No, it’s not a new disc … CineSavant updates an older review to take in Warner’s 2018 4K edition — mainly to wax enthusiastic about the long-gone thrill of Road Show moviegoing. We have the story of when (and where) Stanley Kubrick trimmed the movie by a reel, in its first week of release in 1968. It’s also a chance to reprint a nice reaction from an old friend, now gone, a notable authority on Science Fiction cinema.

2001: A Space Odyssey 4K
4K Ultra HD + Blu-ray
Warner Bros. Home Entertainment
1968 / Color / 2:20 widescreen / 149 min. / Street Date December 18, 2018 / Available from Amazon
Starring: Keir Dullea, Gary Lockwood, William Sylvester, Daniel Richter, Leonard Rossiter, Margaret Tyzack, Robert Beatty, Sean Sullivan, Douglas Rain, Vivian Kubrick.
Cinematography: Geoffrey Unsworth
Additional cinematography: John Alcott
Production Designers: Ernest Archer, Harry Lange, Tony Masters
Art Director: John Hoesli
Makeup: Stuart Freeborn
Film Editor: Ray Lovejoy
Special photographic effects designer & director: Stanley Kubrick
Special Effects: Les Bowie, Roger Dicken, Brian Johnson
Visual Effects Supervisors: Tom Howard, Con Pederson, Douglas Trumbull, Wally Veevers
Screenplay by Stanley Kubrick, Arthur C. Clarke suggested by Clarke’s short story The Sentinel
Produced and Directed by Stanley Kubrick

Back in 2018 we held off springing for Warners’ 4K of Stanley Kubrick’s out-there space adventure … one reason was that we’d just seen it too often. But we were also swayed by rumors that a then-new 70mm restoration by Christopher Nolan had submitted the movie to a color re-think. Nolan’s re-do was apparently for theatrical purposes only; we’re ready to believe that reports of Kubrick’s ‘white’ spaceships rendered in a beige tone came from a bum print or a screening projected at the wrong color temperature. This 2018 Warners-approved 4K has not been ‘rethought’ for color.

We last wrote up 2001: A Space Odyssey in 2007, and even if some of the text has stayed the same, we wanted to migrate the review’s fond memories to the CineSavant / Trailers from Hell platform. Authority Bill Warren was active in 2007; he was always just plain bonkers for the movie. Besides offering some fun discussion, he wrote up a lengthy review comment that we’d like to see preserved.

By now there’s not much point arguing for the importance / significance / timelessness of 2001: A Space Odyssey. The visionary Science Fiction epic, in which Kubrick dares to comment on ‘the meaning of the universe,’ is one of the most written-about films of all time.  The director fancied himself an artist capable of taking on the Big Subjects, and proved it with  Doctor Strangelove. Arthur C. Clarke said that for their outer space epic, he and Stanley looked at every Science Fiction picture they could find. The research mainly tried the director’s patience. He expressed scorn for ‘classics’ featuring space travel and computers. When Kubrick dismissed  Things to Come as naïve, he had a point. Just thirty years after its premiere, H.G. Wells’ film played like an ancient fossil. Fifty-six years have now passed since the arrival of 2001 and only a few technical details have dated. Pan-Am no longer flies and we don’t yet have colossal space wheels or outposts on the moon. The Cold War has cooled, and heated up again.

From his first awkward effort forward, every Kubrick film was a quantum career leap, taking him from amateur status to the top rank of his profession in less than a decade. He was attracted to controversial subject matter — war crimes, a novel deemed un-filmable, the nuclear stalemate. Science Fiction films had been mostly juvenile in appeal, and only middling box-office performers. With 2001 Kubrick went way out on a limb, spending unheard-of sums on a fuzzy story about man’s relationship to the universe.

There’s no shortage of interesting history on 2001, from its semi-secret production to MGM’s ‘how do we release this?’ advertising campaign.

