to Ireland with his stash in tow.

The situation, however, becomes complicated when Frankie - rechristened Rory Devaney - is sent by his U.S. contact, Judge Peter Fitzsimmons (George Hern) to live in the home of NYPD officer Tom O'Meara (Harrison Ford). Tom is not a party to Frankie's plans nor is he aware of the oversized duffle containing a million dollars to buy the weaponry, given to Frankie by Peter, that Frankie has hidden beneath some floorboards in Tom's basement washroom.

Frankie lies to Tom about immigrating to the U.S. for a job as a construction worker but secretly meets up with Sean Phelan (Paul Ronan), a fellow IRA gunman who has purchased a broken down tug that will serve as his and Frankie's means of escape once the missiles have been purchased.

But Frankie's perfect plan is hardly foolproof. In fact, his hard heart has already begun to soften towards Tom, his wife Sheila (Margaret Colin) and their family. Frankie's plight is further complicated by his attraction to Fitzsimmon's nanny, Megan Doherty (Nathascha McElhone) and later, by the discovery that Martin MacDuf has been murdered back home, thereby forcing Frankie to put his plans with Billy Burke on hold. Burke, who has already purchased the missiles using his own money is hardly impressed by the delay and sends his thugs to Tom's house to collect the money he is owed.

Although Tom at first believes that this home invasion is a simple burglary gone awry, he gradually becomes more suspicious after Sheila takes inventory and realizes that nothing has been stolen. Tom's dander is raised again when he examines Frankie's room and finds that his couch, mattress and personal belongings have all been brutally cut open in the burglars obvious search for something.

Discovering the million dollars under his bathroom floor, Tom confronts Frankie, then places him under arrest with the aid of his partner, Edwin Diaz (Ruben Blades).Unfortunately for Tom and Edwin, en route to the precinct Frankie manages a daring escape that leaves Edwin dead and Tom wounded. At the morgue Tom is suspected by Harry Sloan of being an IRA sympathizer, placing his job and his freedom in jeopardy.

Billy Burke holds Sean hostage until Frankie agrees to pay him for the missiles he has already purchased. But the trade is merely a rouse to get Frankie alone in an abandoned factory. There, Billy has one of his henchmen toss Frankie Sean's severed head. Billy reveals to Frankie the contents of a van full of missiles then attempts to assassinate him. In the resulting hailstorm of bullets Billy and his men are killed by Frankie instead.

Meanwhile, Tom confronts Fitzsimmons at his home during an elegant party, then narrowly apprehends Frankie in Megan's bedroom upstairs. Megan agrees to help Tom apprehend Frankie, but only if Tom promises not to hurt him. True to his word, Tom hurries to the abandoned pier where Frankie's tug is moored. But in the resulting confrontation both men take a bullet from each other's gun. While Tom's shoulder wound proves superficial, Frankie has been mortally struck in the stomach. He dies next to Tom, but not before revealing to Tom that he was, in fact, justified in his actions.

The Devil's Own is a peculiar film indeed. The last to be directed by Alan J. Pakula, it very much wants to be an action movie, but isn't. It aspires to be a political thriller, but it isn't. It desperately attempts to resurrect the buddy/buddy genre with a parallel good cop/bad cop, good Irish/bad Irish subplot twist, yet here too it miserably falters. What we are left with then is a rather bizarre, occasionally probing morality play peppered with sporadic gunplay and espionage. The film is a valiant attempt to explain away both sides of the Irish conflict with logic, compassion and understanding.

The greatest stumbling block in the screenplay by David Aaron Cohen, Vincent Patrick and Kevin Jarre is that it struggles to make the originally intended crusade of one man into an emotional ground swelling bond between two. In Jarre's original draft, Tom O'Meara is a mere supporting character.

However, Brad Pitt's suggestion that Harrison Ford play the part necessitated fleshing out the character to entice Ford's participation on the project. As such, there are several painfully out of touch sequences inserted into the story that have absolutely nothing to do with the central narrative, but that follow Tom's daily grind as a cop on the beat. There is even a bit of good cop/bad cop cliché at play as Tom catches Edwin in a lie after Edwin shoots a fleeing suspect in cold blood while claiming the unarmed suspect shot at him first.

