On February 5th, 2011, the popular electronic punk band LCD Soundystem announced via their official website that they were disbanding. They would play a string of shows in New York, finishing with a swan song performance at Madison Square Garden. Making his last television appearance as part of LCD Soundsystem on “The Colbert Report,” frontman and creator James Murphy is grilled by Colbert about his decision to quit. “There’s only three ways to end your career as a rocker,” Colbert tells him. “Overdose, overstay your welcome, or write Spider-Man: The Musical. Why walk away from fame?”

Shut Up and Play the Hits is a non-linear chronicle of the show and the day afterward, with some additional footage recorded a week before the show (as well as the clips from “The Colbert Report”). Filmmakers Dylan Southern and William Lovelace jump between the concert itself, and the events of the following day, in which Murphy considers what life will be like post-LCD Soundsystem. They also incorporate footage of Murphy being interviewed by Chuck Klosterman at a restaurant, talking about the history and the end of the band.

The concert footage is pretty spectacular. Even some of the more lavish home video presentations of concerts tend to feel restricted by the number of angles possible, but Hits contains plenty of dynamic handheld footage, with the camera jumping all around the elaborate stage. Combined with the lighting, it’s very rare that two angles look exactly alike, keeping the concert fresh. The band is also in fine form, concluding their ten-year journey on a high note. There’s only so much of the four hour show in the 108-minute movie, especially since it has to “compete” with other material, but it looks and sounds great, effectively tapping the viewer into the loose but enthusiastic vibe of everyone involved.

Elsewhere, the directors study the mundane moments of rock star retirement. Murphy takes his dog out for a walk, then goes to an office he admits he hasn’t been to in over a year and fiddles with the espresso machine (during his “Colbert Report” appearance, Murphy jokes that he’d like to devote more time to making coffee in his retirement). Later, he heads to a lunch meeting with his manager Keith Wood, who is also retiring, and seems to skip out on a goodbye dinner with his other bandmates. The most poignant moment comes when Murphy goes to look at the storage unit with the band’s equipment to decide what to do with it; although Southern and Lovelace push their luck a little with cutaways to photos of the band from earlier in their run, Murphy’s wave of emotion at the sight of the warehouse is a punch to the gut.

There’s also the Klosterman material, in which the writer picks at Murphy’s thought process with questions about the nature of art and the legacy of LCD Soundsystem, many of which cause Murphy to pause for several seconds before answering, his eyes darting back and forth. There’s a sense that Murphy is determined to answer earnestly, even if the questions are daunting to consider. Two of the topics provide a sliver of insight into the band’s end. Murphy tells Klosterman about his image of rock stars: “David Bowie. In my mind, he was from outer space. Like, he’s not a person. This isn’t a person that would wake up, and whose foot would hurt because they kicked a couch the night before.” Southern and Lovelace jump to this soundbyte, laid over footage of Murphy shaving, shortly after the film’s energetic first song, in which he casually strides on stage to thunderous applause and throws himself into “Dance Yrself Clean,” finishing by holding a note while the crowd pulses and the camera spins around him.

In the same segment, Murphy also talks about how he was a pretentious kid, absorbing art that was way over his head in order to appear “cool” and later discovering it made up a big part of who he is, how he believed he couldn’t be a rock star, and the ideas behind the song “Losing My Edge,” which was the band’s first single. Taken together, there’s a sense that Murphy feels he pulled a fast one on the rock world, using the facade provided by his pretention to run off with a stolen piece of cultural cachet, and that even at the beginning, he heard the footsteps of those who were going to find him out. What Southern and Lovelace prove, by showing us both, is that the guy with his dog the subway and the guy who can command the attention of a sold-out Madison Square Garden are not that hard to reconcile. Murphy had nothing to worry about.

The DVD
As with all Oscilloscope releases, Shut Up and Play the Hits is offered in a fantastic-looking cardboard slipcase, with a great snapshot from the feature film on the front cover. When you slide out the disc sleeve, a short review of the film (and the experience of participating in the concert) by Nick Sylvester is printed on one side, and the poster for the show is printed on the other. Opening it up once reveals another nice photo from the film of Murphy and his dog, and finally opening it the rest of the way reveals a panoramic shot from the stage after the final song. On the left side, two sleeves hold the concert discs, and one sleeve holds the film and special features disc on the right, with a track list for the concert in the middle. There is also a postcard inside the case so that buyers can subscribe to Oscilloscope’s monthly DVD mailing service.

