It’s not a stretch to imagine James Cameron himself as the techo-geek who finally achieves what Cromwell’s Canter does in Surrogates. If we get depressed because we can’t stay in Pandora, why not develop the technology to make that very thing possible? If reality can’t be made to work for eight billion people, why not deliver the ultimate opiate to the masses? Surrogates, of course, is the cautionary-tale response to those questions. Part of society rebels against the artificiality of it all, setting up autonomous surrogate-free zones. Sure, they’re surrounded by rubble—but as Willis’ Greer finds out once he leaves his surrogate body behind, there’s a lot of simple Eden to be found if we but consign our avatars to their proper places.

Choreography Travis Payne says that Jackson’s dancers are “the next generation to help convey his messages, and help continue his ideas; and they are soldiers, in a way.” And what are those ideas and messages? Baby dangling? Crotch grabbing? Myopic, blindered excess in service to tree-hugging environmentalism? Alleged child molestation? Well, not really. Almost all of those faults, crimes, and misdemeanors come through in the hours of material on this DVD. But what drives Jackson—as attested to both in testimonials and in Jackson’s words and behavior, and no matter how misguided his efforts may be—is love.

When young woman-of-privilege Fanny Brawne attempts to “study” poetry at Keats’ feet, she tries to understand it by dissection—as if it were a matter of construction and a collection of choices, and a matter of digesting one great work of poetry after another in order to extract what’s nourishing and move on to the next. But Keats tells her: “Poetry is like a lake, and when the poet jumps into it, his purpose is not to swim immediately to shore, but to luxuriate in the water.” And this is what Campion’s film—and Campion herself, as a cinematic poet—does with the poem “Bright Star.”

The story, at its core, is a mish-mash of many things we’ve seen before—usually done better, and often done quite recently. This time around, Dennis Quaid and Ben Foster star as a pair of hyper-sleep-drunk flight officers trying to figure out why their ship, the Elysium, seems to be suffering a reactor failure before completing its mission to colonize a new Earth-type planet. It’s like a big-budget dime-store horror cum mystery cum sci-fi potboiler—filmed by a crew suffering from indigestion and a run of really bad relationships. For those who like their sci-fi rough and grotesque, I’ve probably already said too much; for those who don’t, I need say no more.

As Jesus said, what is harder to believe: that a crippled man may rise and walk, or that his sins may be forgiven? Yes, writer/director Krusen invents a narrative that takes liberties with the “true story”; but as this Special Edition DVD release demonstrates, the story also packages a greater truth in a fashion which, in some respects, downplays the horror of the actual facts. And Wolfaardt’s real-life story—which is more global and less local in scope—is no less powerful for playing out in a less cinematically-digestible fashion. Sadly, the legacy of Final Solution is not entirely well-served by this 2-disc Special Edition—but you can always take your original disc and swap it out for Disc 1!

“How do you ruin a funeral?” asks the morosely quizzical Troy. The funeral is that of his wife of two years, Corinne, and the incipient squabble is between his theatrically-minded mother and his stereotypically free-spirited aunt, Hilda. Yes—it’s a comedy, in the classic sense. Yes—it’s a tragic romance, in the tradition of star-crossed lovers everywhere. Yes—it’s a feel-good love story offering quietly heartfelt performances from sometime A-listers (like Barbara Hershey and Ron Perlman as local grump Bobby). But it has a mind of its own, too, though it’s not earth-shattering filmmaking. At the very least, it takes its own advice seriously and manages to be a job well done.

If theatrical comfort food is to your taste, then you’ve come to right place with The Book of Ruth, in which distributor Pure Flix presents CCM legend Carman as Boaz, the distant kinsman of Moabite widow Ruth. In addition to the usual stuff, this retelling is about green- and blue-eyed Mary Kay reps who stalk the Holy Land in spotless garb and manicured nails while decrying “a people who slay the innocents”—that is, the multi-deitied but godless Moabites. Just don’t expect too much out of this biblical biopic—just as you don’t expect too much out of a box of Little Debbies, enjoy it as you might.

In his feature-length experimental look at the suburban evangelical teen subculture, “fascinated” agnostic director Aron Campisano pulls no punches, but throws no suckers, either. Still, though I found Campisano’s narrative tightrope-walking act engaging and fair, the real strength of this film is the director’s visual style. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a shoe-string budget film that was as visually arresting as The Master Plan. That being said, Campisano’s film is also not really ready for prime time—but this is a great film for other filmmakers to study, and it’s a decent conversation-starter for those interested in talking about the ways in which teens come to—and steer away from—faith.

As volunteerism is presented in this documentary, you can believe medical mission director Dr. Kiara Lepora when she says, “It’s not about being a good person. It’s not about that at all.” And the film is unflinching in depicting this anti-heroicism. No wonder, we are led to think, these doctors make no apologies for a little bit of pot, a good bit of off-hours booze, and as Lepora puts it “a lot of sex.” The problem is not models of organization or modes of relief or belief: it’s extreme circumstances into which very imperfect, guilt-ridden, and idealistic people are inserted. These are simply the forges which refine human beings, in which both the pure and the puerile become abundantly self-evident.

When Dorothy finally gets around to observing, “the minute it stops being fun, we stop,” I nearly hooted. In fact, I did, as this is a principle which my wife Jenn and I also have also endorsed verbatim since our own wedding. If only Sasaki had employed a suitably minimalist approach to her subject, I would have been more satisfied. But as both Herb and Dorothy would agree, art appreciation is very subjective. If you’re at all interested in the subject matter, by all means take a look. There’s a very good chance you’ll disagree with me.