Blu-ray debut for Luchino Visconti's less-than-masterful but still worthwhile biopic, LUDWIG

TrustMovies has now seen LUDWIG -- Italian filmmaker Luchino Visconti's telling of the history, from his crowing through to his death, of the ruler known as "Mad King Ludwig of Bavaria" -- three times. The first was in 1973 during its original theatrical release, the second maybe ten years ago on DVD, and the third with the film's current Blu-ray release to home video via Arrow Academy. On initial viewing, I found the film pretty awful, despite my love for much of Visconti's work. On second viewing it seemed a bit better, and this time it appears, perhaps due to the increased length (nearly four-and-one-half-hours) richer and fuller than any previous incarnation.

One of the highlights of this new Blu-ray disc release is the hour-long documentary about Signore Visconti, shown at right, during which the late actor Vittorio Gassman talks about the director and notes that he was a master of melodrama. Indeed he was, and one of the problems with his telling of the tale of Ludwig is that Visconti foregoes most of that melodrama, which perhaps makes his feature a bit more rigorous but in the end much less compelling.

The filmmaker has, however, coaxed from Helmut Berger what is undoubtedly the finest performance this pretty-boy actor ever gave. Herr Berger is surprisingly good: His road from eccentric to full-out nut-case to sad specimen of abused royalty is played with genuine feeling and an acute sense of the specifics of aging and deterioration.

In this longer, four-and-one-half-hour version, we get some of the detail and precision that was missing from the shorter versions. These include more of the history and politics of the time and of the various relationships between characters. This current and fully restored Ludwig is a fuller, richer version of what came before.

In the supporting cast, Trevor Howard and Silvana Mangano still shine darkly as as the scheming Richard and Cosima Wagner, while Romy Schneider (above) makes princess Elizabeth as difficult and coquettish as ever. As Ludwig’s best and most trusted friend, Helmut Griem (shown at right in final photo) provides the film’s moral ballast, while John Moulder-Brown (below) makes the sweet, boyish and very sad character of Prince Otto come to fine life. 

Among the scenes you’re most likely to remember – from all the versions – will be Ludwig’s wooing of the young actor Kainz in that glorious underground grotto with the swans and that charming little love boat, and Elizabeth’s visit to Ludwig’s most famous castle in the room with all those mirrors. Visually the film is a near-constant treat, with sets and costumes as gloriously garish and/or stunning as you’ll have seen. And then there’s that hunting lodge scene with all the young men perched atop and around the limbs of the giant tree that grows in the middle of the lodge.

There are memorable moments aplenty to make the 257 minutes worthwhile, and if the film must take its place among Visconti’s lesser works, well, it is still a Visconti. From Arrow Academy/Arrow Video and released here in the USA via MVD Entertainment Group, Ludwig arrives on high-definition Blu-ray -- the 4K restoration is from the original film negative -- and standard def DVD in a four-disc set this coming Tuesday, April 11.

Special features include that hour-long doc on the director, a half-hour portrait of actress Silvana Mangano, an interview with screenwriter Suso Cecchi D’Amico, a brand new interview with Helmut Berger (the contrast between then and now is simply staggering), and the film's theatrical trailer. There are several viewing options, as well: in the full theatrical cut or as five individual parts as shown on Italian television, with an English soundtrack with optional English subtitles, and in the original Italian soundtrack with English subtitles.

Marjane Satrapi jumps genres, Ryan Reynolds grows ever more versatile with THE VOICES

"Have you been taking your medicine?" This question--asked of Jerry (Ryan Reynolds in yet another of his many excellent, versatile, and likely-to-be-overlooked performances) by his therapist (Jacki Weaver)--hangs over the new movie THE VOICES like a shroud. The answer is always no, and the result, while pretty awful, is also the reason the film exists. Jerry, you see, is one of those borderline personalities kept in check by medication but capable of who-knows-what when he goes off it. Who-knows-what is exactly what we get in this very funny, bizarre, surprising, alternately gory and subdued genre-jumper that looks at mental illness from a variety of angles -- most of them nothing quite like we've previously seen. Sure, we've had a number of comic killer/slasher/thriller movies, but this one's something else. It takes a look at insanity from a different perspective.

Director Marjane Satrapi (shown at left, who gave us the animated Persepolis and the even better Chicken With Plums) usually has a hand in the screen-writing. That she did not in this case may have something to do with the movie's jarring notes, and yet this jarring may be what enables the whole thing to work as well as it does. How the fantasy of insanity knocks up against reality is part of the movie's point, and Ms Satrapi shows it to us via some interesting visual and audial counterpointing. It isn't simply that Jerry converses with his pets -- a kindly dog and a nasty cat -- when he's off his meds; notice the look and the cleanliness of his home with and without those pills, particularly once the carnage begins. Satrapi doesn't push things, but she does enable them. And the screenplay, from Michael R. Perry, keeps the plot on point with decent dialog and an arc that goes where we dearly wish it wouldn't, though we know it must.

That the movie succeeds as well as it does rests on the broad-enough shoulders of Mr. Reynolds (above and below), who, with his cutie-pie face and great body, makes a very appealing hero who can then turn scary on a dime. Further, he does all the animal voices -- quite a range! -- and even sings and dances, too. Move over, Hugh Jackman.