The MGM marketers commissioned a comic book distributed in Howard Johnsons restaurants.  →

The MGM brass must have panicked when they finally saw what Kubrick had created. The movie bewildered critics that had just praised  Planet of the Apes to the high heavens. Some of the early reviews were dismissive. Variety’s “Robe” noted the technical wonders but was left scratching his head:

“But 2001 is not a cinematic landmark” …. “It actually belongs to the technically-slick group previously dominated by George Pal and the Japanese.”

Barely noted was the fact that, a few days into its first exclusive run, all of the 70mm prints for 2001 prints were replaced with a shorter cut — 11 minutes shorter. The 160-minute premiere cut did not have the chapter titles that give disoriented audiences at least a little guidance — “The Dawn of Man,” etc..

The true story of the 2001 cut-down.

Years later I worked with editor-producer  Michael J. Sheridan, who in 1968 had been MGM’s head negative cutter. He explained that after the premiere, Kubrick cut the film down and added the chapter title cards. Sheridan revised the original negative in Culver City, working from changes ordered from Kubrick’s cutting room set up on an ocean liner crossing the Atlantic … the director didn’t fly. Michael explained that Kubrick controlled the negative. All outs and trims were returned to him, which leaves the extra content of the deleted scenes locked in the memories of those who saw it.

The revisions caught up with the movie less than a week after it opened in its reserved seat engagements. Future producer Jon Davison recorded his reaction in a 1968 letter. Floored by his first viewing of the movie, he returned only a day or two later and was confronted by Kubrick’s new cut, shorter with the new text titles. The same thing happened to early viewers of the next year’s  The Wild Bunch, which played only a week before being trimmed by over ten minutes. Only that was done without its director’s knowledge or consent.

After its initial ‘Huh?’ impact 2001 became a regular Rorschach Inkblot Test for filmgoers. Literal types intent on unlocking Kubrick’s code scoured the show for verbal and visual clues that might ‘explain’ the mysterious monolith. Inspired by Kubrick’s visual pyrotechnics, some viewers claimed to have accompanied astronaut Bowman ‘beyond the infinite.’ The words mind-blowing and psychedelic got a healthy workout.

The reviewers’ box office predictions were correct, however. Audiences astounded by the visuals were nevertheless disappointed by the unconventional narrative. The movie played for months in a few Road Show engagements. It did decent business, but not in proportion to its cost. It was neither a failure nor a blockbuster hit.

THE DAWN OF MAN.  A mysterious monolith suddenly appears before a group of prehistoric ape-men. It inspires them to eat meat; their Alpha-male leader (Daniel Richter) invents a weapon to assert his ‘territorial imperative.’ Thousands of years later, man is building a space station and a giant moon colony. Space project head Dr. Heywood R. Floyd (William Sylvester) journeys to the Clavius moon base to inspect an extraordinary object buried below the surface of the crater Tycho. It’s another monolith, identical to the one in the Dawn of Man episode. When sunlight strikes the monolith, it sends a radio signal aimed at Jupiter.

JUPITER MISSION, 18 MONTHS LATER.  Astronaut Drs. Dave Bowman and Frank Poole (Keir Dullea & Gary Lockwood) pilot the vast atomic-powered Jupiter craft Discovery. Monitoring the mission and helping care for three other ‘hibernating’ scientists is the HAL-9000 computer (voice Douglas Rain). Programmed to manifest a personality, HAL takes a spirited interest in Dave and Fank’s welfare — until he begins to show signs of very un-computerlike fallibility.

What is this, Stanley?  “Last Year at Clavius-bad?”

Did Stanley Kubrick overestimate his audience?  in Jerome Agel’s  making-of book, Kubrick lamented preview cards indicating that some viewers thought Heywood Floyd was flying to a planet called ‘Clavius,’ even after seeing giant images of the Moon.  ↓   Kubrick’s avoidance of small-talk exposition made the entire Discovery flight a mystery to many. Except for the lone text title ‘Jupiter Mission,’ neither the astronauts nor Hal talk about where they are going or why … an hour later, we find out that it’s because they haven’t been told.  Heywood Floyd suddenly pops up on a recorded message to make the connection — just before the narrative veers into abstract territory. Time has proved 2001 a brilliant success, but that wasn’t the full consensus back in ’68.’

