BORN IN FLAMES (1983) - Criterion

Born in Flames
Criterion
Original Release Date: Feb. 20th, 1983
Written by Ed Bowes, Lizzie Borden
Directed by Lizzie Borden
Starring Honey, Jean Satterfield, Adele Bertei, Florynce Kennedy
Language English (SDH available)

Get your copy HERE from Criterion, or HERE from Diabolik

by "Doc" Hunter Bush, MovieJawn Podcast Director and Staff Writer 

The Movie: Excellent

Half documentary, half science fiction polemic, Born in Flames asks questions that are still as relevant as ever. Instead of imagining a dystopian future, filmmaker Lizzie Borden shows us a future ten years out from a "socio-democratic" victory. Described as "the most peaceful war ever", it seems the U.S.A. just decided they were fed up with fascism and communism and have now settled into a seemingly idyllic worldview. Except not everyone is being treated truly equally.

In the included interview, Borden boils the film down to its central idea: "What if women were still left behind after the socialist revolution? It would be working women and women of color." We are therefore introduced to a number of revolutionaries; women attempting to affect change. Honey (played by Honey), and Isabel (Adele Bertei) both host late night (pirate?) radio shows--Phoenix Radio and Radio Ragazza respectively--playing tunes and urging listeners not to settle for the imperfect world of the new American Socialism, better though it may be, and Adelaide (Jean Satterfield) and Zella (Florynce Kennedy) of the Women's Army, with Adelaide doing the more boots-on-the-ground good work of recruiting and organizing relevant protests, like a secretary's strike.

There are also the Bicycle Brigades, groups of women on bikes who travel the city keeping an eye out for women being harassed, preventing assaults by circling like sharks and drawing attention by blowing whistles. In what I think is a perfect distillation of the film's themes, a newscaster reports that "...officials condemn the lawlessness of such vigilantism asking for information regarding the women involved" before cheekily adding "...perhaps even their telephone numbers."

This shows the central hypocrisy of Borden's futuristic world: women are still not being treated fairly with regards to equal job opportunities and basic physical safety, meanwhile we are shown a cabal of men trying to suss out the leadership structures of these groups and organizations in an attempt to dismantle them. This hypocrisy, that women are not to have their needs taken seriously but are simultaneously a potential threat to all of society, is the logical discordance that drives the film. With Born in Flames, Borden seems to be plainly asking: Which is it?

Borden cast non-actors for most of the roles and, rather than giving them strict lines to follow, would have a discussion of the scene's themes, then allow them to speak their minds. These issues were what was on their minds at the time and, while the issues at hand have most definitely changed, we as a society are still nowhere near anything you could call an idyll.

As things build towards a legitimately quite shocking ending (which is all I will say), Borden's obvious punk ethos and ideals of equality are underlined and undermined in equal measure. Though obviously made inexpensively, and largely lacking recognizable names (there are a few exceptions), Born in Flames is a powerful example of a filmmaker pushing the boundaries of their means, and not being afraid to demand better from the world.

The Packaging: Excellent 

This is your average Criterion packaging, which is overall better and sturdier than your average slim, blue case. The cover image is of Honey staring down the barrel of the camera while addressing the city via her Phoenix Radio show, with appropriately punk-tinged text and visual jazz.

The Audio + Video: Good

This is not a crystal clear film. Borden shot on whatever film was available, including scrap ends, so there are some changes in visual quality from time to time, and overall, even though Born in Flames has been restored, it still looks like what it is: a film more concerned with passion than precision made by a filmmaker with something to say.

But that roughness, the grain, the quote/unquote "imperfections" are emblematic of punk. Born in Flames is gritty, not pretty, and chooses poignancy over technical perfection. This only adds to the faux documentary aesthetic, feeling off-the-cuff and unrehearsed, which sells the reality presented in the film, in turn underscoring the film's once-and-future relevance. It cannot be understated how brilliantly creative this approach is. Rather than setting her film in an overblown dystopia, having the world seem otherwise "good" really demands the viewer interrogate their own world and ideals. More authors spring to mind than have utilized this approach than filmmakers, so aspiring directors: take note.