These scenes are meant to endear the character of Tom to the audience. He's a good man, a good cop and someone who would never under normal circumstances harbour a fugitive like Frankie. This conflict of conscience that evolves once Tom realizes Frankie's true identity is, of course, what fuels the latter half of the story.

Yet, it's rather tragic the way Pakula allows the last third of his film to degenerate into a series of protracted blood baths; between Tom, Edwin and Frankie; between Frankie, Billy and his henchmen, and finally, between Tom and Frankie. As the body count rises, one gets a true sense of just how imbalanced the screenplay is. Even the film's ending, with Tom alone and steering Frankie's boat back to shore with Frankie's body in tow, suggests something of a misfired dénouement. It is an inevitable conclusion from Hollywood's point of view, but it also lacks finality to truly satisfy on a pure entertainment level. In the final analysis, The Devil's Own is a film of many ambitions, none entirely realized in the finished product.

There's better news ahead. Sony Home Video's 1080p transfer is quite stunning. We get an image that is bright and vibrant with colours so rich and saturated that the film really does not look its age. Blacks are deep, rich and solid. Whites are pristine. Fine details are beautifully realized. Truly, this is a reference quality rendering. One simply wishes that Sony would invest as much time and effort in bringing so many of their more popular and enduring catalogue titles to Blu-ray (Little Women, Steel Magnolias, Tootsie, The Remains of the Day, Places in the Heart, Sense and Sensibility, etc. etc. etc.).

The audio is a 5.1 DTS rendering that is aggressive during action sequences, but strangely quiescent elsewhere. Often dialogue sounds inaudible at a normal listening level. While cranking up the speakers corrects this disadvantage, it also is likely to blow out a few rear channels once the car chases and gunfire begin. There are NO extras.

FILM RATING (out of 5 - 5 being the best)

2.5

VIDEO/AUDIO

5

EXTRAS

0

THE GREATEST STORY EVER TOLD: Blu-ray (UA 1965) Fox Home Video

Lavishly produced at a cost exceeding $20 million dollars, a monumental sum then, George Steven's The Greatest Story Ever Told (1965) began its gestation as a stoic character study of the life, death and resurrection of Christ. Written by Stevens and James Lee Barrett, who loosely based their lengthy narrative on 1947's series of half hour radio episodes derived from the Gospels, and, from the 1949 novelized adaptation by Fulton Oursler, there's little to deny that the resulting 199 minute film contains many awe-inspiring sequences, superbly rendered in stylized melodrama.

The almost monochromatic costumes and 47 full size sets suggest a more reserved and probably more realistic setting to the narrative, in stark contrast to all those glamorous trappings of an epic made by Cecil B. De Mille. This is all to the good. Exploiting the wilds of Arizona, California, Nevada and Utah for the Holy Land, Steven's film has a strange timelessness that arguably has not dated, especially when compared to other Bible/fiction epics made during the 1950s and early 60s.

If nothing else, this is a very serious attempt at recreating a living testament to Jesus; perhaps too serious, in fact. For although Loyal Griggs and William C. Mellor's cinematography extols the vastness of its subject matter with meticulous sincerity, there really is nothing that can salvage the dragging pace of the story. Worse, Stevens (a director this critic greatly admires) seems incapable of generating any intimacy between the edges of the vast expanses of Super Panavision 70. We either get a series of long master shots filling the frame with thousands of tiny extras or extreme close ups of talking heads. Medium reverse shots, where most dialogue sequences in other films generally play, seem to have been forgotten or discarded.

And then, there are the cameos to contend with; a Michael Todd inspired ensemble of famous faces paraded in rapid succession before the camera to suggest star power comparable for a film of this gargantuan size. Casting then relative unknown actor Max Von Sidow as Jesus was a step in the right direction. Even now, after all of Sidow's many other accomplishments readily available for critique on celluloid, he appears, if not entirely in continence, then at least in manner and, dare we say, 'spirit', to be an inspired Christ-like figure that the audience can believe in.

Not so much sustained believability derives from the rest of the cast, particularly Telly Savalas's Pontius Pilate, played embarrassingly as a thug straight from the Bronx or Ed Wyn's Old Aram whom we might expect to burst into song and comedy at any moment even as he emotes real tears from his prosthetic contact lens.

