Review Category: DVD/Blu Ray

Review: Rise of the Zombies / Cert: 15 / Director: Nick Lyon / Screenplay: Keith Allen, Delondra Williams / Starring: Danny Trejo, Mariel Hemingway, Chad Lindberg, LeVar Burton, Ethan Suplee, Heather Hemmens / Release Date: Out Now

The very least that can be said about this Syfy Channel ‘original’ movie is that it absolutely does what it says on the tin. There are indeed zombies which do indeed rise. They also swim, climb up the Golden Gate Bridge, run at a fair old lick but, oddly, seem to have trouble climbing over not especially high wire fences. Oh well, that’s the zombie apocalypse for you; you never know what’s coming next…

Rise of the Zombies (for Syfy courtesy of the notorious Asylum Studios) is a noticeable step up in quality for a cheap and cheerful TV movie; that’s not to say it’s really much good but it’s also not as appallingly presented and mechanically acted as many of its ilk and it wouldn’t be too far from the truth to suggest that the film even has a sense of ambition to match its sometimes impressive sense of scale. Riffing off Season 3 of The Walking Dead, Rise sees zombie outbreak survivors in San Francisco taking refuge on Alcatraz. But when the zombies start wading across from the mainland, some of the survivors decide to head back to the city to try and find a slightly barmy scientist who has been broadcasting video messages suggesting he might have found a cure for the airborne virus which is turning people undead and bitey.

Some real effort has gone into Rise of the Zombies, which boasts a cast with at least three names audiences will have heard of (all of whom are obviously more down on their luck than they might care to admit), a script with a bit more vim to it than we normally expect and a handful of exciting, vivid and bloody zombie skirmishes. The movie even crosses the ‘ewwww’ line in a sequence where a pregnant woman recently bitten by a zombie is opened up in an attempt to save her baby. This doesn’t go well.

Obviously shot on a budget a shoestring might envy, Rise of the Zombies manages to make a decent fist of depicting a near-deserted, zombie-ridden city (although a couple of stock aerial shots of the city and the Bridge could have been better selected – several show the city teaming with life and the bridge choked with traffic) and for all its flaws – the usual one-dimensional characters who are ripped to bits the moment we meet them, copious amounts of deathless dialogue – it’s a rollicking old gorefest with no pretensions towards being anything other than just another zombie movie.

Extras: None

Review: Apartment 1303 / Cert: 15 / Director: Michael Taverna / Screenplay: Michael Taverna / Starring: Mischa Barton, Rebecca De Mornay, Julianne Michelle, Corey Sevier / Release Date: Out Now

Apartment 1303 is an eerie tale based on the J-horror film of the same name by Kei Oishi. Whilst the original film wasn’t particularly great, this English language version is even poorer. The real question here is where to begin. The story is formulaic, predictable and tiresome. The tension, ever so important in a film of such nature, is non-existent. There’s no slow-burn, there’s no tease; the film goes right for the jugular from the off. The thing is, it doesn’t go for the jugular very convincingly. It’s almost like you know somebody is trying to grab you round the throat, but you’re just not that arsed because you know there’s no real danger or menace behind it.

The plot involves a once famous, now drunk, mother (De Mornay) and her two fed-up daughters (Barton and Michelle). One of the daughters (Michelle) has enough of her mother’s behaviour and decides to move out to, yes, you guessed it, Apartment 1303. Having a ghostly, violent feel to it, it’s soon revealed that the apartment has seen various atrocities over the years. The folks involved in said atrocities also don’t like people meddling in their former abode, and they do their best to make sure that these people leave the building one way or another.

There’s no easing into the story here. The film goes straight into the action, leaving very little time for you to actually develop any sense of care or emotion towards any of the characters on show. Bar a few adequate effects sequences, when the action does come, it’s generally bland, slow and predictable.

The predictable nature of the action is only made worse by the horrific acting involved. If Keanu Reeves is often labelled wooden, then the acting here is as wooden as Seamus from Family Guy. As stiff as an over-enthusiastic Viagra user, Barton and Michelle are just plain awful. Upon learning of deaths, people react as if they’ve just found a gherkin on the plain Big Mac that they’ve ordered – it’s a brief shrug of the shoulders, toss it to one side, then carry on regardless. If the characters don’t care, why should we? De Mornay is hit-and-miss in the scenes she appears in, whilst Sevier is the best of the bunch. Seemingly thrown in for the eye candy appeal, Sevier delivers a far better performance than anyone else involved. That said, he’s just okay at best.

