DVD Spin Doctor

Blu Christmas: 5 holiday videos in HD

Miracle on 34th Street: Incredibly, some folks are unhappy that the Blu-ray debut of the 1947 classic didn't make room for a colorized version. Fox's original packaging promised the latest and greatest faux color, but it didn't happen. A small miracle worked by righteous video gods, perhaps? The Blu-ray is a real holiday treat: Almost no wear mars the images, which have (richly) darkened up a bit since the 2006 DVD. The grain has that handsome low-light texture. Audio includes a 5.1 track that makes lively use of crowd noise, traffic and music without calling attention to itself. The movie itself, of course, needs no talking up -- its humor, message and emotional appeal all remain on target in the new century. Extras are recycled, including star Maureen O'Hara's well-traveled commentary. She delights in pointing out that all remakes were "flops," including John Hughes' 1994 version -- which Fox also debuts this season in HD. It has some charm and heart -- but there are far better films with which to celebrate the director in the year of his passing.

A Christmas Tale: It wouldn't be the holidays without some buzz-killing family drama. Feel better about your own set of dynamics with this 2008 movie from France, written and directed with humor, edge and heart by Arnaud Desplechin. Catherine Deneuve plays the matriarch, who calls together her fractured brood at Christmas. She needs a bone marrow transplant or she'll die. Two family members qualify as donors, but they're both a bit nuts. Secrets, lies and grudges fill the frosty air. (The story could have have come from John Irving, give or take an oddball or two.) Ultimately, "A Christmas Tale" delivers on the promise of its title, making it a rare holiday movie suited for the arthouse. An excellent ensemble backs Deneuve and pater familias Jean-Paul Roussillon. The Criterion Collection Blu-ray has a lovely look and feel that's a subtle step up from the DVD version. Extras include a short film by Desplechin about the sale of his family home.

A Very Sunny Christmas: Nothing says the holidays quite like a good look at Danny DeVito's ass. Don't agree? Then you're probably not in the spirit for the "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia's" Christmas special. The FX sitcom's whacked-out ensemble is known for pushing the limits, even by cable TV standards. Fox's straight-to-video episode goes farther with nasty language, nudity and gross-outs; it's a censor-free affair that rivals "Bad Santa" in the yuletide bad taste dept. The two storylines have the Gang revisiting their tacky pasts, while DeVito gets the Dickens treatment. The special runs about 45 minutes with another 15 minutes of extras. The Blu-ray actually contains upgraded standard images, not true high definition (say what?). Buyers might want to save a few bucks by picking up the DVD and doing their own upconverting. Someone had to bring the coal.

Dr. Seuss' How the Grinch Stole Christmas: Previous video versions of the Dr. Seuss-Chuck Jones TV touchstone ranged from bad to good enough, but the Grinch gremlins finally have been evicted. Warner's Blu-ray looks splendid, a holiday feast for the eyes. Images are crisp and clear, with no signs of wear or iffy colors. The extras, however, remain the same mangy bunch from DVDs past, with one annoying featurette ("From Whoville to Hollywood") dating back to the laserdisc days. The audio also disappoints with no apparent upgrade from recent DVDs -- meaning no lossless track to rescue Boris Karloff's voice. Nonetheless, if you want the best when it comes to this potent piece of nostalgia, here it is. (The Blu-ray comes with a companion disc for DVD-only players.) ... Universal also debuted the Jim Carrey "Grinch" in high-def this season, but we wouldn't touch the movie with a 39-and a-half-foot pole.

A Charlie Brown Christmas: The most-loved of Christmas animations gets spruced up for its high-definition premiere, with surprisingly effective upgrades to the images -- the colors are fresher and more vibrant without tell-tale artificiality. ("Wow," I said as the show began -- ask the kids.) The 5.1 audio is OK, decent. Hard to put a price on cracking open a new improved version of this Charles M. Schulz classic and sharing it with your family, but as with "Grinch" it's a short expensive trip down memory lane. The so-so sequel "It's Christmastime Again, Charlie Brown" (1992) and the decent making-of docu help ease the way. Warner's threw in a DVD/digital copy disc (no downloads for iTunes). C'mon, Dad, it's Christmas.

