F-R-double-E-D, D-O-M spells Freedom! We fight for freedom, for one and for all!

It’s you-and-me-dom, and ten foot tall! Freedom, freedom, and oh-can-you-see-dom!

We’ll always beat ‘em with star-spangled freedom!

Another Independence Day has come and gone in the USA, but before we bundle up the bunting, furl up the flags and [...]]]>

F-R-double-E-D, D-O-M spells Freedom! We fight for freedom, for one and for all!

It’s you-and-me-dom, and ten foot tall! Freedom, freedom, and oh-can-you-see-dom!

We’ll always beat ‘em with star-spangled freedom!

Another Independence Day has come and gone in the USA, but before we bundle up the bunting, furl up the flags and blaze that last pack of firecrackers, let’s take a few minutes to celebrate the meaning and grandeur behind all that traditional hoopla: I’m talkin’ about FREEDOM!

Yeah, FREEDOM, that wonderful essential quality of life we all enjoy here in America, unique among the nations in granting FREEDOM as a birthright to its natural born and duly assimilated citizens. FREEDOM, that allows us to choose our own destiny, chart our own course, shrug off the rules that don’t apply to us and righteously snuff out any and all tyrants that dare to stand in our way. FREEDOM! Our forefathers caught it, we inherited it and we aim to spread it around as far and as wide as our FREEDOM-loving loins allow us to roam! FREEDOM - it’s that sound of the drumbeats of liberty you hear, approaching, rumbling, pounding in the distance… it’s the sight of millions of disciplined individuals all marching in lockstep, determined to make everyone else free just like them! …it’s the undeniable, irresistible power that overwhelms and subjugates all who dare obstruct FREEDOM’s path! And FREEDOM has a champion – and that Champion’s name is… MR. FREEDOM!

While Mr. Freedom‘s absurd, exaggerated narrative spins wildly toward its apocalyptic, cartoonish finale, packing its own simplistic political punch, what knocks me out through the course of the film are the vivid colors and playful details of Klein’s set designs and costumes, just short of miraculous considering they had to have been produced on a shoestring budget. Among my favorites are the US Embassy, a supermarket stocked full of bland generic branded products and staffed by bouncy go-go dancers, and the ridiculous pseudo-tech Freedom bunker that serves as command central when the incorrigible French citizenry force Mr. Freedom‘s hand to escalate the conflict.

I shall have many young kings with round, strong arms.

And when I am tired of them, I shall whip them to death.

Last week, controversy developed over reports that Angelina Jolie has been cast to take the lead role in a biopic about Cleopatra, the historical Queen of Egypt whose [...]]]>

I shall have many young kings with round, strong arms.

And when I am tired of them, I shall whip them to death.

Last week, controversy developed over reports that Angelina Jolie has been cast to take the lead role in a biopic about Cleopatra, the historical Queen of Egypt whose reputation over the centuries has developed to nearly legendary proportions. While I think Ms. Jolie has the perfect blend of beauty, attitude and screen presence to pull off a job that’s served as a platform for silver screen goddesses of decades past, critics take issue with the fact that a Caucasian woman is once again being awarded the opportunity to play one of history’s most noteworthy African female characters. Despite the legitimate argument that Cleopatra’s lineage included European ancestors, I understand the sensitivity of their concern. Similar objections have been voiced about the upcoming The Last Airbender, which also employs a white lead actor to play a child of clearly Asian descent, as well as The Prince of Persia‘s use of Jake Gyllenhaal to play the family adventure film’s Arab protagonist. Even the flap on Twitter stirred up by black actor Donald Glover’s self-initiated campaign to land the role of Peter Parker in a planned Spiderman reboot demonstrates the volatility of this topic. But in my opinion, it takes a certain megastar status to give Cleopatra’s portrayal due justice on the big screen. All questions of ethnicity aside, Angelina Jolie has the screen goddess credentials to follow in the footsteps of Elizabeth Taylor, Theda Bara, Claudette Colbert and (by arrangement with David O. Selznick) Vivien Leigh, the star of this week’s feature in our Journey Through The Eclipse Series, Caesar and Cleopatra.