Special Features: Average

I'm lukewarm on the special features on this one. With something like this, which is fairly unique conceptually and was created in a similarly unique way, I would like all the context you can give me. What's included here is an admittedly very informative interview with Borden, and her previous feature, 1976's Regrouping.

Regrouping, briefly, is another not-exactly documentary. If the opening text is to be believed, it was originally intended to be more of a straight-ahead document of a women's group, before the subject group lost interest, leaving Borden holding the bag. My read on it is that it ends up becoming a frustrating viewing experience about the frustrations she was feeling, but I'll leave you to make your own assessments.

Altogether, I feel like, even supplemented by the essays in the included booklet, I still want for more context.

• Lizzie Borden Interview (12:21)
• Regrouping (1:15:06)

In Summary: Buy it on sale

Obviously, all films are not for all people, and non-narrative (or not-exactly narrative) films can be a slightly taller order. Born in Flames, despite the novelty of its futuristic setting, and the shocks of its climax (which I avoided discussion of because I believe it's best experienced without expectation), this is still ultimately a documentary. However, I feel like the concerns, the issues, at the core of the film are still so prevalent that the film is worth watching as more than just a snapshot of its time. Definitely worth watching, slightly less definitely worth owning.

A CONFUCIAN CONFUSION / MAHJONG: Two films by Edward Yang (Criterion)

A Confucian Confusion / Mahjong:
Two films by Edward Yang
Criterion
1994 / 1996
Written by Edward Yang
Directed by Edward Yang\
Starring Shiang-chyi Chen, Bosen Wang, Shu-Chun Ni, Tsung Sheng Tang, Virginie Ledoyen,
Chinese / English with subtitles available in English

Buy it HERE from Criterion

by "Doc" Hunter Bush, MovieJawn Podcast Director and Staff Writer 

The Movies: Good

Edward Yang is a fascinating figure with an equally interesting story. Originally an architect, he was inspired by the work of Werner Herzog to instead become a filmmaker, directing a handful of features over roughly twenty years before breaking into wider prominence with what turned out to be his final film. The critical appreciation for 2000's Yi Yi then triggered an examination of Yang's back catalogue of films. Criterion have previously released Yang's A Brighter Summer Day (1991), and they have plans to release Yi Yi in January of 2026, but this release concerns the two features that came in between those films, Yang's two comedies: A Confucian Confusion (1994) and Mahjong (1996). Yang seems fascinated with the ways in which groups of people interact, whether it be a family (Yi Yi), schoolmates (A Brighter Summer Day) or, in the case of both A Confucian Confusion and Mahjong, the young people in and around Taipei in an era of great financial growth. As much an examination of the city itself as the characters, both films are awash with nuance, motion, light, and tension.

A Confucian Confusion follows a handful of young professionals working in and around an entertainment company. Their clients and projects include a weekly TV show, an author, and a play being put on by an eccentric auteur. An additional dimension to things is the interpersonal relationships behind these business relationships: Molly (Shu-Chun Ni) has been put in charge by her wealthy husband Akeem (Bosen Wang). She might not be our main character (there might not even be one), but she's inarguably the lynchpin. Her sister (Li-Mei Chen) hosts the TV show, her friend from school is the auteur director (Ye-Ming Wang), who it turns out "borrowed" the plot from an old novel written by the author (Hung Hung), who happens to be Molly's brother-in-law, which will require him to sign a release. Akeem also wants to take his relationship with Molly from one largely of convenience to one involving actual love, but believes she has been having an affair.