Blu-ray review: 'Julie & Julia'

Here in the season of feasting comes the home video release of "Julie & Julia," a holiday treat for everyone who hasn't seen the movie -- and a delightful digital doggy bag for those who have.

Sony has done more than just reheat the feature film. The Blu-ray version of "Julie & Julia" includes a afternoon's worth of extras that, wisely, focus more on Julia Child the woman than Julia Child the movie. (The DVD edition's special features, alas, are basic fare.)

Nora Ephron's film looks sensational in high definition, with luscious closeups of the cuisine and romantic longshots of Paris. The HD images have an impressive sharpness when hitting chrome and steel, but also exhibit a pleasant softness and glow that give away none of Meryl Streep's secrets as she unveils her transformative performance. The 5.1 DTS-HD Master Audio is fittingly warm and enveloping, up to Sony standards. One audio track speaks Francais, of course; the audio-descriptive option is note-perfect.

"Julie & Julia" makes a terrific choice for a family gathering in part because of its dual-story, cross-generational format. The Child story begins in Paris, after WWII; the tale of blogger Julie Powell (Amy Adams) comes in the wake of 9/11. It's funny, romantic movie with a few sharp edges and a subtle aftertaste of bittersweet.

The hourlong documentary "Family & Friends Remember Julia Child" is the best of the featurettes, with many of the key people in Child’s life telling tales and sharing their admiration for the big woman’s big heart. Among them are chefs Sara Moulton, Jacques Pepin and Susy Davidson, as well as Child’s longtime editor Judith Jones.

Despite Child's vast fame, she refused to pander or compromise on her core values, says Pepin, who worked with her on many projects:  "She could have made 10 times more money if she wanted to commercialize herself." Child saw herself as an author, teacher and student, not a celebrity chef, Pepin says.

Child, who famously trilled that "Life itself is the proper binge" -- had a great sense of humor, her friends say. She was delighted by Dan Aykroyd's bloody spoof of her on "Saturday Night Live" and would play the SNL skit on video for house guests. 

“Julia Child was one of the funniest people I ever met,” Mouton says.

For those who love poking around other people's kitchens, there's a docu about the lock, chicken stock and barrel move of her home kitchen to the Smithsonian. The three women who created the exhibit talk about Child's reaction to their curious proposal, what they found in the famed kitchen and what they couldn't take. "Julia's Kitchen" then visits the Smithsonian exhibit that figures in the film’s touching final moments. Plus, you get to peek inside Child’s drawers and cabinets.

 What would be a Child project without some cooking lessons? Here we have a handful of video sessions with Child and some of her collaborators. Child and Pepin make poached eggs and then hollandaise sauce. L.A. chef Suzanne Goin conducts braised beef short ribs. Of course there's an abundance of Child's touchstone dairy product, as in butter-poached Maine lobster from Steven Lewandowski & Drew Nieporent (amazing dish -- try it on New Year's Eve; life is short). 

Taking one for the team, I cooked along with L.A.'s Mark Peel as he made scrambled eggs a la Child. That means cream and butter (generously applied several times) as well as snow flurries of white cheese. Easy but silky luxurious, and it took all of five minutes. Suffice to say plain scrambled won't cut it in this house again. 

Child brings back so many memories for most of us over 40. For the record, I wrote this review with my parents' two volumes of "Mastering the Art of French Cooking" on a shelf 3 feet away. I am more of a Charlie Trotter/Patricia Wells fan, but it's comforting that Child's cookbooks are here, keeping the other cookbooks honest. On the bedside table sits a borrowed copy of Child's witty "My Life in France" (thanks, Norra).