We begin in a manger with the immaculate conception of Baby Jesus to Mary (Dorothy McGuire) and Joseph (Robert Loggia). King Herod (Claude Rains) fools the Three Wise Men into alerting him to the whereabouts of the child, presumably so that he too may be permitted to worship. Instead, Herod sends his armed minions to Bethlehem to murder all the young male children and rid himself of the prophecy that a King of Kings has come to free all men from bondage.

The slaughter proves a hollow victory, for as soon as he is told by the captain of his guard that his commands have been carried out, Herod dies on the throne. His son, Herod Antipas (Jose Ferrer) inherits a crumbling empire whose inhabitants threaten to overtake him during a revolt. As such, Herod Antipas is forced to place his kingdom under a Roman regency controlled by Pontius Pilate.

Exiled from Bethlehem, Antipas is counselled by Caiaphas (Martin Landau) and Sorak (Victor Buono), a pair of advisors who prove lethal to his limited authority but who also point the finger at John the Baptist (Charleton Heston) as a possible threat from afar. John is brought before Antipas and beheaded.

From here, the film fast tracks to the life of the adult Jesus (Max Von Sidow), presumably because the gospel does not mark much in the way of what happened between Christ's birth and his entry into manhood.

Having conquered temptation in the form of The Dark Hermit (a.k.a. Satin played by Donald Pleasence), Jesus begins to amass his disciples out of the wilderness; James (Michael Anderson Jr.), Matthew (Roddy McDowell), Judas (David McCallum), Peter (Gary Raymond) and John (John Considine).

They travel to many cities, inspiring blind devotion particularly after Jesus heals a woman (Shelley Winters) of leprosy, restores sight to Old Aram (Ed Wynn) and stirs the cripple, Uriah (Sal Mineo) to walk. These miracles beyond human suffrage are an act of faith and believing, so Jesus teaches. Yet, with each laying of hands Jesus acquires the more profound moniker of a spiritual healer.

After Jesus resurrects Lazarus (Michael Tolan) from the dead, he is condemned by Caiaphas for witchcraft, sedition and blasphemy. Caiaphas rounds up ministers who are loyal to him and together they hold a secret trial that finds Jesus guilty of these crimes. One minister, Nicodemus (Joseph Schildkraut) decries these proceedings but is silenced by Caiaphas.

Jesus is sent to Pontius Pilate for sentencing, but he in turn attempts to pawn Jesus' fate on Harod Antipas. Instead, Antipas forces Pilate to make an example of Jesus by crucifying him. Carrying his cross through the city, Jesus is helped to his feet by Simon of Cyrene (Sidney Poitier) before being nailed to the cross on the hill just beyond its gates with no less an iconic cinematic figure than John Wayne (as a Roman Centurion) declaring "Surely this man was the son of God."

The end of the first act leading to intermission and the finale of the second, where Jesus rises from the dead are bookended by choral re-orchestrations a la Alfred Newman of Mendel's Hallelujah. The rest of the score is reverent to a fault, but at times frightfully evocative of Newman's other underscoring for a religious epic; The Robe (1953).

The Greatest Story Ever Told is hardly as great as its title suggests. It is a film that will unlikely ever be duplicated. Yet, it stands today as more of a final fade out to that elephantine spectacle that was so in vogue in the late 1950s and early '60s and an epitaph to the now defunct studio system of Hollywood's golden age. Rarely does it transcend into that rare echelon where art becomes the catalyst for eternal inspiration.

Fox's Blu-ray offering is, frankly, an abomination. In re-examining their packaging, nowhere on either this disc or its rear cover art does studio marketing advertise this transfer as 1080p though undoubtedly it is. What it is not is 'restored' or 'remastered' - as was previously advertised on several internet sites prior to this disc's release. Instead, this is the same problematic and utterly lacklustre image derived from MGM's previously issued and various DVD incarnations.

