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Review: Klaus

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Klaus (2019)

review | Klaus

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Netflix’ new animation division gets off to a good start with this vividly rendered origin story

by John Higgins
December 8, 2019

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

PICTURE |  The 4K animation is gorgeous with excellent detail in the character design and scenery, and with HDR adding to the intensity of the animation

SOUND | The 5.1 Dolby surround mix supports the storytelling without being obtrusive, with the sound doing an excellent job of conveying the changing atmosphere of the movie’s mythical Dutch town

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Review: Hustle

Hustle (2022)

review | Hustle

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Adam Sandler turns in another solid dramatic performance in this tale of a down-on-his-luck basketball scout

by Roger Kanno
June 23, 2022

Most people know Adam Sandler from his days at Saturday Night Live or his many comedic film roles since the 1990s. But, in 2019, he starred in the fantastic Safdie Brothers’ drama Uncut Gems, receiving critical acclaim for his portrayal of a gambling-addicted jeweler. He is following up this career-defining performance with another dramatic role in Hustle, this time playing a down-on-his-luck scout and sometime assistant coach for the NBA’s Philadelphia 76ers. And while he might still be best known for his often low-brow comedies, it should be remembered that Sandler has had other successful turns as a dramatic actor in The Meyerowitz Stories (New and Selected) and Punch-Drunk Love.

Produced by Sandler and Lebron James among others, Hustle features appearances by many current and past NBA players, coaches, and sports analysts. Sandler turns in another compelling and nuanced dramatic performance as Stanley Sugerman, a scout tasked with the nearly impossible assignment of discovering the next star player the team needs to compete for a championship. He does this while maintaining his easy-going charm, and while being supported by his strong but loving wife, played convincingly by Queen Latifah, and his daughter, an aspiring film-student, played by relative newcomer, Jordan Hull. The main antagonist, the 76ers’ top executive (Ben Foster), is a bit one-dimensional in his dislike of Sugerman and contrary views on player development, but otherwise the plot is solid and compelling. 

The NBA personalities mostly play themselves and are used sparingly, although former player and current analyst Kenny Smith is believable as a super-agent and Sugerman’s good friend, Leon Rich. But the film would not have worked without the credible performance of Juancho Hernangómez as Bo Cruz, the player Sugerman discovers in Spain and convinces to return with him to the US in hopes of entering him in the draft. Hernangómez is a professional basketball player, currently with the Utah Jazz, but he captures Cruz’s naivety and ultimately strong but untested character as a young, developing player. Also deserving of praise is Anthony Edwards, the 2020 first overall draft pick and star player for the Minnesota Timberwolves, who plays Kermit Wilts. While most of his dialogue is delivered in the context of on-court activities, his portrayal of a cocky, trash-talking player is convincing. You don’t have to be a basketball or even a sports fan to enjoy this film, but you will enjoy it all the more if you are. 

The picture quality of Hustle isn’t very memorable, but in a good way. It isn’t so over-the-top and eye-catching to draw unnecessary attention to itself, nor is it so poor that it distracts from the narrative. Presented in Dolby Vision, the visuals are sharp and detailed, although the color palette is a bit on the cool side and lacks some saturation. This suits the film, as it takes place mostly in grittier locations around Philadelphia such as training facilities or Sugerman’s middle-class neighborhood even though the film is about the big business of professional basketball. It’s not exactly Rocky-esque, even though it takes some cues from that film, but the subdued visual presentation is fitting.

Although it is presented in Dolby Atmos, there isn’t much use of the height or even the surround channels, but music is used effectively throughout, especially during the many exhilarating basketball sequences. When Sugerman first sees Cruz, hustling at a pickup game, some extremely catchy percussion from the score by contemporary composer Dan Deacon accompanies the insane baller action. There are also a lot of great rap songs and even some cool jazz featuring Meek Mill, Rick Ross, Outkast, Slick Rick, and the Miles Davis Quintet.

Hustle is a fine collaboration between Sandler and Netflix. It might not be as engrossing as the nail-biting Uncut Gems but it is a satisfying and uplifting film, showcasing genuine performances by Sandler and Hernangómez.

Roger Kanno began his life-long interest in home cinema almost three decades ago with a collection of LaserDiscs and a Dolby Surround Pro Logic system. Since then, he has seen a lot of movies in his home theater but has an equal fascination with high-end stereo music systems. Roger writes for both Sound & Vision and the SoundStage! Network.

PICTURE | Presented in Dolby Vision, the visuals are sharp and detailed, although the color palette is a bit on the cool side and lacks some saturation

SOUND | Although presented in Dolby Atmos, there isn’t much use of the height or even the surround channels, but music is used effectively throughout

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Review: Operation Mincemeat

review | Operation Mincemeat

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A young Ian Fleming is a key character is this well-done Netflix presentation of a real-life WWII spy tale

by Roger Kanno
May 16, 2022

Operation Mincemeat is a gripping historical drama based on the book of the same name by Ben Macintyre. It recounts the tale of a World War II British spy mission to deceive German forces into believing an Allied invasion would occur on the shores of Greece to conceal an actual landing planned for Sicily. The covert plan was based on an idea contained in the top-secret “Trout Memo,” reportedly written by British naval intelligence officer Ian Fleming. Yes, that Ian Fleming, the one who later went on to write the James Bond novels and whose character plays a supporting role in the film and provides the narration. The film premiered at the British Film Festival in Australia in November 2021, was released in the UK on April 15, 2022, and began streaming on Netflix on May 11.