Of course, both the Blu-ray and DVD editions of "Julie & Julia" come with a making-of featurette about the film (larded with showbiz butt-kissing). Ephron does a feature-length commentary. Both are lukewarm.

Fun fact: Streep learned her away around a knife and chopped her 15 pounds of onions, but Amy Adams used a hand model. Anyone surprised?

DVD reviews: 'Food Inc.,' 'A River of Waste'

Before Julia Child created her French revolution in American cooking, it was mostly housewives and home economics students who fretted about food. Now, of course, food and the art of cooking are national obsessions.

The politics, ethics and safety of our food supply have received unprecedented attention in the past decade, for good reason. Here are four documentaries that show the other side of the joy of cooking:

"Food, Inc." explores the nasty business of factory farming. It builds on the journalistic work done in the books "Fast Food Nation" and "The Omnivore's Dilemma." Authors Eric Schlosser and Michael Pollan, respectively, do Greek chorus duty throughout the documentary. (I also recommend "The Way We Eat" by Pete Singer and Jim Mason.)

Readers of "Omnivore's Dilemma" will recognize organic farmer Joel Salatin, a hero of both book and film. Beyond there, it's mostly bad guys who raise animals in a sea of shit and pain; who squeeze out well-meaning family farmers; who keep Americans fat and happy on a grotesque diet consisting mostly of corn products. We are basically walking corn chips, Pollan warns, and the evidence he brings to the table is plentiful.

 Magnolia Home Entertainment's DVD presentation of "Food, Inc." contains one noteworthy extra, a "Nightline" segment that revisits Salatin's back-to-nature farm/ranch. The proof is in the pigs, fat and happy in their forest mud holes.

"Food, Inc." recently made the short list for the documentary Oscars.

"A River of Waste" makes no pretense of objectivity; it is a full-on attack on the factory farms that have taken over our food supply. The movie charges that Big Ag is creating staggering amounts of chemically charged animal waste and dumping the toxic filth onto our soil and into our waterways.

The low-budget movie comes from Don McCorkell, who spent several decades as a legislator in Oklahoma. (He directed the film and serves as on-camera guide.)

"A River of Waste," subtitled "The Hazardous Truth About Factory Farms," feels like a hatchet job at first, but as the film unfolds and the evidence mounts, McCorkell's story becomes increasingly chilling. It seeks to turn viewers' disgust into political action. (The Cinema Libre DVD comes with no extra features of note.)

"Poisoned Water" examines the devastating impact of agricultural waste on the coastal estuaries of Puget Sound and the Chesapeake Bay. The two-hour program, originally aired on "Frontline," is hosted by everyman Hedrick Smith. It's geographically specific and slow moving, but there is plenty to learn from these sad case studies.

"Our Daily Bread" witnesses industrial food production for us. There is no narrator, no overt message beyond what is seen by the unblinking camera. In terms of dialogue, it is a silent movie. We hear what there is to hear, but no one speaks to us.

Austrian filmmaker Nikolaus Geyrhalter wanders European food production operations, taking us to the chemically treated fields and to the killing floor. We ride along with a sea of cute baby chickens and then watch their elders processed for the grocery mart. Kubrick comes to mind in some of this imagery.

Much is beautiful here and some is horrific. Geyrhalter likes to dwell on his scenes, implanting his vision with slow tracking shots. An amazing film, as eloquent as any of the others so filled with words. 

"Our Daily Bread" should be on Blu-ray, but for now we have Icarus FIlms' fine-looking DVD.

Blu-ray review: 'The Prisoner'

At the least, we can be grateful for AMC's "reimagining" of "The Prisoner" because it hastened the arrival of the classic cult series on Blu-ray.

"The Prisoner," of course, was in no need of a remake. The '60s spy series feels more relevant than ever ... and yet remains very much a product of its time -- 1966-1967, the glory days of psychedelia and paranoia.

The new "Prisoner," however, knows better than to go toe-to-toe with Patrick McGoohan's original. Its many knowing nods to the '60s series aside, the six-episode miniseries goes its own way, beginning with its casting of Ian McKellen as the sole "No. 2" character (where the original had many).