The image throughout is riddled with dirt, scratches, occasional severe fading, slight to considerable age related damage and a shimmering of fine details, as well as a smattering of instability inherent in the original print. Fine detail, that ought to be present in a large viewing format like Panavision 70 is wholly absent in this transfer. Flesh tones veer from pasty pink to ruddy orange. All the razor sharpness that such a large format film stock ought to produce is lacking herein. Truly, this is one of the worst looking Blu-ray discs to ever come on the market.

Fox has includes a disclaimer immediately before the movie starts, erroneously claiming that they have brought the film to hi-definition using the best possible source materials.

This is an outright lie. The superiority of an original Panavision 70 camera negative would never produce such garish amounts of digitally grainy anomalies as are glaringly present during several key sequences, particularly during the crucifixion. The image is so unstable during this sequence that background detail breaks apart.

The audio is 5.1 Dolby Digital and adequate enough for this presentation, though it does exhibit moments of hiss and pop and, on occasion, can sound more strident than most stereo tracks of this vintage. On the whole, then this disc is not recommended.

Extras are direct imports from MGM's previous DVD and include two very brief featurettes, one vintage, the other recorded in the mid-1980s and featuring fascinating, if all too short, snippets of Charlton Heston and Shelley Winters waxing affectionately about George Stevens.

FILM RATING (out of 5 - 5 being the best)

3

VIDEO/AUDIO

1

EXTRAS

2

ANASTASIA: Blu-ray (20th Century-Fox 1997) Fox Home Video

History on film has always been a tough nut to crack. First, there are the facts to contend with. These rarely run conducive to the linear plot of a motion picture. Then there are the cast of characters from the historical record that inevitably have to be condensed, then tweaked so that there exists a definite hero and a definite villain to the piece. Finally, there's the time line - stretching in reality often for decades or even centuries that has to be distilled and made sense of in two to three hours. Add to this mix a healthy sampling of actors' egos and creative license and voila! - history becomes...well...not quite as it was but as a screenwriter might have wanted it to be.

All of these factual shortcomings are at play in Don Bluth and Gary Goldman’s Anastasia (1997); easily, the most sumptuous non-Disney animated feature of the last twenty years – if not, in fact, of all time.

Taking its cue more from director Anitole Litvak's spectacular 1956 fairytale re-envisioning of history rather than the historical record, Bluth and Goldman's Anastasia further muddies the waters by evolving it into a musical. The poignant underscoring from composer David Newman and superb songs written expressly for the film by Stephen Flaherty and Lynn Ahren are all showstoppers. As such, the resulting movie plays very much like a grandiose Broadway show and this is as it should be.

For the 1956 film, screenwriter Arthur Laurents capitalized on the real life legend of Anastasia, the girl who may or may not have escaped the assassination of the Russian royal family in 1918. Then, the mystery surrounding the real Anastasia was further complicated by the fact that a woman named Anna Anderson - who had spent much of her adult life in and out of mental asylums - was claiming to be the last surviving heir of Tsar Nicholas II.

The Cold War in the U.S.S.R. precluded any real investigation of what had become of the Tsar and his family. But the 1994 discovery and exhumation of the royal family's bodies that had been shot, burnt and buried in an unmarked grave in 1918 created even more of a stir, since neither Anastasia or her brother, Alexei were among the remains. Since the execution and burial had been carried out in haste it made no sense that their bodies should have been disposed of elsewhere. Although an exhumation of Anna Anderson's body and DNA testing in 2000 proved unequivocally that she was not Anastasia, the whereabouts of the real girl remain an unsolved mystery to this day.

As for the 1997 film, the narrative concocted by Susan Gautier and Bruce Graham is fanciful to say the least. A majestic prologue narrated by the Dowager Empress (voiced by Angela Lansbury) attempts to condense 500 years of Romanov history into less than eight minutes of screen time. It is most effective at setting up the villainy of Rasputin (Christopher Lloyd), the mad monk and one time advisor to the royal family. Rasputin condemns the Tsar and his family at a grand ball. To simplify the narrative - and not frighten the kiddies too much - we are told that Rasputin used a magical reliquary to send his green goblin minions to dismantle the monarchy. This spectacular fall of a dynasty is tempered by Rasputin's cute and cuddly sidekick, Bartok the Bat (voiced by Hank Azaria).

