The Expanse (Season 4)

The Expanse (Season 4)

We might quickly be reaching the saturation point with the number of streaming services available. But until that happens, having a plethora of services that produce their own content allows shows to survive through the whim of executives.


As I recounted in my previous review of The Expanse, the SyFy Channel canceled the series after its third season, citing low ratings. Undeterred, fans started an online campaign to find it a new home, going so far as setting up a GoFundMe to charter a plane to fly around Amazon Studios in Santa Monica with a banner emblazoned with #SaveTheExpanse. Jeff Bezos—a

professed fan of the show—received the message, and on May 26, 2018 announced that Amazon would pick up the series for a fourth season.


And then the waiting began. A year and a half of it. Thankful messages from the cast and crew were released on Twitter and Instagram, announcements were made at conventions, and production stills trickled out, but the wait was still excruciating. Finally the time arrived, and on December 12, Amazon dropped all 10 episodes in 4K HDR.


The primary story follows the fourth book, Cibola Burn, as the crew of the Rocinante is sent through the ring gates 

that were opened in the previous season to check on a conflict between some colonists and Royal Charter Energy, a company with a scientific charter, on the planet Ilus (or New Terra, if you’re part of RCE). But where the book concentrated solely on this plot, the show pulls ideas from the next book and fleshes out the stories of other characters not on the Rocinante. This helps to set up the fifth season and keeps us from losing interest by not staying on just one storyline for ten episodes.


The length of the episodes is in line with one-hour TV dramas, ranging from 43 to 53 minutes, and there are generally crossfades between act breaks where you might expect a commercial. But cinematically the creative team broke from norms a bit by changing aspect ratios depending on the location. While much of the show is in 16:9, everything that happens on Ilus/New Terra is 2.39:1, which gives the planet a larger, more expansive feel.


It’s the first time in the series that one of the primary locations has been another planet. Most of the action until now has taken place on ships or within space stations and asteroids. The wider aspect ratio shows off this new planet and its vistas. Ilus feels almost like Earth, but with something definitely off and different. The 4K detail is excellent and really shows off the set design, especially of an alien structure with lots of nooks and crannies.


Overall the ensemble cast is thoroughly engaging. New cast member Burn Gorman plays the ruthless security chief of RCE, and his chemistry with adversary Amos (Wes Chatham), the mechanic from the Rocinante, is electric. I often had chills when they faced off on screen. There’s also some great character development added for Bobbie Draper (Frankie Adams) while she tries to make a life for herself on Mars after being dishonorably discharged from the Martian Marines. Camina Drummer (Cara Gee) and Klaes Ashford (David Strathairn), who were the two standouts from Season Three, continue to light up the screen.


The sound of The Expanse continues to expertly build the atmosphere throughout the season. The sound mix uses surrounds to fill out the locations without drawing too much attention from the on-screen action. There’s a moment early on where a swarm of some destructive unknown organism flies through the colonists’ camp. The mix could easily have gotten out of control, but instead it helped to draw the focus in while putting the viewer in the middle of it all.


Don’t expect to be able to follow everything if you haven’t seen any of the previous seasons. This is definitely a continuation of the story without apologies and handholding to new viewers. Luckily all of the seasons are available for 4K HDR streaming through Amazon Prime. If you’re a fan of sci-fi it’s well worth your while.

John Higgins

John Higgins lives a life surrounded by audio. When he’s not writing for Cineluxe, IGN,
Wirecutter, he’s a professional musician and sound editor for TV/film. During his down
time, he’s watching Star Wars or learning from his toddler son, Neil.

The Irishman

The Irishman

It was a big get, even for a company as big as Netflix. Martin Scorsese is one of the most lauded directors in cinema and has, save for a handful of television episodes, directed exclusively for the cinema. So what led him to abandon his primary creative home for the literal home of Netflix subscribers?


As with everything, it came down to money. The Irishman is a slow burn of a movie at 209 minutes (that’s just shy of three and a half hours). With a budget of $159 million, it’s both the longest and most expensive film Scorsese has ever made.


Before principal photography began, a few different companies worked out distribution deals to finance the movie, but as the budget grew, those companies balked and withdrew their funding. In this day of expensive blockbuster action films, a long, introspective film about the life and possible redemption of a mob hitman doesn’t fit the current studio model. Netflix swooped in and bought the film rights, agreeing to finance the film.


Movie theaters weren’t left completely out of the equation since there was a theatrical release, but the terms of that release caused controversy in the world of the big theater chains. A traditional release window puts a movie in the theater for at least few months before going to the home market. For The Irishman, Netflix held fast to four weeks (a week longer than they

conceded for Roma last November), with a theatrical release date of November 1st before coming to Netflix streaming on November 27th.


This rankled the major theater chains, which chose to sit out of the theatrical release in protest. And while Scorsese defended Netflix’s decision and acquiesced to the

The Irishman

realities of getting The Irishman made, he also lamented that people wouldn’t be able to have the communal experience of watching his movie in a theater:


There’s no doubt that seeing a film with an audience is really important. There is a problem, though. We have to make the film. . . . Having the backing of a company that says that you will have no interference, you can make the picture as you want, the tradeoff being it streams, with theatrical distribution prior to that. I figure, that’s a chance we take on this particular project.


The question is: Is the enjoyment of The Irishman hindered by relying almost solely on the home market? I’d argue no, and add that maybe it’s even aided by a more intimate viewing experience. The Irishman is based on the narrative nonfiction book I Heard You Paint Houses, and follows the life of Frank Sheeran, a truck driver who meets and starts working for mob boss Russell Bufalino. This eventually leads to an introduction to controversial Teamsters president Jimmy Hoffa, for whom he becomes chief bodyguard and close friend.