McKellen proves the definitive No. 2 -- a puppet master with the intelligence, charm, casual cruelty and wit the likes of which the original never had. Jim Caviezel falls short as No. 6, predictably and inevitably, but at least he has the smarts to play the part without McGoohan riffs.

I have no idea how this miniseries plays for someone unfamiliar with McGoohan's "Prisoner," but for open-minded fans of the original there is much to ponder, chuckle over and appreciate. Good show (at least based on the first two hours).

Back to the main event: A&E's latest packaging of "The Prisoner" brings the U.S. video release into sync with the excellent 40th anniversary release from Britain (2007) -- with the addition of stunning high definition video. 

(A&E also had a 40th anniversary DVD collection in 2006, but it mostly recycled the five individual multi-episode sets released in 2001.)

On Blu-ray, the op art/pop art imagery of "The Prisoner" leaps from the screen. Colors are bold and vivid, yet not oversaturated. The clarity is remarkable, almost too good -- the actors' perspiration and skin blemishes are borderline distracting (the kind of thing industry folks fretted about in the early days of HD).

Can't recall a better-looking presentation of a '60s television show, even considering the minor grain, speckling and miscellaneous artifacts.

Audio is OK, whether you choose the 5.1 track (with its once-over-lightly mix) or the 2.0 mono. The audio does have bouts of that tinniness associated with pop soundtracks of the day.

The feature-length documentary comes from 2007 and the U.K. box, a welcome upgrade from the so-so docu on A&E's last effort. 

"Don't Knock Yourself Out" starts off with a fan-boy tone, but eventually digs deep into the show's history, including a lengthy look at star/exec producerPatrick McGoohan's sometimes weird and abusive behavior on the set. 

McGoohan, who was in his final years, did not participate, but is quoted thusly:

"If whatever we wanted to say is not already contained within the episodes of the series then I failed in the production of them and any amount of chit-chat now will not make good that omission."

There were whispers about a McGoohan nervous breakdown on the set, and he apparently caused one for No. 2 actor Leo McKern, who shows up in the docu to bash his old boss as a "loathsome bully." 

McGoohan kept it chilly with his leading actresses, refusing to even kiss one when the script called for it. 

"I just loathed Patrick," one actress tells the filmmakers. "I hated the whole thing." Another actor recalls McGoohan strangling him when he was supposed to be faking it: "I could see those mad eyes looking down on me."

Karma being a bitch, the story goes that actor McGoohan was attacked by viewers on the streets of London after the ambiguous series finale aired.  

But mostly the documentary brings together the show's old cast, crew and executives to sing its praises. This is a film made for fans, by fans. If you have 10 minutes or so to spare for the history of "Rover" -- the series' famous white bouncing mochi ball of an enforcer -- step right up.

Several of the key witnesses show up on episode commentaries, for those who can't get enough of The Village.

A&E's "The Prisoner: The Complete Series" on Blu-ray should prove definitive, given its outstanding images and the wealth of extras, most swept up by various video versions over the years.

 This is the fifth or sixth post about "The Prisoner" series on this DVD blog, and probably the last. Looks like case closed. Be seeing you, No. 6.

Top horror DVDs, Blu-rays of 2009

The year's best horror movies on Blu-ray and DVD, straight from the digital dungeons deep beneath L.A. This being DVD Spin Doctor, artistic merit counts: Every decapitation a thing of beauty; every zombie lost in thoughts of Dante and Bosch ...

The William Castle Film Collection (Sony): Night and fog. The Thames River. A shadowy and portly figure greets viewers: "Hello, my homicidal friends." Hitchcock? Nah, it's just William Castle, that P.T. Barnum of American horror films. Sony's slick box set rounds up the director's essential fright flicks, including "The Tingler," "13 Ghosts," "Straightjacket" and "Dr. Sardonicus." Three of the eight films are making their DVD debuts, while the others have been remastered to the studio's high standards. Castle was known for making fright fun, so be prepared to scream and laugh along with these killer Bs from a half century ago. Start with the ace documentary "Spine Tingler: The William Castle Story" and then go directly to "The Tingler," starring Vincent Price and the world's lamest -- but plenty scary -- movie monster.