Another lesson from Shakespeare on film fits here too: don’t hold the staginess and artificiality of the characters on screen as a detriment to the film’s overall effect. These movies are not the place to go for convincing portrayals of regular folks just like us. The literary quality of the text, peppered with memorable, epigrammatic quotes, and the mythic dimensions that the two lead characters in particular have assumed in Western culture, put us in the realm of archetypes. In this case, we have Caesar, the aging conqueror, pinned down for the moment in a strange and hostile land, and Cleopatra, the privileged, powerful yet naive young woman who’s just coming into her own as a wielder of power on both the political and sexual level. Each character serves as a canvas upon which Shaw can layer observations of varying degrees of profundity, that the rest of us can relate to in some way or other, either personally as they apply to our own lives, or observationally as we see connections to the lives of others. Caesar’s plight involves the degree to which he exercises his noble inclinations of clemency toward his foes as he reconsiders his war-like ways, while Cleopatra’s character arc transforms her from foolish child into the cunning, seductive manipulator of powerful men that has made her both an object of fascination and a proverbial harlot, albeit one who uses her lack of scruples to achieve notable conquests.

Likewise, the cavalier mockery of native cultures can be grating. The “humorous” touches of a buffoonish black slave, bugged-eyed and fearful, running around in his underwear screaming “Fly! Fly!” when the Romans approach, or the running gag about the invaders’ inability to pronounce the name of Cleopatra’s head servant Ftatateeta come across as obtuse and boorish more than anything else, but such was the smugness of the old-time boys’ club mentality back then. I suppose it’s good to see with fresh eyes such biases revealing themselves in the guise of entertainment. Caesar’s tutelage of Cleopatra in how to use the threat of raw violence to assert her royal sovereignty is both disturbing and fascinating to behold, especially when it produces such an instantly sadistic response from his young pupil (alluded to in the quote to lead off this article.)

Setting the problems aside then, there’s still plenty to enjoy for lovers of classic, large-scale film sets of the monumental sort, even though they do have that stage-like air of artifice about them and cling rather closely to the conventions of Orientalist fantasy, similar to what you see in The Thief of Bagdad, on the few occasions that attention is given to ordinary Egyptian peasantry. My eyes were pleased by a few beautifully composed exteriors and I’m a big fan of Technicolor too, so that alone validates the price of admission. Less successful are some attempts at “cast of thousands” style spectacle toward the end of the film – the potential for climactic battle scenes on both land and sea was sadly under-exploited, with a feeble montage of very short battle images having to suffice when I was expecting a major throw-down between Caesar’s army and warriors under the command of Cleopatra’s sibling rival Ptolemy and his general Achillus. I get the sense that this production grew kind of exhausted toward the end, which was understandable after learning about some of its setbacks. These included Vivien Leigh’s pregnancy, miscarriage and the early onset of bipolar disorder that would plague her the rest of her life, budget overruns that drew negative attention from the British Parliament (during wartime, no less) and an unplanned relocation of production from England to Cairo (at least they could almost say “filmed on location”!) While there are many fine moments, Caesar and Cleopatra rarely delivers in terms of the sheer entertainment value promised in this trailer:

In the mid 1940s, Vivien Leigh was the biggest female star in the world, primarily based on the phenomenal success of Gone With the Wind and her iconic performance as Scarlett O’Hara. Her youthful beauty and fiery, impetuous on-screen persona captured the fancy of women and men alike, and she seems to have made a specialty of playing women who transition from times of severe adversity to pinnacles of power, only to face another round of setbacks that force them to rebuild their lives once again. At least, that’s judging from what I’ve seen of her in Gone With the Wind (1939), Caesar and Cleopatra (1945) and That Hamilton Woman (1941), a Criterion release from last year in which Leigh starred with her husband, Laurence Olivier. Cast opposite Claude Rains, who took the male half of the title roles, the two of them make a compelling and entertaining lead couple, though there are only flickers of romantic attraction between them – a dynamic built into the script, not a failure of their screen chemistry in the slightest. On the contrary, these two accomplished actors succeed in building a convincing rapport between older man, seasoned in the accumulation and expansion of power, and younger woman, born to privilege but naive about how to apply her advantages most effectively. Rains is probably most famous nowadays for his supporting role as Capt. Renault in Casablanca, and he’s enshrined in the Criterion Collection as Ingrid Bergman’s sinister husband in Hitchcock’s Notorious.

So though its clearly not a cinematic masterpiece by any measure, Caesar and Cleopatra has plenty to recommend it, even if one chooses to give it a “camp” reading. That’s apparently the value discovered by the Worth1000.com website, which takes iconic images and encourages participants to try their hand at coloring them creatively. Click the link for a gallery of takes on one poignant image (though it’s not one that’s lingered over at all in the actual film.) As they say, a picture can be worth a thousand words – I’ll leave you to fill in the blanks however you’d like on this one!