As with any Scorsese film, there are moments of mob violence, some beautiful, long single-take tracking shots, and a lot of dialogue-driven drama. By putting this all on our home screen instead of an expansive movie-theater screen, the presentation feels more personal. It’s easier to be drawn in.


And even at three and a half hours, there aren’t any points of lag in the story, which is a testament to Scorsese; his longtime collaborator, editor Thelma Schoonmaker; and an extraordinary cast, including Scorsese favorites Robert De Niro and Joe Pesci, and, for the first time, Al Pacino. All three actors deserve the accolades they have received, in particular Pesci as Russell Bufalino.


The 4K presentation is excellent and really shows off the fantastic CGI de-aging of the actors. The story takes place across six decades, and an incredible amount of attention was put into how De Niro, Pesci, and Pacino looked as time marched on. There were a few moments of digital effects that were less convincing and entered the uncanny valley (there was also some slow-motion blood splatter that looked suspect to me), but overall it was quite a technical achievement.


The 5.1 sound design is meticulous and subtle. Cars sounded authentic to the period, there were moments of bone crunching that made me squirm, and nothing distracted from the story, only added to it. There’s a gunshot towards the end of the film that perfectly captures the starkness and emptiness of the scene, and is in essence the culmination of where Frank has come as a character. Surrounds are primarily used for music and to fill the space with reverb for larger locations.


It will be interesting to see how The Irishman being a streaming release ripples across the industry, with such high-profile names as Scorsese, De Niro, Pacino, and Pesci attached. The more our home theaters have improved over the years, the less the need for movie theaters. Yes, the communal experience Scorsese refers to is missing, but I’ve found that seeing a film with a bunch of people can detract from my own enjoyment. Getting a 4K presentation with excellent sound and no uncontrollable external distractions (plus the ability for bathroom or snack breaks without missing anything) is shifting the importance of viewing from the cinema to the home.

John Higgins

John Higgins lives a life surrounded by audio. When he’s not writing for Cineluxe, IGN,
Wirecutter, he’s a professional musician and sound editor for TV/film. During his down
time, he’s watching Star Wars or learning from his toddler son, Neil.



I had to watch Todd Phillips’ Joker twice to write this review. And it required two viewings because I realized, as the credits rolled the first time around, that I had absolutely nothing meaningful to say about the video transfer or the sound mix. From beginning to end, I was so hypnotized (and indeed horrified) by Joaquin Phoenix’ performance as the titular character that I honestly forgot I was supposed to be reviewing a home video release.


Had I gone ahead and put fingers to keyboard after that first viewing based on my hazy impressions, I would have told you a story about a grungy, filmic 4K HDR transfer that evoked the gritty neo-noir classics of the 1970s and ’80s. It took a second pass to realize that Joker’s cinematography is actually pristine, which makes sense given that it was captured digitally in a mix of 3.4K, 4.5K, and 5.1K resolutions, and finished in a true 4K digital intermediate. It’s the set dressing, the lighting, the framing, and indeed the movement of the camera that evokes the look of the cinematic era the film aspires to. When you get right down to it, though, Joker is an objectively gorgeous film with a wonderfully revealing home video presentation.


The sound mix, too, would have gotten an inaccurate assessment had I not gone back for a double dip. Hildur Guðnadóttir’s brilliant, minimalist cello score would have certainly been the focus of my discussion, as it dominates the sound mix, or at least one’s memory of it. But other than that, nothing really stuck to my ribs in terms of the overall delivery of audio, aside from a few distant ringing phones, ignored in the background, which struck me as being rendered with a wonderful illusion of space.

It wasn’t until the second time through that I even realized the soundtrack for the Kaleidescape release of the film is Dolby Atmos, but you shouldn’t take that oversight as an indication that the mix is subtle. Focusing more on the technical presentation than the performance at the heart of the film, it’s an ambitious and at times aggressive mix, one that uses its height channels to enhance the vertical elements of the filth-ridden cityscape of Gotham. (Not the stylized Gotham of the Burton or Nolan films, but a blatant homage to the New York City of ’70s cinema.) The fact that I barely noticed the height channels the first time through is as much a credit to the artistry of the mix as it is to Phoenix’ mesmerizing performance. As with the imagery, the sound simply works in service of the narrative, and never serves to distract from it.


If it seems as if the only aspect of the film itself I can focus on is the acting of its lead, there’s a reason for that. Joker isn’t a story-driven work. It’s as pure a character study as I’ve seen in ages. For those of us who love comic books and the movies based on them, it’s easy to go into a film like this—ostensibly an origin story about a character who has never had a consistent canonical backstory—with a ton of baggage. The thing is, though, Joker isn’t interested in your baggage. It isn’t interested in the 79-year history of the character as Batman’s archnemesis. Hell, it isn’t interested in Batman at all. Indeed, the overall mythology of Gotham City and its most famous residents is so tangential it could have been left out of the film altogether and it wouldn’t have had any major effect on the plot, what little of it there is.


Director/co-writer Phillips seems so completely uninterested in any of the normal trappings of comic-book films that to call this a comic-book film at all feels dishonest. To discuss it in relation to the four-color serialized stories on which it is (very) loosely based would be to miss the point entirely. To understand the film, we have to view it for what it is: An exploration of the internal and external forces—personally and societally—that combine to create not merely a villain, not merely a criminal, but an unabashed agent of chaos, one that is, in this film, more man than myth.


In exploring all of this, Phillips touches upon a lot of conflict familiar to modern audiences—wealth inequality and the rage of the working class aimed at the apathetic ruling class, the failures of bureaucracy, media bias, our weird attitudes toward mental illness, our complex and often contradictory attitudes toward nonconformity.