The Video and Audio
Presented in 1.78:1 anamorphic widescreen and Dolby Digital 5.1 audio, this is a very nice standard-definition presentation. The image is a little on the soft side, but the disc does a good job dealing with the various color and lighting changes that occur during the concert. Some complicated shots, like an early snippet showing Murphy’s record collection, look a little rough around the edges, with some aliasing and tiny artifacts, but most of the time the grain is decently rendered. Colors appear intact, with a nice natural look — so many filmmakers shoot for the same look (very short depth of field, on-the-fly refocusing), but few can resist amping up the colors. The soundtrack was mixed by Murphy himself, so it’s no surprise it sounds excellent, filling Madison Square Garden with a sold-out crowd, and then pushing them to the background for the performances, which have great directionality and balance. Strangely, the auto-selected track on the disc seems to be the LPCM 2.0 mix, so don’t forget to switch it over to the full 5.1 experience. English captions for the deaf and hard of hearing are also provided.

The Extras
On Disc One, a handful of short-but-sweet supplements are included. The first is additional footage of Chuck Klosterman’s interview (18:46) with Murphy. The extra is introduced by a menu page that says the pair talked for three hours, but this is a pared-down assortment of interesting snippets from their discussion, broken up by title cards. Well worth watching.

Next, two outtakes (4:50, 0:17) are included. The first is some footage of the choir rehearsing, and the other is a short supercut of swearing from the movie. Nothing spectacular.

The first disc ends with “Catching Up with Keith” (10:12), a brief, funny featurette in which Murphy goes to visit Keith in upstate New York. Murphy both interviews Keith as they walk around his expansive property, but also records the sound, which makes for some funny side moments.

Of course, the real extra is on Discs Two and Three: the entire Madison Square Garden farewell show (Disc Two: 1:46:26; Disc Three: 1:48:08), presented in 1.78:1 anamorphic widescreen and Dolby Digital 5.1 and LPCM 2.0, just like the feature film. I imagine there are probably plenty of fans who would’ve bought a concert DVD all by itself, so either way you slice it, you’re getting a hell of an extra feature. It doesn’t hurt that the concert is cut together as dynamically as the feature itself, putting it a notch above the usual filmed concert experience.

A promo for Oscilloscope plays before the main menu on Disc 1. An original theatrical trailer is also included.

Conclusion
Shut Up and Play the Hits deftly juggles discussion about art, the history and conclusion of LCD Soundsystem, and the requirements of a concert film. The disc looks and sounds great, the extras are good, and on top of it all, you get the entire three-and-a-half hour show on disc in 5.1, which is a two-disc set that would’ve been worth the price of a DVD all by itself. Considering the value and the quality of everything included, this package earns entry into the DVDTalk Collector’s Series.

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Reviewer’s Note: Last year, I wrote an extensive review of Shout!’s first Kovacs collection, so I’ll port over a few bits and pieces from that article for background, with additional thoughts added covering this new release.

A worthy follow-up to last year’s spectacular Kovacs release…so let’s keep ’em coming, Josh! Shout! Factory, the most important releasing company out there for vintage television fare, has released The Ernie Kovacs Collection: Volume 2, a three-disc collection that includes eight more episodes from his live 1956 NBC morning show (with additional stand-alone bonus sketches from that series), three more episodes of his delightful ABC game show Take a Good Look, plus some really cool, rare bonuses from Edie Adams’ vault (including the pilot episode for Ernie’s proposed sitcom, Medicine Man), along with a helpful episode guide, chock-full of Kovacs info from historian Ben Model. A must-have for anyone interested in the evolution of television comedy, from the medium’s first true genius.

As I wrote in my first review, as a small boy, I knew Kovacs primarily from his various movie roles; his television work (what remained of it) had long since disappeared from the day-to-day TV dials. With films like North to Alaska, Bell, Book and Candle, Wake Me When It’s Over, and particularly Operation Mad Ball in regular TV syndication, Kovacs, with that distinctively rubbery punim and matching mustache and eyebrows, was a familiar presence on afternoon and late, late show movie programming. Fortunately, in 1977, my father alerted me to a PBS series that showed clips of Kovacs’ television work, and it was immediately apparent to this 11-year-old television addict that Kovacs was much, much more than a visibly bored foil to the Duke. Watching Shout! Factory’s The Ernie Kovacs Collection: Volume 2, all of those feelings of first discovery for Kovacs’ comedic and technological genius came flooding back―with the benefit of seeing hours and hours of previously unreleased material to deepen that appreciation. Let’s look very briefly at each disc’s offerings.

 DISC 1: THE ERNIE KOVACS SHOW (THE NBC MORNING SHOW)

As I wrote in my previous review, I know for many admirers and scholars of Kovacs, his later work in television―particularly the monthly specials he did for ABC in his last years―are considered his most important, at least from the standpoint of establishing Kovacs as a genuine artist whose innovation and mastery of television technology established the bar for all those who followed (I crack up when I read blog comments praising pale, pale Kovacs imitators like Conan and Letterman as “innovators” in live television comedy). However, those earliest days of live television still hold the greatest fascination for me (not surprising when so much of what is left of television “history” is canned, filmed material); seeing a gleeful Kovacs’ early forays into live TV generate the largest laughs for me. Of course, it’s mesmerizing (and funny) to watch Kovacs in his later “Eugene” character, making his way through a surrealistic television universe where the laws of physics don’t apply. But those last forays into auteurist comedy are rigidly controlled by the meticulous Kovacs; they’re as much expressions of iron will as inspired comedy. The “early” Kovacs, though, is fast and loose and ad-libbing like a fiend, laughing with his rowdy off-camera crew, and reacting with a measure of searching puzzlement when he encounters laughter from his lagging-behind live audience. That’s the early television, the “early” Kovacs, that brings that ephemeral period of “anything can happen” television history alive to me―and the one that makes me laugh the hardest.

