With his good looks, Liev Schreiber (TV's Ray Donovan) seems born to play an astronaut. In Magnet Releasing's The Last Days on Mars, he finally gets the chance. As chief systems officer Vincent Campbell, he's part of Aurora's six-month mission on the red planet with only 19 hours left to go before heading home. What could go wrong?
According to The Slumber Party Massacre, young women love to have group sleepovers so fun that the girls don't have the good sense to leave the house when their party is crashed by the arrival of a drill-wielding serial killer.
We vilify people for bad behavior in real life, yet celebrate it in our entertainment, particularly on the small screen. When the results are as strong as the current crop, all new (or new-ish) to DVD and/or Blu-ray, why question the disconnect?
Prior to his Spider-Man trilogy, director Sam Raimi cut his superhero-movie teeth on 1990's Darkman, a character of his own creation. Although it's clearly not the most polished of his works, the summer sleeper plays even better as the years tick by. Look no further than Shout! Factory's colorful re-release on Blu-ray.
Someday, celebrity cyclist Lance Armstrong may regret hiring Oscar-winning director Alex Gibney to document his 2009 "comeback," but I doubt it. As The Armstrong Lie demonstrates time and again for two mostly gripping hours, the athlete is still unable to tell the whole truth and nothing but.
Many a restless night, I’ve wondered what would happen if I were wearing a Batman T-shirt and awakened by a whispered line from “Field of Dreams,” and then while I was brushing my teeth, a floating head would appear, but I’d go about my business anyway and finish installing that stripper pole in the bedroom.
Now that we were tipped to local rock band Dr. Smith’s eight-minute, gotta-watch-it-all-twice video for “The Time Is Right,” I have the answer: A bespectacled man with a gray beard that splits into two would start playing his flute, whose notes would magically transport you to a dream world otherwise known as Teaze Dance & Fitness, 1112 N. Broadway, where the lithe, scantily clad ladies would perform around me in provocative slow motion and sometimes using boas, all of which the teenage me would have been totally into.
And then I’d probably have a pizza delivered. —Rod Lott