As I mentioned above, there isn’t a lot by way of plot here, and it’s often difficult to figure out what Phillips wants us to take away from the film on any of these topics. Indeed, in the supplemental material included with the Kaleidescape download (and due to be included on the UHD Blu-ray release in January), he claims that the film isn’t really about any of these things. I’m not sure I really buy that. I think it was easier to hide behind that dismissal than it was to admit that he doesn’t really have the answers. He simply wants us as an audience to do some of the heavy lifting and accept the unique part we play in creating such monsters, individually and collectively.


But it’s entirely possible you’ll come away from Joker with completely different impressions than I did about whatever underlying message there may be. I, for example, couldn’t help but read into the narrative some serious thematic exploration about agency and free will, both topics I think about quite a bit. But in a few brief discussions with others who’ve seen the film, I seem to be alone in that, at least within my friend circle.


I think a lot of that has to do with how abstract Joker is at times. I referred to it earlier as pure character study, and I stick by that. There are plenty of wonderful actors sharing the screen with Phoenix, namely Zazie Beetz, as well as Robert De Niro, whose character is largely a nod to The King of Comedy, a film that very much inspired elements of this one. But Arthur Fleck, aka “Joker,” is the film’s only real character.


As well as pure character study, Joker is also pure cinema—a work of art that simply couldn’t have existed in any other form than as a motion picture. Imagery and audio sit in the passenger seat alongside character development, and story just sort of seems to be dragged along for the chaotic ride, hanging onto the rear bumper for dear life (and I assure you, I don’t mean that as a slight in any way).


That focus on fundamental human truths, combined with the undeniable ’70s and ’80s aesthetic, keeps Joker from feeling too zeitgeisty, despite the current subject matter it grapples with. There is one thing, though, that betrays the film as absolutely not a product of the bygone era it emulates. Many parallels have been drawn between Joker and Taxi Driver, and they’re not unfair. One crucial difference, though, is that Phoenix’ Joker could not, in any light, be viewed as a hero or anti-hero or anything other than a force of nature unleashed by circumstance and his own weaknesses. To write it off as a mere mashup of Taxi Driver and The King of Comedy, as I imagine some will do, would be intellectual laziness of the highest (and snottiest) order.


Phillips walks a very thin line here: He wants you to understand this character without sympathizing with him. He doesn’t want you to want to watch the world burn; he simply wants you to recognize and acknowledge why some people do. And as with the best interpretations of this character (or at least the character that goes by this name) in print and on screen, Phillips

wants you to admit that, as wrong as he may be, and as dangerous as he may be, there’s an alluring element of truth behind the Joker’s lies; and refusing to admit as much is why we struggle to honestly understand the seemingly senseless acts of violence that have become so commonplace they barely register in the 24-hour news cycle unless the body count is truly catastrophic. To tiptoe right up to that line without crossing over into the territory of glorification is perhaps this film’s neatest trick.


In the end, though, I can imagine some viewers taking uncomfortable issue with this approach, with the lack of moralizing, the lack of overt condemnation for this murderous clown.


Speaking for myself alone, I don’t think the film needs it. I think it’s implicit. I can’t imagine anyone cheering at the end of this cinematic tone poem. Then again, I didn’t see Joker in commercial cinemas, and I’m glad I didn’t. Because anything other than slack-jawed silence as its credits rolled would have confirmed my worst suspicions about humanity. 


Viewed at home, via my own AV system, with no rustling snack packaging, no whispering, no cellphones glaring from the periphery, no obtrusive snickering at


the two or three overt references to comics history that the film makes when it serves its purposes—in other words, taken on its own terms, and viewed without distraction—I can honestly say that this is one of the best films of 2019.


I can also say, without hesitation, that it’s one I’ll return to again and again, to meditate on its themes, its red herrings, and, most importantly, one of the most captivating, heartbreaking, frustrating, and fascinating character portrayals I’ve witnessed in ages. But it almost seems vulgar to discuss how beautifully shot it is, and how wonderfully this home video presentation preserves its sumptuous cinematography. 

Dennis Burger

Dennis Burger is an avid Star Wars scholar, Tolkien fanatic, and Corvette enthusiast
who somehow also manages to find time for technological passions including high-
end audio, home automation, and video gaming. He lives in the armpit of 
Alabama with
his wife Bethany and their four-legged child Bruno, a 75-pound 
American Staffordshire
Terrier who thinks he’s a Pomeranian.

How to Listen: Dark Side of the Moon

How to Listen: The Dark Side of the Moon

In “How to Become an Expert Listener,” I talked about the kinds of recordings you can use to evaluate a luxury audio setup and walked you through the general things to listen for, such as deep, articulate bass, accurate instrumental and vocal timbre, and an expansive sound field.


Here I’m going to take one of the most revered albums not just in the audiophile world but in rock history and give you a sense of what makes it such a great recording—not just so you can better appreciate the virtues of this particular effort but so 

you can apply that knowledge to your own favorite albums. Once you get used to not just listening to the music but savoring the quality of its presentation, you’ll find it easy to pick out the common elements that make for a great recording and that reveal the virtues and flaws of high-performance gear.


No album is more iconic than Pink Floyd’s towering 1973 masterpiece, The Dark Side of the Moon. (I don’t think I  need to give a musical synopsis here—is there anyone reading this who hasn’t heard it?). Dark Side is up there with Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours, and Bob Dylan’s Blood on the Tracks. It was the band’s commercial breakthrough (to put it mildly), spending more than 900 weeks on the Billboard 200 chart.


It’s also one of the best-recorded albums ever, thanks to Grammy-winning engineer Alan Parsons and the innovative use of then-new synthesizers, elaborate multitracking, found sounds, and the resources of Abbey Road Studios, to say nothing of brilliant performances by Roger Waters, David Gilmour, Nick Mason, and Richard Wright. It’s a true reference recording that will give every aspect of an audio system a thorough workout.