The film’s astounding accomplishment was its photo-real outer space visuals, a major feat for the photochemical resources of 1965. Kubrick wanted nothing to do with  visible wires or fluctuating matte lines. Enlisting talent from the scientific world, he assembled a crew with the mandate to make everything as authentic and real as possible. Elaborate spaceship interiors are seen for only a few seconds. A massive Ferris wheel set was constructed. The views of outer space are all done ‘first generation, original negative’, avoiding opticals that degrade the image. The entire picture was filmed in expensive 70mm, from enormous spaceship models to microphotography of lacquer smears mixing into oil and water.

To film the elaborate Dawn of Man sequence, giant front-projection plates of African locations were matched on English sound stages. That’s why the leopard’s eyes glow so mysteriously in the shot of the cat lying atop its prey. The animal’s retinas act just like the 3-M front-projection material behind him on the stage, reflecting the full brilliance of the light of the front-projector.

Across a hard cut, a bone tossed into the air becomes a nuclear weapons satellite. The daring edit was compared to the glorious moment when Peter O’Toole blew out a match in  Lawrence of Arabia.  But Michael Powell had beaten Kubrick to the draw with an identical time-bridging jump cut effect in  A Canterbury Tale, between a falcon and a Spitfire airplane. Kubrick’s abrupt leap from man’s first weapon to his latest killing tool is a stunner, an impressive cosmic joke. Never mind those millennia of world history, say Kubrick and Clarke; the only important issue is that mankind is still murderously aggressive.

Dr. Floyd’s poker-faced nonchalance regarding rumors of a ‘moon epidemic’ effectively keeps his Soviet opposites off guard. But even Floyd seems lacking in appreciation for the buried monolith. Astronauts are of course chosen for their even temperaments, and space travel has become a routine that takes even evidence of intelligent life as a matter of course. Floyd’s fellow ‘professional’ space executives collect data on the monolith, but seem just as excited by the ham sandwiches packed for them in the Moon Bus.

Unimaginative viewers were tickled by the film’s futuristic hardware — all shiny and clean, with many video status readouts — but waited impatiently for extravagant outer-space thrills that never arrived. Previous space travel movies had featured near-disasters with meteors, dramatic intrigues on board and confrontations with dangerous aliens. 2001’s space jocks Poole and Bowman play chess and exercise while maintaining an even strain of bland efficiency. A big thrill is a birthday greeting from home.

The AI voice of the HAL-9000 computer is studiously calm, earnest and sincere … and taps our distrust of automation. When HAL turns traitor 2001 finally finds a narrative conflict. It also becomes a battleground for analysis and interpretation. HAL’s mutiny shows Man losing control over his own weapon-tools. Frank Poole’s pod suddenly moves on its own, and pivots to attack him; it’s one of the most chilling ‘what’s wrong with this picture’ moments in film. We’ve already sensed HAL’s growing paranoia when he read the astronaut’s lips. Mankind’s perfect AI helper flexes its newfound instinct for self-preservation.

The battle of wits between Bowman and HAL is told without explanatory narration. The murder of the 4/5th of the crew, destroying the mission in order to save it, is a joke on mankind almost as horrible as the Doomsday Machine in Kubrick’s previous film. A more cold-blooded massacre cannot be imagined; anybody with a feeling brain senses the tragedy as the life functions of the Space Administation’s best and finest are ‘terminated.’

We remember a nervous sensation flowing through the audience when the third chapter title came up: JUPITER – AND BEYOND THE INFINITE.  What possible miracle did Kubrick have in store?  A second interpretation is more in line with Arthur C. Clarke’s uncredited story The Sentinel and especially his 1953 novel  Childhood’s End. That book depicts a much different contact with extraterrestrial life, with mankind advancing to a new level of cosmic evolution. The final generation of human children are reincarnated as a new super-entity, much like 2001’s Star Child.

