The delightful Warren Clements recently ran a column in the Globe and Mail discussing film and television titles not (yet) available on DVD. It often amazes me that in a society driven, largely, by leisurely consumption, there is anything we cannot get. Still, there were some genuine surprises in the column, like John Huston’s The African Queen (1951), for example, but none of my Christmas DVD wishes made his list. So, here, in no particular order, are a few things I would like to see available before Santa Claus starts thinking about next year’s gifts:
1. Far From the Madding Crowd (1967). John Schlesinger directed this beautiful, sweeping adaptation of Thomas Hardy’s novel more than forty years ago. Julie Christie is the most stunning woman in the world in her portrayal of the frustratingly shallow Bathsheba Everdene, and Terence Stamp is sufficiently smarmy in playing Frank Troy, the bad boy she should ignore. Peter Finch is memorable as the jilted William Boldwood, driven beyond the edge by Bathsheba’s shabby treatment. But Alan Bates steals the show as the unbelievably loyal Gabriel Oak who shows us the value of persistence – and a short memory. The scene when Fanny Robin is brought home and mourned is haunting.
2. The Sound and the Fury (1959). The DVD age has not been kind to Yul Brenner, a huge screen star of the 1950s and 1960s. This is only one of his notable performances not available on home formats. This adaptation of William Faulkner’s novel about the dysfunctional Compson family does not do justice to the greatest work of American prose of the twentieth century, but its absence from library shelves is still mourned by generations of students looking for a quick crib. Sadly for them, and for us, director Martin Ritt appears to have misunderstood Jason Compson’s obsessive, controlling nature, softening just a little too much Brenner’s complex, tortured performance. Joanne Woodward makes a captivating (girl) Quentin.
3. Leave it to Beaver (1957-63). One of a handful of indispensible American situation comedies of the fifties, Leave it to Beaver saw two seasons recently hit the market with considerable aplomb. Unfortunately, claims of “rights issues” that have postponed indefinitely the last four seasons suggest to me unsatisfactory retail numbers. Thus, we may be a long time catching up with the later antics of the Cleaver family, and that is a shame for Tony Dow, whose Wally came increasingly to steal the show from his brother Beaver (Jerry Mathers). Hugh Beaumont and Barbara Billingsley set an impossible standard as parents to two precocious boys, showing contemporary viewers that American culture has long established for itself ideals steeped in nostalgic longing – even in a period now viewed nostalgically.
4. Hatching, Matching, and Dispatching (2005). God bless the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation. The bigwigs at Fort Dork, thus coined by television critic John Doyle, are torn between showing us what we are and showing us what they think we should be. As a result, Canadian programming is often sanitized, politically-correct pabulum. Occasionally, when those bigwigs at Fort Dork fall asleep at the switch, we get some genuine television. This happened most recently in 2005 with Mary Walsh’s vision of outport Newfoundland, Hatching, Matching, and Dispatching. The Furey family is the dynasty of Cats Gut Cove, controlling ambulance service, wedding planning, and funeral details. The resulting humor is dark and irreverent, and it represents perhaps Walsh’s most complete vision ever. The supporting cast is a virtual who’s who of Newfoundland talent, and even Ron Hynes, the most talented Newfoundlander ever, contributes theme music. C’mon, byes, Jesus! Would a single disc series retrospective kill ya?
5. Plonsters. It is no surprise that adults like television programming for children. Spongebob Squarepants, anyone? Long after the kids grow up, the slackers amongst us make up a profitable audience for the DVD release of original episodes. The Plonsters are a German creation, three clay monsters who can shape shift at will. The two (older?) characters never wish to play with the third, but they always end up getting taught a life lesson by him, anyway. The premise is simple, the execution utterly brilliant. To appeal to an international audience, the Plonsters talk a gibberish language sure to appeal to the same young adult crowd who watch, say, the Aqua Teen Hunger Force. Canadian television used to get stray vignettes, but the series has a real following in Australia. Check out this YouTube link to see what I am talking about: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Crx_X4Y-7G4. Someone in North America could make a mint marketing this stuff.