 Disc one concentrates on four episodes of Kovacs’ The Ernie Kovacs Show, which aired mornings on NBC from December 12, 1955, to July 27, 1956 (with 75 episodes preserved on kinescope by wife Edie Adams, this show represents the largest cache of early live Kovacs material). According to what I’ve read about Kovacs, he wasn’t happiest working in front of a live audience…but you wouldn’t know it from the laughs and genial good humor he shows towards the people trying to keep up out there in the cramped Studio 6B audience. I’m not sure I buy the accepted theory that states general audiences didn’t like Kovacs; if that were truly the case, he wouldn’t have continued to be signed to work in television and movies with increasing regularity (and higher budgets) until his death. I often think that theory comes from historians and other performers who want to make Kovacs “exclusive” to themselves and to people like themselves who “get” a guy like Kovacs…while stating the “mob” out there didn’t (you can see all sorts of clips of Kovacs noting the thousands of appreciative letters he gets from that “uncomprehending mob”). That view enhances the “misunderstood, under-appreciated genius” take on Kovacs that’s such a popular, faux-romantic construct for artists and their historians (you only need watch some of the commentary on the American Cinematheque panel discussion included on this set’s third disc, to understand what I’m getting at).

 In these four episodes from January 6th, 23rd, 30th 1956, and March 16th, 1956, Kovacs is flying, throwing off ad-libs with abandon as he tries to execute his increasingly imaginative gags. And if they bomb, or flub technically, he laughs and moves on without a care. In today’s television, where even the most innocuous local Sunday morning public service program is homogenized and produced down to somnambulance, the looseness of these early network shows are breathtaking; TV will never be that innocent and fun and dangerous again. Sitting in his faux-dungeon set, complete with animated knight’s armor behind him (watch Kovacs playfully try and trick his sound man by lifting the face mask, waiting for the late, incongruous sound effect that inevitably follows), Kovacs waggles his cigar and squints out into the lights, constantly checking the time and cursing the lack of it because he can’t fit in another gag he has prepared. This is television at its most elemental and primitive, and it’s exciting as hell.

 Highlights from the January 6th episode include one of my all-time favorite Kovacs moments: he busts through the studio door just as they go on the air, calling back behind him, “Don’t anybody touch the cards…I’ll be back in half an hour!” A classic moment from the inveterate gambler. The gorgeous, talented Edie Adams shines here, singing Look For the Silver Lining…while baking a cake (Kovacs states he wants to do routine TV stuff differently), before she kills in The Zaza Estherhazy Show as an oblivious, glamorous TV interviewer (Kovacs again showing his prescient spoofing of early TV’s conventions). The January 23rd episode has an edgy, hilarious moment from Ernie when he’s “forced” to read a promo for one of NBC’s Head of Programming Pat Weaver’s upcoming “super specials.” Kovacs mumbles through the promo before he gets to the copy that states he’ll be watching, too…which clearly ticks him off. He threatens to watch something else, before he looks up and calls, “Right, Pat?” going on, “He runs the network with another chap named [General Robert] Sarnoff―both good boys. Ya got a good job there! Don’t louse it up! One slip and you’re out! Both of you!” Beautiful. “Chermam disk chockey” Wolfgang von Sauerbraten shows up to say “Guten Tag” to “ze hep katzen und squares,” before he plugs his sponsor: chocolate-covered sauerkraut (“Der kiddies luff it!”).

 0January 30th’s show has Ernie helpfully telling the TV audience what the show’s line-up is “so now that you know what’s on today, you can tune to another station.” Kovacs’ spoof on early TV puppet shows, The Kapusta Kid in Outer Space (Polish sausage and cabbage) returns, with the Kapusta Kid hilariously flipping out at the end of the skit, sick and tired of his daily TV grind (is this Kovacs talking here???). And in Ernie’s spoof of daytime soaps, The Troubled Lives of Bessie and Albert, Kovacs or one of his writers (Mike Marmer, Rex Lardner or Deke Hayward) come up with what might be my favorite joke of the set: listing the various troubles of each of the characters, little 2-month old Melanie “has a blinding headache trying to read the patent number on her rattle.” Jokes don’t come funnier than that. Finally, March 16th’s episode has Ernie prepping his audience for the upcoming Leena, Queen of the Jungle skit (“We are going to stretch everything else in the hopes of not getting to it,”), before Edie sings (beautifully) Tura Lura Lura (watch Ernie so pleased at how prettily she sang it). The episode ends with Ernie going out into the audience, with this classic taunt from the naughty Ernie to a shy viewer: “Hey! You look like you’re trying to avoid me―I’ll talk to you!”