Lieutenant Commander Ewen Montagu (Colin Firth) and Flight Lieutenant Charles Cholmondeley (Matthew Macfadyen) develop a plan to plant false papers on a corpse disguised as a fictitious British airman, Major William Martin, in the hopes German intelligence will intercept the fake documents. To make the deception more believable, Montagu, Cholmondeley, and their team create an entire false identity for Martin. Watching the meticulous process of developing that fabricated identity is both fascinating and revealing of the characters and of the team’s dynamic.

Firth and Macfadyen are excellent as the leaders of the team, but Kelly Macdonald and Penelope Wilton flesh out the storyline as Jean Leslie and Hester Legget respectively, the women recruited to provide support to the team. Both Macdonald and Wilton manage to steal many scenes as they reveal the strength of their characters and their importance to the development of the operation. The direction by John Madden (Shakespeare In Love, Best Exotic Marigold Hotel) is solid, although a few plot elements, such as romantic tensions between the team members, seem slightly forced at times. Otherwise, he keeps the story flowing at a good pace and there was enough suspense and tension to keep me absorbed in the film without overwhelming me. 

The film was shot in ArriRaw at 4.5K and mastered in 4K, and the DolbyVision presentation on Netflix has a pleasingly natural appearance. Scenes involving a submarine during a nighttime storm were challenging, but the breaking waves and driving rain looked crisp and well-defined even in the low light. Another particularly demanding scene has Montagu walking through pitch darkness with a lantern illuminating a circle of light around him. The picture remained solid and finely detailed as the nature of the light changed when it was reflected off the uneven ground, creating rapidily changing shadows. 

Interior shots often exhibit a sepia tone, providing a vintage look appropriate to the film’s setting of nearly a century ago. When the scenes shift to outdoors, the picture takes on a slightly cool, bluish hue. In a garden scene where intelligence officers, including Fleming, meet with Prime Minister Churchill, the collars of their crisply pressed white shirts are bathed in the pale blue light. This lighting gave their black wool coats and felt hats a slightly lighter hue, but there was exquisite detail in the stitching and fibers of the materials. 

From the opening suspenseful music mixed with thunderously crashing waves and howling wind, the sound design of Operation Mincemeat is engaging and active even though it’s presented in standard 5.1 audio. The stark clacking of typewriter keys is used as an effective device to introduce scenes, along with the dry, matter-of-fact delivery of the narration by actor/musician Johnny Flynn who plays Fleming. The score is atmospheric and involving, but music is also used to punctuate the onscreen action as when Montagu and his team visit a Soho club and the jazzy tones of a saxophone and a moody piano fill the air. A big band plays later in the scene and is limited primarily to the front speakers, but the sounds of indistinct conversations emanate subtly from the surrounds, creating an effective sense of envelopment.

I was pleasantly surprised by Operation Mincemeat. The picture and sound aren’t quite reference quality but they are still very good, and combined with the film’s compelling narrative, make this one of Netflix’s better recent releases.  

Roger Kanno began his life-long interest in home cinema almost three decades ago with a collection of LaserDiscs and a Dolby Surround Pro Logic system. Since then, he has seen a lot of movies in his home theater but has an equal fascination with high-end stereo music systems. Roger writes for both Sound & Vision and the SoundStage! Network.

PICTURE | The DolbyVision presentation on Netflix has a pleasingly natural appearance, even if it isn’t quite reference-quality

SOUND | The sound design is engaging and active even though it’s presented in standard 5.1 audio

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Review: Apollo 10 1/2: A Space Age Childhood

Apollo 10 1/2: A Space Age Adventure

review | Apollo 10 1/2: A Space Age Childhood

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Richard Linklater uses animation to tell this semi-autobiographical tale of growing up in Houston during the Apollo program

by Dennis Burger
April 7, 2022

There was a moment, maybe six minutes into Richard Linklater’s Apollo 10½: A Space Age Childhood, where I felt I’d been had. The film seemed to part ways not only with the premise sold to me in the trailer but also from the conceits built into the opening scenes. But I was wrong about that; I hadn’t been deceived. Instead, I’d been pulled into something far more compelling than anything hinted at by the film’s marketing—something that, quite frankly, I’m glad I didn’t have to figure out how to market. 

To understand what I’m on about here, it might be helpful if you pause for a second and watch the trailer for Apollo 10½ (which we’ve embedded below for your convenience). But if you’re in more of a reading than a watching mood, here’s the gist: It’s the late ’60s, and NASA has a problem on its hands that can only be solved by a brainy fourth-grader. The first lunar lander has been built too small and they need this kid to do a trial run of the moon landing before the actual event. 

It’s a cute premise for a fantasy film and exactly the sort of story I would trust Linklater to get right. But Apollo 10½ is not that film. That plot thread takes up nearly no more time in the actual narrative than it does in the trailer. Instead, the bulk of the story is a semi-autobiographical reminiscence about Linklater’s childhood in Houston during the Apollo era, with the young character Stan (and his adult self, voiced by Jack Black) serving as Linklater’s self-insert. It’s not exactly a love letter to a specific time and place, but more of a time capsule.