I listened to an original UK pressing on my main system and on Qobuz in 24-bit/44.1 kHz hi-res on high-end nearfield monitors. (Geek-speak translation: “Qobuz” is a high-resolution music-streaming service and “nearfield monitors” are speakers meant to be listened to from up close.) I also heard a good chunk of the album on a huge system at a trade show within the past year. Unfortunately, I now can’t remember the show or the system. I do remember the incredible sound.


One quick note: This isn’t meant to be an exam. You don’t need to go through the whole album, in sequence, to appreciate what Parsons and the band wrought here or to 

put it to use for demo purposes. Start with your favorite tracks and, if you find yourself getting into this new way of listening to an old classic, make your way around from there.


“Speak to Me”

The album sucks you in with the iconic heartbeat. You’re not going to hear it fully—or at all—on a small speaker with a small woofer. You need a speaker setup capable of extended low end. The track should sneak up on you quietly, then crescendo into . . .



. . .and the trademark sonic signature of the album, a vast, wide, deep soundspace with instruments placed hard left, hard right and everywhere in between, up close and far away. Start with your system volume low!


Listen for the clarity of every instrument—electric bass, guitars, keyboards, drums, percussion, and effects. Even though some of the sounds are heavily processed, you should hear the clarity of the processing, such as the myriad of reverbs that are a major part of the album’s sonic palette. The tonal balance is smooth and even, from the articulate bass to the densely detailed midrange and clear highs—although I wouldn’t call TDSOTM the absolute last word in transparency.

How to Become an Expert Listener: The Dark Side of the Moon

Alan Parsons mixing The Dark Side of the Moon with Pink Floyd

(Check out a good version of the RCA Living Stereo Reiner/Chicago Symphony Scheherazade for that.)


In fact, this one track will tell you everything you need to know about how a system is performing—but you’d be shortchanging yourself if you didn’t keep listening.


“On the Run”

On a lesser system, this will sound like flat musical filler. On a good system, you’ll hear a rich variety of 

details, like the multiple synthesizers panning from left to right, and the very distinct sound of someone turning the knobs on the main sequencer/synthesizer in real time as it plays through the track. “On the Run” ends with a roar and a rumble that, on a system capable of delivering it, might even scare you.



You know what I’m going to say here. The clanging of the multiple clocks going off at the beginning should be nothing less than startling. If ever there was a test of a system’s transient response, here it is. The soundstage, if anything, is even bigger now. This is one of the most masterful uses of reverb in recording history. The mixed male and female processed background vocals are utterly gorgeous. Those vocals rise in intensity after the second chorus, with a scraped guitar string lifting you to Gilmour’s fuzzed-out guitar solo, one of the most epic ever recorded. This should sound simply mammoth, thrilling, with layers of synths, vocals, guitars, everything, behind it. (Conventional wisdom opines that Gilmour’s greatest solo is on “Comfortably Numb” from The Wall. I’d argue, uh uh, no. This one is it.)


“The Great Gig in the Sky”

After those dizzying aural heights, you need a comedown. But it’s not a crash . . . just an intensity of a different kind. The soundstage expands to galactic proportions. The dynamic range goes from relaxing to system-taxing. (My main system has 100 watts per channel and three-way speakers, and I didn’t hear any strain. My desktop monitors? Well, I didn’t want to risk blowing them up.) You should be able to hear guest vocalist Clare Torry go from a very distinctive growl (on a good system; it’ll be completely lost on a lesser one) to seductive sweetness and every nuance in between. Wright’s piano accompaniment is the model of sensitivity. And listen to how Waters’ bass beautifully complements Torry’s vocals in the second half of the track. This should sound nothing less than emotionally riveting.



Like the clocks at the beginning of “Time,” the cash registers and sacks of coins should sound surprising. Listen for the clarity of Waters’ picked bass (as opposed to played with the fingers on the previous track) and the way it drives the song. Once

again, the mix is “big,” but not as much as the previous tracks, and sounds more dynamically compressed. My guess is this was done to make the track sound more radio-friendly. But it’s relative—if the other album tracks’ soundspaces are the size of a galaxy, this one’s merely a solar system in comparison. Listen to the drastic removal of all reverb in the breakdown section after the guitar solo

How to Become an Expert Listener: The Dark Side of the Moon

—a dramatically effective sonic contrast that should come through razor-sharp. Gilmour’s final solo should practically peel the paint off the walls in its treble intensity, yet still have body and depth.


“Us and Them”

The galactic soundspace returns. Listen for the “swirl” of Wright’s Hammond organ played through a Leslie rotating speaker cabinet, and the complementing swirl of Gilmour’s guitar through a Uni Vibe pedal, designed to simulate the sound of a Leslie. It’s a rich, densely textured mix. When the sax comes in, even though it has added reverb, it should have a palpable presence and a physicality by comparison.


“Any Colour You Like”

Here, Parsons uses repeating echo on the main synthesizer to create spaciousness and depth, and even though it’s a dense mix, you should be able to clearly hear the echo repeats trailing off into the sonic distance. Listen for the harmonic complexity of the multiple synths and guitars and the, once again, startle factor of Gilmour’s guitar when it comes in dead center, in the middle of the song. Listen carefully and you’ll hear a clam (wrong note) from the left-channel guitar at around 2:14 into the song.


Another track that might sound like a flat wash on a so-so system. Not on a good one.


“Brain Damage” & “Eclipse”

I don’t know what else I can say, as these concluding tracks continue the sonic strengths of the rest of the album—exceptional clarity, dynamics, tonal balance, placement of instruments, soundstage width and depth, huge drum sounds, and masterful mixing of all the vocals, instruments, and effects by Parsons. A final test of your system’s resolving power: Near the very end of the album, listen for Abbey Road Studios’ doorman Gerry O’Driscoll saying, “There is no dark side of the moon, really. It’s all dark.” If your system’s up to the task, you’ll hear it.