That’s it in a nutshell. Kubrick is interested in Man’s Fate, or The Next Step.

In the Clarke interpretation, the specifics of the Bowman vs. HAL duel on board Discovery are as inconsequential as the rest of human history. By leaving his planet, Man has proven himself a resourceful and intelligent species worthy of entrance into the League of Galactic Beings.   …  Or, at least entrance into a trial study program. Chasing the cookie-crumb trail of monoliths to a rendezvous amid the moons of Jupiter is sort of a graduation exam. It’s not all that different than Dr. Meachum assembling the Interociter in  This Island Earth, from a set of IKEA- like printed instructions.

“Hey, we’re gonna make Babies!”      —  Woody Allen

As soon as the expedition to Jupiter begins, 2001 becomes another of Kubrick’s sex-based cosmic jests. The space ship Discovery looks like — what else — a giant Spermatozoa. Like the myriads of Sperm that don’t reach an egg, the rest of our race is now irrelevant. The alien keepers of the monolith need only one human to fertilize mankind’s transition to its next evolutionary level.  But take heart, because Clarke’s Childhood’s End theorizes that our race possesses some kind of special quality that puts it among a privileged few life-forms with the ability to jump to the next level of existence. The news that we’re Transcendental would still not please Ralph Waldo Emerson … we’re divine as a species, not as individuals.

The aliens only need one human Space Seed. Heywood Floyd has sent five living humans on the Jupiter Mission. The ‘passive alien’ theory is that HAL goes nuts on his own and tries to kill them all. Like a Prince in a fairy tale, Dave Bowman proves himself worthy by defeating HAL and taking back control of the mission. The less-supported ‘active alien’ theory goes another step, saying that the aliens cause HAL’s major malfunction, to leave no witnesses when Poole or Bowman is sucked through the Star Gate.

Like Odysseus, Bowman uses his wits to overcome the pitfalls in his journey. The end of his quest is a dead end for his personal existence. When he finally succumbs in the alien Holding Room, Bowman metamorphoses into a new being with god-like powers, a Star Child. In Clarke’s scheme of things, individual humans don’t have Judeo-Christian souls, only a generic racial spirit with the potential to evolve to a new plane of god-like omnipotence. The filmmakers were wise not to explain this detail to the Production Code office.

This interpretation is basically what author Harlan Ellison confirmed in a 1970 issue of Show magazine, a quick “I’m only going to say this once” run-through of what has become the most widely accepted take on the movie. But 2001’s monolith goes a step further than the previous Clarke stories. It is more than an alien sentinel transmitting a galactic APB:  “Callling all Cars — they got smart enough to visit their own moon.”  The first monolith takes an active role in advancing the proto- ape man’s development. In Childhood’s End, a race of aliens are described as ‘midwives’ helping in mankind’s evolutionary process. That idea reminds us of Nigel Kneale’s  Quatermass and the Pit, in which Martian meddle with Man’s prehistory.

Clarke’s fictions stressed great wonders for the future of mankind, but his interpretation of Man’s place in the universe wasn’t about a Greater Love or a Benevolent Higher Being. Stanley Kubrick’s films repeatedly imagined human endeavors tripped up by fate and political folly. 2001 is thought to be one of his most dispassionate and ironic films, yet we care a lot about what happens to Bowman and Poole. We lament the fates of the three hibernating astronauts. Kubrick’s camera seems to agonize over them as well, when their sleep capsules become coffins.

A parting thought … fifty-odd years later, I wonder if I have completely misread the film’s final image. When the Star Child appears in Earth orbit (as Clarke wrote in his book version, ‘ready to play’), I have always assumed that it is gigantic, an enormous baby in a bubble.  But what if it’s just a close-up?  When we first see Mister Star Child, the full sum of human existence, he was only a couple of feet across, hovering above the fancy bed in the aliens’ other-dimensional holding cell. Where’s the evidence that he’s as big as a planetoid?