According to the historical record, Grigori Rasputin was a most curious and bizarre individual. Ordained by the Orthodox church, he was a philandering scamp prone to all forms of human debauchery, and, a shameless self promoter who claimed to possess mythical powers given to him by God. These influences he used on the Tsarina and on Alexei to supposedly 'cure' the young heir's haemophilia.

However, Rasputin's reputation prior to entering the Royal house did much to tarnish the Tsar's image, so much, in fact, that a secret assassination plot was hatched and carried out by Prince Youssoupov. Rasputin, who had always claimed that if any evil befell him his curse would destroy the Tsar, proved eerily on point when Vladimir Lenin and his party came into power.

But back to the film; after the child, Anastasia is lost while trying to escape with the Dowager on a train out of St. Petersburg, the narrative jumps forward some ten years. Anja (voiced by Meg Ryan) is now an impoverished waif living in an orphanage. A blow to the head has erased the memory of her past, although she craves a mother and father and is compelled to journey to St. Petersburg in the hopes of finding them.

Instead, Anja falls prey to a couple of sympathetic con artists, Dimitri (John Cusak) and Vlad (Kelsey Grammar). They plan to take a girl from the streets and train her in the royal customs - just enough to fool the Dowager Empress, who is an exile living in Paris, into bequeathing a handsome sum of money to her lost granddaughter. But this heartless ploy goes awry when Dimitri discovers that Anja is actually the girl they have been looking for, and more to the point, that he is in love with her.

Meanwhile, in another part of town, Bartok has rediscovered Rasputin's reliquary and accidentally resurrects his old master from purgatory. Rasputin, who has lost none of his vim and vinegar for the Royal family is determined to murder the Tsar's last surviving heir. Part ghost/part walking corpse, Rasputin uses the powers of the reliquary to teleport himself to Paris where he plots the death of Anastasia.

Of course, this being a musical and a cartoon, Rasputin's various attempts all come to not. After some sound advice from the Dowager, who eventually comes to believe that Anja is Anastasia, the girl realizes true love trumps a royal flush any day of the week. She chooses to abandon her crown and her title to pursue a romance with Dimitri instead, but not before a showdown with Rasputin puts a period to his life once and for all.

Those expecting a history lesson should seek it elsewhere. What this film does provide is a very lush tapestry in the best vein of Broadway to Hollywood hybrid musical offerings. Quite simply, it works: completely and charmingly. Buttressed by Bluth’s attention to detail and having his artists capture authenticity in their drawings, the film has a flair and magic all its own, and is a success on every level, but mostly at striking the right chord in our hearts.

The fact that the real Anastasia's whereabouts remain unknown to this day gives at least partial plausibility to featherweight alternatives such as this one. And let's be honest...we all love a good fairytale. So, did Anastasia survive the fate of her family? Did she find happiness and love and safety in the arms of a handsome stranger? Did she endure and go on to live her life in peace? Well, it's the rumour, the legend and the mystery. Perhaps we'll never know. Then again, perhaps we never should.

Fox Home Video's Blu-ray captures the breathtaking art of animation in every detail. This a visual resplendent film that comes more regally to life in 1080p than ever before. Colors are bold, vibrant and eye-popping. Blacks are deep and velvety. Whites are very clean. This is a reference quality visual presentation.

The audio remains in 5.1 Dolby Digital - its original theatrical presentation. While audiophiles will quip about the aural differences between 5.1 and 7.1 DTS, this audio presentation delivers an enveloping listening experience that, at times, will really give your speakers a work out.

Extras are all direct imports from Fox's previously released 2 disc DVD, and include Anastasia's ill timed sequel – Bartok the Magnificent (a tour de force for Hank Azaria, reprising his role as the loveable albino bat), an extensive look inside the making of the film, a sing-a-long, and several music videos. While virtually all of the extras are in 720i and prove to be less than visually satisfying, it's the presentation of the original film that deserves credit here. It's really quite stunning and comes highly recommended.

One final note: this critic is really not a fan of repurposed cover art for Blu-ray releases. If the original poster art was good enough to sell the film to audiences in theatres then why isn't it good enough to sell it to them on home video? Anastasia's Blu-ray cover art isn't the worst I've seen so far (that dubious honour belongs to Pleasantville) but it in no way compares to the amazing poster produced at the time of the film's theatrical release - artwork that, in fact, was also used for Fox's first non-anamorphic release of the film on DVD in 1998.