Mahjong, while also concerned with Taipei as a financial mecca and with family, romantic, and friendship dynamics, introduces crime elements to the mix. Red Fish (Tsung Sheng Tang)'s father has gone into hiding. Though the family is quite wealthy, he owes a tremendous amount to local criminals, who plan to get it back by taking Red Fish hostage. He's part of a gang of low-level hustlers whose main scam is having Little Buddha (Chi-tsan Wang) make strange predictions which the other members make come true, "proving" Little Buddha's value to wealthy marks who then pay handsomely to secure his services. Intertwined around these schemes are a sought-after hairdresser (De Zhao), a British actor (Nick Erickson), and his French ex-girlfriend (Virginie Ledoyen) who came all the way there seeking closure, among others.

To say that Edward Yang's films are complex would be a bit misleading. They're actually quite simple, and elegant, they're just very detailed. Their comedy comes from situations, and the ways in which ostensibly normal characters react to them, and to each other. But the same goes for the drama present in both films: relationships are strained, fractured, changed, broken, or repaired and Yang's extremely empathetic viewpoint shines through. There are very few irredeemably "bad" people, just people who want different things. These films are about learning that there's more to the world than just what you get out of it, and about crossing the threshold from trying to change the world to allowing it to change you.

The Packaging: Excellent

This double feature comes packaged in the standard Criterion case: sturdy and handsome, like me. Unlike me, this release features art by Tori Huynh. A minimal black, white, and red color scheme and simple, clean lines depict most of the important characters from both films on both sides of the cover--there are 22 on the front, I believe--, the booklet, and both discs.

The booklet, in addition to a wonderful essay by Dennis Lim and a Director's Note from Edward Yang himself that originally accompanied A Confucian Confusion's press notes in 1994--both of which provided me with tons of valuable cultural context--also features several wonderful images from the films. But. My personal favorite bit of the included ephemera is a reproduction of a drawing Yang himself did of the main cast of characters in A Confucian Confusion, to help keep all the interpersonal relationships clear. It was mentioned in the bonus features, and I was pleased to find it included.

The Audio + Video: Excellent

I found nothing about either the audio or video presentations to take issue with. These films are small in scale and somewhat intimate in the way they are captured, and the audio mix makes them feel very grounded and real. One of the producers owned a TGI Fridays in the city, leading to many scenes in both films being set there, perhaps as a commentary on the commercial encroachment of western culture, perhaps as a convenience, or perhaps both. Mahjong also features the Hard Rock Cafe as a hub of interaction for what it's worth, though as far as I could find, that was entirely an aesthetic choice. Regardless, the constant hum of pop music in both locations while the characters are trying to have important conversations felt incredibly relatable and familiar in a way that added a lot of emotional texture to scenes.

The down-to-earth focus of Yang's lens likewise conveys an almost voyeuristic intimacy, like we are stumbling across these people in the moments, while out in the world, but it doesn't limit the everyday beauty he could capture. There's a certain modern loveliness to things like a series of neon lights in the darkness that Yang was obviously aware of. One especially lovely shot, allegedly inspired by Shadows and Fog (1991), at one point in A Confucian Confusion features two characters in a high rise office beautifully backlit by the dawn skyline. I'm hard pressed to think of a director with more of a grasp of the quiet beauty of the everyday.

Special Features: Good

I think this release has all its bases covered. Personally, what I look for in supplemental features is context: unless I'm already deeply familiar with a film personally, there's nothing I like more than better understanding the environment in which an artist has created their art. It's why I loved movie hosts growing up, and why I enjoy things like the Blank Check podcast now. The Q&A with Yang on Disc One is nothing but straight-from-the-horse's-mouth information about A Confucian Confusion from conception to execution. Similarly, the discussion on Yang's works between Chinese cultural studies scholar Michael Berry and film critic Justin Chang was incredibly enlightening. 

But if you're someone interested in "the process",  here's an interview with editor Chen Po-Wen who worked on every one of Yang's films from A Brighter Summer Day onward. There's also a filmed performance of an entire play by Yang for those folks who like finding some freebies in their bonus features. The various sources paint a picture of Edward Yang as an incredibly considerate artist in all senses of the word.