In the supporting cast are a number of good actress, from Ms Weaver to Gemma Arterton (the head being fed, above, as the co-worker on whom Jerry has a crush) and Anna Kendrick (below, as another co-worker who has a crush on him).

Reynolds keeps us rooting for Jerry beyond all wisdom and hope, even as events turn darker and nastier. The filmmaker manages to hold things together, sometimes shakily, but that is also part of the bizarre fun. Perhaps it takes someone who grew up in Iran to show us America so bluntly -- in day-glo pastels for the way we imagine and/or want things to be, and then earth, blood and shit tones as reality sets in.

As I say, as many so-called comedy shockers as you may have already encountered, you'll probably not have seen something comparable to The Voices -- which seems to spin near-gold out of the very straw of its occasional missteps.

The movie, from Lionsgate and running 104 minutes, opens this Friday, February 6, at an AMC theater in ten cities: Atlanta, Chicago, Denver, Detroit, Houston, Miami, Philadelphia and Phoenix. Here in NYC, it will play the AMC Empire 25, and in the L.A. area, look for it at AMC's Citywalk Stadium 19. Simultaneously, it will be available via VOD, as well.

The sound and the fury: Peter Strickland's smart, obvious BERBERIAN SOUND STUDIO

The first thing you may notice about BERBERIAN SOUND STUDIO, the new narrative movie about movie-making and personality dissolution by Peter Strickland (shown below), is that its opening credits are not for the movie, the title of which appears above, but for another film entirely -- a movie-within-the-movie called The Equestrian Vortex -- for which our protagonist, Gilderoy (great moniker!), who resides with his mother in England, has been hired to come to Italy to the titular studio and provide the sound effects for that film. This is rather fun, and different, and should give you a sense of what is to come: a movie of mis-, or more precisely, other-direction.

The time is the 1970s when the country and culture of Italy was known, not only for Fellini and Visconti, but also for Argento and giallo, the latter being those sleazy-but-fun slasher movies with which the Italians had gifted the world during that famous "me" decade. So here we are then, with Gilderoy (played by the unique Toby Jones, haloed in light at left, below) -- a quiet, rather repressed and genteel fellow with a mother complex (her letters to him and the importance these hold for him make up a certain portion of the film) -- as he works on the many sounds for the movie at hand. He also, literally from the first moment he arrives at the studio, is treated like shit, refused to be reimbursed for his travel expenses, and generally taken advantage of right, left and center.

Mr. Strickland's eye is fond of going, if not where we least expect it (of course we're going to see Gilderoy at work), where most other movie-makers absolutely would: to footage of the film that has been shot for which all these sound effects -- mostly screaming by some pretty young-to-middle-aged women, one of whom is shown below -- are needed. Can you think of another movie in which we never see, aside from that nicely-done and of-its-time credit sequence, one frame of the film at hand? Neither can I. Instead, we get a lot of footage showing us from where these "slashing" sounds emanate: vegetables and fruit (watermelon is the star of one fine sequence) being mutilated by knives and hatchets.

In another nice moment, Gilderoy shows us how to turn, aurally, a little light bulb into a UFO. All this is indeed fun, and Mr. Jones is, as always, a delight to watch. If you have never seen him do the best Capote turn ever (yes, yes: Hoffman is good and all, but Jones is better) in Infamous, then you have missed a simply wonderful, rich, original movie. So where does all this visual mis-direction and abuse of Gilderoy lead us? Into the dissolving of the poor fellow's personality. Which is interesting to view, for a time. But because it is clear, and very early on, that this is where we are headed, the movie has almost no surprise and finally not all that much interest.

Toward the finale, when the dissolution of character seems near complete, there is a marvelous sequence combining an English documentary with striking sound, artwork and editing that is a  visual and aural feast. And the performances by the Italians (if you've ever felt snubbed in a foreign country, these scenes will bring it all home) are wonderfully on-the-mark. Almost carried to the point of satire, they stop just short of that and leave you fuming for poor Gilderoy. (That's Cosimo Fusco, above, left, who plays the venal and nasty producer, and Tonia Sotiropoulou, below, left, as the lazy and nasty office assistant.)

Thinking about the movie now, in retrospect, Berberian Sound Studio seems more enjoyable than it did as I was watching. At 88 minutes, the movie began, around the halfway point, to bore, and I never recovered from that. Everything we have to learn from it, we pretty much already have by the midway point. What the film is doing in the IFC Midnight series (in which you'll usually find lots of blood and gore, as per the upcoming Maniac remake, for instance) is anybody's guess. Far too intelligent, precise and subtle for that audience, it'll bore 'em to distraction. This is an "art film," pure and (a little too) simple that gives away its hand a little too soon.

The movie opens this Friday, June 14, in New York City at the IFC Center and will get a midnight screening at the Nitehawk Cinema in Brooklyn on June 21. In the Los Angeles area, it also opens this Friday, June 14, at the Arena Cinema in Hollywood and the Downtown Independent in downtown L.A. If you're elsewhere, not to worry: There is always VOD, via which it will also open this Friday in most major markets. Consult your TV reception provider for specifics.