Nicholas, Paul

The Jazz Singer - 25th Anniversary Edition

Not much jazz spoken in this 1980 version of the Jolson classic, directed by Richard Fleischer (The Vikings) and starring a very tentative Neil Diamond as a cantor's son who would rather sing commercially than in a synagogue. The soundtrack is tedious, the portrait of L.A.'s music industry preposterous, and Diamond (despite his talents as a singer-songwriter in the real world) can't help but look like a speck on the wall in the presence of Laurence Olivier, who plays his father. --Tom Keogh

Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band

If it weren't for a couple of inspired performances, as well as the time-capsule weirdness of it all, Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band would be definitively unwatchable. This misguided effort to dramatize the classic Beatles album (the Fab Four had nothing to do with it, thank goodness) also includes tunes from other Beatles LPs, strung together in lumbering '70s rock-opera style. Peter Frampton, then at the crest of his brief run at the top, stars as Billy Shears, with the Bee Gees wearing the glossy day-glo band jackets from the Pepper album cover. Earth, Wind & Fire turn in a spirited revamp of "Got to Get You into My Life," and Aerosmith thrash their way through "Come Together"; but most of the performances are pretty awful. Out-and-out novelties include Steve Martin doing "Maxwell's Silver Hammer" and George Burns (but of course) warbling "Fixing a Hole." This high-profile 1978 flop helped kill the hot streak (Saturday Night Fever, Grease) of record and movie producer Robert Stigwood and sink his RSO movie-music empire. --Robert Horton

Tommy

If you've ever wanted to hear Jack Nicholson sing (or try to) or marvel at the sight of Ann-Margret drunkenly cavorting in a cascade of baked beans, Tommy is the movie you've been waiting for. As it turns out, the Who's brilliant rock opera is sublimely matched to director Ken Russell's penchant for cinematic excess, and this 1975 production finds Russell at the peak of his filmmaking audacity. It's a fever-dream of musical bombast, custom-fit to the thematic ambition of Pete Townshend's epic rock drama, revolving around the titular "deaf, dumb, and blind kid" (played by Who vocalist Roger Daltrey) who survives the childhood trauma that stole his senses to become a Pinball Wizard messiah in Townshend's grandiose attack on the hypocrisy of organized religion.

The story is remarkably coherent considering the hypnotic dream-state induced by Russell's visuals. Tommy's odyssey is rendered through wall-to-wall music, each song representing a pivotal chapter in Tommy's chronology, from the bloodstream shock of "The Acid Queen" (performed to the hilt by Tina Turner) to Nicholson's turn as a well-intentioned physician, Elton John's towering rendition of "Pinball Wizard," and Daltrey's epiphanous rendition of "I'm Free." Other performers include Eric Clapton and (most outrageously) the Who's drummer Keith Moon, and through it all Russell is almost religiously faithful to Townshend's artistic vision. Although it divided critics when first released, Tommy now looks likes a minor classic of gonzo cinema, worthy of the musical genius that fueled its creation. --Jeff Shannon

The Jazz Singer: The 25th Anniversary Edition

Tommy (Superbit Collection)

If you've ever wanted to hear Jack Nicholson sing (or try to) or marvel at the sight of Ann-Margret drunkenly cavorting in a cascade of baked beans, Tommy is the movie you've been waiting for. As it turns out, the Who's brilliant rock opera is sublimely matched to director Ken Russell's penchant for cinematic excess, and this 1975 production finds Russell at the peak of his filmmaking audacity. It's a fever-dream of musical bombast, custom-fit to the thematic ambition of Pete Townshend's epic rock drama, revolving around the titular "deaf, dumb, and blind kid" (played by Who vocalist Roger Daltrey) who survives the childhood trauma that stole his senses to become a Pinball Wizard messiah in Townshend's grandiose attack on the hypocrisy of organized religion.

The story is remarkably coherent considering the hypnotic dream-state induced by Russell's visuals. Tommy's odyssey is rendered through wall-to-wall music, each song representing a pivotal chapter in Tommy's chronology, from the bloodstream shock of "The Acid Queen" (performed to the hilt by Tina Turner) to Nicholson's turn as a well-intentioned physician, Elton John's towering rendition of "Pinball Wizard," and Daltrey's epiphanous rendition of "I'm Free." Other performers include Eric Clapton and (most outrageously) the Who's drummer Keith Moon, and through it all Russell is almost religiously faithful to Townshend's artistic vision. Although it divided critics when first released, Tommy now looks likes a minor classic of gonzo cinema, worthy of the musical genius that fueled its creation. --Jeff Shannon

The Superbit titles utilize a special high bit rate digital encoding process which optimizes video quality while offering a choice of both DTS and Dolby Digital 5.1 audio. These titles have been produced by a team of Sony Pictures Digital Studios video, sound and mastering engineers and comes housed in a special package complete with a 4 page booklet that contains technical information on the Superbit process. By reallocating space on the disc normally used for value-added content, Superbit DVDs can be encoded at double their normal bit rate while maintaining full compatibility with the DVD video format.

See No Evil

The Jazz Singer

Not much jazz spoken in this 1980 version of the Jolson classic, directed by Richard Fleischer (The Vikings) and starring a very tentative Neil Diamond as a cantor's son who would rather sing commercially than in a synagogue. The soundtrack is tedious, the portrait of L.A.'s music industry preposterous, and Diamond (despite his talents as a singer-songwriter in the real world) can't help but look like a speck on the wall in the presence of Laurence Olivier, who plays his father. --Tom Keogh

The Jazz Singer [Region 2]

Not much jazz spoken in this 1980 version of the Jolson classic, directed by Richard Fleischer (The Vikings) and starring a very tentative Neil Diamond as a cantor's son who would rather sing commercially than in a synagogue. The soundtrack is tedious, the portrait of L.A.'s music industry preposterous, and Diamond (despite his talents as a singer-songwriter in the real world) can't help but look like a speck on the wall in the presence of Laurence Olivier, who plays his father. --Tom Keogh

Lisztomania

Lisztomania, Ken Russell's follow-up to Tommy (both films were released in 1975) finds him even more in the mood for desultory spectacle than his garish pop artistry adapting the Who's rock opera. Seeking to tell the story of superstar composer Franz Liszt through a freewheeling series of pop allegories, kitsch, quotes, and pastiches, Russell hopes to reflect in contemporary terms the runaway train of Liszt's celebrity, love life, and alleged rivalry with Richard Wagner.

Roger Daltrey, the Who vocalist and star of Tommy, returns to Russell's circus as Liszt, a great pianist nevertheless seduced by the ease with which he can make women squeal by playing flamboyant renditions of "Chopsticks." Floating on a sea of groupies, Liszt struggles with the possibilities of real love while also encountering the vampiric Wagner's exotic plans for world domination. Intuitive impressions, not history, are what this film experience is for, and toward that end Russell pulls out all the stops, planting Liszt into a heartbreakingly Chaplinesque short film, casting Yes keyboardist Rick Wakeman as a cryogenic viking, and placing the hero in phallic jeopardy when his genitals are subjected to a guillotine. Some of this striking stuff works, some of it doesn't, but all of it is determinedly undisciplined. With Paul Nicholas as Wagner, and Ringo Starr as the Pope (!). --Tom Keogh

Invitation to the Wedding