Warner Bros. Home Entertainment’s 2018 4K Ultra HD + Blu-ray of 2001: A Space Odyssey is quite a treat — on a big-enough screen, the extra sharpness and detail of 4K gets us closer to the experience of seeing the film in its original ‘Cinerama’ dimensions. The color fidelity seems good; everything adds up to how we remember it.

The 2nd disc (Blu-ray) contains an HD feature encoding; both it and the 4K carry the Keir Dullea / Gary Lockwood audio commentary. The actors discuss their experience working for Stanley Kubrick but can offer few insights as to the workings of his mind; Kubrick kept most normal kinds of on-set communications to a minimum. Dullea does remember suggesting the business with the broken glass for the last scene of Bowman in captivity.

The 3rd disc (Blu-ray) has the video extras. The newest are from 2007, by the prolific Gary Leva. All have a high level of production polish, being made when Home Video companies commissioned pricey extras.

•  2001: The Making of a Myth was produced for Channel 4 in England in the year 2001. Douglas Trumbull is interviewed on a California beach, lamenting the fact that manned space exploration was curtailed right after the Apollo moon landings. Sir Arthur C. Clarke speaks from the veranda of his home in Sri Lanka; in his garden is a full-scale monolith, on which plays a local monkey!  James Cameron opens the discussion with a prepared speech, followed by Keir Dullea and a group of visual effects specialists.
•  The featurette Standing on the Shoulders of Kubrick: The Legacy of 2001 and several others are from 2007. Steven Spielberg and George Lucas, plus luminaries Roger Ebert, Sydney Pollack, James Dickerson, Jan Harlan, John Baxter and Peter Hyams discuss what the film has meant to them and the art of cinema generally.
Three more 2007 featurettes pick and choose from the same group of interview subjects
•  Vision of a Future Passed: The Prophecy of 2001 examines the accuracy of the film’s predictions. Some of the fanciful inventions of 1968 are now everyday reality.
•  2001: FX and Conceptual Artwork. Douglas Trumbull explains a couple of complicated special effect shots; then Christiane Kubrick introduces a gallery of pre-production artwork in search of the ‘impossible’ visuals sought by Kubrick. The paintings aren’t encouraging — most look like pockebook covers or freeze-dried Dalí.
•  What Is Out There? (produced by Jan Harlan) gives us Keir Dullea reading from predictions of what actual extraterrestrials might be like, contrasted with file material from Kubrick and Clarke, who insist that whatever’s out there is way beyond our understanding.
•  A refreshing change of pace is  2001: A Space Odyssey: A Look Behind the Future, a lengthy piece on the film’s pre-production. Finished in 1966, it features great BTS shots of work in progress. It’s so matter of fact, it feels like something produced by NASA, for in-house use. Does the copy here have visible time code because Kubrick delayed it from being shown?
•  A welcome addition is Look: Stanley Kubrick! (2001), a brief photo-filled piece on the director’s first job as a photographer for Look magazine.
•  Also good is a Jeremy Bernstein 1966 audio interview with Kubrick. We’re surprised when Stanley’s voice sounds so much like an ordinary New Yorker.

The extras teach us two surprising things. First, Kubrick was often at a loss to visualize an alien world with ‘unseeable sights’ and ‘new colors.’  Some of Kubrick’s psychedelic images no longer impress at all, especially not the solarized views of alpine glaciers, ocean waves and Monument Valley. And second, did Kubrick run out of time and money just like many another ambitious filmmaker?  The unique and puzzling ‘Dorchester Hotel’ ending was apparently considered a compromise. By coming up with the knockout graphic punch of the slit-scan Star Gate effect, Douglas Trumbull truly became the picture’s savior. The effect blew away audiences in 1968, leading to the film’s reissues as ‘The Ultimate Trip. ‘  It established a commercial niche for a movie that hadn’t gained a grip on the general audience.