And it was that realization that made my heart sink a bit, because nostalgic romps of this sort have not only been done to death—in everything from the original Wonder Years to Netflix’ short-lived Everything Sucks!—but also often function as nothing more than cheap dopamine fixes on the one hand or circus sideshows on the other. But with Apollo 10½, Linklater manages to do nostalgia right by never leaning too hard on lazy revisionism or rose-colored glasses. It seems to me that what he’s trying to say is, “This is, to the best of my memory, what it felt like to live in the world I grew up in. These are the experiences that shaped me. But keep in mind that memory is fallible and storytellers always have a penchant for spit and polish.” 

Perhaps my favorite thing about the film is that, with a runtime of just 98 minutes, it feels deliberately and perfectly paced. And this is despite the fact that it occasionally lapses into seemingly meaningless digressions, such as the two minutes spent exploring meal planning and the ways in which Stan’s mom would recycle Saturday’s baked ham into the rest of the week’s leftovers. 

It takes a bit to realize that such episodes aren’t digressions, though, but the entire point of the film. Because more than anything else, Apollo 10½ is about the weird little details of our youth that stick with us into middle age and beyond. It’s also about what it feels like to live through a moment in history and how our recollections are colored as much by cultural perspective as by actual events. 

Apollo 10½ is the third film Linklater has shot live-action and then animated over, following A Scanner Darkly and Waking Life. Creatively speaking, the use of rotoscoping here is at least as legitimate as it was in those films, and in some ways more so. Much of this one involves people watching screens—either cinema screens or the communal family-room TV—and different animation techniques are employed to make subtle distinctions between fantasy and history within the context of this fantastically historical film. 

It also serves as a subconscious reminder that engaging with a moving image isn’t the same as engaging with reality, even if what’s being shown on the screen is ostensibly non-fiction. But then there’s also this really neat unspoken rumination on the allure of speculative fiction and popular culture and how it can all feel more meaningful in the moment than a straightforward account of actual fact. 

Whether the animation works for you or not as a narrative device, there’s no denying that Netflix’ Dolby Vision presentation is flawless, even when the animation itself isn’t. There isn’t an expansive color palette to capture here, but shadow detail is always fantastic (and occasionally crucial to the experience of the story), and the imagery is clean, tight, crisp, and well-detailed throughout. I didn’t spot a single artifact in the presentation that could be attributed to its streaming bitrates.

It’s a shame I don’t have such glowing praise for the Dolby Atmos soundtrack. It’s honestly the one aspect of Apollo 10½ about which I’m not absolutely gaga. Music and sound effects are so aggressively mixed and fire-hosed over every surface of the room that it’s frankly distracting. Jack Black’s narration also gets deprioritized in the mix far too often at the expense of aural whizz-bangery that just doesn’t fit the film’s aesthetic, mood, or intent. And the 5.1 mix isn’t much less abusive. 

On my second watch-through (I couldn’t resist going back for seconds), I decided to downmix the 5.1 to stereo, and the entire film worked much better. But don’t let my curmudgeonly attitudes toward Atmos scare you off. It’s a minor annoyance that frankly wouldn’t have bothered me nearly as much if the rest of the experience hadn’t been so wonderfully gratifying. If we make it to the end of 2022 without Apollo 10½ standing high on my list of the year’s best films, I’ll be shocked. 

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.

PICTURE | Netflix’ Dolby Vision presentation is flawless, even when the animation itself isn’t. Shadow detail is always fantastic and the imagery is clean, tight, crisp, and well-detailed throughout.

SOUND | The music and sound effects are so aggressively mixed and fire-hosed over every surface of the room that the Atmos track is ultimately distracting

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Review: The Adam Project

The Adam Project (2022)

review | The Adam Project

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This latest Ryan Reynolds/Shawn Levy collaboration might not be Free Guy but it makes for a family-friendly action comedy

by Roger Kanno
March 23, 2022

Netflix’ latest big-budget feature, The Adam Project, is brought to you by director Shawn Levy and star Ryan Reynolds, the same people who created Free Guy. In this family-friendly action-comedy, Reynolds plays Adam Reed, who travels back in time to save his wife and fellow time pilot while enlisting the help of his childhood self along the way. It’s not of the same caliber as Back to the Future—no time-travel film has yet come close to equaling that Robert Zemeckis classic—nor is it as much fun as Free Guy, but Reynolds is his usual engaging self and Levy’s direction and the overall production is polished and proficient.  

The fast-talking, almost constant banter from Reynolds can become a bit much at times, but there are plenty of exhilarating action scenes to keep the film moving along at a nice clip. And although it is mostly family-friendly, it’s rated PG-13, so there is some cursing and it does get more serious and a little sentimental part way through. There is excellent support from Mark Ruffalo and Jennifer Garner as Adam’s parents. They don’t capture the chemistry they had in 13 Going on 30, but they too are their usual appealing selves. Netflix has produced some excellent dramas recently—The Irishman, Uncut Gems, and Roma among others come to mind—but their blockbuster action films have not yet been able to equal the success of those dramas. Nonetheless, The Adam Project is an amusing diversion even if it fails to break any new ground. 

