This beautifully packaged set shows the great Marvin Gaye evolving from finger poppin' dandy (lip synching "Hitch Hike" on American Bandstand) to sacred sex god (an undeniable, late-period "Let's Get It On"). The 1972 performance of "What's Going On" with bassist James Jamerson, Eddie 'Bongo' Brown and other Funk Brothers backing a newly-bearded Marvin has gotta be some of the most incredible live footage of any singer, ever.
"You have a freak flag, you just don't fly it," says stoner Ben Stone (Luke Wilson) to the prissy girlfriend (Sarah Jessica Parker) of his older brother (Dermot Mulroney with a cyclotron part in his hair). The Stone family accept the deaf gay brother with the black boyfriend, but not her. This one-big-crazy family flick endures a heavy layer of yuletide cheese thanks to sassy sister (Rachel McAdams) sporting an NPR bookbag and a Dinosaur Jr. t-shirt -- a hottie for the grunge literati.
Considering this documentary on America's greatest thriving alt-rock festival features fantastically charismatic acts, Coachella is surprisingly dull. Inarticulate fan interviews bog down the pacing, while choppy editing and frantic camera work give the performances an MTV slickness that squashes the festival's indie vibe. Radiohead, The Flaming Lips, Iggy, Bjork and Morrissey have all looked better elsewhere.
Spookily enough, recent headlines about the FBI's cornering of real-life Mafiosi allegedly behind the murders of Tony and Michael Spilotro coincide with the ten-year anniversary of the film they helped inspire: Casino.
In Baltimore, the carnal rapture is nigh In John Waters' world, there's nothing more normal than sexual depravity.
When Javier Bardem played a wheelchair-bound philanderer in Pedro Almodovar's Live Flesh, he was compelling.
Fans and bands out standing in a field "People come out in the middle of nowhere and smell each other's funk," says the Dead's Phil Lesh, digging this Manchester, Tennessee, megafestival.
Here come the rush-released and rereleased post-Oscar DVDs. While hot-button hype can account for the Best Picture win for the superficially deep Crash (just out in a two-disc director's-cut edition), no amount of statuettes, spoilers or sensationalism can prepare you for the profoundly moving experience that is Brokeback Mountain. "You may be a sinner, but I ain't yet had the opportunity," Ennis Del Mar (a stunning Heath Ledger) tells fellow uneducated small-towner Jack Twist (the just-as-studly Jake Gyllenhaal). It's the summer of 1963, and the two young men are set to work, alone but together, guarding sheep in the Wyoming wilderness. Thus begins a twenty-year tale of what it means when that most macho American archetype -- the cowboy -- collides with flesh-and-blood reality. Director Ang Lee (Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon) is a poet pure and simple; his wide-eyed depiction of the American West makes Brokeback an unqualified success as a nature film alone. Yet it's as a love story that the film strikes deepest, in the process illuminating the mystery of how what goes on between two people can never be fully understood by anyone else.
In 1958, Louis Malle made his directorial debut with this taut classic. A stoic executive (Maurice Ronet) appears to have committed the perfect crime, as his lover (Jeanne Moreau) paces the Paris streets. Bonus feature: great footage of Miles Davis improvising his score while watching the film
Live gigs from cartoon bands don't promise much, but Gorillaz mastermind Damon Albarn oversees a spectacular show that delivers bold visuals and a cast of cameos that includes Ike Turner. Albarn hides in silhouette until a knockout finale of "Hong Kong." The rest betters the entire Demon Days CD.