A film like this always seems to find a market with genre fans, but we fear that Apartment 1303 will even struggle with that particular audience. No emotion, no care, no feeling and no reason to watch.

Extras: None

Review: Doctor Who – Season 7, Part 2 / Cert: PG / Director: Various / Screenplay: Steve Moffat, Neil Cross, Mark Gatiss, Steve Thompson / Starring: Matt Smith, Jenna-Louise Coleman / Release Date: Out Now

There’s a troubling air of tiredness and a marked lack of invention about these nine episodes from Doctor Who’s seventh ‘new’ season – 2012’s Christmas special and the eight episodes just transmitted on BBC1 in the traditional Saturday evening timeslot. The obsession with creating movie poster-style blockbuster episodes has given the show an unwelcome sense of schizophrenia and each of these episodes trips over itself to impress you with its One Big Idea – aliens in the wi-fi! Ice Warrior in a sub! Haunted house! Inside the TARDIS! – without thinking about the need to create proper, well-developed stories full of wit (not of the Steven Moffat sneery one-liner variety), character, emotion and breathless imagination. This is very much Doctor Who by numbers and sadly these numbers just don’t add up.

This batch of episodes is probably the least rewatchable of all the modern Doctor Who seasons and the show now seems a long, long way from its last true classic. The variation in quality is deeply concerning, suggesting a show which has become rudderless and with no real concern other than to confound its audience with deeply uninteresting story arcs such as this year’s ‘who is Clara?’ mystery and the ongoing mythologising of the Doctor who now revels in being called ‘Doctor Who’ in anticipation of a mystery in the final episode, the portentous Name of the Doctor which, inevitably, is never resolved. There are a couple of enjoyable stories such as Mark Gatiss’ contributions, an Ice Warrior story which is a very traditional Doctor Who base-under-siege story and his delightful, witty and cleverly structured Victorian romp The Crimson Horror, which is very nearly stolen by the remarkable Dame Diana Rigg who is clearly having the time of her life. Much of the rest underwhelms or appals. Neil Cross’ Rings of Akhaten is dreadful, where his later story Hide is moody, creepy and atmospheric but ruined by a nonsensical ending. Steve Thompson’s Journey to the Centre of the TARDIS promised the audience its greatest exploration of the Doctor’s remarkable travelling machine yet but ended up being as disappointingly flat as we feared it might be and Neil Gaiman’s Cyberman reinvention Nightmare in Silver was so inept it must surely have knocked Gaiman off the pedestal of awe fans have positioned him on since the alright-but-really-unexceptional Doctor’s Wife from Season 6. Moffat’s own efforts, as usual, are largely plotless affairs, relying on the two or three ideas he continues to recycle for the series (Christmas special The Snowmen is the best of his bunch) and the show’s over-reliance on the tedious antics of Victorian Silurian detective Vastra, her assistant/lover Jenny and comedy sidekick Strax and their unbelievable positioning as the Doctor’s bestest friends in the Universe is as baffling as it’s boring.

In amidst all this mediocrity Matt Smith is again rarely given much opportunity to show what he might really be able to do as a toned-down, less wacky Doctor, and lively new assistant Clara (Coleman) is a blank page due to poor writing and is in danger of becoming one of the show’s most shameful wasted opportunities. All in all it’s a shoddy and lacklustre set of episodes which can’t help but raise concerns for the upcoming fiftieth anniversary special and the forthcoming eighth season which, it seems, will have most of the same team on board. Terribly disappointing stuff.

Extras: A thin selection includes a very brief ‘making of’ for the Christmas special, a handful of utterly unnecessary lightweight ‘prequels’ to the transmitted episodes and an enjoyable American TV special examining the role of the ‘companions’ in the series. Extras flung together with about as much care as the episodes themselves.

Review: West of Memphis / Cert: 15 / Director: Amy Berg / Screenplay: Amy Berg, Billy McMillin / Starring: Michael Baden, James Baldwin/ Release Date: Out Now

The case of the ‘West Memphis Three’ and the child murders in Arkansas in 1993 has already been covered in three documentaries by Joe Berlinger and Bruce Sinofsky that helped in overturning one of the most heinous false imprisonments of recent times. So you may ask what the point of Amy Berg’s film is, and though it does have the faint whiff of a vanity project, it’s a more accessible account of the sheer awfulness of this whole situation and is very much a trip worth taking.