Contributing to the enjoyment is how wonderful it looks on a high-quality display. There are a few instances where the Dolby Vision picture streamed from Netflix broke up slightly, such as scenes with explosions and a lot of smoke and fire filling the screen, but these were infrequent. Much of the film takes place during overcast days or at night, but the lighting always remained consistent and natural with extremely dark black shadows and excellent HDR details. For instance, as the young Adam walks through a forest at night, objects directly in the beam of his flashlight are perfectly illuminated, while reflected light reveals a lot of detail in faces and background objects. So while the scene is very dark overall, there are still plenty of visual cues such as the dampness of the glistening undergrowth. Then when he stumbles upon the time jet’s crash site, the glowing embers gently falling from the tree tops really pop against the dimly lit, starry sky.  

Many of the scenes exhibit a stylized blue-green tinge, and the picture has a somewhat soft character, giving the movie an almost film-like quality as opposed to the hyper-detailed look of a lot of films shot on digital. While the lighting is extremely natural and captures the languid beauty of cloudy skies and misty outdoor locations shot in the Pacific Northwest, the CGI time-jet scenes can be a little over the top and look cartoonish, although that suits the light-hearted nature of the film.

The sound design is also first-rate and presented in a satisfying and enveloping manner in Dolby Atmos with aggressively mixed action sequences often accompanied by great classic rock songs. This movie might not elicit the urge to create a mixtape as with Guardians of the Galaxy and its memorable soundtrack, but I couldn’t help but bob my head and tap my toes as Steve Winwood belted out the vocals from “Gimme Some Lovin’” during the time-jet dogfighting scenes. The final fight scene features hand-to-hand combat choreographed to Boston’s “Foreplay/Long Time” and judicious use of the surround and height channels, so the constant action is all around with some very deep bass effects to make your audio system really rumble. 

I’m really looking forward to the more adult, upcoming R-rated collaboration between Levy and Reynolds in Deadpool 3. In the meantime, the extremely active Dolby Atmos surround mix and excellent visuals delivered in Dolby Vision, help make The Adam Project an entertaining movie to enjoy with the family.  

Roger Kanno began his life-long interest in home cinema almost three decades ago with a collection of LaserDiscs and a Dolby Surround Pro Logic system. Since then, he has seen a lot of movies in his home theater but has an equal fascination with high-end stereo music systems. Roger writes for both Sound & Vision and the SoundStage! Network.

PICTURE | The Dolby Vision image looks wonderful, with extremely black shadows and excellent HDR details, although scenes with smoke and fire can cause it to break up slightly

SOUND | The Atmos mix presents the first-rate sound design in a satisfying and enveloping manner, with aggressively mixed action sequences often accompanied by great classic rock songs

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Review: Our Planet

Our Planet (2019)

review | Our Planet

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This Richard Attenborough nature documentary for Netflix stretches the boundaries of 4K HDR on streaming

by Dennis Burger
April 9, 2019

It’s been barely more than a year since beloved natural historian Sir David Attenborough took viewers on another romp around the natural world in Blue Planet II, so for some it may seem a little soon for another such epic journey. After all, Attenborough’s tentpole nature documentary series tend to follow big technological leaps, either in terms of presentation (HD, 4K, HDR, etc.) or exploration (e.g. the Nadir and Deep Rover submersibles employed in Blue Planet II). 

Needless to say, we haven’t made such quantum leaps in the past calendar year. For the most part, what sets the new Netflix original Our Planet apart from its predecessors isn’t technological (although its heavy reliance on 4K drones does mean that we get to witness the wonders of the natural world from a new perspective at times). No, for the most part, what sets this series apart is its intent and the prominence of its message.

Since the 1980s, Attenborough’s documentaries—at least the big “event” series—have been largely subtle in their environmental and conservational messaging. A summary sentence here or there; maybe a wrap-up episode that connected the dots and spelled out how human activity has threatened and continues to threaten the fragile ecosystems around our pale blue dot. 

With Our Planet (and its accompanying hour-long making-of special), that message takes center stage—which isn’t to say that Attenborough dwells on it constantly. Large swaths of the eight-episode series are devoted to the drama, heartbreak, and hilarity of the natural world. Show a ten-minute clip from the middle of any given episode to your dad and he might be hard-pressed to tell it from an old episode of Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom if not for the stunningly modern cinematography and deliciously dynamic Dolby Atmos sound mix. 

But Attenborough does a great job of priming the pump here, setting the stage in such a way that you can’t help but meditate on how much of nature relies on delicate, precarious balances, and how those balances are undeniably being thrown out of whack. One example: It’s one thing to be told that arctic sea ice is on the wane. It’s another altogether to see with your own eyes how that’s affecting the wildlife in the region. At the other end of the globe, we also see how diminishing sea ice around Antarctica is disrupting eating, mating, and migration patterns of everything from seals to penguins to humpback whales. 

Even if that message doesn’t resonate with you, it’s impossible to deny that Our Planet is an absolute feast for the eyes. Presented in 4K with both Dolby Vision and HDR10 (depending on which HDR format your system supports), the series is one of the most striking video demos I’ve ever laid eyes on—in any format. The high dynamic range is used to enhance everything from the iridescent shimmer of orchid bees to the fluorescent glow of algae growing underneath sea ice, and while we’ll likely never know how much better (if at all) it could look if released on full-bandwidth UHD Blu-ray or via Kaleidescape, one thing is for certain: This streaming series manages to surpass the already mind-blowing video presentation of Blue Planet II on any format, streaming or not, and that’s mostly due to its stunning HDR mastering and grading. 