• Disc One:
• Edward Yang Q&A (53:27) - recorded after a screening of A Confucian Confusion in 1994
• Likely Consequence (45:20) - recording of a 1992 performance of a play by Edward Yang
• Disc Two:
• Michael Berry & Justin Chang (44:12)
• Interview with editor Chen Po-Wen (25:49)

In Summary: Buy It On Sale

Of the two films featured here, Mahjong works slightly better for me. While both films are insightful and delicate examinations of humanity and the ways we interact with each other and the great big world, the addition of a crime element allowed both the comedy and drama aspects of Mahjong to sing a bit more. That said, both films are just fantastic. Beautiful, elegant, and occasionally unexpectedly funny.

If you are looking for gentle, well-drawn examinations of characters, some of whom are just slightly larger than life, I would bump this up to a Must Own, but for some filmgoers, these movies might be just a little too mellow; too low-stakes. Even the threats I mentioned in Mahjong never really feel life-or-death, even if they're presented that way. They're just a different prism to examine these characters through, and in my case, a much appreciated one.

CARNAL KNOWLEDGE (Criterion)

Carnal Knowledge
Criterion
June 30th, 1971

Written by Jules Feiffer
Directed by Mike Nichols
Starring Jack Nicholson, Art Garfunkel, Candice Bergen, Ann-Margaret, Rita Moreno
English

Buy it HERE from Diabolik or HERE from Criterion

by "Doc" Hunter Bush, Staff Writer and Podcast Director

The Movie: Excellent

Carnal Knowledge blew my mind. All I really knew going into this, aside from the pedigree of the cast and crew, was the whole censorship debacle which ultimately resulted in the film being re-released with a new tagline: "The United States Supreme Court has ruled that Carnal Knowledge is not obscene. See it now!" As a result of that, I knew this was sexually candid but not necessarily explicit. What I didn't expect was an examination of what is now recognized as toxic masculinity from a 54 year-old film that's also expressly feminist, and wildly understated. The dialogue showcases screenwriter Jules Feiffer's razor sharp knack for observation, the performances are incredibly magnetic, and the filmmaking from director Mike Nichols and editor Sam O'Steen allows for plenty of room for the actors to shine.

Sandy (Art Garfunkel) and John (Jack Nicholson) are college roommates who bond by talking about sex and love. John is the more vulgar of the two, goading Sandy to push girlfriend Susan (Candice Bergen) for more action. Once Sandy informs him he's finally getting somewhere with her, John calls her up himself, and they begin an affair. At this point, I thought we were going to have a basic love-triangle story with Susan enjoying the connection she shares with Sandy, but also responding to the sensuality of John while both of the men yearn for the kind of relationship with her that the other has. But then something magical happens. The film just casually slips forward in time. No subtitles to denote the jump, nothing aside from John & Sandy's change in appearance and their dialogue. 

This trust in the audience is emblematic of the steady hand behind the camera. Drawing on Feiffer's background as a cartoonist--his weekly strip in The Village Voice ran for forty years!--Nichols utilizes long takes of characters talking (frequently all but directly to camera), rarely cutting away for coverage of the other person. He also tends towards long shots of the women as the men talk, allowing us to experience these outwardly mundane conversations through them as they process what is being said, and said about them. For a movie that on the surface seems obsessed with men & maleness, this is a powerfully feminist filmmaking choice.

Carnal Knowledge is not a film everyone will enjoy watching. It is at times ugly, revealing, explicit and embarrassing. Not unlike the titular characters in Mikey and Nicky (1976, dir. Elaine May) neither of our leading men are especially likeable, but they're sadly all too common. Fun fact: Mike Nichols and Elaine May were the influential comedy duo Nichols and May from '59-'62. Even at 54 years on, this kind of warts-and-all look at toxic masculinity is perhaps even more important that it was at release.