DISC 2: THE ERNIE KOVACS SHOW (THE NBC MORNING SHOW)

1 2For the January 26th, 1956 episode, Ernie comes this close to saying outright that secretly-closeted Rock Hudson is gay when Kovacs executes a flawless parody of those extended 50’s movie trailers: this time, it’s Rock Mississippi in The Umbrella Salesman of Ranchipur. One picture of Ernie as Rock is enough description for what he was shooting for here (I particularly liked the flogging of Hollywood innovations to get TV viewers into the movie theaters: “In Schizophrenic Sound! It comes from under your seat!”). The Hollywood theme continues with a visit from high-pitched celebrity whiner Skodney Silsky, who executes an absolutely filthy joke that the rowdy studio crowd immediately gets (“Hollywood! Where many an aging actress is on her last lap!”), before he runs down a hilarious, bizarre scenario for an upcoming movie, Son of I’ll Cry Tomorrow, which has Kirk Douglas scuba diving through an emergency room, and “Sabu riding on a guinea pig being checked for German measles.” The April 17th episode unfortunately clearly shows one of those musical edits that Shout! warns the viewer about (prohibitively expensive music clearances) when Edie should sing a song with a puppy (perhaps How Much is That Doggie in the Window?). Ernie goes out into the audience, warning the people at home not to let the kids get too close to the TV: he’s got a cold, before he offers a visitor a choice between either a Mozart or Eddie Fisher album (when the woman chooses Mozart, Ernie looks into the camera and says, “Boy, if Mozart ‘s watching, he’s gonna be burned!”).

3 4May 17th’s episode has a wickedly funny parody of Marilyn Monroe (back before all of today’s phony veneration of the icon’s reputation―back when she was rightly thought of as a pretentious dope), during her culture vulture New York phase. Here, Edie (devastating as Monroe) recites a poem, Night (“All hail the stripped racoon at large from whom we get much fleas.”), before she bumps and grinds off camera (watch a clearly impressed Ernie yelling, “Come back here!” as he chases her wiggling form). Poet laureate Percy Dovetonsils shows up (the staff slips the standard goldfish into his martini), before the show ends with the kids in the audience screaming for Ernie to stay when they run out of time. Finally, the June 27th episode has a funny bit with Kenneth Mockridge, Philosophical Taxi Driver, who picks up a chef with an elaborate cake…before abusing him as Kenneth picks up his brother and some broads for a little in-taxi party (“Get out, ya crumb! Ya fat creep!” he yells to the chef when the cake is smashed).

DISC 3: RARITIES

5 6One of the true delights I discovered in the first Kovacs set was Ernie’s ABC game show, Take a Good Look, a screwy faux-panel show that was nothing more than a showcase for Kovacs ad-libbing with his guests inbetween some delightfully filmed “clues” that are marvels of comedic timing and invention. Disc three of the The Ernie Kovacs Collection: Volume 2 features three of these episodes. Take a Good Look ran for two years on ABC (1959-1961), airing on Thursdays at 10:30pm, right after The Untouchables. Apparently, Ernie was amenable to taking this game show to help pay off his crushing debts to the government due to his chronic hatred for paying unfair, exorbitant taxes (bless you, Kovacs). As such, this gig has been lumped in by some historians with other questionable Kovacs film roles and TV guest spots, described as less-than-desirable projects done strictly “for the money.” However, I find these Take a Good Look shows absolutely hilarious, not only for the devilishly obscure “clues” that Kovacs filmed for his guests (much like What’s My Line?, the panel had to guess who someone was; here, they were given film clips shot by Kovacs to lead them along), all of them beautifully obtuse and indecipherable, but also for Kovacs’ complete disregard for the game itself. The panel, unless they already know the guest, never get anywhere near guessing who the person is, as Kovacs has their timer bells ringing in faster and faster until the whole enterprise is finally taken for what it is: an elaborate spoof of the panel shows on the air at that time. It’s terrific to see Kovacs so loose and informal with his guests and panel, laughing and ad-libbing without a care since his “clue” spots are already in the can. In the April 21st, 1960 episode, Edie can be heard whispering to a too-serious Tony Randall, “He’s naughty…you’ll get used to him,” when Ernie tops Tony in traded put-downs. The filmed clues are, as usual, hilarious (check out Ernie dressed as a baby―complete with cigar and mustache―carried off by an eagle). April 28th’s episode has Ernie offering this to the confused viewers at home: “And now I shall explain the game to you…perhaps some other time.” The Dutch Masters cigar commercial featured here is one of Ernie’s best (the beautifully executed camera work, quite rightly, is singled out by Kovacs when the commercial ends). Finally, the March 2nd episode has hooded Carl Reiner killing Ernie with his female voice, before a Superman spoof clue offers one of the set’s best jokes: “You’re so pusillanimous!” Lois Lane says to lame Clark, who responds, “You could always open a window.” Screams.