FILM RATING (out of 5 - 5 being the best)

4.5

VIDEO/AUDIO

5

EXTRAS

2.5

ZIEGFELD FOLLIES (MGM 1946) Warner Home Video

What can one say about Ziegfeld Follies (1946), MGM's elephantine footnote to producer Florenz Ziegfeld Jr.s glorification of the 'American girl'? Directed by Lemuel Ayers, Roy Del Ruth, Robert Lewis, Vincente Minnelli, Merrill Pye, George Sidney and Charles Walters, it remains a film so stiflingly top heavy and incongruously mounted, and, so regrettably bloated with one extravaganza toppling into the next, that as an entertainment for the ages, Ziegfeld Follies ultimately emerges as more the tired worm from its artistic cocoon than that anticipated glorious butterfly, extolling some forgotten age of opulence in the American theatre.

MGM, purveyors of the most lavish musical entertainments were determined to outdo not only themselves, but also the master showman and his follies on which this claptrap is more directly based. They ought to have left well enough alone, having resurrected Ziegfeld twice before (in 1936's The Great Ziegfeld, then again with 1941's Ziegfeld Girl) to superb effect. On this outing it seems that too many creative 'cooks' were stirring the broth; the net result being that Ziegfeld Follies holds the dubious distinction of having the most production numbers ever shot for a single movie that were never in the final cut.

It seems everyone from Fred Astaire to Arthur Freed had a great idea for a musical vignette in this film. Astaire, in fact, was to appear in a number entitled 'If Swing Goes, I Go Too' for which numerous still photographs exist and continue to be circulated. Regrettably, the number itself, although filmed at a considerable expense, does not survive today.

Neither does Avon Long's rendition of Liza sung to a mute Lena Horne, shot against a paper mache riverboat backdrop. And then there is the never completed reunion between Mickey Rooney and Judy Garland entitled 'I Love You Just As Much in Technicolor as I Did in Black and White'. This ought to have been an homage to their 'hey kids! Let's put on a show!' days from the early 1940s. Jimmy Durante's 'Start off Each Day With A Song', as well as a reprise of Fanny Brice's 'Baby Snooks' routine from Vaudeville were apparently also photographed but do not survive in any form for retrospective viewing.

At the last possible moment, Vincente Minnelli's desire to shoot a lavish soap bubble finale, where all of the stars appearing in Ziegfeld Follies sail to and fro in large gondolas, had to be scrapped when it was discovered that the bubble machine and its 10,000 gallons of liquid produced noxious gas that caused chorus girls and camera men alike to swoon.

In most film reviews, Ziegfeld Follies is often referenced as "an embarrassment of riches". However, by this critic's estimation the film is more 'lacking in' than a 'cornucopia of' classic moments. To be certain, Ziegfeld Follies does have its highlights, but these are sandwiched between interminable bouts of boring comedy and several musical sequences that are more garish than lavish, and gaudy than glossy.

MGM's chieftain, Louis B. Mayer saw Ziegfeld Follies as a film to celebrate the studio's 20th anniversary. In a very public way, Ziegfeld Follies was also an attempt to re-establish the supremacy of Mayer's regal movie kingdom, resplendent with 'more stars than there are in heaven.' However, by 1946 MGM was hardly the studio it had once been. In fact, if only in revenue and awards, MGM had begun to lose its status as the brightest studio in Hollywood, though it remained the biggest for some time to follow.

Regrettably, as a plot-less celebration of MGM’s top heavy star system, Ziegfeld Follies outwardly reflects the inner malaise gradually enveloping the studio: a leaden and laborious exercise in mismanaged funds and wasted talent. With such formidable stars on tap as Judy Garland, Red Skelton, Esther Williams and Kathryn Grayson it’s rather difficult to miss the mark of integrity entirely. Yet, on the whole, Ziegfeld Follies is less of a big time entertainment and very much more the tired old chestnut one wishes would simply fade into obscurity.