There are times when the contrasts and highlights are so rich and nuanced and the imagery so detailed that your brain just can’t help but interpret the picture as glasses-free 3D. Individual snowflakes fall through the back of the frame, reflecting stray sparkles of sunlight without a hint of lost definition or clarity. If not for the liberal application of slow-motion, you’d swear you were looking out a window. Only the appearance of some very occasional, subtle, fleeting, almost imperceptible banding in the underwater sequences of the second episode give the slightest clue that this isn’t uncompressed video.

The audio is mostly fantastic, as well. For a nature documentary, the surround effects can be startlingly aggressive but they’re never egregious and are always used for the purposes of immersion, not merely spectacle. If I have a slight beef, it’s that the Dolby Digital+ encoding doesn’t quite fully capture the nuanced timbres of Sir Attenborough’s inimitable voice in the way I suspect Dolby TrueHD would. 

As mentioned above, the series is also among the rare Netflix offerings to be accompanied by bonus features—in this case, a behind-the-scenes documentary that sheds light on how so many of the stunning images within were captured. The series was four years in the making and involved 3,365 filming days at 200 locations, with a total of 6,000 drone flights and 991 days at sea. With only an hour to play with, the behind-the-scenes doc can’t dig into all of the high-tech trials and tribulations of the filming but it’s enough to scratch your curious itch and answer most of the biggest “How did they film that?!” questions you might have.

In the end, it’s difficult for me, a nearly fanatical David Attenborough devotee, to come to terms with the fact that Our Planet could conceivably be the last of his major earth-spanning natural history mini-series. He is, after all, approaching the age of 93. As such, and when taking into consideration the urgency with which he delivers his message here, it’s hard not to view this series as a potential swan song. If that be the case, I couldn’t imagine a finer farewell, nor a more fitting final lesson from the man who has done so much to entertain, inform, and enlighten us about the wonders of the natural world for the better part of half a century. To call this one “essential viewing” may be the biggest understatement I’ve ever typed. 

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.

PICTURE | This streaming series surpasses the already mind-blowing video presentation of Blue Planet II on any format, streaming or not, thanks mostly to its stunning HDR mastering and grading.

SOUND | For a nature documentary, the surround effects can be startlingly aggressive, but they’re never egregious and instead are used for the purposes of immersion, not merely spectacle

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Review: The Lost Daughter

The Lost Daughter (2021)

review | The Lost Daughter

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Maggie Gyllenhaal’s directorial debut may be uncomfortable to watch, both emotionally & visually, but proves worth the investment

by Roger Kanno
March 14, 2022

Maggie Gyllenhaal is known for taking chances as an actor. She has portrayed diverse characters in a variety of genres from blockbusters like The Dark Knight to art-house films such as Secretary and the critically acclaimed Crazy Heart. And she continues to take chances, but this time as a first-time director and the screenwriter of The Lost Daughter, based on the novel of the same name by Elena Ferrante. This unnerving psychological drama stars Olivia Coleman as Leda, a literature professor on holiday in Greece who develops a strange fascination with a young mother, Nina (Dakota Johnson) and her daughter, Elena (Athena Martin). And in a series of flashbacks, we see how the young Leda, played by Jessie Buckley, struggled in raising her two daughters and how observing Nina interacting with Elena stirs up painful memories.

Scenes with the young Leda and her daughters are often difficult to watch as she wrestles to reconcile her yearnings for freedom with the love she feels for them. Buckley is certainly deserving of her Oscar nomination for this film, but previous Oscar-winner Coleman, who is again nominated for her portrayal of Leda, is uncannily convincing as the socially awkward and tormented mother. You can feel the discomfort seething below her character’s surface as she reacts to the actions of others with a mild look of disdain or scorn that masks a much deeper, psychological pain. There are other fine performances including a memorably poignant turn by Ed Harris as the caretaker of the vacation property who tries to befriend Leda and Peter Sarsgaard, Gyllenhaal’s real-life husband who plays a highly regarded literary colleague from Leda’s past.

Fellow Cineluxe reviewer Dennis Burger lamented that the loving cinematography of Paul Thomas Anderson’s Licorice Pizza, which was shot on 35mm film, suffers from a lackluster 1080p SDR video presentation and deserves 4K UHD treatment. The Lost Daughter’s cinematography is much less complex as is understandable for an independent film with a modest budget. The standard HD picture quality on Netflix was more than adequate for the uncluttered and straightforward cinematography, even though at times I wished for a bolder visual statement. 

What can be disconcerting is the handheld camera work and many closeups with short depth of field. This often results in only foreground objects or backgrounds being in focus with an unsteady framing that can be visually distracting, especially on a large screen. The closeups of faces are simultaneously intimate and uncomfortable to watch, but do provide a window into the emotions of the characters, including the deeply buried feelings that haunt Leda. So while the shaky, slightly claustrophobic picture may be at times distracting, it is crucial to the narrative and our understanding of the characters.