Audition (Shout!): Japanese director Takashi Miike's masterpiece, renowned for its mixture of mind-bending horror and lonely-hearts drama. Shout! Factory just updated the title, adding an intro and a new feature-length commentary from the bemused director and his screenwriter. "You may regret watching it," Miike humbly warns viewers. Devotees no doubt wanted to go kiri-kiri-kiri (deeper-deeper-deeper) with a definitive 10th anniversary edition, but Shout's DVD and Blu-ray editions are the best to date. (They include more than an hour's worth of cast interviews and a booklet essay.) The tale is of a lonely widower who uses a movie audition as a ruse for meeting women. He's soon obsessed with a long-haired beauty who comes with plenty of baggage -- stuffed full of instruments of torture. Essential, compelling, sick, heartbreaking ... a modern classic of horror. 

An American Werewolf in London (Universal): The studio that first brought us the werewolf does a makeover on Jon Landis' horror-comedy gem from 1981. This was among the last of the makeup horror movies, done by effects wiz  Rick Baker -- the transformation scene is his Oscar-winning masterpiece. "American Werewolf" hasn't aged a bit: the rotting corpse guy is still a hoot, the violence has plenty of kick and Jenny Agutter was never more luminous. Plenty of extras, including a new feature-length documentary. The Blu-ray images look quite good considering the original's softness and grain. The super-crisp soundtrack -- filled with all those lunar songs like "Bad Moon Rising" -- will have you howling along. "Moondance" has never sounded better.

Deadgirl (Dark Sky): Ever wonder what it would be like to have sex with a zombie? Me neither, but you'll get an eyeful in this sick piece of business. In a mostly lame year for new horror films, "Deadgirl" returns us to the days when viewers could be equally repulsed and fascinated by a low-budget shocker. A vaguely hot zombie is turned into a sex slave after a couple of high school guys find her chained up in an abandoned mental institution. Jenny Spain turns in some fierce work as the titular dead girl. Those who are offended by, well, pretty much anything that could be shown in a mainstream movie should steer clear. Directors Marcel Sarmiento and Gadi Harel belong on any horror fan's watch list.

Icons of Sci-Fi: Toho Collection (Sony): "Mothra" returns, in glorious Tohoscope. This genre trilogy from Japanese director Ishiro Honda stretches from 1958-1961, prime time for radiation meltdowns, alien invasions and giant monsters from the far East. The rarely seen "Mothra" is the big deal here, finally getting a U.S. release that lives up to its reputation. Sure, Mothra the monster looks like a tube sock (see the Tingler), but the film boasts many fine miniatures and effects. The story concerns a gangster who steals singing fairies from a mysterious island. Mothra comes to their rescue, winning hearts as it levels what's left of Japan. The other movies are "The H-Man" and "Battle From Outer Space," both pretty good. Sour note: Sony went all cheap with the packaging, sticking three discs on the same spindle.

Repulsion (Criterion): Madness, murder and a breathtakingly young Catherine Deneuve drive this psychological horror movie from Roman Polanski. Criterion's Blu-ray version delivers exquisite black-and-white images, all the better to capture the awful goings-on in the apartment of a young French woman living in London. "Repulsion" characterizes the anti-heroine's response to men, but get a load of the famous rotting rabbit on a dinner plate that mirrors her deterioration into madness. Another fine Criterion chiller from this year is "Empire of Passion" (1978), an erotic ghost story from Nagisa Oshima.