Frank Doris

Frank Doris is the chief cook & bottle washer for Frank Doris/Public Relations and works with a
number of audio & music industry clients. He’s a professional guitarist and a vinyl enthusiast with
multiple turntables and thousands of records.

Forrest Gump

Forrest Gump

It’s time for another anniversary re-release review here at Cineluxe. Forrest Gump recently received a 25th-anniversary 4K HDR makeover, and is available on 4K Blu-ray disc as well as for download from the Kaleidescape Store, which is how I enjoyed it.


I remember watching Forrest in the theater at the time of its original release back in 1994 (and several times afterwards on both VHS and LaserDisc) and being blown away by its innovative use of CGI to create Forrest’s (Tom Hanks) incredible life. Industrial Light and Magic used CGI in a way unlike any other film at that time—from the feather that floats and dances around at both the beginning and end of the film, to Forrest shaking hands with a number of former presidents at the White House or standing behind Governor Wallace on the steps of Alabama University, to removing Lieutenant Dan’s (Gary Sinise) legs so convincingly that I actually thought Sinise was legless.


Today, we take CGI imagery for granted, with filmmakers able to create entire worlds (à la Disney’s recent “live action” Lion King remake), but in 1994, Forrest Gump was an effects tour de force that didn’t feel like you were watching a movie driven by effects. This was a case of the technology being used to help tell the story and immerse you in Forrest’s life, instead of being the story.


At its heart, Forrest Gump is really a pretty simple film—a life recapped in a series of flashback memories by Hanks while he’s sitting on a bench waiting for a bus. But it is heart—propelled by Hanks’ genuine and spot-on portrayal of Gump and by Robert Zemeckis’ deft directing—that makes the film still hold up after all these years.


There are actors who so inhabit roles that it’s impossible to imagine anyone else playing them—Robert Downey Jr. as Iron Man, Jennifer Lawrence as Katniss Everdeen, Harrison Ford as Han Solo and Indiana Jones. And Hanks’ portrayal of Gump certainly deserves to be on that list. From the first time he says, “My name is Forrest, Forrest Gump,” Hanks is Forrest, and there is no separating the two.


Hanks never uses Gump’s being “different” and his 75 IQ (borderline impaired) for laughs or for pity. Instead, he portrays him as curious, honest, and pure, always looking for the best in those around him. Ultimately Gump is driven by the desire to please people, but especially his loving and protecting mama (Sally Field); his best good friend, Bubba (Mykelti Williamson); his best gal, Jenny (Robin Wright); and his Vietnam officer-in-charge cum First Mate, Lt. Dan.


Due to Hanks’ portrayal, we never feel sorry for Forrest or even think about his IQ after it’s initially mentioned, but rather we root for him as he lives a bigger-than-life life where he just happens to be in all the right places at all the right times and displays his ability to run like the wind blows.


For the film’s 25th anniversary, Paramount created a true 4K scan of the original 35mm print and gave the audio a Dolby Atmos makeover. If I had to summarize the image quality of the new 4K HDR transfer in a word, it would be “uneven.” The images are mostly clean and sharp, and there are scenes where they look tack sharp with tons of detail; but other scenes are almost out of focus and lack real definition.


As with many film-to-4K transfers, closeups often show the real improvements in image quality, revealing the texture in curtains, drapes, bed linens, clothing, and actors’ faces. In an early scene where Forrest is being fitted with his leg braces—to help his back “being as crooked as a politician”—the tiny dots inside the plaid pattern of his shirt are clearly resolved.


It’s longer shots or things in the background that often don’t have the same sharpness and detail. Leaves on trees, fields of grass, and stalks of corn tend to look softer and less defined. The opening shots of the sky reveal a fair bit of noise and grain, 

which isn’t uncommon, since that particular shade of blue tends to wreak havoc with film capture. Also, a couple of scenes have some brief aliasing in fine edges. The archival footage is also very soft and definitely shows its age, especially when contrasted with the sharpness of the rest of the film.


HDR is used sparingly throughout, not really pushing dynamic-range boundaries. There are scenes where whites are fairly brilliant, such as the shoelaces in Forrest’s Nikes or the T-shirts worn in the Army barracks. The napalm strike in Vietnam benefits from the additional dynamics. Blacks are also deep and noise-free. Colors are rich and vibrant, such as the bright Crimson red jacket worn by Alabama’s football coach, Bear Bryant. The greens in Vietnam are also lush, with clear distinctions between the different shades of green in the uniforms, helmets, camouflage, canteens, weaponry, etc.; and the golden-orange sunset on the bayou looks beautiful.


Gump is known for its fantastic soundtrack, featuring nearly 50 songs that capture the sound and feel of the period. Thus, I had high hopes for the Dolby Atmos mix, but it’s even more restrained than the film’s use of HDR. The height speakers are used very sparingly throughout, coming into play to add some atmosphere like rumbling thunder, bird chirps, or some reverb to add space to the Washington

Forrest Gump

speech scene. A helicopter flyover in Vietnam is also mixed nicely into the height speakers.


Most of the soundtrack is mixed across the front three speakers, which gives the music nice separation, and keeps dialogue clear and understandable. The big Vietnam firefight has some bullets that whiz into the surround speakers and the hurricane scene pushes wind and the groaning ship out to the surrounds, but the mix is sonically tame by today’s standards.


Forrest Gump is an undeniable classic, ranking No. 76 on the AFI’s Top 100 list, and receiving 13 Academy Award nominations and taking home six statues for Best Picture, Directing, Actor in a Leading Role, Writing, Film Editing, and Visual Effects. In 2011, it was selected by the Library of Congress for preservation in the National Film Registry as being “culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant.” While this isn’t a perfect transfer, it retains all the heart and feel, and belongs in any film collection.