It’s a silly story, only possible with music.

After spending last weekend immersed in the horrors of trench warfare, World War I style, via Raymond Bernard’s Wooden Crosses, I’m in the mood for something light and frivolous – how about a romantic comedy, a musical one at that? Sure – Criterion’s Eclipse [...]]]>

It’s a silly story, only possible with music.

After spending last weekend immersed in the horrors of trench warfare, World War I style, via Raymond Bernard’s Wooden Crosses, I’m in the mood for something light and frivolous – how about a romantic comedy, a musical one at that? Sure – Criterion’s Eclipse series has got just the thing for me, in Eclipse Series 8: Lubitsch Musicals. But which one of the four best fits the occasion? Well, it’s the first weekend of June, that time of year when blissful young couples traditionally get married, a custom going back to ancient Roman times when Juno was paid special homage as the goddess of marriage. Of course, June weddings also have the practical advantage of ensuring that if the bride gets pregnant on the honeymoon, she won’t be ready to give birth until after the harvest time, and the baby should be born before the spring planting season has begun. That’s the angle that our agrarian ancestors came up with, and the ritual (with all of its embedded patriarchal assumptions) lives on, to some extent anyway.

Perhaps it’s that sense of marriage as a trap, when the arrangements are made for all the wrong reasons, that gives some potential spouses a case of the cold feet when it comes time to take that final stroll down the aisle. The archetype of the “runaway bride” goes back well before the uproar stirred up by Jennifer Wilbanks in 2005, when she vanished a few days before her wedding day, drawing national media attention and even suspicions of murder toward her fiance, before she was tracked down and offered a blatantly false and racist explanation for her sudden disappearance. Some may also remember the mediocre (at best) Julia Roberts film Runaway Bride from 1999, especially those of us who were dragged there reluctantly by our own spouses/dates/significant others (sorry if I stirred up any unwelcome memories for our readers with the citation.) But that cinematic trope goes back considerably further than the late 90s, all the way back to the very early days of the sound era, maybe even further – but we’ll stop there.

Going into Nagisa Oshima’s latest Criterion outing, a collection of his 1960’s releases in the form of an Eclipse box set known as Oshima’s Outlaw Sixties, I couldn’t help but think that my high expectations, would most likely be shot down.

As much as I enjoy Oshima’s latter works, like In The Realm [...]]]>

Going into Nagisa Oshima’s latest Criterion outing, a collection of his 1960’s releases in the form of an Eclipse box set known as Oshima’s Outlaw Sixties, I couldn’t help but think that my high expectations, would most likely be shot down.

As much as I enjoy Oshima’s latter works, like In The Realm Of The Senses, Oshima has been known as the Godard of Japan, leaving me to think that this would be a life altering box set experience, like none other.

That said, now having actually seen the rather expansive collection of films, I can honestly say that this is not only a must own for any cinephile, it’s also an eye opening set of politically motivated, violent, and sexually charged pieces of cinema that many people have not had the joy of laying eyes on.

The collection opens with Oshima’s 1965 film, Pleasures Of The Flesh, a take on the famous novel, Pleasures Inside The Coffin. Pleasures follows a man, Atsushi, who is being blackmailed by a businessman who simply asks him to guard a briefcase holding 30 million yen. Realizing that he would be killed after the man’s jail sentence is up, he decides to go out and spend the money however he so feels.

Flesh opens with a voice-over, describing what has taken place, leading up to the film. We find Atsushi with the cash, and being depressed after his former pupil wed someone else, he decides to ask a prostitute to live with him for 1 million yen a month. The film is based off a screenplay written by Oshima, and features the same type of sexual energy, hand in hand with brutal and honest violence, that made Oshima become known as the auteur that he truly is. What is known as part of the “pink” genre (soft-core sexploitation), that almost seems like a slight for this rather superb independent project. It’s far more politically charged than his latter work, taking a deep look at what became of Japan’s economy after WWII, and instead of using sex to excite the viewer, he uses it to show just what happens to a man who gives himself completely over to the vice that we all know as excess. It’s a visually striking film, with much of the story coming in exposition, but it’s also quite economical. Oshima doesn’t seem to be a filmmaker to waist prose. Every word is given time to breath, making this easily one of the best films of the set.