The 5.1-channel audio presentation is also quite serviceable, although only the front three channels remained active throughout most of the film. For instance, during a party scene, Bon Jovi’s “Livin’ on a Prayer” plays almost entirely from the front channels with very little music emanating from the surrounds. There were also no ambient sounds of conversations or clinking of cutlery and dishes, which would have enhanced the auditory experience. Nonetheless, dialogue was always intelligible and I had no difficulty in following the storyline as it unraveled the complicated relationships between the characters through their conversations.

Olivia Coleman’s masterful performance as Leda will stay with me for a long time, but much of this film’s impact can also be attributed to the supporting performances and Maggie Gyllenhaal’s talented direction and screenplay. It may be unsettling to watch at times, but The Lost Daughter reminds us of just how complex and fractured family relationships can be and is well worth seeking out.

Roger Kanno began his life-long interest in home cinema almost three decades ago with a collection of LaserDiscs and a Dolby Surround Pro Logic system. Since then, he has seen a lot of movies in his home theater but has an equal fascination with high-end stereo music systems. Roger writes for both Sound & Vision and the SoundStage! Network.

PICTURE | The standard HD picture quality is more than adequate for the uncluttered and straightforward cinematography

SOUND | The 5.1-channel audio presentation is also quite serviceable, although only the front three channels remain active throughout most of the film

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Review: Mank

Mank (2020)

review | Mank

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Yet another misguided—and poorly made—attempt to steal the credit for Citizen Kane from Orson Welles

by Michael Gaughn
March 27, 2021

For proof that it was a really bad idea to have the Oscars in the middle of a pandemic, you don’t need to look any further than David Fincher’s Mank. It’s had a ton of nominations heaped upon it and it’s the kind of film that stands a decent chance of walking away with some major awards. But it’s also an astonishingly bad movie, and in a legitimate year—like say 2019—it wouldn’t have been allowed to even stick its head in the Academy’s door.

I’m going to offer up my rationale for the above conclusions not because I want to let this thing reside in my brain for a single second longer than necessary but since it’s being puffed up as a really big deal, an important film, it would be irresponsible to shirk making the case against it.

First off, the story it tries to tell is incredibly old news. The myth that Herman Mankiewicz, not Orson Welles, is responsible for the greatness of Citizen Kane has been Hollywood folklore from the time of Kane’s creation. The tiresome Pauline Kael later latched onto it and made it the subject of her notorious Raising Kane. HBO’s unforgivable RKO 281 (1999) tread the same ground. It’s an argument that’s so easily picked apart I won’t even bother going there but comes down to being yet one more instance of the American terror of the outsider. Mank breaks no new ground here.

The film’s deepest flaw is one common to all of Fincher’s work—he’s just an overgrown kid who approaches everything he does like a giggly teenager who’s adopted a completely unearned cynicism to mask his fundamental immaturity. That leads him to take an incredibly complex and potentially rich tale and reduce it to the overstylized and remedial presentation of a comic book. The film is full of superficial busyness. All of the actors speak in exposition. All plausibility is optional and only grudgingly deployed. There is no nuance.

A fundamental example: Fincher is so obsessed with pulling off clever shots and editing patterns, and is so fundamentally limited as an actor’s director, that he lacks the interest, ability, or trust to just let people sit in the same space and organically interact. To resonate at all, this needed to be a tale of very real, very vulnerable people striving in some very heightened worlds. It instead feels like a bunch of indifferently-drawn stick figures meant to serve some storyboard hopelessly stuck in Fincher’s head.

Also, for the movie to have any power, it needed to stay true to who these people were and what these institutions were within the world of 1930s California and Hollywood. But Fincher, for all his faux cynicism, is really just a big lapdog of a director so he can’t resist the temptation to draw contemporary parallels throughout and give his characters contemporary attitudes. Remolding Welles as a hipster is faintly amusing but also a little too pat, like everything else here. 

I was more impressed by Gary Oldman than I expected to be. I’ve always felt he was an “actor,” not an actor, and have been suspicious of his work ever since he was overpraised for his Sid Vicious impression in Sid and Nancy (1986). He’s almost engaging here, I suspect, because everything else in the film is so barely and poorly formed that even a yeoman-like turn seems intriguing.

It’s so easy to pick apart the movie’s ill-conceived and silly visual plan that I’ll leave that to others. The one thing I will point out is that the black & white cinematography is so contrasty, with the whites pumped up wretchedly high, that most of the images are painful to look at. Add to that a lot of fundamentally ill-conceived CGI work and you’ve got the visual equivalent of sandpaper.

There’s really nothing to be said about the Trent Reznor/Atticus Ross score except that it’s so predictable it’s like it’s not even there. But I was surprised by how badly this film is mixed. Since the dialogue was frequently unintelligible, I watched Mank a second time listening on headphones just to make out most of the lines. 

If you like movies that are full of a sense of their own cleverness and that tell you exactly what to think and feel—and I realize there’s a substantial audience for that—then by all means wallow in Mank. But it’s hard not to watch something like this and continually sense how much more the movies can do, how much more they have done, and see it as a deeply troubling sign that this kind of simplistic twaddle is somehow seen as important. Citizen Kane brought an unprecedented depth to the movies; Mank is a celebration of the kind of bright, shiny surfaces Welles’ film was meant to pierce. 

Michael Gaughn—The Absolute Sound, The Perfect Vision, Wideband, Stereo Review, Sound & Vision, The Rayva Roundtablemarketing, product design, some theater designs, a couple TV shows, some commercials, and now this.

