The Madness of King George

George Lucas is, officially, insane. Or, just an asshole. Possibly both. He's certainly one of the biggest trolls on the planet, a fact confirmed by recent comments he made while promoting the new 3D release of "Star Wars--Episode I: The Phantom Menace".

Criterion Crazy: Ashby, Ozu and others in April (plus a rumor roundup)

It's that time of the month again--Criterion's April titles have been announced. And, I have to say, I'm a bit disappointed underwhelmed.

The induction of Hal Ashby's comedic ode to cross-generational love, Harold and Maude (1971), into the Collection and a release of Yasujiro Ozu's Late Spring (1949) are among the films making their blu-ray (and DVD) bow this spring. A new boxset of avant-garde films from Hollis Frampton, another Eclipse release and two other discs are also on the horizon.

New on Blu: "The Guard" (2011)

Sgt. Gerry Boyle (Brendan Gleeson) is an unconventional cop, in "The Guard".

“The Guard” opens with an almost-literal bang, the words “fuckin’ posers” blaring on the soundtrack, as a group of young ruffians—chivalrous-less chavs—speed down a country road. The camera sweeps across the vast, green countryside, as the boys’ red coupe drifts between the lanes on the weaving tarmac—a strip of black cutting through the lush landscape of West Ireland. The speeders whiz past a white-and-yellow Ford, a cop car, but the camera stops on the officer, the Garda, or Irish policeman, inside. His face emotionless, in a daze, we hear the speeders horrific crash off screen and he guard’s stone face turns to a grimace, as he rolls his eyes in disgust. The guard leaves his roadside post to inspect the accident. It’s a horrific scene. The red car now mangled, upside down, bodies—the car’s recent occupants—strewn everywhere. He looks inside the ruined vehicle, then turns back to the first body on the road and starts rummaging through the corpse’s jacket pockets. He finds a baggy, shakes it, opens it, examines one of the tablets for a moment, cocks his head and then, satisfied, places the tab on his tongue. The screen flashes for a brief flicker of a frame with a smiley face, an editing flourish that establishes one thing: the guard just dropped acid. He walks a short distance away from the crash, turns his gaze towards the oppressive gray sky and utters the words, “what a beautiful fuckin’ day”.

"The Conversation": Coppola's quiet, contemplative and underrated masterpiece

He'd kill us if he got the chance."

Although the topic of “bests” in film will always be hotly debated in most circles inhabited by those souls so inclined to talk about cinema, whether it’s specific or overly broad—arguments over the best actors, genres and decades—there’s little point in questioning certain truths. One of those truths is that the New Hollywood era—a time when a group of young American filmmakers rose to prominence and broke the molds of the old studio system and its censors in a fashion similar to the French New Wave, producing culturally critical, sometimes exceptionally violent, and unusually anti-establishment productions all while fully-funded by big brass at Columbia, Universal, Paramount and Warner Brothers—is one of the most important times in cinematic history. It just is, largely because of the directors who led the charge and how they changed movies forever.