Flesh is followed by yet another sexually violent piece of cinema, known as the 1966 film, Violence At Noon. However, that’s about where any of the comparison’s stop. Whereas Pleasures was a film consisting of very few takes, featuring longer shots showing just how skilled Oshima was behind the camera, he flips the switch for Violence, giving us a film featuring nearly 2,000 individual shots, making this the most kinetic and surreal film in the collection. This also marks the first pairing of Oshima and actor Kei Sato (who sadly passed earlier this year), who would later work on both Sing A Song Of Sex and Three Resurrected Drunkards, as well as Violence

It follows two women, a young maid who has fallen victim to a serial rapist and killer, and the man’s wife, who we follow throughout the 98 minute film. It’s as much a dark character study of a man completely lost to madness and sexual violence, as it is about two women who for some reason cannot give up their love for this evil man. Violence sounds like an everyday melodrama, but the film is not only superbly acted, but is also darkly convincing. These performances are just as surreal and kinetic as each frame lensed by Oshima, and his editor Keiichi Uraoka make this film not only an interesting look at disillusionment with the political hierarchy of post-war Japan, but also the sets most striking visual feast. It is hard to really dig into, as the film’s nonlinear story is stark and could be confusing for some, but if you are willing to give yourself over to it, and if you are willing to pay close attention, this may be the box sets most interesting addition.

The first two films of this set also attempt to deal with something that seems to be a theme running through all of Oshima’s 1960’s releases, the idea of how people change after coming to terms with death. In both Pleasure and Violence, our leads have not only come to terms with the fact that their deaths are imminent, but that they are actually alright with that, and in the case of Violence, even wish to die. Oshima seems infatuated with this idea, often coming to the point that we as humans cannot truly live until we have stared death in the face, and have smiled back at it. It’s an interesting theme that while not touched on directly in his latter works, is something that is definitely there in these first few films.

Next, there is Oshima’s ’67 release, Sing A Song Of Sex. The film follows four sexually charged high school students as they prepare to take their entrance exams. They meet up with a teacher, who after a drunken evening, is found dead. This death launches us into a film that is far more freeform than any of his previous films, even the narratively off putting Violence. The four sing songs, obsess over a woman they met while taking a test, and even fantasize of raping a teacher in front of a class. Song is a film that ultimately works if you allow yourself to be given over to its rather absurd and anarchic tale of political disgust and angst, but it’s also one that isn’t easy to do that for. It’s one of Oshima’s more difficult films to watch, that while engaging, doesn’t necessarily say anything new or more interesting than what you see in any of the prior films, or really any of the latter. The performances are great, particularly a turn from pop star Ichiro Araki, and Oshima is giving us his best Kubrick with sexually violent fantasies and shots framed looking directly into the face of our leads as they give us these explicit dreams, but doesn’t give us the same narrative weight that the aforementioned auteur is known for.

Following that up is the 1968 release, Japanese Summer: Double Suicide. The film follows a collective of anarchists who become trapped in an underground hideaway. This is the most obscure and rare addition to the set, and yet happens to be one of Oshima’s most interesting. You have a collection of not only characters, but also themes that Oshima made famous. A young female looking for anyone to feed her sexual hunger; violent high school student with an affinity for gangster pictures, and an older gentlemen who wishes to be killed all fill Oshima’s take on a story similar to that of the Jean Paul Sartre play, No Exit. As is normal with the latter three Oshima films in this set, Suicide is completely an absurd piece, but it also is not truly a superb experience. This is definitely not one for those looking to jump right into the works of Oshima, as it will really turn a lot of viewers off of the filmmaker. That said, it is an interesting story, and it is of course a rather visually impressive film, but it shows that Oshima seemed to be losing a bit of steam as the years went on.

Finally, we have Oshima’s 1968 film, Three Resurrected Drunkards. This is Oshima both at his most politically boisterous, as well as his most over the top and cartoonish. The film follows a trio of friends who after going for a swim, find that their clothes have been switched out with those of Korean immigrants trying to escape the war. This is Oshima coming guns a blazing against the Vietnam War and the racism he saw during that time period, and while often drawing comparisons to the great Richard Lester film, A Hard Days Night, is neither as visually fun, nor as interestingly madcap as that classic Beatles picture. The comedy that the film finds makes this one film that isn’t nearly as harshly critical as his earlier works, making it much less of a commentary and much more of a live action Looney Tunes cartoon, or something like a Japanese Benny Hill episode. The narrative style is interesting, and of course it’s visually something to love, but the film is easily Oshima’s weakest, and while it may be the one that may be the most innocuous and easy to watch, it is definitely a minor work in the rather illustrious career of Nagisa Oshima.