The film opens with William Powell reprising his role as Ziegfeld; this time looking down on MGM from heaven with admiration. Ziegfeld envisions an opening number in the vein of his early follies, hosted by Fred Astaire (who wound up getting the lion's share of musical numbers in the film).

As such, "Here's To The Beautiful Ladies" is meant as homage to Ziegfeld's glorification of the American girl. There are plenty to go around- and around - on a bizarre pink carousel featuring live horses. The girls, in all their pink plumage, coo and smile politely for the camera as Astaire emerges on the arm of Cyd Charisse - still being groomed for her balletic abilities by the studio - but who is given precious little to do except a momentary kick or two on point.

From here, the sequence degenerates to a grotesque twaddle of lavishness run amuck. Lucille Ball emerges from a cloud of black and red smoke to tame a chorus of cat women with her whip as they pretend to claw at her lavishly sequined pink gown. As though realizing that all of this nonsense is more crass than class, the opening number gives way to an utter lampoon of itself; 'Here's To Those Wonderful Men' sung with deadpan perfection by Virginia O'Brien.

Afterward, the film dives head first into an Esther Williams water ballet. Originally, this sequence was to have been preceded by the song 'We Will Meet Again in Honolulu'. Instead, what survives is an inexplicably truncated sequence that begins and ends in the middle with Williams swimming through a congested underwater jungle of multicoloured plastic plankton.

Perhaps most disappointing of all are the film's comedy sequences - a claptrap of Vaudeville routines set against rather pedestrian backdrops. The first of these immediately follows the water ballet. Victor Moore's 'Pay The Two Dollars' tells the tale of a man who is fined for expectorating on the subway. His lawyer (Edward Arnold) refuses to pay the modest fine resulting in Moore narrowly escaping a capital death sentence for presumably spreading a contagious disease. Released from prison with his reputation as a solid citizen in ruins, Moore forgets himself and spits on the subway again, thereby starting the whole process of incarceration all over again.

Ziegfeld Follies now moves into its most garish vignette; the James Melton/Marian Bell operatic aria from Traviata. The costumes are some of the ugliest ever conceived for film: men dressed in 18th century tuxedoes with angular cut waist coats and frilly ruffled shirts, women sporting black and beige ball gowns with an embroidered insect pattern. Even the camera seems unsure of where to divert its attentions, pulling back and forth from high overhead shots looking directly down as if to suggest a Busby Berkley-esque moment, then pulling back in extreme long shot that dwarfs the coupled dancers against a deadening backdrop of white curtains cut to suggest a cathedral setting.

Red Skelton polishes off his old routine 'When Television Comes/Guzzler's Gin Program'; the most static of the comedy sequences in which Skelton as a radio announcer is forced to drink gin as part of his on air promos. He thereafter becomes increasingly intoxicated from this alcoholic libation.

The film's midway point is also its most intuitively realized dramatic/musical sequence: 'This Heart of Mine' - sung by Fred Astaire as a jewel thief who seduces a princess (played by Lucille Bremer) at a lavish ball as a prelude to stealing her jewels. Unable to rid himself of a growing love for his intended victim, the thief bids the princess farewell, but is amazed when she, who has figured out his motive for dancing with her, willingly offers him her necklace and earrings at their parting. The thief accepts her offer, then realizes he would rather have the girl instead. They reunite in a passionate embrace and leave the ball together.

'This Heart of Mine' is superb pantomime set against the film's most glorious and lavish backdrops. A blood red ballroom with white chandeliers gives way to a gray marbled terrace set against piercing blue skies where Astaire and Bremer are accompanied in their pas deux by a dozen dancers elegantly attired in lurid shades of purple, yellow and black.

Regrettably, this sequence is followed by the lugubrious 'Sweepstakes Ticket'; a ridiculous, and often violent parody between an impoverished husband and wife played by Fanny Brice and Hume Cronyn. He has won the lottery but cannot seem to remember where he has hidden the winning ticket. Eventually, the husband recalls that he gave it in trade to their landlord (William Frawley) who now refuses to give it back.