7 8Next up is an interview Kovacs conducted in 1961with the CBC’s Lively Arts series, where we learn not only is Ernie putting his own money into the ABC specials when they go over budget (a very unusual step for a TV star back then, and a good indication of what these specials meant to Ernie as an artist), but that ABC was gently pushing him to be on-screen more often, which he resisted (another good indication that that whole “the general public didn’t ‘get’ Ernie” theory is hogwash). It runs 20:18. Next, A Pony For Chris, the unaired pilot for Ernie’s filmed sitcom, Medicine Man is included. In his terrific episode guide, Ben Model seems cool to this “canned laughter” sitcom, but I found it quite clever and amusing, with plenty of recognizable “Kovacs” moments despite it not being an experimental labor of love like his ABC specials (I love Ernie pushing the kid out the window, adding as an afterthought, “Don’t forget to hang onto the rope.”). One can only imagine what might have come from this teaming of Kovacs and Buster Keaton if the comedy had been produced (one question: if the series was presold, as the notes state…why didn’t it go into production?). Next, a panel discussion at the American Cinematheque in Hollywood is included; it runs 39:44. Next, some wordless color home movies showing Edie and Jackie Gleason, among others, playing golf, is included; it runs 5:41. Finally, two trailers for later Kovacs movies, Five Golden Hours and Wake Me When It’s Over, are included (very poor original elements used here).

9 0The DVD:

The Video:
The full-screen, 1.33:1 black and white kinescope transfers for The Ernie Kovacs Collection: Volume 2 look about as good as one would expect, considering the rarity of the original materials. Not nearly as bad as the third and fourth-generation knock-offs you see in public domain titles, but also not quite as good as some of those “boosted” kinescopes I’ve seen, such as the restored Elvis kines from The Ed Sullivan Show, these transfers are in the upper range, with sharpish pictures, solid blacks, and little video noise. It should be noted here, that Shout! is up front on the second disc that musical numbers have been edited out for clearance purposes. If you’re a “baby with the bath water” type, you’ll find this troublesome. If you’re the type who’ll take the best that you can get, you’ll be okay with this necessary compromise.

The Audio:
The Dolby Digital English mono audio tracks are acceptable, as well, with all dialog cleanly heard. Fluctuations in recording levels are from the original materials, not the transfers. No subtitles or close-captions, though.

The Extras:
On discs one and two, isolated skits from Ernie’s NBC morning show are included. On disc one, bonus skits include: Interview: Algernon Gerard, Archaeologist; his popular recurring Howard, the World’s Strongest Ant: A Hot Date (“Little fella didn’t make out too well,” Ernie offers); Strangely Belive It: Writers to Blame (Ernie gets a bigger laugh by bringing out his writers to take the blame for a half-assed, last-minute show opener); The Kapusta Kid in Outer Space Meets Olivia Scilloscope (a nice precursor of Ernie’s experimentation with video’s possibilities); Charlie Clod in Brazil (not sure what’s funnier: Charlie’s advice, “Not possible for stiff to drink oneself, but possible to drink oneself stiff,” or Ernie, in character, commenting on his new performer walking off camera when he’s supposed to be dead, “He learn,”); Ernie’s Opening Monologue; Percy Dovetonsils: “Ode to Electricity” (“Drink it yourself, you old silly! I can be made sport of for only so long!” Percy fumes when the crew mess with his martini); and Interview: The World at Your Doorstep (Edie again wows the men in the audience as the stupid “Miss Soil Erosion of 1955”).

On disc two, skits include Irving Wong: Tin Pan Alley Songwriter; Percy Dovetonsils: “Ode to a Housefly” (“I could smash every one of you…with my purse,” Percy steams when the audience doesn’t laugh at his joke); Introducing Coloratura Mimi Cosnowski (Edie again shows what a funny performer she was); Howard, the World’s Strongest Ant: Howard’s Campground; Skodney Silsky, Hollywood Reporter; Ernie’s Opening Monologue; Surprise Audience Member (legendary Al Kelly kills as a double talking art dealer who doesn’t know who the Great Masters are); Audio Lost; and Matzoh Hepplewhite (where Ernie looks genuinely…perturbed that the crew doesn’t have his gags ready).

Final Thoughts:
More early live television gems from the medium’s first true genius. Shout!’s The Ernie Kovacs Collection: Volume 2 keeps the long-lost Kovacs material coming in this hilarious collection of episodes from Ernie’s 1956 NBC morning show and his 1960 ABC game show. Come to think of it, to write this is necessary viewing for anyone interested in the evolution of American comedy on television, is too obvious…and too limited. I’m giving The Ernie Kovacs Collection: Volume 2 our highest ranking here at DVDTalk: the DVD Talk Collector Series award.