And that’s all I have to say about that.

John Sciacca

Probably the most experienced writer on custom installation in the industry, John Sciacca is
co-owner of Custom Theater & Audio in Murrells Inlet, South Carolina, & is known for his writing
for such publications as
 Residential Systems and Sound & Vision. Follow him on Twitter at

@SciaccaTweets and at

The Crown (Season 3)

The Crown (Season 3)

When Peter Morgan’s Netflix-original historical drama The Crown launched in 2016, it did so with an interesting conceit: In dramatizing the life of Queen Elizabeth II from 1947 to modern times, the cast would be replaced every two seasons to account for the roughly two-decade advance of the calendar. Season Three, which recently dropped on Netflix in its ten-episode entirety, is of course the first to feature such a complete re-casting.


It honestly never occurred to me that I might have a problem with this. But as Season Three approached, I realized just how smitten I had become with Claire Foy’s performance as Elizabeth and Vanessa Kirby’s brilliant turn as Princess Margaret. Trailers and clips of the new season, and interviews with its cast, left me cold. Made me a bit bitter, I’ll admit.


For anyone with similar concerns, let’s just go ahead and get this out of the way from the giddy-up: The new cast is fantastic. Olivia Colman manages to capture the essence of Queen Elizabeth II perfectly. Helena Bonham Carter is an absolute force of nature in the role of Princess Margaret. And I imagine Matt Smith is watching Tobias Menzies’ performance as Prince Philip right now with a tinge of envious respect. Simply put, the new cast has won me over completely, perhaps aided by the fact that John Lithgow returns ever-so-briefly as Winston Churchill (the only casting carry-over) to provide a bit of continuity to the whole affair.


It’s simply a shame that the writing this season doesn’t live up to the brilliance of the new cast. The thing I’ve always loved about The Crown—at least until the end of the second season—is that it was believable. I’m no Royalphile, mind you, so I’ve never really been bothered when the series had to take some liberties with reality to compress ten years’ worth of history into ten episodes of television. When it did so in its first two seasons, I rarely noticed.


The third season, though, takes such a turn for the tabloid that it strains the bounds of credulity. The second episode, “Margaretology,” in which Margaret attends a dinner at the White House in the midst of a vacation in the U.S., is one of the worst offenders in this respect. I have no doubt that a meeting between Princess Margaret and LBJ was a bawdy affair—by the standards of the day. The problem is that The Crown turns it into a bawdy affair by today’s standards, ripped right out of a 

modern revival of The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas, complete with a scandalous kiss on the mouth and an improvisational limerick contest so salacious I didn’t even need to fact-check it to know it didn’t happen.


As I said, I realize any dramatization of this sort is going to be at odds with reality from time to time.

The Crown (Season 3)

But a viewer’s reaction should be (and, speaking for myself alone here, was for the first two seasons) “Did that really happen?” not “There’s no way that happened.”


The third season so completely lost my trust by the end of the second episode that, had I not already committed to reviewing it, I would have cut my losses and kept my fond memories of the Claire Foy run of the series.


And that’s truly unfortunate, because The Crown is so beautifully made otherwise. The cinematography in particular has always been stunning, but reaches new heights of artistry this season, especially in the way it conveys the emotional isolation of Elizabeth. HDR is used brilliantly to create a tangible distinction between the interiors of Buckingham Palace and the sunlight of the outside word piercing through the windows, intruding on the space within but never able to fully illuminate it.


Set design, costume design, and all of the rest of the elements that contribute to the visual verisimilitude of this historical world are all captured wonderfully by the excellent 4K/HDR presentation. So, if you can stomach the unnecessary sensationalism of it all, you’re in for an absolute treat of a presentation worthy of the best home cinema setups.


My advice, though, if you haven’t seen any of The Crown yet, would be to watch the first two seasons and simply pretend that the series ends in early 1964 with the birth of Prince Edward. The third season of The Crown is gorgeous and brilliantly acted, sure, but simply ends up being too insulting to truly enjoy. The earlier seasons, imperfect as they may have been, deliver an emotionally fulfilling and interesting story, beautifully shot and wonderfully performed, and are still very much worth your time.

Dennis Burger

Dennis Burger is an avid Star Wars scholar, Tolkien fanatic, and Corvette enthusiast
who somehow also manages to find time for technological passions including high-
end audio, home automation, and video gaming. He lives in the armpit of 
Alabama with
his wife Bethany and their four-legged child Bruno, a 75-pound 
American Staffordshire
Terrier who thinks he’s a Pomeranian.

Every Room Deserves Great Acoustics

Every Room Deserves Great Acoustics

When most people think about good acoustics, the first area of a home that comes to mind is an entertainment room. The audio in this space should be pristine—from clear, intelligible dialogue to realistic, three-dimensional special effects. You feel as if you’re in the middle of the movie action, and proper acoustical engineering and treatment of the space contribute just as much as the equipment to delivering this experience. If the acoustics of the space are off, the listening experience will suffer.


To prevent this from happening, it’s important that a home theater include properly engineered and installed acoustics customized for the unique sonic attributes of the space. The floor, ceiling, walls, furnishings, etc. often require some level of modification to ensure that the movie audio sounds its very best, without reverberation, echo, or disruption from other sources of sound.


But why stop at the home theater? The same acoustical principles of a home theater can be applied in bedrooms, home offices, living rooms . . . really any space that suffers from unwanted external noise or acoustical conditions that conflict with the intelligibility of conversations. Just as a noisy heating and cooling unit can distract you from the plot of a movie, it can be a

literal nightmare when you’re trying to get a good night’s sleep.


