See what’s coming out this week on DVD!

The Pope has been murdered and the four prominent Catholic Cardinals considered most likely to replace him have been kidnapped, their planned murders to take place an hour apart beginning at 8 P.M. as the conclave of Cardinals meets to elect the next Pope.

So begins Dan Brown’s Angels & Demons, the novel he wrote before the mega-selling The Da Vinci Code. Since Ron Howard’s film of the latter was made first, his film of Angels & Demons is presented as a sequel, though the events of the earlier film are only mentioned in passing.

The things that were wrong with the earlier film have been corrected. Gone are star Tom Hanks’ ugly haircut, his diffident leading lady, the sluggish pace and the interminable dialogue, which isn’t to say that the new film is anything approaching a masterpiece. It isn’t, but it’s a fairly competent work with an absorbing plot and several twists you won’t see coming unless, of course, you’ve read the book.

The story is also less absurd, more within the realm of seeming possibility, at least as put over by Howard’s actors, most notably Hanks reprising his role as an American history professor called to the Vatican to help find the missing Cardinals; Ewan McGregor as the late Pope’s secretary who plays a pivotal role in the selection of the next Pope; Armin Mueller-Stahl as the senior Cardinal who presides over the conclave; Stellan Skarsgard as the commander of the Swiss Guard pledged to safeguard the life of the Pope and Israeli actress Ayelet Zurer as an Italian scientist whose harnessing of anti-matter is a key plot point.

Angels & Demons is available on both Blu-ray and standard DVD.

A bittersweet comedy, Judd Apatow’s Funny People may not be as raucous as most of his films, but it has some very laugh-out-loud moments nonetheless. Adam Sandler stars as a movie star who got his start as a stand-up comic. Returning to his stand-up roots when he learns he has a rare form of leukemia, Sandler hires up and coming comic Seth Rogen as his personal assistant who he uses as a whipping boy. He also renews his acquaintance with former girl-friend Leslie Mann (Mrs. Apatow in real life) that is on the brink of developing into something more when her husband (Eric Bana) suddenly returns from a business trip. We knew, of course, that Sandler, Rogen and Mann could be funny, but the revelation here is Bana sending up his macho image and his Australian roots to play a full blown jackass. Apatow and Mann’s daughters play Mann and Bana’s children and, despite the nepotism, are actually quite good. It’s a pleasant surprise.

Funny People is available on both Blu-ray and standard DVD.

Alternately sweet and funny, but also more than a bit silly, Chris Columbus’ I Love You, Beth Cooper is a coming-of-age film you can skip unless you are a Hayden Panettiere completest. The TV star is the only name player in this beauty and the geek tale of a graduation night gone awry. The alternate ending included on the DVD is superior to the theatrical release ending and one that is more in keeping with the events leading up to it.

I Love You, Beth Cooper is available on both Blu-ray and standard DVD.

Criterion has released a stunning version of Matteo Garrone’s Gomorrah from Roberto Saviano’s expose the Camora, Naples’ Mafia which is responsible for more deaths any other organized crime family, an average of one killing every three days.

The winner of numerous international awards, the film was Italy’s official submission for last year’s Foreign Film Oscar but was snubbed by the nominating committee. An anti-Godfather movie, there is no glamorization of the mob here. Women, children and old men who get in their way are rubbed out by merciless mobsters as easily as they would step on a bug. You never know who will get it next or who will be spared.

Gomorrahis available on both Blu-ray and standard DVD.

Also from Criterion, on standard DVD only, is The Golden Age of Television consisting of eight live teleplays from the 1950s recorded for posterity on kinescope. Kinescope was the precursor to videotape. It was a recording made of a TV program in progress by a film camera mounted in front of a TV during its broadcast. The picture quality is not the greatest, but the sound is crystal clear on all eight teleplays, five of which were subsequently made into movies. Five of them were one hour programs, three of them ninety minute programs. They were not seen since their original broadcasts until PBS showed them in 1981 with introductions from various participants which are included here. They were subsequently rebroadcast in 1994 after which several were released on videotape.

The earliest of the lot is 1953’s Marty, written by Paddy Chayefsky and directed by Delbert Mann who would win an Oscar for the film version two years later. Why Rod Steiger didn’t reprise his role for the movie I don’t know, but he’s brilliant here, infusing the role of the “fat, ugly man” with a pathos that is rare in any medium. It’s also the usually bombastic actor’s most subtle performance. While Ernest Borgnine made an admirable substitute and won an Oscar for it, he is simply not as powerful as Steiger who seems born to play the part.

Nancy Marchand as the homely schoolteacher looks the part more than the beautiful Betsy Blair does in the film version, but her character is not fleshed out enough. Esther Minciotti and Angela Ciolli are excellent as Marty’s mother and aunt, roles they repeated in the film version.

So acclaimed was the 1955 production of Patterns, written by Rod Serling and directed by Fielder Cook, that it was re-done live with the same actors hastily reassembled a month later. The kinescope is of the original telecast.

Richard Kiley stars as the young executive brought into the upper levels of a successful corporation by its president (Everett Sloane) to eventually replace an old vice president (Ed Begley). In ways more overt than would be possible in today’s workplace, Sloane belittles Begley in order to get him to quit so he doesn’t have to fire him. Kiley’s outrage at Belgley’s treatment boils over in a climax in which the good guys neither win nor lose but come to an understanding. All three actors are brilliant. Sloane and Begley reprised their acclaimed roles in the 1956 film version, while Kiley was replaced by the then better known Van Heflin who is equally good.

A broad service comedy that has always been a matter of taste, No Time for Sergeants, was first a novel, then a flop TV series in 1954 before its one night only teleplay in 1955 leading to a hit Broadway play and successful 1958 film. What made the teleplay, and later the Broadway and film versions so successful was the casting of stand-up comedian Andy Griffith in his first acting role.

Griffith was a natural actor, as he quickly proved, and as is attested to by the fact that he is still working in major productions now well into his 80s. This was Andy before he became Lonesome Rhodes in the brilliant 1957 film, A Face in the Crowd, and several years before he became Sheriff Andy Taylor, his signature role through several TV series. This is a rare opportunity to see a TV legend in the making.

The most successful dramatic actress in early TV was Julie Harris whose career dates back to the late 1940s. She won the first of her eleven Emmy nominations, though not one her three wins, for her portrayal of the fiery Irish lass in 1955’s A Wind from the South included here.

Dramatically it may be the weakest of the lot as nothing really happens. It’s just a quietly effective character study of a young girl who, with her brother, runs an Irish seaside inn where she has a brief, but ill-fated romance with a married man (Donald Woods). Harris, though, is terrific.

Paul Newman had his first starring role in 1956’s Bang the Drum Slowly, which sad to say is not nearly as effective as the 1973 film version, though Newman and Albert Salmi are fine in the roles later played by Michael Moriarty and Robert De Niro as a star baseball pitcher and the dying dimwitted catcher he ultimately lets down.

The problem is the play’s structure, in which Newman stands on a bare stage and talks to the audience at various intervals. The real discovery here is George Peppard as the new kid on the team who plays and sings the plaintive “Streets of Loredo”, the play’s theme song featuring the title words.

The remaining three teleplays are literally the collection’s heavyweights, the three ninety minute dramas conceived for Playhouse 90.

The second only Playhouse 90 broadcast in 1956 was Requiem for a Heavyweight, written by Rod Serling and directed by Ralph Nelson. It starred Jack Palance in a landmark portrayal of the contender for the heavyweight boxing championship who is forced to leave the ring or go blind. If you thought Palance could only play tough guys you are in for a surprise and a real treat as he poignantly brings this sad, but undefeated human being to life. Kim Hunter as the social worker who helps him is also quite touching, but the publicity surrounding the show at the time was the stunt casting of Kennan Wynn and his father, comedian Ed Wynn as Palance’s manager and trainer, respectively.

Ed Wynn was a legendary comedian whose grip on fame was slipping. He was given his first dramatic role and great fanfare was attached to it. The problem was the 70 year old actor had difficulty remembering his lines and in one scene during rehearsal where Keenan Wynn assaults him, didn’t know where he was. He thought his son was attacking him in real life. Everyone connected with the production except for Palance wanted him replaced, but producer Martin Manulis refused to fire him. Palance and Kennan Wynn worked with him off the set so that by the time of the broadcast his flubs were at a minimum. His performance was so good, in fact, that he won an Emmy nomination for it, but unlike Palance, he didn’t win, but parlayed his performance into a successful late life career that lasted until his death in 1967.

The 1962 film version with Anthony Quinn, Jackie Gleason and Mickey Rooney is nowhere near as good, but Rooney’s performance in Ed Wynn’s role was highly praised.

Rooney had a great role in 1957’s The Comedian in which he is rumored to be playing either Sid Caesar, Red Buttons or Arthur Godfrey, all of whom were successful TV stars of the early 1950s, none of whom took any prisoners in their dealings with subordinates. The little we see of his on-stage persona, however, is more reminiscent of Milton Berle and Red Skelton.

The teleplay by Rod Serling from a novelette by Ernest Lehman was directed by John Frankenheimer with a cast led by Rooney, Edmund O’Brien as his head writer, Mel Torme as the brother he treats like a dog and Kim Hunter as Torme’s fed-up wife. They’re all good, especially Rooney and Torme who is surprisingly effective as a milquetoast. Rooney was nominated for an Emmy.

Saving the best for last, the collection concludes with 1958’s The Days of Wine and Roses, written by J.P. Miller and directed by John Frankenheimer with searing performances by Piper Laurie and Cliff Robertson.

Most people are familiar with the 1962 film version which omits more than the word “the” from the title. Though the film is good in its own way, it tends to sanctify the wife, played by Lee Remick, making her a victim, which in turns makes the husband, played by Jack Lemmon, seem like more of a louse. In the original version, the wife, brilliantly played by Laurie, is an alcoholic when she meets future husband Robertson. She does control her drinking while pregnant, but soon after the birth of their baby, it doesn’t take much for Robertson to convince her not to be concerned about her breast milk, to put the baby on formula, and join him in drinking.

Later, when Robertson has hit bottom and sobered up via Alcoholics Anonymous, it’s Laurie who can’t stop drinking, resorting to turning tricks as a prostitute in order to pay for her habit. It was powerful stuff then, and it’s still powerful today. Laurie won the second of her nine Emmy nominations for her unforgettable performance.