Culturally we're at a low point in the pursuit of equality, respect, and safety for anyone not represented by this type of well-off white men. Carnal Knowledge doesn't offer any answers. How could it? But it also doesn't soften these men or their slide into irrelevance any; it doesn't let them off the hook. Depiction, importantly, does not equal endorsement.

The Packaging: Good

This is your typical Criterion release, which is by-and-large pretty damn good. If you're unfamiliar, their cases are a little larger than the standard Blu-ray, a little sturdier and more durable. The cover wouldn’t feel out of place had it been the poster in 1971, with its muted, autumnal palette and four head shots. It also has an image on the inside of Jack Nicholson sitting naked, smoking a cigarette, in an armchair.

This version also comes with a 40-page booklet featuring an essay from Moira Weigel and an article from Herb A. Lightman which features conversations with cinematographer Giuseppe Rotunno and production designer Richard Sylbert (originally published in the January 1971 issue of American Cinematographer). Weigel's essay especially resonated with me, affirming some of my feelings about the film and elucidating other facets I wasn't considering. These kinds of additional materials are really what's important about re/releasing older films. Cultural and social context are incredibly vital aspects to make clear for new viewers.

The Audio + Video: Excellent

I had no issues with either the audio or visual presentation. There is some film grain, and a certain very slight muffling to the audio, but both of those are merely signs of having been made in a bygone era. They add a sensory warmth to the whole experience for me, while looking and sounding perhaps as good as the film ever has. With a film as dialogue-centric as this one is, you want to make sure things sound as good as possible, and let me assure you: this does.

The included booklet has a paragraph about the audio & video mastering that underlines a very important elephant in the room: this master was created using the 35mm separation masters because the original camera negative had become too damaged and moldy. Film preservation is such an important undertaking, as is, I feel, owning and making available all varieties of film.

Special Features: Excellent

I recently wrote about Criterion's release of The Wiz and lamented the lack of some theoretical special features to add greater context to the film. In contrast, Carnal Knowledge is a wealth of context. The two half-hour-ish conversations were very interesting, even though I find Jason Reitman somewhat tedious. The piece focusing on the editing was extremely enlightening and gave me an added dimension to keep an eye on during my rewatch with commentary, which I am very thankful for because the editing is so subtle and unflashy that it might otherwise have passed me by. As it stands, the editing is one of my favorite parts of the film. But my favorite of these materials was definitely the podcast with Jules Feiffer, who I found to be incredibly entertaining and fascinating.

• Commentary track from filmmaker and playwright Neil LaBute
• A conversation between Mark Harris (Mike Nichols' biographer) and film critic Dana Stevens (29:04)
• A conversation between Mike Nichols and director Jason Reitman (36:02)
  
• An episode of the To Live & Dialogue podcast w/Jules Feiffer (43:20)
• Bobbie O'Steen on the editing (19:15)
• Trailer (0:57)
• Radio spot (0:59)

In Summary: Must Own

There are any number of good reasons to own Criterion's Carnal Knowledge release. The acting, direction, screenwriting, and editing are all masterclass-level examples of their respective craft. The story here is frequently uncomfortable, but nonetheless riveting. But for me, I think the best reason might be spite.

Personally, I rankle at outside entities trying to control what entertainments I can and cannot access, and as I mentioned above, when Carnal Knowledge was initially released, it screened at a theater in Georgia resulting in an obscenity case that took about two years to resolve, and went all the way to the U.S. Supreme Court, where it was, and I cannot stress this enough, found not to be anything you could call obscene. As with banned books, or adult entertainment, I like having at my disposal something that the pearl-clutching masses decidedly did not want to be widely available. Sometimes, spite can be a great motivator. But with that comes the caveat: this may not be for all tastes. And that is fine. Everything doesn't need to be for everyone, but everyone should be allowed to decide what is for them.