And that’s just brushing the surface of the annoying sounds that can plague a household. Homes of all sizes and designs can be affected by excessive noise, lack of sound privacy, and an abundance of sound propagation.


Think about the things you hear at home on a daily basis: A delivery truck backing out of a neighbor’s driveway, the lawn maintenance crew working at the park across the street, barking dogs, the thump of the home gym treadmill at 5 a.m., and the incessant beat of your son’s garage band are just some of the many examples. They all add up to a lot of racket—most of which you’d probably rather not hear or at least muffle a bit. An acoustical engineer can minimize these audible distractions from any area of the house—not just the home theater.


Years ago, all of this commotion may have fallen on deaf ears. Most people worked in an office outside of the home, went to the neighborhood cinema to catch a show, and worked out at the gym. Today, though, we are home a lot, 

using it for a myriad of activities besides just eating and sleeping. We work in home offices, exercise in home gyms, entertain in home theaters, dine in gourmet kitchens, and shop online—subject to all of the audible chaos in and around the home. We cringe when the kids arrive home during a conference call, cover our ears during our son’s gaming marathon, and wait until the baby wakes up from a nap to throw in a load of laundry. Noise can disrupt our lives in so many ways. Thankfully, proper acoustical treatments applied by a professional can help.


Often, the remedy necessitates a structural modification of the ceiling or walls. Most homes are built in a way that allows sound to easily transfer from one room to another. Sheetrock is attached directly to studs and joists, which allows sound to move from one material to the next, one room to another. Separating these surfaces through the addition of isolation clips and hangers mitigates the sound propagation. It’s an expense, certainly, and more easily implemented during the construction of a home, but there’s no better way to preserve your sleep and sanity.


Other, less extreme remedies to tame the propagation of sound throughout a home involve adding aesthetically pleasing sound absorption materials to a room, such as acoustical plaster on the ceiling surface, fabric on the walls, specialty ceiling tiles, and even furnishings. If it’s sound from outside that’s bothering you, thicker, double-pane windows and heavy draperies can help.


Sound quality has an impact on more than just our ability to become fully immersed in a movie. It’s part of our everyday life, in good ways and bad ways. We might like how our audio system sounds in our home theater, but we’d rather not hear it in the bedroom upstairs. The same goes for other noises. They’re a part of the house and our lifestyle, but left untreated, they can interfere with work, play, and even our health. A professionally trained and experienced acoustical engineer can make these issues disappear, creating a more peaceful and healthy home environment.

Steve Haas

Steve Haas is the Principal Consultant of SH Acoustics, with offices in the NYC & LA
areas. He has been a leading acoustic and audio design & calibration expert for more
than 25 years in high-end spaces ranging from home theaters, studios, and live music
rooms to major museums and performance venues.

Cineluxe Trendsetters: Ed Gilmore

Ed Gilmore’s company, Gilmore’s Sound Advice, is known as one of the premier luxury integration firms in the intensely competitive New York City market. In business since 1991, it has seen high-end integration evolve dramatically, moving well 

beyond AV, as things like automated lights and shades and whole-house automation have come to the fore.


Given the notorious space constraints on even the most luxurious Big Apple spaces, Ed has had to be inventive when creating high-performance entertainment rooms, adapting the standards of reference-quality home theaters to limited, non-traditional areas—a resourcefulness amply on display in the innovative Tribeca loft profiled here.


Clients can get a taste of that same inventiveness at the Sound Advice showroom, located near the Hudson River in Manhattan’s midtown. A former art storage vault that mimics the layout of a typical upscale loft, the space displays cutting-edge solutions to typical urbanite living issues, including a large open-plan living area featuring a massive Planar video wall.


In the interview above, Ed talks about the emerging trends of voice control and “tunable” lighting, the misguided reliance on apps to control complex home systems, the importance of digital room correction, the premature launch of 8K, and the promise of video walls.


Disney+ and the Return of the Water Cooler

Disney + & the Return of the Water Cooler

As Game of Thrones ended its eight-year run earlier this year, the web was flooded with stories about its cultural significance, with many outlets predicting that it would be the last “water cooler” TV series. In other words, as our viewing habits shift more and more toward streaming, many said, we would be missing out on those big shared cultural experiences that have dominated popular entertainment for decades.


Popular though it may be, it’s hard to really discuss Stranger Things on an episode-by-episode basis when entire seasons are dumped into our laps at once, with some of us binging in one day, some moseying toward the end in a more relaxed weekend, and others sipping each new season an episode at a time over the course of weeks or months, long past the point 

where any meaningful discussion has fizzled.


We’ve become so accustomed to this binge-watching delivery of new series that when Disney announced a more traditional, weekly release schedule for its serialized Disney+ exclusives, the internet was sorta shocked. Some instantly leapt to the most cynical assumption possible—that Disney+ didn’t want subscribers signing up for a month, burning through what they wanted to watch, then canceling. The truth turns out to be a little less sinister: Entire seasons of its launch shows simply aren’t finished and ready to be binged just yet.


But never mind the reasoning behind this decision to forgo the binge model. What I’m more interested in are the effects. The day Disney+ launched back in November, all anyone in my friend circle could talk about was The Mandalorian, the new weekly Star Wars series set between Return of the Jedi and The Force Awakens. That was to be expected. It’s the new and shiny Star Wars thing, and most of my friends were champing at the bit to watch it.


Then the next Friday rolled around, and my chat groups 

and Facebook newsfeed were once again dominated by discussions of The Mandalorian. And the Friday after that. And the Friday after that. And throughout all of these discussions, there has persisted a fundamental assumption that everyone has seen the most recent episode—that we’re all on the same page—to a degree I can’t remember since the advent of the DVR.