Paul Mavis is an internationally published film and television historian, a member of the Online Film Critics Society, and the author of The Espionage Filmography.

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I’ve never read Intensity, the 1995 Dean Koontz bestseller about a troubled young woman and the serial killer that she crosses paths with. But it proved popular enough to spawn this 1997 TV adaptation, which condenses the 400+ page novel into a two-part movie that runs just over three hours. The story gets a bit more elbow room than your average adaptation…and though some of the gorier details obviously had to be left on the printed page, it’s a gripping little thriller that plays most of its cards exactly right.

Our story begins with and revolves around Chyna Shepherd (Molly Parker, Deadwood), a 26 year-old waitress who’s trying to put her past behind her. As the product of an abusive household and witness to at least two murders, she’s understandably reluctant to make new friends, let alone join their family for Thanksgiving. But that’s exactly what happens…and as fate would have it, the family she’s staying with is being stalked by serial killer Edgler Vess (John C. McGinley – Scrubs, Office Space), who spoiler alerts the family in cold blood and drives off with Chyna’s co-worker as a trophy. Vess doesn’t realize that Chyna is in pursuit… and what’s more, she eventually finds out that he’s holding a little girl named Ariel captive in his remote cabin. Determined to save her, Chyna is up against tough odds: even though she’s got the element of surprise on her side, Vess is cruel, organized, efficient and of course, intense.

The film’s first half is a bit more unpredictable, since it routinely switches location after the initial plot is set in motion. A seemingly routine trip to a gas station turns ugly and serves as one of the film’s early highlights. The long trip to Vess’ remote cabin is made all the more tolerable by moody landscapes that wouldn’t feel out of place in The X-Files or Millennium. Still, it isn’t long before the film strips away all sense of the outside world and becomes much more claustrophobic: the second half is still very much a cat-and-mouse thriller (aside from the presence of a curious police detective, played by veteran TV actor Blu Mankuma), albeit one that takes place mostly within the wooden walls of Vess’ compound.

Punctuated by a strong sense of danger, Intensity stays entertaining from start to finish, and I’d imagine that it holds up well to repeat viewings. The only frustrating elements—aside from the occasional don’t go in there and just leave and call the cops, lady—are a few plot twists that seem to stretch certain scenes a little thin. McGinley occasionally delivers a few clunkers, particularly when explaining his outlook on life and the meaning of his name. For the most part, though, both leads do just fine with the material: the motives are clear and the characters are played with satisfying amounts of conviction and restraint. Intensity succeeds on a number of levels, but the performances are what carry most of the weight.

Sony Home Entertainment presents the film as part of the “Choice Collection”, meaning this is a burn-on-demand DVD-R with cover artwork and not much else. It’s not all bad news, though: Intensity looks and sounds better than expected, which will undoubtedly thrill fans of this forgotten small-screen gem.

Quality Control DepartmentVideo & Audio QualityI’ll admit that I’m a little stumped in regards to the visual origins of Intensity. Every resource I’ve found has stated the film’s original TV aspect ratio is 1.33:1, but this excellent 16×9 transfer doesn’t appear to be cropped in any way. It’s likely that the original 1997 broadcast version was, which certainly gives this an advantage right out of the gate. Aspect ratio theories aside, this is a crisp transfer with strong image detail, good color balance and no major digital issues to speak of. Intensity obviously isn’t a big budget production and looks a little thin at times, but the film’s well-lit indoor scenes and moody landscapes translate quite well to DVD. A Blu-Ray option would’ve been nice, but it’s tough to complain overall.

The audio is a bit less ambitious but still gets the job done. The technical specs aren’t clearly listed but this appears to be Dolby Digital Surround 2.0, featuring crisp dialogue and strong channel separation. There’s at least one scene (just over 20 minutes into Part 2) where the audio temporarily seems to drop a little in clarity, but the overall listening experience is a pleasing one. Intensity obviously relies on its use of music, ambient effects and atmosphere to build tension and, for the most part, this 2.0 Surround mix is up to the challenge. Unfortunately, no optional Closed Captions or subtitles have been included.

Menu Design, Presentation & PackagingSeen above, these menus are about as plain as they come, which goes for the cover and disc artwork as well. The main feature has been burnt onto a dual layered DVD-R and, presumably, each 90-minute half gets its own layer. This one-disc release is housed in a standard keepcase and includes no inserts.

Bonus Features Nothing, which isn’t surprising since this release is a burn-on-demand DVD-R. I’d have loved to see a few retrospective cast interviews or deleted scenes, but Intensity stands up pretty well on its own.