PICTURE | The black & white cinematography is so contrasty, with the whites pumped up wretchedly high, that most of the images are painful to look at

SOUND | This film is so badly mixed that the dialogue is frequently unintelligible. The Trent Reznor/Atticus Ross score is so predictable it’s like it’s not even there. 

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Review: Tick, Tick . . . Boom!

Tick, Tick . . . Boom (2021)

review | Tick, Tick . . . Boom!

Lin-Manuel Miranda acquits himself nicely in his directorial debut with this musical tale of the final days of Rent creator Jonathan Larson

by Anthony Savona
February 22, 2022

He’s not well known in the wider world but in the musical theater domain, Jonathan Larson is considered a tragic genius. The creator of Rent (the Tony Award- and Pulitzer Prize-winning ’90s Broadway show that inspired a whole generation of theater fans and creatives), Larson died of a sudden aortic dissection the night before the show was to have its first preview, never knowing the tremendous success his work would receive or the influence it would have. 

And while his life story is ripe for the telling—a starving artist who dreams of changing musical theater and does so but passes away just before he can see his dream become a reality—that isn’t the tale Tick,Tick . . . Boom! tells. It’s more of an origin story for Rent, based on a one-man musical written and performed by Larson himself. And, as the film’s opening narration says, “Everything is true . . . except for the parts Jonathan made up.”

In Tick, Tick . . . Boom!, Larson (played by Oscar nominee Andrew Garfield) shares the stresses he’s under preparing for a first reading of a musical he’s been working on for eight years (not Rent), his best friend and roommate Michael (Robin de Jesus) moving out of the dumpy downtown NYC apartment they share, and his girlfriend Susan (Alexandra Shipp) looking to move out of the city and settle down. Oh, and he’s about to turn 30 and still hasn’t made a name for himself on Broadway, unlike his hero Stephen Sondheim (Bradley Whitford).

The film moves between a stage version of the musical—which includes Larson, a small band, and two singers, Roger (Joshua Henry) and Karessa (Vanessa Hudgens)—and his life at the time, juggling the pressures of his creative and personal life with shifts at the Moondance Diner to scrape a living together until he hits it big.

Garfield is a marvel and deserves all the attention and awards love he’s receiving. He’s no stranger to Broadway, having won a Tony for the play Angels in America in 2018. But he admits he had no deep knowledge of Larson prior to this film, and that keeps his performance from being a star-eyed tribute. His Larson is charming and talented but also so driven that he’s often blind to everything else happening around him.

The film’s director, Lin-Manuel Miranda—yes, of Hamilton fame and composer for seemingly every Disney animated film of late (including Encanto)knows quite a bit about the business of Broadway and what it takes to break through. Having been deeply influenced by Rent and Larson, he’s the perfect person to tell this story, which is clearly important to him—and it shows in the care he’s taken to present it.

Thanks to Miranda’s well-connected address book. two scenes feature cameos from Broadway’s best. In one—a musical number at the diner where Larson works—stage stars from the ’60s through today harass Larson for brunch, including Miranda himself along with fellow Hamilton alums Phillipa Soon and Renee Elise Goldsberry. In  the other, Larson is presenting his songs in a workshop where the class is made up of some of Broadway’s biggest writers, composers, and producers. (You can read up on who’s who here.)

Miranda works in several homages to Rent, including the answering machine “beep!,” Larson riding his bike past the Cat Scratch Club (where one of the characters worked), Jonathan lighting a candle while speaking with his girlfriend in the dark, and a rooftop scene where numbers on a nearby building add up to 525,600. (Anyone who knows the song “Seasons of Love” just sang that number instead of reading it.)

All of that is fantastic for theater fans but what if you could care less? Tick, Tick . . . Boom! still has you with a gripping, well-paced story of a frustrated artist trying to decide whether to give it all up or keep on trying. That we already know what Larson chooses doesn’t make the story any less compelling, and knowing how little time he has left only adds to the urgency, punctuated throughout by the sounds of a persistently ticking second hand.

Shot in 7K resolution, Tick’s transfer is taken from a 4K digital intermediate. On paper, this should translate into truly stunning image quality but it didn’t feel like the Netflix stream was able to deliver on all of its visual potential. It looked more like it was shot on film than having the hyper-clear sharpness and detail of video, and often felt more like I was watching a 1080p Blu-ray. One scene that really delivered, though, was the haunting ballad “Why?,” which was beautifully shot in the empty Delacorte Theater in Central Park. It hits you right in the feels, and the image quality has great depth and sharpness, letting you clearly see the sharp lines of the theater and count the rows of seats.

The HDR grade isn’t overly aggressive, with the focus on making natural, lifelike images with good depth and shadow detail. We do get some nice highlights of bright sunlight streaming in through windows, glowing street lights and lamps, and white-hot stage lighting. 

Of course, a musical is only as good as its songs. Fortunately, Larson knew how to write a good rock song, Garfield knows how to deliver them, and Miranda knows how to handle the multi-layered delivery. The Dolby Atmos track makes the music the worthy star of this performance. Audio is kept across the front, except when the musical numbers begin; then the soundstage expands, filling the room with the score, occasionally placing some vocals out in the surround channels. The mix also gives a bit of ambience to other scenes, such as the spaciousness and echoes in the open rehearsal room where the reading happens or street noises in the city. Don’t expect a lot of action out of your subwoofer, though it does come to life courtesy of some drums.  