Last Friday, my wife and I had friends in from out of town, which meant we would had to put off watching Episode Five of The Mandalorian, “The Gunslinger,” until later in the weekend. What hadn’t really occurred to me is that this also meant I would need to mute all of my chat channels, opt out of Facebook, and eschew Reddit completely (even subreddits totally unrelated 

to Star Wars or Disney+) until I was caught up. Not so much out of fear of being spoiled, but more because I wouldn’t have a clue what anyone was talking (or memeing) about.


And it’s not merely The Mandalorian that’s creating this sort of phenomenon. While my main friend circle consists mostly of Star Wars geeks, I have 

Disney+ & the Return of the Water Cooler

The Imagineering Story

another, sizeable friend group that would be better described as Disney nerds. And their current idea of appointment TV is The Imagineering Story, a documentary series whose sixth and final episode airs (umm . . . streams) this weekend.


For my Marvel-loving friends, I can say with near certainty that The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, WandaVision, What If . . ?, and other ongoing series in the months and years to come will similarly dominate the pop culture conversation in similarly sustained ways.


Of course, all of this creates something of a problem for those of us who’ve gotten into the habit of examining an entire 6- or 10- or 12-episode run of a TV show and evaluating its merits as a complete work. That’s why you haven’t seen me reviewing The Mandalorian here on Cineluxe, because much as I’ve loved it so far, I honestly can’t tell you yet if it’ll hold up to scrutiny once this season has wrapped.


Does that really matter, though? The show could completely flub the landing in its season finale (which debuts just after Christmas) and it would still have merit in the way it’s brought me and my friends closer together, giving us something to discuss on an ongoing basis that isn’t politics or doctor’s appointments.


And to be completely fair, I should point out that, in the larger discussion about the end of Game of Thrones and the water-cooler discussion that ended along with it, not every pundit saw it as the end of an era. In a piece with the unwieldy title Game of Thrones doesn’t mark the end of appointment TV—Hollywood always gives viewers what they want,” Alex Sherman predicted the Disney+ release model way before Disney announced it. “Netflix has upended TV watching by giving consumers what they want—lower prices, no commercials, entire season releases,” he said. “But as long as consumers want shared viewing experiences (and they do), streaming platforms will come around and begin to offer them.”


I doubt Sherman would have guessed that his prediction would come to pass so quickly, or in quite this form, but with subscriptions predicted to hit 20 million (on par with the 19.6 million people who viewed the finale of Game of Thrones legally) and a reported 43 percent of Americans expressing some level of interest in signing up at some point, it’s pretty safe to say that Disney+ has brought the water cooler back again. 

Dennis Burger

Dennis Burger is an avid Star Wars scholar, Tolkien fanatic, and Corvette enthusiast
who somehow also manages to find time for technological passions including high-
end audio, home automation, and video gaming. He lives in the armpit of 
Alabama with
his wife Bethany and their four-legged child Bruno, a 75-pound 
American Staffordshire
Terrier who thinks he’s a Pomeranian.



We’ve been inundated with new origin stories over the past few years. We’ve had Spider-Man, the Joker, and now . . . Santa Claus? There is, of course, the historical origin story, which likely begins in what is now Turkey, with influence from Scandinavia and Coca-Cola. In movies, Santa pops up quite a bit, although there are only a few notable films that address

where he comes from (the most popular being the stop-motion Rankin/Bass film Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town from 1970).


Klaus, the first original animated movie Netflix has released, is a brand-new take on the Santa story. It was conceived, written, and directed by Sergio Pablos, who is best known as the animator and creator of the Despicable 

Me franchise. The Klaus story follows the privileged son of the head postmaster, Jesper (Jason Schwartzman), as he is tasked to establish a post office in the remote island town of Smeerensburg (an intentional misspelling of the actual Dutch town of Smeerenburg) and postmark 6,000 letters or risk being ostracized from the family and his indulgent lifestyle.


As he arrives, he is made aware by the sardonic boatman Mogens (Norm MacDonald) that the dreary, snowy, northern town is inhabited by two extended families that have been feuding for centuries. They have no interest in speaking to one another, let alone carrying out a lengthy written correspondence. But moods in town begin to change, starting with the children, after Jesper meets Klaus (J.K. Simmons) and the two brighten up the lives of the children by delivering toys. This must be done in secret, lest they be discovered spreading joy and goodwill by the angry adults.


As their mission continues and they evade capture, the legend of Klaus grows, giving explanation to all the traditional Santa Claus lore—flying reindeer, coming down the chimney, Santa’s elves—in new, interesting ways. While most of Klaus is based in the expected rules of our own world, there are some mystical elements that keep the story of Santa magical. The movie is beautifully heartfelt with some lovely tear-jerking moments, and shows how ingrained negative philosophies can be changed with just one new generation of open minds. Speaking as a father, there are moments that toddlers might find scary, but the overall message is an excellent one.


The 4K animation is gorgeous with excellent detail in the character design and scenery. The 2D style is beautifully shaded to give a feel of 3D, and the use of color throughout serves the story and helps to drive the narrative. While the HDR doesn’t deliver the bright highlights you might see in something like Blade Runner 2049, the increase in bit depth and color gamut add to the intensity of the animation. Even if the story is of little interest to you, the animation will completely draw you in.


The 5.1 Dolby surround mix supports the storytelling without being obtrusive. There were a few moments where the dialogue moved away from the center channel to follow whoever is speaking that were a bit more drastic than I expected. For most of the film, though, the sound did an excellent job conveying the changing atmosphere of Smeerensburg.


Klaus is a joyful new take on Santa and, at least in our house, has already earned its place in our list of yearly holiday movies.

John Higgins

John Higgins lives a life surrounded by audio. When he’s not writing for Cineluxe, IGN,
Wirecutter, he’s a professional musician and sound editor for TV/film. During his down
time, he’s watching Star Wars or learning from his toddler son, Neil.