THE WIZ (Criterion)

The Wiz
Criterion

The Stats
Video: 1080p High Definition on Blu-ray (2160p Dolby Vision HDR on 4K disc)
Audio: Dolby TrueHD on Blu-ray (Dolby Atmos on 4k disc)
Subtitles: SDH

Buy it HERE from Criterion or HERE from Diabolik

by "Doc" Hunter Bush, Staff Writer and Podcast Director

The Wiz comes to 4K and Blu-ray from Criterion. Veteran director Sidney Lumet, music legend Quincy Jones, and a cross-generational cast of icons come together to update L. Frank Baum's classic story for a then-modern audience. This Criterion release offers The Wiz in perhaps the best aural and visual fidelity ever made available, and a respectable amount of bonus features round out the package nicely.

The Movie: Excellent / 4.5 stars

I'm a sucker for musicals, and I've always enjoyed the spectacle of The Wizard of Oz, so I was bound to be a fan of The Wiz. I had the soundtrack on vinyl, and had a performance of the stage show that had aired on some channel or another duped onto a VHS. Growing up, I had no idea that it was such a divisive film. While I don't think it's flawless, it is--and this is a technical term so stay with me--Very Damn Good and Thoroughly Entertaining. Sorry for all the industry jargon.

A retelling of L.Frank Baum's The Wonderful Wizard of Oz but recontextualized to speak to the then contemporary African American experience of the early 1970s, The Wiz is both bold and very sweet. It takes a larger-than-life portal fantasy and combines it with enormous social issues, and gives these things scale through characters whose archetypes we're most likely quite familiar with. A detail of the original children's novel that gets lost on more modern audiences is how filled it is with allusions to America's monetary policy at the time; the yellow brick road being the gold standard of exchange, Dorothy's silver slippers representing the then-default silver standard. Here, that subtext is swapped for a look at the lives of Black Americans, with a slight focus on those in New York at the time.

Obviously, a lot of this went well over the head of the younger me, and even now there are dimensions to the choices made in this adaptation that I'm not fully cognizant of. The inclusion of the song You Can't Win, which was excised from the stage show but revived here, highlights the oppression of having to exist within a rigged system. I know that now, but young me just thought it was a bop, though we didn't use that term quite yet.

All of which highlights one of the most enduring aspects of The Wiz: it's more than just a remake of The Wizard of Oz. The layers of symbolism to the production decisions, from the types of songs and performances, to the casting choices, all enhance your viewing experiences once you've been hipped to why they were made. If your only cultural impression of The Wiz is as being a musical adaptation that bombed before finding its audience over time, there are the greater depths available to distinguish it, if you're inclined to look. 

Beyond that, the performances are amazing. Though controversial at the time, enough so that original director John Badham stepped down, Diana Ross gives a magnetic performance as a Dorothy who is afraid to take her first real steps into adulthood. Ross is so full of life and enthusiasm, which when you think about the exhausting nature of filming scenes with so much dancing is truly amazing. Michael Jackson’s wet noodle physicality as the Scarecrow, Nipsey Russell’s sourpuss Tinman, Ted Ross’ boisterous Lion, and Richard Pryor’s livewire paranoia as The Wizard all captured and held my attention at all times. Truly a joy to watch.

The Packaging: Excellent / 5 stars

This is your standard Criterion release: sturdy snap case, gorgeous cover artwork, and an interior cover Yellow Brick Road maze that I found incredibly whimsical; like the placemat you'd find at some diner in Oz. The detail of the "EASE" graffiti on the discs also really appeals to me as someone who grew up through the CD revolution and vividly remember the feeling of my mind being blown by the first disc I saw that had actual art reproduced on it, Beck's Odelay.

That aforementioned cover image, by artist Komi Olafimihan is just absolutely tremendous, accurately capturing the details of the costumes and the spirits of the characters. With very few exceptions, Criterion have figured out what works, from a packaging and design POV, and they stick to it.

The Video: Excellent / 5 stars

Even on the Blu-ray, this looks tremendous. I had actually watched The Wiz a few months ago on a whim, and it was a DVD transfer on whichever streaming service, at best. Compared to that, this is a revelation! The costumes and sets are so well-crafted and FULL of detail, finally being able to truly appreciate them feels incredibly satisfying. The lack of visual noise, and the sharpening of the colors goes a long way towards returning the magical feeling this must have conjured when it first hit the screen.