If you didn’t know the case, then prepare to be outraged. Three children were horribly abused, murdered and mutilated and found in a water-filled ditch in 1993. The resulting investigation amounted to the police asking who in town listened to heavy metal music and was a loner and then arresting them. Despite clearly leading one of them who was mentally challenged, the police got a confession and some other drug-addled teen testimony and Damien Echols, Jason Baldwin and Jessie Misskelley were convicted and sentenced accordingly. The townspeople were satisfied that justice had been done. There were those though that were not convinced, those that smelled something fishy with the whole affair and this documentary chronicles their attempts to get a retrial and the new evidence that comes to light as time goes on over nearly 20 years.

The film is a lot less stark and more presented to entertain than the Paradise Lost documentaries. It runs for two hours and twenty minutes and clearly has an agenda to expose one of the great miscarriages of justice, unlike the Berlinger/Sinofsky films which seemed more content to just point the camera and let things play out. What is baffling about this case is that there are clearly a number of more obvious and immediate suspects available with DNA evidence too, and these were never pursued as local politics and the ineptitude of the Arkansas police took over. As the story goes on, more and more insidious local secrets are revealed with people going on record as to identify other potential culprits.

The film has a happy ending of course and if you go along with the way the story is told then it’s easy to get choked up when justice of a sort is done. Although the three are granted release, they are never given an apology or the opportunity to get compensation for their ordeal and that is what will stay with you long after the film has finished. A somewhat one-sided but very entertaining and compelling film.

Extras: Deleted Scenes / Commentary with Amy Berg, Damien Echols and Lorri Davis / Toronto International Film Festival: Red Carpet Q&A and Press Conference.

Review: One Piece – Collection 1 / Cert: 15 / Director: Kenosuke Uda / Screenplay: Various / Starring: Colleen Clinkenbeard, Christopher R. Sabat, Luci Christian, Leah Clark / Release Date: May 27th

Apparently, this pirate show and the long-running manga it is based on are huge in Japan, but whether it has the wherewithal to make Jolly Rogers of us Brits is another matter. The hero is a character named Luffy, who has ambitions to be King of the Pirates. In order to do this, he must find a legendary treasure, the One Piece, which is said to reside in the Grand Line, an uncharted region from which few ships return. Only trouble is, he doesn’t have a crew yet – or a boat larger than a dinghy. Or a parrot even. So what gives him his unshakable self-belief?

Well, stupidity first off. But he’s also eaten something called a Devil Fruit, and this has endowed him with a Reed Richards-style super-strong elastic quality, making him invulnerable to bullets, clubs and even cannon balls. So off he goes, island-hopping in his dinghy, and eventually he manages to recruit Zoro, the greatest swordsman in the world but only just slightly smarter than Luffy; Usopp, who’s a dead eye with a slingshot; and Nami, a thief and the only one with any brains. Along the way, he encounters various colourful personages such as a lion tamer, a swordsman on a monocycle, a hypnotist who walks backwards and a guy who has been squashed inside a treasure chest for twenty years.

It’s all amiably silly and fine in small doses, but after an hour or so, the brash colours, cheap-and-cheerful animation and noisy characters (always howling with laughter, blubbering with tears or drop-kicking each other in the jaw) are likely to give you one helluva migraine. Luffy is particularly headache inducing – a pin-eyed pirate dude with a crazed grin, like Tom Sawyer on speed, with a touch of Pinocchio and Popeye thrown in for good measure. Although sweet in his way, he’s not someone you’d want to share a long voyage with.

The other problem is that, for all it’s slapstick energy, One Piece is actually rather slow. Much like Luffy himself, individual storylines are stretched out beyond the point that nature intended and scenes heavily padded with meaningless ranting and trading of insults. By halfway through disc 3, Luffy still has only three crew members and he’s only just begun to hunt for treasure. Too simple and repetitive for most adults, One Piece isn’t much good for younger viewers either – it’s way too violent and the last thing you would want is for your kids to start behaving like its maniacal main characters. Still, if you enjoyed the sunny, nautical ambience and knockabout humour of Studio Ghibli’s Porco Rosso, then this might be worth dropping anchor for.

