Video Dispatches: Buster Keaton, THE REPTILE, HIGH LIFE & TRANSIT

Video Dispatches is a regular column covering recent home video releases.

Buster Keaton Collection vol. 2 (1924) – Cohen Media Group

This month, Cohen Media Group put out the second of three announced (as of now) releases under the “Buster Keaton Collection” title. This one features two 1924 films, Sherlock, Jr. and The Navigator — both of which can be watched in under the time of most single contemporary releases.

The disc gave me a chance to see both for the first time, and while Buster Keaton’s work needs no evangelizing, both are phenomenal films. Though both have a similar ratio of laugh to minute, Sherlock, Jr. shines a bit brighter due to its tidy structure and moments of insane choreography and stunt. But there’s plenty in The Navigator that I’m clueless about the construction of — the underwater scenes, in particular, are incredible. Unfortunately, that film’s denouement has aged like whole milk.

I was excited to see Cohen’s disc included two special features. However, both were frustratingly disposable and seem to be excerpts or outtakes from Peter Bogdanovich’s new Cohen-distributed documentary, The Great Buster. And because Cohen distributed that, and because each segment (which only lasts a few minutes) ends with a plug for the documentary, they feel much less like bonus features than they do extended advertisements.

In other words, come to these discs for Cohen’s new, lovely restoration, not the supplements.

The Reptile (1966) – Scream Factory

In tandem with another Hammer production (Lust for a Vampire), Scream Factory have released The Reptile, a film that finds an outsider couple, newlyweds Harry (Ray Barrett) and Valerie (Jennifer Daniel), coming into an established Cornwall town, the fictional Clagmoor Heath, to find out why Harry’s brother, among others, have been suspiciously dying from something referred to as “Black Death.” With a film titled The Reptile, you know what it is, but what fun there is to be had here, of which is slightly more than marginal, is watching the newlyweds find out.

Scream Factory didn’t give The Reptile the 4K treatment, like they did Lust for a Vampire, but it still looks sharp and is just as loaded with supplements as the other release. Among them, the “making of” featurette offers a nice, thorough and honest digestif, with interviews that detail trivia and context for many of the film’s production assets.

There’s also a new 20-minute interview with the assistant director, William P. Cartlidge. His interview might be of more interest to larger Hammer fans, but the most interesting bit here was his insight into the film’s moonlight shots, which I found to be lovely. He explains that shooting day for night in the UK is much harder than it is elsewhere. Watching the film again, Cartlidge was harder on the moonlighting, which was mostly approximated in the studio due to lack of natural light, claiming it “doesn’t look authentic.” However, I’m not sure an authentic aesthetic is exactly necessary or appropriate for a film like The Reptile.

The star of the supplemental slate is the audio commentary from film historians Steve Haberman, Constantine Nasr and Ted Newsom. They waste no time analyzing the text, and their analysis continues in a way that wonderfully balances the conversational, enthusiastic and academically researched.

High Life (2018) – Lionsgate

For this year’s Blu-ray release of Claire Denis’ Let the Sunshine In via Criterion Collection, I wrote about that film, an incredible work, being outshadowed by her following film, High Life, by virtue of its American star, genre workings and particular use sexuality. It was quite weird once I actually got a chance to see High Life that it’s sexuality, though the cause for much giggling memery, is actually quite horrifying and sad. The film moves away from the mournful romance of Let the Sunshine In to go into territory Denis similarly mapped in the overbearingly dark and texturally heavy Bastards and The Intruder.

When reviewing Lionsgate’s release of Dragged Across Concrete, I lauded the company for putting actually investigative special features on the disc. Their High Life release isn’t quite on the same level, but they do put two featurettes, totalling about 30 minutes total, that actually do hold substantive thoughts, even if some of it dips a little bit more into Denis’ collaborators either fawning over her or going into basic press junket mumbo jumbo, but more often than not over the 30 minutes between the two segments, the inclusive selection of cast and crew speak insightfully about the film’s text and production. Of note, Aurelien Barrau, the film’s physicist/cosmic companion, gives some insight into the cosmic constraints he gave Denis.

Multiple cast members talk about the importance of having an international cast (for this film) — representing a multiple cultures in this space prison, which is an extension of Earth. Relatedly, one of the producers refers to the film’s relationship with or familiarity to Noah’s Ark. But Denis’s parable is, expectedly, much grimmer.

They also go into Juliette Binoche’s performance, both her own interpretation of the character and others’, which is one of the featurette’s more meaty bits. Thinking again about her performance, it strikes me as one of the finest of the year. Revisiting it, I found myself thinking about Lupita Nyong’o’s performance in Jordan Peele’s 2019 film, Us. Following its premiere, critics were quick to call Nyong’o’s sinister performance as one of the year’s outstanding showcases. I think there’s good work of hers to be found in the film, but unfortunately was distracted by what I felt to be flexing of an affectation — her voice seemed design to hail itself as “good acting.” Binoche offers an interesting juxtaposition in Denis’ horror film. Stepping away from the f*ckbox shenanigans, it’s a truly terrifying bit of acting that lacks the quick throat slitting histrionics of Nyong’o’s and chooses the slow and steady route. Her doctor terrifies me, and if I’m reluctant to come back to High Life, it’s probably because of her.

Get Lionsgate’s release of High Life here.

Transit (2018) – Music Box Films

After catching it at Milwaukee Film Fest last year, I wrote about Transit and director Christian Petzold’s filmography more largely. Since, the film has only grown in my estimation. It’s a graceful ode to humans in flux — between countries, times, homes and other humans — that makes for one of the best films of the decade. Thankfully, Music Box Films have done very well to present it on home video with love, featuring many supplemental video segments from various sources, as well as a lovely booklet with an essay by Ignatiy Vishnevetsky and additional interview with Petzold by Hillary Weston.

One of the special features is a lengthy interview from the Film at Lincoln Center, in which he talks about his fondness for Christian Gudegast’s 2018 film Den of Thieves, the marinating history of Transit, his influences, adapting from a novel and many other things, all of which are quite interesting.

There’s also another interview from the 2018 Berlin International Film Festival that spans twice the length of the Lincoln Center one. Of the videos, this might be the most satisfying as his interviewer, using a stage and projector for clips, goes in depth into his filmography, including very early works, and his specific influences and filmmaking choices. It’s quite a nice feature.

Then there are two featurettes dedicated to Franz Rogowkski’s work. He talks a lot about working with Petzold, the director’s encyclopedic knowledge of cinema and tendency to shoot only one take if the shot felt right. Rogowski also mentions his experience as a dancer and describes himself now as “a talking dancer,” saying the choreography has stayed the same.

Curiously, and adjacent to any importance, Rogowski tells a funny story about being the victim of an elaborate thieving scheme at the hands of some nearby boys.