A Disney animated film that did only fair business in theaters last year has been released on DVD this week, along with a variety of other titles.
"Brother Bear" (Disney, 2003, G, $29.99, two discs). This is a real throwback to traditional Disney animated fare, right down to its generic title. A cartoon movie set some 10,000 years ago, it's a gentle parable about a young hunter who is magically turned into a bear so he can learn to respect nature. Joaquin Phoenix is fine as the voice of the lead character, who interacts with other animals, trying to get answers for his transformation.
There are original songs by Phil Collins, and the animation is well done, but what really brings the film to life is the interaction with a pair of comic moose, voiced by Dave Thomas and Rick Moranis in full "SCTV"/"Strange Brew" McKenzie Brothers mode.
No great shakes . . . "Bambi" it ain't . . . but as feature-length cartoons go these days, you could certainly do worse. (Extras are plentiful, most geared, as you might expect, toward small fry.)
Extras: Widescreen and full-frame options, outtakes, deleted scenes, interactive games, music video, making-of featurette, etc.
"The Cisco Kid: Collection 1" (MPI, 1950-56, not rated, $49.98, four discs). My memory of this show, which I watched religiously as a child, is that it was in black and white — which is how we watched it on our first black-and-white TV set. But the show's 156 episodes over six years were all filmed in color, and that's how they show up in this four-disc collection.
Unfortunately, these 20 shows are hampered by poor-quality source material, with soft images, weak soundtracks and washed-out color. It's more like watching a used videotape than the sharp DVD transfers we've become accustomed to.
As for the shows themselves, sometimes it's better to live with nostalgic memories. The episodes here are pretty juvenile . . . it was, after all, made for children . . . with B-movie trappings, stiff performances, stilted dialogue and puerile plotting. And plenty of silly banter between Cisco and Pancho, as they ride around the Old West encountering bad guys, and the occasional lawman who thinks they are the bad guys.
I'll admit, however, that despite my disappointment in the shows, it was a kick to once again see the chemistry between charismatic Duncan Renaldo and comic actor Leo Carillo. Renaldo is the flamboyantly dressed Cisco, with an eye for the ladies and an amazingly obedient horse, Diablo. Carillo is his older, chubby sidekick, Pancho, whose horse, Loco, has a mind of its own.
Much of the humor comes from Pancho's fractured English, including his oft-repeated signature line, "Let's went!" And when Pancho caps each episode with some silly remark, Cisco says: "Oh Pancho!" To which Pancho replies: "Oh Cisco!" Fade out.
Extras: Full frame, 20 episodes, etc.
"Time Without Pity" (HVE, 1957, not rated, b/w, $19.95). This black-and-white British thriller is a bit stagey (it's based on a play), but it also boasts a great cast, good pacing and a rousing climax, as directed by Joseph Losey ("Accident," "The Servant," "A Doll's House"). Michael Redgrave (father of Vanessa and Lynn) stars as an alcoholic with 24 hours before his son's execution to prove him innocent of murder. So he starts looking up suspects.
The cast includes several stars-to-be, including Joan Plowright (best known as older characters in "I Love You to Death," "Enchanted April" and, last year, "Bringing Down the House") as a chorus girl, Peter Cushing (who would go on to star as Frankenstein, Sherlock Holmes and Van Helsing in Hammer's '60s and '70s horror films), as the defense attorney, and Leo McKern (best-known as TV's "Rumpole of the Bailey") as the likely killer (suggested in a pre-credits sequence).
The bonus features are largely text elements, though there is also a short industrial film, Losey's first, titled "Pete Roleum and His Cousins," about the petroleum industry.
Extras: Widescreen, short film, text filmographies, text essay, etc.
"A Man Called Sledge" (Columbia, 1970; R for violence, language; $24.96). This one is a bit of a shocker, a Western in which James Garner eschews his usual easygoing, nice-guy persona in favor of playing a nasty gunslinger, a lifelong criminal with a bounty on his head. And he's anything but likable.
Actually, no one in this odd blend of spaghetti Western and "The Wild Bunch" is likable. By the end, when most everyone is dead, it's hard to care.
The plot has Garner and pals — none of whom trusts the other — worming their way into a Texas prison to steal a shipment of gold dust. Among the crew are veteran character actors Dennis Weaver, Claude Akins and John Marley, each one nastier than the other. (As much a departure for Weaver as Garner.)
The dialogue is stiff and poorly dubbed in some scenes, the plotting is plodding, the music is anachronistic (especially the theme song) and no one looks terribly comfortable. You may feel the same way before it's over.
Extras: Widescreen, etc.
E-mail: hicks@desnews.com