Importantly, the colors are well balanced. Evillene (Mabel King) for instance, is a very brightly-colored character but actually being able to make out the details of her costume and makeup without them getting swallowed in a blob of color-bleed is especially rewarding. There wasn't much by way of noticeable film grain until the Everybody Rejoice/A Brand New Day number near the end, which I think was exacerbated by how red everything is during that number. Other than that however, this was an incredibly clean viewing experience.

I've seen people knock the direction by Sidney Lumet for keeping the camera too far back during some of the dance numbers and missing detail, but I don't know if I'd even have agreed with that back in the day. Certainly not now. Even while zoomed way out, taking in the entire location and all the assembled dancers, this transfer never lacks for detail and enhances the organic feeling of the choreography--something discussed with more expertise than I can offer on the commentary track.

The Audio: Excellent / 5 stars

Even Criterion knows that you can't talk about The Wiz without talking about Quincy Jones. One of the special features is director Sidney Lumet discussing their film collaborations. Jones' legacy within music will be felt for a long, long time, and while his contributions to The Wiz may pale somewhat in comparison, they're no less special and in no way lack for quality. Luckily the audio transfer is wonderful! I have a three-channel soundbar, nothing fancy, just enough to enhance my viewing experience somewhat. The audio, remastered from original materials kept in the Universal Pictures vault, really gives Quincy, and the soundtrack he oversaw, its due.

The instrumentation shines, the vocals are clear and well-mixed and everything is extremely well-balanced. In that Lumet interview, he discusses how he dislikes most movie music, seeing it as muzak. Something he and Quincy saw eye-to-eye on was that a film's score should never just be reiterating what was happening on screen. They wanted it to enhance the experience for the audience, and I think watching The Wiz with that in mind and with this quality of audio, really gave me a greater appreciation for the craft of scoring a film.

The Special Features: Excellent / 5 stars

I was honestly a little surprised at how few features there were, but they were very enlightening and I had a blast watching them. The Diana Ross interview is hilarious. She's very poised, but the man interviewing her is such a bitchy asshole. It's actually pretty funny how little she reacts to his bait. The interview with Lumet was a great bit of insight into the legendary Quincy Jones, but most of the discussion focused on their first collaboration, 1964's The Pawnbroker. I especially enjoyed the commentary from Michael B. Gillespie and Alfred L. Martin. It was extremely informative, well considered, and their overall camaraderie and tone was extremely friendly and inviting. I especially liked the dives into Luther Vandross, who composed the song Everybody Rejoice/A Brand New Day, and where Richard Pryor was in his career at this time.

• Archival interview with Diana Ross
• originally aired in October 1978 for the film's theatrical premier
• Archival interview with Sidney Lumet
• originally appeared as part of the American Masters episode Quincy Jones: In the Pocket
• Theatrical trailer
• Commentary track from scholars Michael B. Gillespie and Alfred L. Martin

• Booklet includes an essay from author and film critic Aisha Harris

In Summary: Must own! / 5 stars 

About the only thing I'd ding this release on is that I feel like there's a lot to be said, and to be unpacked, culturally, about The Wiz. It's touched on here and there, as in Aisha Harris' essay where she mentions the film's weak box office showing being seen as the end of audience's interest in films with all black casts. Speaking purely for myself, I'd have been happy to sit through a lengthy dive into these areas. But I can't really fault this release for trusting me to chase those particular leads down on my own.

On whatever level you approach this release from, it won't disappoint. If you already love The Wiz, it looks and sounds better than it has in decades at least. If you just enjoy musicals and/or musical theater, the songs and costumes will speak, and sing, for themselves. If you're a nerd about one of the numerous areas of Hollywood history that The Wiz exists within, the special features are a great place to start your own personal deep dive.