“I’m the future of musical theater,” Larson tells one obnoxious party-goer. Unfortunately, he didn’t live to see the truth of that statement. All in all, this is an encouraging directorial debut from Miranda and another star turn for Garfield, making it an easy recommendation the next time you’re wondering what to watch on Netflix. 

Anthony Savona is the Editor of Residential Systems and the VP of Content Creation for Future’s B2B—AV Tech Group. He is also the keeper of a wealth of useless knowledge in topics such as comic books, modern Broadway, ’90s punk music, and outdated AV media.

PICTURE | The Netflix stream doesn’t deliver on all of the 4K transfer’s visual potential, looking more like it was shot on film than having the hyper-clear sharpness and detail of video 

SOUND | The Atmos track makes the music the star of the performances, with the audio kept across the front except when the numbers begin. The soundstage then expands, filling the room with the score. 

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Review: The Power of the Dog

The Power of the Dog (2021)

review | The Power of the Dog

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One of this year’s big Oscar favorites, this Netflix western leans more on character and atmosphere than action

by Roger Kanno
February 18, 2022

The Power of the Dog (written and directed by Jane Campion, and based on the novel by Thomas Savage) has received many accolades, including 12 Academy Award nominations, the most of any film this year. It tells the story of the Burbank brothers, Phil (Benedict Cumberbatch) and George (Jesse Plemons), two successful Montana cattlemen in the 1920s who meet Rose Gordon (Kirsten Dunst), a widowed innkeeper, and her son Peter (Kodi Smit-McPhee) during a cattle drive. While the kind-hearted George falls in love with and eventually marries Rose, Phil is unnecessarily cruel to everyone he meets, especially Rose and Peter. 

It is sometimes difficult to watch Cumberbatch, so convincing is his portrayal of the wholly unpleasant Phil, but his performance is never over the top; rather, it’s nuanced and fascinating in an unnerving manner. Real-life couple Plemons and Dunst are just as convincing and no less captivating as the subdued counterparts to the volatile Phil. Smit-McPhee is excellent as the meek, studious young Peter, seemingly out of place among the rough ranch hands. All are deserving of their Oscar nominations. Campion is also nominated for her adapted screenplay, as one of the producers for Best Picture, and as Best Director. The Power of the Dog is both a period piece and a psychological drama, as well as a finely crafted character study of complex individuals. 

Outdoor scenes filmed on location in New Zealand have an austere look, wonderfully capturing the rustic atmosphere of cattle ranching at the end of the Wild West era. The color palette is on the cool side, with dusty cattle-wrangling scenes sometimes showing slight aliasing, but otherwise the picture (shot in ArriRaw at 4.5K and presented in Dolby Vision on Netflix) has excellent sharpness and detail. While the exterior shots are bright and sharp, the dimly lit interiors can look a little soft, but the lighting has a natural organic quality even though the interiors were shot entirely on soundstages. 

Ari Wegner’s cinematography, which was also nominated for an Oscar, is breathtaking, with the untamed New Zealand landscape looking both stark and dazzling. Images are framed with the picturesque scenery in mind, and wide shots will look truly majestic on high-quality video displays. There aren’t a lot of bright primary colors to be seen as exteriors are dominated by dry, prairie-like landscapes and the characters wear mostly earth tones, but the film’s UHD presentation is simply gorgeous in an understated manner.

The Oscar-nominated sound design by Richard Flynn, Robert Mackenzie, and Tara Webb is similarly subdued. The opening scenes start off with well recorded, rambling plucked strings and the atmospheric sounds of a cattle drive on the open plains setting an appropriately melancholic tone. But much of the rest of the film consists of only dialogue, occasional Foley effects, and very limited use of the music score. Foley is often mixed at low levels but is well suited to the onscreen action, and the minimalist sound design meticulously captures the feeling of the story’s setting during simpler times.

The lack of surround presence during most of the film serves to highlight a scene where Phil’s banjo playing emanates from the right surround channel then moves to the front speakers once his presence is established. This sudden use of the surrounds is unexpected and helps to heighten the significance of Phil’s actions. There is more liberal use of Jonny Greenwood’s haunting, Oscar-nominated score near the end of the film as the story builds to its deliberate and satisfying conclusion. 

The Power of the Dog is Campion’s first film in more than ten years, during which time she created two limited television series, Top of the Lake and Top of the Lake: China Girl. Both are slow burns like The Power of the Dog and worth seeking out if you’re a fan of her work, but her return to the big screen is beautiful to look at and an absolutely compelling film. 

Roger Kanno began his life-long interest in home cinema almost three decades ago with a collection of LaserDiscs and a Dolby Surround Pro Logic system. Since then, he has seen a lot of movies in his home theater but has an equal fascination with high-end stereo music systems. Roger writes for both Sound & Vision and the SoundStage! Network.

PICTURE | While the exterior shots in Netflix’ Dolby Vision presentation are bright and sharp, the dimly lit interiors can look a little soft, but the lighting has a natural organic quality even though the interiors were shot entirely on soundstages

SOUND | The Oscar-nominated sound design is subdued, with much of the film consisting of only dialogue, occasional Foley effects, and very limited use of the music score

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