Extras: Commentaries / Clean opening and closing credits

Review: Sanitarium / Cert: 18 / Director: Bryan Ortiz, Bryan Ramirez, Kerry Valderrama / Screenplay: Crystal Bratton, Scott Marcano, Bryan Ortiz, Kerry Valderrama / Starring: Malcolm McDowell, John Glover, Robert Englund, Lou Diamond Phillips / Release Date: June 24th

With its grand traditions extending into the annals of cinematic history, the portmanteau horror film is going through something of a resurgence of late. From the found footage frights of V/H/S through to the comedy kitsch of ABCs of Death, it’s nice to see this old format alive and well. It’s a tricky one to get right, but when it’s good, it can be really good. It just depends on the quality of your stories.

Fans will be appeased right from the start of Sanitarium, in which Malcolm McDowell appears as the film’s narrator. In inimitable McDowell style, he tells three stories of three inmates, and how they each came to find themselves in his sanitarium. His first story concerns none other than John Glover (of dubious Smallville and Batman and Robin fame) Robert Englund (Freddy Krueger himself) and some creepy Tim Burton-esque marionettes. Glover plays Gustav, a troubled artist who suffers from terrible headaches and rubbish dreadlocks. It’s not long before Gustav goes off the rails and Englund, rather literally, goes over them. With Gustav holding lengthy, delirious conversations with his dolls, it’s little wonder that McDowell’s sanitarium beckons. Very well acted by Glover, it’s the best of the three stories. There’s an old rule comedians have, about always opening a gig with your best joke. This is like the horror anthology version of that. It’s worth it for Glover’s dreadlocks alone, although Robert Englund is as reliably slimy as ever.

With the stories running at half an hour each, this doesn’t leave McDowell with much to do, although his presence does lend the film an air of authenticity and classiness. But then, the film’s three name actors are no stranger to improving awful source material all by themselves. John Glover has practically made a career from it. No such luck for tales two and three, which feature, respectively, an abused child and, um, Lou Diamond Phillips. Much as we like Lou Diamond Phillips (is it even possible to dislike a man whose middle name is ‘Diamond’?), he’s no Robert Englund. It also doesn’t help that they’re both far too slow – particularly the second mood-killer of a tale.

Sanitarium is an interesting collection of horror stories, its duller moments enlivened by a few good actors and clever ideas. Even the pay-offs to the less successful ideas go some way to improving the rest of the film. While it could have done with giving its trio of talented actors more to do, it does make the most of what it has. It’s not insanely good, but it is decent, all the same.

Extras: None

 

Review: Black Sabbath / Cert: 18 / Director: Mario Bava / Screenplay: Mario Bava, Alberto Bevilacqua, Marcello Fondato / Starring: Michele Mercier, Boris Karloff, Mark Damon, Susy Andersen / Release Date: Out Now

There have been very few horror anthologies over the years that truly produce something memorable, and they have largely gone out of fashion. Looking at most of the movies of this style produced over the years, it’s fairly easy to see why. Often there are only one or two tales that work within an anthology film, with the others being present as filler at best. Fortunately, Black Sabbath is one of the rare horror anthologies that not only remains as atmospheric and powerful as it was when first released fifty years ago, but also manages that rare feat of not having a bad or weak section within it, but then, with director Mario Bava involved, that’s hardly surprising.

The Blu-ray comes with both the original Italian cut and a dubbed US version, as well as the obligatory audio commentary track and a nice little documentary that highlights the differences between the US and Italian versions of the film, of which there are several, the most significant being in The Telephone, where the original Italian version was heavily edited to remove all references to a lesbian love affair between the two female characters, and to give the story a supernatural aspect. It should be noted that the Italian version of the film is superior to the US cut in almost every respect, relying on subtle sound effects to create it’s atmosphere rather than a Hammeresque musical score that sounds rather dated and overdone these days. 

While the original Italian version of The Telephone is a solid and engaging story, the two other tales, A Drop of Water and The Wurdalak are where the film truly shines. A Drop of Water is the chilling tale of a cold-hearted nurse who steals a ring from the corpse of a dead medium, despite being warned by the dead woman’s housekeeper. Unsurprisingly, it does not take long before the nurse begins to experience ghostly visitations, and what follows is an absolute masterclass in the gradual building of terror.