Things pick up with Judy Garland's scathing lampoon of Greer Garson in 'The Great Lady Gives an Interview'. Garson had originally been tapped by producer Arthur Freed to poke fun at her own film persona. She declined and after the Judy/Mickey reunion number was scrapped from Ziegfeld Follies program, Freed approached Judy to perform this number instead. Garland is magnificent throughout - her wicked leer and flashing eyes wooing the gentlemen of the press as she dramatically over emotes the virtues of Madame Crematon; the inventor of the safety pin.

Astaire and Bremer return in Limehouse Blues; a curious pas deux inspired by Gertrude Lawrence's Broken Blossoms and incorporating sets from MGM's The Picture of Dorian Gray. Astaire is a Chinese peasant who follows Bremer's working girl into the red light district of London where she is seen courting a wealthy Anglo patron and admiring an ornate Chinese fan in one of the shop windows.

A robbery breaks out and Astaire is accidentally shot by the police. As he lays dying, his character envisions a French chinoiserie paradise where he and Bremer frolic and dance. In addition to staging this atmospheric nightmare, Vincente Minnelli also supervised its art direction; dotting the landscape with gunmetal palms, burnt orange feathers and hot red plaster and clay statues that were sprayed with silver and rubbed in gold. Unfortunately, for Astaire and Bremer, the set becomes so busy that at times it's difficult to appreciate the dance as pure performance.

The last comedy vignette in Ziegfeld Follies, 'Number Please' is also its most careworn. Keenan Wynn plays a man unable to connect with a New York telephone extension, despite the fact that virtually everyone else who uses the same pay phone is capable of calling the most obscure locations on earth, including, Brazil, South Africa and Transylvania.

Ziegfeld Follies concludes with two very different musical offerings. The first, The Babbitt and the Bromide, is the only time Fred Astaire and Gene Kelly danced on film together (save 1976's 'reunion' in That's Entertainment Part II) The jovial lyric follows the lives of two men who outwardly pretend to be friends, but secretly view one another as rivals. Their first meet in youth is followed by another at middle age, and finally their last after death, as a pair of angels still out to prove who is the better dancer in front of St. Peter's gate.

Ziegfeld Follies concludes on a decidedly sour note with Minnelli's ill fated bubble ballet and a truly joyless song - There's Beauty Everywhere, warbled by Kathryn Grayson on a revolving platform set against a rather apocalyptic backdrop of brewing storm clouds. From here, the song dissolves to a very brief portion of the half executed bubble ballet. Cyd Charisse is briefly glimpsed flitting through mountains of glittery soap before the camera dissolves to a Salvador Dali inspired backdrop populated by statuesque beauties who move with stilted grace as Minnelli's camera meanders amongst the ruins.

As we come to the last of these lovelies posed with all the frigidity of a department store mannequin, the camera follows a long extension of her scarf to a pedestal where we once again are reunited with Kathryn Grayson, concluding the song as a large canopy of lights spells out the film's title against a curtained backdrop.

Ziegfeld Follies is a peculiar offering to say the least. It's professionalism is beyond question. All of the stars are giving it everything they have, and yet somehow, it's never quite enough, even as the entire enterprise steadily sinks deeper under the weight of its fantastic artifice. The film drags with interminable and paralytic lethargy. At the end, one feels as one might after having gorged on too many sweets at the pastry table - with a general sense of nausea for all the missed opportunities to abstain along the way.

Warner Home Video’s DVD transfer is simply not up to par. Though certain segments of Ziegfeld Follies exhibit a rather crisp image with refined colors, many of the vignettes seem to suffer from a muddy colour palette that has been inconsistently rendered. The aforementioned ‘Traviata’ sequence is notorious in its unstable flesh tones – shifting from hazy orange to dull pasty pink. Age related artefacts are apparent throughout. Film grain is negligible but quite often registers as digital grit. The audio has been remixed to 5.1 stereo from the original isolated stems. Extras include the aptly titled featurette ‘An Embarrassment of Riches’ as well as audio outtakes of three surviving musical numbers.

Aside: the original laserdisc release of Ziegfeld Follies included an extensive catalogue of audio outtakes and it’s rather disappointing to see that these have been discarded for the DVD. Overall, Ziegfeld Follies is flat and uninspiring. Connoisseurs of such kitsch will be delighted.

FILM RATING (out of 5 - 5 being the best)

2

VIDEO/AUDIO

3

EXTRAS

2