Final ThoughtsThis 1997 adaptation of Dean Koontz’ best-seller is definitely a cut above your average TV movie: the cast is great, it’s nicely shot and the film’s slow-burning story allows for plenty of suspense to be built. Though I’ll admit the second half doesn’t have as much power as the first, it’s a fine little thriller that’s worth watching at least once. Sony’s burn-on-demand DVD-R obviously doesn’t have the weight (or extras) of an “official” release, but the terrific widescreen video presentation is a nice touch. I doubt this title is available for rental purposes, so I’ll give Intensity the benefit of the doubt. Recommended.

Randy Miller III is an affable office monkey from Harrisburg, PA. He also does freelance graphic design projects, teaches art classes and runs a website or two. In his limited free time, Randy also enjoys slacking off, juggling HD DVDs and writing in third person.

The Show:

In an always expanding entry into the category of judging books by one’s cover, I had (for whatever reason) kept the FX show The League at arm’s length. Maybe it was because a show with six friends using a Fantasy Football League as backdrop of sorts was seemingly suspect at best. Then as I learned about who was part of the show, I regret not getting involved with it sooner. Because said Football League is really less a backdrop and more a means to keep the performers interacting with one another, which in this show is not a bad thing.

Set in Chicago, the sextet of folks is entertaining. There is Kevin (Stephen Rannazzisi, Paul Blart: Mall Cop) and his wife Jenny (Katie Aselton, Jeff, Who Lives At Home). Taco (Jonathan Lajoie) is Kevin’s younger brother and seemingly the perpetual loser in the league. Andre (Paul Scheer, Human Giant) is a plastic surgeon and the butt of many jokes in the group, mostly by Pete (Mark Duplass, Do-Deca Pentathlon). Rounding out the group is Ruxin (Nick Kroll, Get Him to The Greek), a lawyer and defending champion of the league and its trophy, better known as the Shiva.

In terms of storytelling, the character development is certainly there, though it is spent on the married folks. Kevin and Jenny not only spend time raising their daughter, but Kevin also talks about his desire to have another child. They also deal with having Taco under their roof for long periods of time as well. Ruxin and his attractive wife Sofia are living fairly well, and Sofia’s brother Rafi (Jason Mantzoukas, The Dictator) popping in from time to time to make the life of the group as awkward as possible with his violent and pansexual behavior, sometimes at the same time. And having the moments inside the family structure work as well, sometimes better than those where the guys are at the bar, shooting the crap. For instance, Ruxin hires an au pair (played by Mark Duplass of Scott Pilgrim notoriety) for the implicit purpose of being able to gawk at her, but his plan soon backfires to predictable and hilarious results. Along those same lines, Ruxin’s father visits for Thanksgiving, played by someone that once you see who he is, turns out to be perfect casting.

An added perk of The League is seeing real NFL players appearing on the show. Granted, not having them in actual jerseys (presumably due to money issues) is a little silly in a 1982 Topps football card kind of way, but seeing them in the opening scenes set to a parody of the cheesy Chicago Bears’ “Super Bowl Shuffle” is a sight to behold. Matt Forte in the hospital visiting someone and getting hounded by Andre also breaks out the chuckles.

Circling back to the ‘responsible’ members of the League for a moment, it is fun to see how they juggle the demands of their professional lives and/or raising a family with how pervasive their fantasy football demands have become. We do see that in varying degrees of evidence, but it is the wheeling and dealing for players in exchange for real-life pleasantries that make it funny and fascinating to watch. I had that itch for a while, but nothing to the effect that these guys have. But there is a level of adolescence there that I certainly relate to (for better or worse), and the fact that such a talented ensemble can handle this and more over the course of three and now four seasons (the show is currently airing on the FX network) is a testament to their humor and creativity.

The Discs:
The Video:

The show’s 13-episode run is spread over two discs, all of which appear in 1.78:1 anamorphic widescreen. Going strictly from assumption the show had to have been shot in high-definition (I believe there is a Blu-ray release), but the standard definition discs look good. There is oodles of image detail (in the foreground) to be gleamed from watching them, the source material is pristine as can be and there is nary a hint of edge enhancement or haloing. As far as viewing the show on DVD goes, The League looks pretty, pretty good.

The Sound:

Dolby Digital 5.1 surround rules the day for these discs. The show is dialogue-driven, though it does take advantage of its own moments of channel panning and directional effects. Those moments are somewhat erratic though, and for as full as the show sounds, the lack of any real subwoofer engagement was disappointing, though not distracting. The show is a comedy with modest production values and does well with what it has, and sounds fine.

Extras:

A little bit of everything I guess. On Disc One, nine deleted scenes (7:17) are cute and full of laughs, as are the ones on Disc Two (9, 5:28). The remainder of the extras are on Disc Two, with “Alt Nation” (14:10) housing a bevy of alternate lines the show did not use. “Taco Tones” (5:31) include the various original songs the show included, and a funny gag reel (11:30) completes the set. It should also be noted that 10 of the season’s 13 episodes are available in extended versions ranging anywhere from 22 to 28 minutes.