The Wurdalak stars Boris Karloff in one of his last, great roles. It’s the tale of a young Count who discovers a body on the road, and when he arrives at the next house, finds that it was the corpse of a bandit who was reputed to be a Wurdalak – a vampire that feeds on those that it loved. The father of the household, played brilliantly by Karloff, returns later that evening but seems to have a deathly pallor to his skin, and a strange look in his eye when he regards the members of his family.

The Blu-ray transfer is, for the most part, stunning. The striking use of colours comes through vividly, although there are one or two grainy scenes, particularly on the American version. It is rare that a horror film made so long ago can retain its ability to unsettle the viewer. Black Sabbath is a pivotal piece of filmmaking, far ahead of its time, and a milestone in horror movies, heavily influencing the likes of Dario Argento among others. Fans of classic horror films owe it to themselves to track this masterpiece down.

Extras: Audio commentary with film critic Tim Lucas / Intro by Alan Jones / Interview with Mark Damon / Three Faces of Black Sabbath / Trailers / TV and radio spots / Collector’s booklet

Review: Django Unchained / Cert: 18 / Director: Quentin Tarantino / Screenplay: Quentin Tarantino / Starring: Jamie Foxx, Christoph Waltz, Leonardo DiCaprio, Samuel L. Jackson / Release Date: Out Now

He killed Bill. He killed Hitler. Now it’s the turn of racist rednecks to get the Tarantino treatment. The director’s mammoth blaxpoitation western comes to Blu-ray and, as Django would say, “What’s not to like?”

Well, there’s certainly no question of not liking Christoph Waltz’s smart-talking King Schultz, a dentist turned bounty hunter who rides around on a wagon with a giant tooth mounted on the roof. Spouting witticisms, he liberates manacled Django (Foxx) from some slavers and offers him his freedom in exchange for helping him track down a trio of outlaws. What starts off as a business arrangement soon warms into a friendship as, under his tutelage, the dazed ex-slave blossoms into a self-confident character and a deadly marksman.

This first act is solid gunslinging fare, even if it is bulked out with endless skits about the stupidity of racists, such as the bit where some local clan boys bicker because they can’t see out of their white hoods, much to the disgruntlement of the guy whose wife spent all day knocking the things up. But then comes the long middle section, in which the duo track down Django’s wife Broomhilda (Washington) to a plantation and set about trying to get her back. Here we encounter DiCaprio’s plantation owner, Calvin Candie, a “seasoned slaver” with the hollow eyes, pasty sheen and rotten teeth of a syphilitic. Exploiting black people both for work and play, he considers himself, in his twisted way, a connoisseur, and as such he’s fascinated by the self-assertive Django. DiCaprio does a wonderful job in the role, getting underneath Tarantino’s facetious dialogue and giving it extra barb and venom. Just as striking is Candie’s house slave, Stephen (Jackson), a cantankerous Uncle Tom bursting with malice. The two interact in scenes of elaborate, ritualistic bickering between master and slave which evoke similar (and now notorious) moments in golden age Hollywood movies, only to expose the sinister dynamics behind them.

Taken on its own merits, this is undoubtedly the most interesting part of the film. Trouble is, its generous length and the sheer brilliance of DiCaprio and Jackson throw everything else out of whack, reducing Schultz and Django to supporting characters and making the bloodsoaked finale seem like a hastily tacked-on afterthought. And speaking of length, that mighty 2 ¾ hours running time really is a problem, because not only is Django Unchained not an epic, it’s not even much of a spectacle, apart from some nice Spanish moss and a climactic gunfight almost swimming in ketchup. Oh, and how about that ending, where Django suddenly turns into Will Smith in Wild Wild West? Still, Tarantino has delivered another movie that gets you talking, and that’s a lot in this day and age.

Extras: The Production Design of Django Unchained / Django Unchained Soundtrack Promo / The Horses and Stunts of Django Unchained / Costume Designs

Review: Motel Hell / Cert: 18 / Director: Kevin Connor / Screenplay: Robert Jaffe, Steven-Charles Jaffe / Starring: Rory Calhoun, Paul Linke, Nancy Parsons. Nina Axelrod, Wolfman Jack/ Release Date: Out Now

It takes all kinds of critters to make Farmer Vincent fritters! Just a few years after directing cheap-and-cheerful 1970s British fantasy adventures such as The Land That Time Forgot and At The Earth’s Core, Kevin Connor pitched up in Hollywood and hitched a ride on the post-Texas Chainsaw craze to create ‘cult classic’ Motel Hell, which was not only a marked change of direction for Connor himself but was also a bit of a curiosity in amongst the random slashers and slicers of the day. Motel Hell is actually that most potentially troublesome and difficult beast – the horror comedy – and whilst it’s never really that funny and certainly never especially horrific, it works because of Connor’s confident, stylish direction and a commanding and disturbing performance from former cowboy movie star Rory Calhoun as the creepy Farmer Vincent.