Timecrimes (Magnet): Slasher meets sci-fi. Spain's "Timecrimes" deals with time travel on a micro scale -- not even a day passes by. The film's budget wasn't much. There are no special effects or splashy concepts. Director Nacho Vigalondo doesn't need them. A well-off suburbanite, Hector, witnesses some odd events in the woods. He rushes off to investigate and finds a naked woman, dead. Hector's soon been stabbed by a frantic man with ghastly pink bandages covering his head. Hector seeks help in a rural lab, where a slacker mad scientist is doing temporal experiments on the cheap. Hector is convinced to hide in a clunky time machine, which transports him back an hour. Thus begins a comically sinister loop that plays like a "Memento"-style puzzle.

Drag Me to Hell (Universal): Life is full of choices, some fateful, some fatal. Your choice here is between the uncut version of Sam Rami's roller coaster of a horror movie and the theatrical. Either will do for the Blu-ray hell-ride to come, fueled by a hyperactive sound mix and sparkling digital images. Bank officer Christine made her choice by evicting a strange old lady from her home, bringing on a curse that's good for 90 minutes of horrific action. Universal's killer presentation includes a lengthy collection of production "diaries," in which we meet the true lady with the evil eye ... and she's a sweetheart. Director Rami was long overdue in returning to his icky roots in horror. Universal also just broke out a Blu-ray of Rami's "Army of Darkness," the fun, dumb and furious follow-up to the two "Evil Deads."  

Underworld Trilogy (Sony): The "Underworld" franchise -- so obsessed with time, lineage and the great ghostly events of the past -- undergoes a resurrection of sorts with this complete Blu-ray box set. Those revisiting the vampire vs. werewolf series can tear into fresh meat by rearranging the three films into a linear chronology. In other words, start with the prequel, "Rise of the Lycans," proceed through the original "Underworld," and wrap with the sequel "Evolution." No one will confuse this series with the "Matrix" trilogy, but "Underworld" has been a satisfying modern series in the Hammer spirit. All three movies look terrific on Blu-ray. Audio is solid, sometimes remarkable. 

Let The Right One In (Magnolia): Hip Hollywood vampires have become a plague this year -- here is the antidote. Yes, it appears this DVD release was botched with the use of substandard subtitles (compared with the U.S. theatrical release). But "Let the Right One In" can't be missed, and there's no point in waiting for the proper DVD (to be marked "theatrical version"). Director Tomas Alfredson turns his cameras on two 12-year-olds, one a sad boy, the other a sad girlish vampire. They live in a crappy part of Stockholm, where life sucks and locals are starting to turn up drained of blood. Among the best horror movies of the decade -- if not the best.

Top 10 horror movie DVDs of 2008

Blu-ray review: 'The Complete Monterey Pop'

Monterey the rock festival still stands in the shadows of the bigger and gaudier Woodstock, but "Monterey Pop" the film has no rival as a time capsule of late-'60s rock."

D.A. Pennebaker's documentary was smarter, hipper and more musical than other rock films of the era. Yes, that includes the endlessly celebrated "Woodstock: 3 Days of Peace & Music," recently tricked out on video for the fest's 40th anniversary.

The Criterion Collection gave "Monterey Pop" its due back in 2006 with a carefully crafted DVD box set. Now, the label is back with the movie in high definition video and lossless sound.

Disc 1 of Criterion's Blu-ray box brings together a fully restored version of the original film and several hours of bonus performances. Disc 2 has the two spinoff films starring Jimi Hendrix and Otis Redding.

"The Complete Monterey Pop Festival" Blu-ray set retails for $70, $10 less than the DVD version, which had three discs. The packaging is smaller but almost identical to the 2006 edition. The beautiful booklet loses some visual impact, as it's reduced by an inch or so all around.

Audio and video easily pass the acid test. An A-B comparison of the Janis Joplin showstopper "Ball and Chain" was fairly dramatic, with the Blu-ray (DTS-HD MA) boasting a much more musical audio experience than the DVD.