Overall, while there are definitely problems with many of the films in this collection, particularly the latter two, the prior three, particularly the first two films, are easily some of the best cinematic outings of the era, and really continue to hold up. He may not be as well known as the legendary French auteur, Godard, but the kinetic visual style and equally energetic concepts behind his films, make Oshima one filmmaker that the world desperately needs to get back in touch with. We’d be a better place for it.

Images Courtesy Of The Criterion Collection:

Often called the Godard of the East, Japanese director Nagisa Oshima was one of the most provocative film artists of the twentieth century, and his works challenged and shocked the cinematic world for decades. Following his rise to prominence at Shochiku, Oshima struck out to form his own production company, Sozosha, in 1961. That move ushered in the prolific period of his career that gave birth to the five films collected here. Unsurprisingly, this studio renegade was fascinated by stories of outsiders—serial killers, rabid hedonists, and stowaway misfits are just some of the social castoffs you’ll meet in these audacious, cerebral entries in the New Wave surge that made Japan a hub of truly daredevil moviemaking.

Available on May 18th, 2010 on DVD, the Collector’s set includes:

One of the films playing at SXSW this year was Steven Soderbergh’s And Everything Is Going Fine. His latest being a documentary about the life of actor, playwright and performance artist Spalding Gray. This documentary had its world premiere a few months earlier in Park City, Utah. Not at Sundance but rather at [...]]]>

One of the films playing at SXSW this year was Steven Soderbergh’s And Everything Is Going Fine. His latest being a documentary about the life of actor, playwright and performance artist Spalding Gray. This documentary had its world premiere a few months earlier in Park City, Utah. Not at Sundance but rather at Slamdance, the other Park City film festival.

After the screening in Austin, Texas, there was a Q&A with the films producers where they answered questions about their plans for the DVD release and the release of other Gray performances to DVD. “We hope to see a box set come out through the Criterion Collection in 2011, but the deal’s not done yet.” Gary’s widow/producer, Kathie Russo chimed in, “it’s a real shame that not even Swimming To Cambodia is out on DVD, so this is a great opportunity to finally get this stuff out there.”

The set is rumored to include other works like Swimming To Cambodia (Jonathan Demme), Monster In A Box (Nick Broomfield), Gray’s Anatomy (Steven Soderbergh) and And Everything Is Going Fine (Steven Soderbergh).

Both Soderbergh (Schizopolis, Traffic, Che) and Demme (Silence of The Lambs) are already in the Criterion Collection so it’s not out of reach to think a box set is forthcoming. (Especially when producers are in talks with Criterion.)

Spalding Gray committed suicide in 2004 by presumingly jumping off the Staten Island Ferry and drowning in the East River. He went missing on January 10, 2004 and was found dead on March 7, 2004. It is believed that the last movie he watched was Tim Burton’s Big Fish.

In my opinion, when this set will come out, it seems like it will be most likely an Eclipse boxed set. A set of films focusing around a center theme, writer or figure by different filmmakers sounds like an Eclipse set to me. Nevertheless, this still would be a great addition to the Criterion, Janus, Eclipse family and I am looking forward to more news about this release.

Source: The Playlist || Photo: Noah Greenberg – Boston Globe

This is the podcast dedicated to The Criterion Collection. Rudie, Ryan & Travis discuss Criterion News & Rumors and Criterion New Releases, we analyze, discuss & highlight Criterion #326, Whit Stillman’s Metropolitan, along with “Variations On a Theme”.

This week’s “Variation on a theme”:

Upward Social [...]]]>

This is the podcast dedicated to The Criterion Collection. Rudie, Ryan & Travis discuss Criterion News & Rumors and Criterion New Releases, we analyze, discuss & highlight Criterion #326, Whit Stillman’s Metropolitan, along with “Variations On a Theme”.

This week’s “Variation on a theme”:

Upward Social Mobility in Movies

What do you think of our show? Please send your feed back: CriterionCast@gmail.com or call our voicemail line @ 347.878.3430 or follow us on twitter @CriterionCast or Comment on our blog, http://CriterionCast.com.