Vincent and his grotesque sister Ida (Parsons) run cosy middle-of-nowhere Motel Hello (the last letter in its fluorescent sign is on the blink) and also supply a very special brand of smoked meats farmed from the flesh of unwary travellers they incapacitate and bury, still alive but with their vocal cords cut and their heads covered in brown bags, in a secret garden where they’re ’cultivated’ until they’re ready to be harvested. The arrival of the lovely Terri (a wooden-plank turn by Axelrod) throws a spanner in their grisly works and before long Sheriff Bruce (Linke) is uncovering the truth about the farmer’s gruesome sideline.

Motel Hell is just too silly to scare but it has its moments, especially when Vincent’s victims are resurrected and advance on the farm gurgling and growling like grow-bag zombies and Bruce’s chainsaw battle with Vincent who, for reasons best known to himself, dons a pig’s head for the occasion. But there’s an air of broad comic unreality about the whole thing; most of Vincent’s victims are extreme caricatures – the spaced-out rock band, a sleazy S&M couple – and Terri never earns our interest or sympathy because she brushes off her boyfriend’s death without much more than a passing thought and quickly becomes a bit too attached to the deeply weird Vincent and Ida.

Clearly a product of its time, Motel Hell is tame not only by today’s standards but also by the video-nasty standards of the era, which is probably the point of the whole endeavour as Connor parodies and subverts the genre in a film which is far more tongue-and-cheek than terrifying. This new Blu-ray edition – a UK first – presents the film with a slightly soft and colour-muted image but with a clarity its admirers won’t have enjoyed since they it saw back in the 1980s. Motel Hell is worth a visit, for one night only at least.

Extras: Commentary / Interviews / Featurettes / Trailer / Collector’s booklet

Review: Wreck-It Ralph / Cert: PG / Director: Rich Moore / Screenplay: Phil Johnston, Jennifer Lee / Starring: John C. Reilly, Sarah Silverman, Jack McBrayer, Jane Lynch, Alan Tudyk / Release Date: June 3rd

Wreck-It Ralph is the villain in the computer game Fit-It Felix Jr. His job is to wreck things, which he’s very good at. Felix (McBrayer) then comes along and saves the day, fixing everything that Ralph has broken before condemning him once again to the trash pile. Ralph (Reilly) starts to pine for a better life as a hero rather than a villain, even attending a support group for video game bad guys to try to come to terms with his role. He wants to win a medal and show that he’s not the person that his programming has created him to be.

At night, when the arcade is closed, characters are free to travel to other games and meet other characters. It is in a game called Hero’s Duty that Ralph spots his chance to grab that gold hero medal and take it back to his own pixelated world to prove he’s a good guy too. After rather surreptitiously grabbing the medal, Ralph inadvertently ends up in another game, Sugar Rush – a sickly sweet racing game in which he meets Vanellope von Schweetz. Vanellope (Silverman) is a glitched character who wants to race, but is always blocked from entering by King Candy (Tudyk).

What follows is the usual Disney fare of characters overcoming adversity and finding out more about themselves along the way. This is what Disney do best, so why does this film seem ever so slightly off?

For a start, McBrayer has a grating voice that is irritating enough in 30 Rock, so why he’s given a lead character to voice is anyone’s guess. There are some nice touches and amusing sight and sound gags as you try to spot and name all the other video game characters that you can remember (kudos if you spotted the Metal Gear Solid nod), but Hero’s Duty is an obvious copy of Gears of War, a game that the core audience of this film won’t even know about.

The kids will probably love it and gaming parents will get a few kicks out of seeing their childhood heroes and villains appear on screen, but compared with recent releases such as Tangled and the Pixar roster, Wreck-It Ralph seems to be ever so slightly off target.

Extras: Paperman / Bit by Bit: Creating the Worlds of Wreck-I Ralph / Alternate and deleted scenes / Video game commercials