The separation in original engineer Eddie Kramer's 5.1 mix felt even more vivid yet better balanced, while the instrumental shrillness that runs throughout the soundtrack was mitigated. Joplin's voice had better presence and came across as much warmer.

I actually preferred the DVD audio on the Who's "My Generation," which had more balls and power than the Blu-ray rendition -- distortion and blunt force being good things here.

Rear channels give off stadium ambiance, instrument echoes and audience cheers, making for an open, you-are-there vibe. Likewise, the HD video taken from the original 16mm negatives looks flower-child fresh, with almost none of the deterioration that plagued pre-2006 "Monterey Pop" videos.

The upgrade to high definition seemed to tame the grain a bit, but the 16mm stock clearly limits what could be done. (Audio and video on the outtakes have significantly rougher edges, including a lot of hair on the lenses.)

"Monterey" was, remarkably, the work of a filmmaker without a clue. New Yorker D.A. Pennebaker knew nothing of the bands he was filming or of the world-changing events unfolding before his cameras in 196

"I was the most ignorant person there," Pennebaker recalls in his commentary. "It was a strange kind of Martian adventure for me."

"Monterey Pop" captured the hippie music scene at a time closer to the Newport of Dylan than the chaos of the big Eastern rock fests. Many acts were folkies making the transition to rock, accomplished performers right at home on Monterey's small, traditional stage. The mixed bag of performers included hitmakers the Mamas and the Papas, Simon and Garfunkel, Jefferson Airplane, Canned Heat, the Who and Buffalo Springfield.

Festival and film producer Lou Adler says Monterey provided the tipping point between the gentler "old guard" and the new wave of guitar-fueled psychedelia.

"The film had a lot of the energy of what was coming," he say

Several of the era's biggest acts -- notably the Beatles and Stones -- failed to make the scene in Northern California, leaving the glory to a pair of mostly unknown performers: Janis Joplin and Jimi Hendrix. The Blu-ray's revved-up audio echoes the shock of new from Joplin's "Ball and Chain" and Hendrix's "Wild Thing."

Time has been kind to many of Pennebaker's creative decisions. The inclusion of international acts Hugh Masekela and Ravi Shankar gives the film a contemporary musical tone. Otis Redding makes the cut, not Lou Rawls. Editing avoids the frantic cuts of rock clich

Pennebaker ("Don't Look Back") speaks at length about Indian musician Shankar's raga that is the thrilling but challenging finale. The plan that day was to focus on the audience reacting to the exotic Indian music, so Shankar's stage cinematography was left to two inexperienced cameramen.

"It turned out to be the most extraordinarily dramatic piece of music we ever ran across," the director recalls. During editing, Pennebaker says, he resisted pressure from Mama Cass Elliot to cut the lengthy instrumental, saying nothing could possibly follow it. Writer Truman Capote, of all people, encouraged Pennebaker to retain the number and the ensuing ovation that provides the film's touching final moments.

The cinema verite enhances many of the film's charms: When Eric Burdon sings "Paint It, Black," Brian Jones walks among the crowd, unheralded. You either get it or you don't -- the camera moves on either way.

Adler, who partnered with Mamas and Papas frontman John Phillips to produce the festival, tells how a peace broke out between the rival rock factions of L.A. and San Francisco to facilitate the event.

Monterey was financed by network TV, with young ABC exec Barry Diller envisioning a musical special. Once fest organizers realized what they had, they deliberately screened Hendrix's R-rated performance for the ABC suits -- and were allowed to go elsewhere.

Outstanding outtakes on the set include Paul Butterfield, the Electric Flag, the Byrds and Laura Nyro. A bonus three-song segment from the Who features drummer Keith Moon at the peak of his crazed powers. The Mamas and the Papas close the show, and the bonus section, with what would be their next-to-last concert.

Extras include audio interviews with the late Phillips and other key performers, Pete Townshend discussing his famous backstage flap with Hendrix, and Tiny Tim performing in the green room, a piece of theater as trippy as anything ever cooked up in Haight Ashbury.