Thank you for listening. Don’t forget to subscribe to our podcast and please leave your reviews in our iTunes feed.

We broadcast every episode LIVE on UStream every Friday @ 7pm EST/4pm PST. Join in on the conversation @ CriterionCast.com/LIVE

Our next episode we will highlight and discuss Criterion #157 Wes Anderson’s The Royal Tenenbaums.

Add It To Your Netflix Queue (Also Available Through Netflix Watch Instantly)

Show Notes:

(00:00 – 00:31; Whit Stillman’s Metropolitan – Criterion #326)

(00:32 – 00:47; “A United Theory” by God Help The Girl)

(00:48 – 01:30; The CriterionCast – Episode 025 – Metropolitan – CC #326)

(01:31 – 01:35; News & Rumors)

(01:36 – 05:07; More Criterions On Netflix Watch Instantly)

(05:08 – 11:06; Criterion Launches Hulu Channel)

(11:07 – 18:20; Criterion Rumors)

(18:21 – 26:06; Criterion New Releases)

(26:07 – 27:18; Break Music by Carlos Segovia)

(27:19 – 1:01:48; Whit Stillman’s Metropolitan – Criterion #326)

(1:01:49 – 1:02:49; Break Music by Carlos Segovia)

(1:02:50 – 1:03:40; Variations On A Theme – Upward Social Mobility in Movies)

(1:03:41 – 1:08:11; Trading Places – Ryan Gallagher)

(1:08:12 – 1:14:32; The Jerk – Travis George)

(1:14:33 – 1:21:24; Keetje Tippel (Katie Tippel) – Rudie Obias)

(1:21:25 – 1:22:36; Wrap Up & Contact Info)

(1:22:37 – 1:22:54; Music Credits)

(1:22:55 – 1:23:10; Broadcasting Live Every Friday On Ustream)

(1:23:11 – 1:23:25; Next – Wes Anderson’s The Royal Tenenbaums – Criterion #157)

(1:23:26 – 1:23:41; Follow Along With Us @ CriterionCast.com/Schedule)

(1:23:42 – 1:23:50; Goodbyes)

(1:23:51 – 1:24:43; “Working Poor” by Horse Feathers)

(1:24:44 – 1:30:01; Outtakes!!)

Music Credits:

Intro Music by God Help The Girl. Learn more on iTunes and their website, GodHelpTheGirl.com.

Break Music by Carlos Segovia. Learn more @ GhostRamps.com.

Outro Music by Horse Feathers. Learn more on iTunes and their MySpace Page, MySpace.com/HorseFeathersMusic.

Those of us who are romantically-involved with that special someone (and really, even those of us sitting at home alone on a Friday night blogging) are well-aware that this Sunday is Saint Valentine’s Day. Window displays, television commercials, and grocery store aisles have been tinged with reds [...]]]>

Those of us who are romantically-involved with that special someone (and really, even those of us sitting at home alone on a Friday night blogging) are well-aware that this Sunday is Saint Valentine’s Day. Window displays, television commercials, and grocery store aisles have been tinged with reds and pinks for weeks now — a constant reminder that we Americans are commercially-obligated to express our feelings in rations of flora and chocolate cubes. We here at the Criterion Cast have but one love above all others, and that love has surprised us today with an early Valentine’s present, leaving us open-jawed and squealing to our besties.

That love? The Criterion Collection. That early present? Their releases for May 2010.

Representing the more, er, carnal aspects of Valentine tradition, we have five films by Nagisa Oshima making up Eclipse Volume 21.  If his Criterion selections IN THE REALM OF THE SENSES and EMPIRE OF PASSION are any indication of the overall air of his body of work, these films will no doubt be filled to overflowing with tons and tons and tons of graphic, unbridled sex.  Happy viewing!

Often called the Godard of the East, Japanese director Nagisa Oshima was one of the most provocative film artists of the twentieth century, and his works challenged and shocked the cinematic world for decades. Following his rise to prominence at Shochiku, Oshima struck out to form his own production company, Sozosha, in 1961. That move ushered in the prolific period of his career that gave birth to the five films collected here. Unsurprisingly, this studio renegade was fascinated by stories of outsiders—serial killers, rabid hedonists, and stowaway misfits are just some of the social castoffs you’ll meet in these audacious, cerebral entries in the New Wave surge that made Japan a hub of truly daredevil moviemaking.

Available on May 18th, 2010 on DVD, the Collector’s set includes: