While researching my post on the Metropolis missing footage that's been discovered in Argentina, I missed a vital tidbit of information. (My brain is still leaking, sorry.) The tidbit? Kino International officially confirmed to The Digital Bits that their upcoming Blu-ray of Metropolis will include the newly-discovered footage, and that a standard definition DVD would also be released. Ta-da!

One of our readers, Eric, noted that Kino's Restored and Authorized Edition DVD, released in 2003, "actually makes sense," plot-wise, and recommended it highly. (Thanks, Eric! I've already ordered my copy.) By coincidence, Kino announced in May that they would begin offering their titles in Blu-ray in 2009, and then said that Metropolis would be their first title offered in the high-definition format, per High-Def Digest, though they did not provide details on a release date, technical specifications, or supplements.

In the UK, Eureka released a Region 2 DVD edition in 2005. DVD Beaver did a detailed comparison between Kino and Eureka and found the Eureka release to be superior: "This appears to be a classic example of PAL-NTSC ghosting derived from improper conversion." If you know what that means, you'll want to read their entire article before making a purchase decision -- and note, of course, that you'll need a region-free DVD player for the Eureka version. Film critic Glenn Kenney recommends the Eureka edition, by the way.

Others will choose to wait for Blu-ray, but whatever your decision, now would be a good time to get caught up with Metropolis so you can fully appreciate the new missing footage. If you need any more convincing, check out the clips and trailer at Kino's site.

I confess my temporary insanity: the news that missing footage from Fritz Lang's Metropolis had been discovered in Argentina, as detailed in the Guardian and elsewhere a few days ago, did not initially make my head spin. (I blame the blasted summer heat, which has made my brains melt.) Shaking off a weekend of lazy moviewatching has now convinced me that this may be the most significant movie news of the year.

Metropolis has always struck me as a classic more to be admired than loved -- difficult to follow, easy to be amazed by the stunning visuals, and in general, to be awed by its vision of a future society gone hellishly wrong. Roger Ebert acknowledged that the plot "defies common sense, but its very discontinuity is a strength." He noted that Lang's original version had not been seen for many years, "chopped by distributors, censors and exhibitors, key footage was lost" but that didn't keep it from influencing everything from Alphaville to Blade Runner to Dark City to Gotham City.

David Hudson detailed the discovery at GreenCine Daily and, as usual, compiled numerous links to coverage of the story. His updates indicate that the footage represents about 85% of what was considered lost forever, and that the 16mm copy is "in terrible shape," though there are high hopes that good quality images can be drawn from the material. As David wrote: "Still!"

Peter Bradshaw wonders if the missing footage would "explain" the movie or "just make it more baroque, more mysterious, and more mad than ever"? It looks like we'll all be able to see for ourselves, eventually. As Glenn Kenny writes, what's next? The Magnificent Ambersons? Greed? What's your dream restored classic?

Even the weirder artists of the twentieth century have been attracted to the allure of Hollywood filmmaking, and Salvador Dali was no exception. In the fall of 1941, the surrealist painter hosted a masquerade party at Pebble Beach during one of his regular visits to the town. Called "Surrealism Night in An Enchanted Forest," the fundraising event, intended to assist European refugee artists, brought out a number of stars, including Bob Hope and Ginger Rogers. It was here, the story goes, that Dali became attached to a major studio production called Moontide. The great German emigre Fritz Lang was hired to direct the movie, and asked Dali to create a three-minute nightmare sequence for the film. Unfortunately, after the incident at Pearl Harbor later that year, Twentieth Century Fox deemed the project too bleak. Lang was replaced, and Dali's nightmare sequence went with him.

Although inspired by the movies, Dali didn't always have the easiest time making them. He would get another chance to inject his hallucinatory vision into American cinema with the hypnosis scene in Alfred Hitchcock's Spellbound, but it's his unrealized projects that truly indicate the scope of the painter's ambition. So many ideas, such little time. Dali: Painting and Film, a breathtakingly unique exhibit currently on display at the Museum of Modern Art in New York, surveys Dali's completed cinematic works in addition to tidbits from the ones that never came to fruition. Marvelously structured to show how his paintings were intentionally cinematic, the exhibit contains all the obvious highlights from Dali's movie career alongside lesser-known productions. The importance in film history of his collaborations with Luis Bunuel remain uncontested; two large screens in separate rooms showing Un Chien Andalou (where the opening eye splicing retains its original gross-out impact) and L'Age D'Or attest to that. Fewer visitors, however, might know about Dali's collaboration with the Marx Brothers on a deliriously strange movie that sounded too good to be true.

Over the course of my time in this job I have acquired a reputation as someone who reviews and appreciates lots of foreign films. Of course, at the same time I have occasionally been accused of not understanding these films at all, which is partially true. It's not technically possible for one person to fully absorb and comprehend every facet of every industrialized culture in the world. For one thing, subtitles never accurately translate what's being spoken, and then there are little cultural things, certain behaviors, for example, that may not translate either. Conversely, it's impossible for any one person -- filmmakers included -- to represent a culture. It gets even more complex than that, if you want to boil it down. For example, I could say that I identify with the characters in High Fidelity (2000), but if you consider that I've never been to Chicago, and consider further that the book was originally set in London, then it creates a cultural divide. That movie has levels that will forever be out of my grasp.

You do your best. You keep an open mind. Although, I admit I'm usually disappointed when I see too many Western filmmaking elements slavishly copied in Eastern films (Mongol, The Counterfeiters, etc.); it shows the overwhelming influence of Hollywood on other parts of the world. I'm sure more people in Portugal saw Transformers than saw Manoel de Oliveira or Pedro Costa's latest films.

I've got to wonder... If there is an afterlife, can those who have died see what's happening on earth? Variety has just reported that Peter Hyams is going to helm a remake of Fritz Lang's last American film -- Beyond a Reasonable Doubt. What would Lang say if he heard this his film was going to be remade by the man who brought us Running Scared, Timecop, The Relic, and End of Days? That's not to say that the man can't do it, or that great directors can't fail (as Gus Van Sant's Psycho taught us), but his track record doesn't instill much confidence.

The classic, which focuses on an ill-advised scheme to point out the flimsiness of circumstantial evidence, will get "a true 21st century spin for a new generation of cinema-goers," according to Foresight head Mark Damon. Yet again, I ask why it couldn't have just been "inspired by." The original plot: A publisher wants to make a point about how crappy circumstantial evidence is, so he talks his would-be son-in-law into planting clues suggesting he was behind a recent murder. At the last moment, they could bring out the truth and reveal the flaws in the system and death penalty. However, the guy holding that all-too-important information dies and mucks up the plan.

Anyhow, it's got an, um, interesting cast to boot -- Michael Douglas, Amber Tamblyn, and Jesse Metcalfe. They've certainly younged it up a bit -- the main players in the original, names like Dana Andrews and Joan Fontaine, were all at least in their mid-thirties. Whatever the case, we've got the King of California, plus a girl with a kick-arse 3D glasses-wearing dad and some traveling pants, and John Tucker all spun together for this century. I like most of the cast, and I still can't help but think: Why bother?

Everyone has their list of movies that should not be remade -- whether it's an epic classic like Gone with the Wind, or a cult mainstay like Heathers. That doesn't stop filmmakers from trying, however, with some that re-imagine things and others that recreate things shot by shot and miserably fail. *cough* Psycho *cough* Now we're going into Fritz Lang territory as Variety reports that his epic science fiction film Metropolis is about to be remade. Happy 80th birthday, Metropolis, you could very well be headed for a crappy remake.

To be fair, I'm not completely against the idea, although the only way I'd want to see the possibility is if some great, unique filmmaker took it. If Guy Maddin was going to continue his silent film craze with his take on the German classic, I'd buy it. He does wonders with silent film. However, producer Thomas Schühly (Alexander) bought the remake rights, and is currently working with co-producer Mario Kassar to get a "top director" to helm the project. I imagine that means we'll get a script to accompany this version, and lots of mainstream buzz.

Schuehly says: "With the overwhelming role technology plays in our daily lives, the growing gap between rich and poor, including the gradual elimination of the middle class, the story of Metropolis is a frightening reflection of our society that takes place in an all too possible not too distant future." Why mess with it as a remake? In situations like these, I don't know why filmmakers don't take the base story, use one of those "inspired by" credits, and do something new -- so you give props to the story while also allowing it to exist on its own.

But what do you think? Can the producer behind Alexander, The Adventures of Baron Munchausen, and The Name of the Rose handle Metropolis? Oh yeah, and just to make it more exciting -- Kassar produced Basic Instinct 2.

Roman Polanski's recent supporting role in Brett Ratner's Rush Hour 3 raised more questions than the film itself ever could. What could that dynamic have been like? How could one of the world's greatest directors have taken orders from one of the world's worst? We know from previous films (The Fearless Vampire Killers, Zemsta, etc.) that Polanski has a yen for acting, even if his skills in this arena run toward broad, rather than subtle. Likewise Kevin Smith working for Len Wiseman in Live Free or Die Hard. Would Smith have made suggestions on how to make the movie nerdier? It got me thinking about the many directors who have performed for their colleagues, and the very interesting dynamics they created. The following are the seven best and/or most interesting combos. I've only included people who are primarily known as directors, as opposed to actor-directors, like Jackie Chan, George Clooney, Denzel Washington, etc.. I've also left out glorified cameos (Steven Spielberg in The Blues Brothers) and jokey appearances (Samuel Fuller in Pierrot le Fou). Finally, I've excluded Quentin Tarantino, whose lack of thespian skills is unquestioned. (Though I would have loved to have been on the set of Spike Lee's Girl 6 the day those two crossed paths...)

1. Orson Welles in Carol Reed's The Third Man (1949)
This is the most obvious one; the Big Guy's presence as Harry Lime has led generations of moviegoers to believe that Welles actually directed this movie. Certainly his fingerprints are on it. He spoke often about building up to the first appearance of a character by having other characters talk about him long before we actually see him. Welles managed to do this with his Rochester in Jane Eyre (1944), and even more memorably here. We know all about Harry Lime before those lights unexpectedly splash on his face and he lets slip an amused smile. Reportedly, the famous "cuckoo clock" speech was his own. However, Reed undoubtedly directed; the overall suspense and structure of the film has more in common with Reed's The Fallen Idol than with anything Welles made.

2. John Huston in Roman Polanski's Chinatown (1974)
The maverick director had a terrific screen presence with his large, ambling frame, cavernous face and sonorous voice, and acted in many films, mostly his own, and notably in cult films like Winter Kills (1979) and Battle for the Planet of the Apes (1973). Happily, the news recently broke that rights issues surrounding Orson Welles' The Other Side of the Wind have been resolved, and so the world may get to see Huston's lead performance in that film as well. In Chinatown, Huston gives a flat-out great performance as the insidious industrialist who gets away with more than murder and justifies it with a hearty laugh. Jack Nicholson may have got his nose cut, but Huston emerges untouched.

One of the greatest living filmmakers, Werner Herzog makes movies with an unquenchable curiosity combined with an intrepid fearlessness. His films brim with a kind of madness in an era when Hollywood wishes to control everything and leech out any unexpected qualities. Herzog's newest film Rescue Dawn (57 screens), starring Christian Bale and Steve Zahn, has opened to strong reviews and has pulled in over $1 million in U.S. box office. After a career stretching back five decades, it's his first film produced by a Hollywood studio. Though far from selling out, Herzog has brought his unique vision to the otherwise timid and brain-dead mainstream. This is good news for everyone; many Americans will see their very first Herzog film (though his 2005 documentary Grizzly Man didn't do half bad), Herzog himself may qualify for prizes usually reserved for those with half his talent, and his example may reverse an irritating trend that has prevailed for almost a century.

The 64-year-old filmmaker began in the 1960s as part of what would come to be known as the German New Wave, sharing the spotlight with, among others, Rainer Werner Fassbinder and Wim Wenders. Herzog made a small splash with his amazing early feature Signs of Life (1968), and followed it up with the peculiar Even Dwarfs Started Small (1970) and Land of Silence and Darkness (1971), which delved into the lives of little people and blind-and-deaf people with no hesitation or repulsion. His masterpiece Aguirre, the Wrath of God (1972) made him an art-house sensation, with its use of the physical, jungle landscape intertwining with man's obsession and insanity. While Herzog continued this exploration of untamed nature and human foibles, Wenders heeded the siren song of Hollywood, while Fassbinder burned out and left a good-looking corpse, well before Hollywood even noticed him.

Everyone has a different opinion regarding the greatest films in history. Since half the fun is in the arguing, pity the poor cinephile who thinks they've got it all figured out. A new DVD box set from Criterion and Janus may not claim to have finally compiled the greatest films ever, but they've gotten off to a pretty good start.

Janus was a distribution company founded in 1956 by Bryant Haliday and Cyrus Harvey. They had been showing foreign films in their Massachusetts theater for a few years before becoming the premiere distributors of foreign films in the US. Janus has teamed with their sister company Criterion to create Essential Art House: 50 Years Of Janus Film. This whopper of a collection is now available and includes films from directors like Federico Fellini, Ingmar Bergman, Luis Bunuel and Akira Kurosawa -- you can read about Criterion's remastered Seven Samurai here. In total, this box set contains 50 different films, numerous extras, and a 240-page book with an introduction written by Martin Scorsese. Most of these films have been available through Criterion for years, but not in one collection.

All of this film history doesn't come cheap though, the set has a retail price of $850. If that seems a little excessive, don't worry; Criterion is also planning on releasing individual discs from the series as well.

[via CNN Entertainment]

Jonathan Glancey in The Guardian argues that the film medium is still the best place to experience the architectural imagination unbounded. Much current modern architecture combines the resources of cinematic effects with conventional design practice; Glancey cites the work of Daniel Libeskind and the UN Studio as examples of conceptual design made fully actual. It's enlightening to take a stroll with him through the futuristic spaces imagined by filmmakers as diverse as Stanley Kubrick, Fritz Lang and Ridley Scott. Their dsytopic (and prophetic?) tableaux of our cities of the future still manage to awe me in their extreme visions, just as they've become visual touchstones for many modern movies today. There are always mean streets, flying vehicles, acid rain, permanently smoggy skies and huge skyscrapers -- I wonder though, if directors now will have their futuristic cities look more like Toyko or Beijing, or if there will be more of an Hispanic influence?