Final Thoughts:

The League is one of those shows where if you have not seen it before and you jump into it at any point of its life (as I have), you will want to seek out as much existing content as you can. Its jokes and its sensibilities are funny, and the performers, be it main, supporting or guest, all deliver stellar turns that result in supremely funny moments. For those who have not seen it, seek it out and you will not be disappointed in the least.

The Movie:
Mario Bava made a number of films, some quite good, some only fair. Hatchet for the Honeymoon is perhaps in the middle of the pack. It’s not brilliant, but is quite interesting. It’s a lower budget film for him, but he proves that he has the cinematic chops, even when he doesn’t have a lot of money.

One thing that is unique about Hatchet among giallo films is that the audience knows right away who the killer is: fashion designer John Harrington (Stephen Forsyth) admits up front in narration that he is a serial killer, talking over footage of him actually killing a young couple on a train. So, this isn’t a mystery film per se. We already know the culprit. The interesting thing is why he is doing it. Every young girl he kills (always newlyweds, or girls wearing wedding dresses) reveals a bit more to John of the blurred memories of his mother’s death.

His psychological state is not helped any by his shrewish older wife Mildred (Laura Betti), who constantly nags him, and reminds him that he is stuck with her since she will never grant a divorce. A number of young women connected to John in some way have gone missing. Several girls who worked for him as models have gone missing, in fact. This attracts the attention of stolid Inspector Russell (Jesus Puente), and also attractive young redhead Helen (Dagmar Lassander), who claims to be the friend of one of the missing girls.

Every time he kills, a young boy observes John. Perhaps it is a projection of his younger self? As the net grows tighter around him, John becomes more and more frantic to recover his lost memories and discover who it was that murdered his mother. Each murder reveals a tiny bit more, but it’s not enough. And Mildred’s nagging is incessant. Matters can only get uglier.

The story is a bit odd and forced, and narratively not Bava’s best effort, but he as always exhibits a visual flair. The half remembered dream sequences are quite nicely impressionistic, with odd angles, and melting effects. Because we know who the killer up front, much of the dramatic heavy lifting that would ordinarily be done by the mystery story (trying to figure out the culprit) is absent, so that burden shifts to John’s internal struggle. He seems to view the murders not with delight, but rather as an unpleasant duty to be performed grudgingly. He certainly doesn’t display any remorse or guilt over killing all of these innocent women. It’s just that he sees his final purpose as more important than their lives. This puts the protagonist in an awkward position vis-à-vis the viewer. Ordinarily, the audience is expected to identify and sympathize with the main character, at least to an extent. In Hatchet for the Honeymoon that main character is repugnant, and yet we still feel a discomfiting urge to identify with him. This discomfort is probably intended by Bava, as a commentary on voyeurism in film if nothing else. But it does leave the narrative somewhat empty and unsatisfying.

Nevertheless, this is a fascinating film, and quite beautifully shot. The performances are all quite good for gialli of this era as well, even the voiceovers, which in many films can be ludicrously bad. There is a lot to like here, even for non Bava fans. For those dedicated to his work, it’s a must see. Recommended.

The DVD

Video:
The video is presented in 1.78:1 widescreen, and looks fairly good. It has been mastered in HD from the 35mm negative, according to the box copy. This is an older film, though, so there are still a number of scratches, lens dirt, etc. that can be seen from time to time. The colors are quite bright, and really pop out, which more than makes up.

Sound:
Audio is Dolby digital 2 channel, and has a few problems. There are moments of audible hiss and pop in the soundtrack, that will rise and fall in intensity, and are entirely absent at other times. It’s rarely severe enough to interfere with one’s enjoyment of the film.

Extras:
There are a couple of extras included on the disc. They are:

Trailers
Trailers are included for Hatchet for the Honeymoon, Black Sunday, Baron Blood, Lisa and the Devil and The House of Exorcism. Those last two appear to be the same film, with different titles, and have brief flashes of nudity, thus probably would be labeled red band trailers today.

Feature Length Commentary by Tim Lucas, Author of Mario Bava: All the Colors of the Dark
This commentary by Tim Lucas provides buckets of context for the film. Lucas discusses the film in comparison to other Bava works, lists filmographies for the various actors, talks about the symbolism and references on display, and reveals a lot of behind the scenes info. Lucas is incredibly knowledgeable about Bava and Hatchet for the Honeymoon and provides a fun and informative addition. This is a real plus.

Final Thoughts:
Hatchet for the Honeymoon is not Mario Bava’s best film, and not a masterpiece in its own right, but it is quite interesting, both visually and thematically. For giallo and horror fans, and particularly devotees of Bava himself, this is a film to definitely put on the watch list. For all others, it provides ninety minutes of light fun. There’s hardly a downside. Go check it out.