Midway through the 1970s, Hollywood’s Cinerama Dome would revive 2001: A Space Odyssey whenever a new booking under-performed. Inspired by Kubrick’s example, Dalt Wizzy’s dizzy marketers repackaged the 1940  Fantasia as a similar ‘head trip’ movie. For either title, we’d all trek to The Dome to take in the ‘light show.’ Whenever I see 2001 on a screen, I can still remember the smell of marijuana in the air!

The original one-strip Cinerama ‘Ultimate Trip.’

It’s worthwhile trying to detail ‘the Cinerama Experience.’  When screened in 70mm revivals, 2001’s ‘Super Panavision 70’ image looks fine, but nothing like what we saw at the Cinerama Dome (in my case, in 1974). At the Dome, and presumably on other curved, fully tricked-out curved Cinerama screens — like the Warner Hollywood where 2001 premiered — the image filled more of one’s peripheral vision, while the multi-track stereo placed one in the center of a György Ligeti audio-storm. The Cinerama Dome changed its screen sometime in the 1980s, definitely after  Close Encounters of the Third Kind and  Apocalypse Now, which had the same kind of “It’s all around Me!” effect on the audience. The original screen, first installed for the single-strip Cinerama epic  It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad, World, was appreciably wider.

How much wider?  this later photo of the auditorium shows the eventual screen shape for an anamorphic movie. My memory is that the original Cinerama screen extended left and right, almost all the way to the two side exit doors. (I’ve lightened them a bit  ↑  )  When a starfield scene was on screen, watching 2001 made one feel that the front wall of the theater was a giant window into outer space.

I can understand why they changed the screen, and made it smaller — later movies didn’t want curved screens. Even when seeing pictures like  Deliverance and  Logan’s Run, horizontal lines became deep curves. Even flat movies required one to accept a certain amount of distortion. The Dome’s custom 70mm optics somehow kept everything in focus, and minimized the warpage. At least, that’s my honest memory of how it was. I remember staring at a patch of stars in the corner of the frame and thinking, “Wow, that’s sharp. No grain, either.”

A response note from Bill Warren, November 6, 2007:

“Hi Glenn:

Greg Bear told me that at one of the many Cinerama screenings of 2001 he attended, some guy clearly high on something walked up to the enormous screen during the Trip sequence shouting “IT’S GOD!” — then stepped through the screen. As you know, original Cinerama screens were like vertical Venetian blinds, all very tall slats. What the guy didn’t know but abruptly learned, that there was a twenty foot (or so) drop to a concrete floor behind the screen.

I don’t think you are describing two separate and/or conflicting interpretations; I think Kubrick fully meant both of them to be significant, and the “right way” to read the movie.

It never occurred to me that the aliens might have sabotaged HAL — it would seem out of character, in a sense. I assumed that all they did was plant three monoliths in our solar system: one on Earth, one buried on the moon, the third in orbit around Jupiter. If we became advanced enough to find the two off-planet monoliths, we won. After all this monolith-planting, it just doesn’t make sense to me that they would also fiddle with HAL. I assumed that after planting the monoliths, they regarded our solar system with cosmic indifference.

Many people, including Harlan Ellison, have claimed that the Star Child was a last-minute addition to the film — but in Jerome Agel’s book, he said that one of the first images shot was of a little boy in a leotard, for consideration as the Star Child. I suspect Ellison and others heard there was some last-minute stuff done with the ending, but I’m sure that was the Trip sequence, and not the Star Child. Maybe also the ‘hotel room’ sequence.

I am unshakably convinced that the movie NEVER includes “fantasy” scenes — that everything we see is literally what is happening; Bowman IS turned into a cosmic baby and is either sent or returns on his own to Earth. The tricky part is when Bowman sees himself as an older person, twice, and there I think Kubrick was simply trying to add mysterioso elements in order to grab people’s attention. He liked to say Bowman was seeing himself in a ‘time mirror,’ which makes no literal sense. Clarke, when asked about this, usually said that that part was all Stanley’s.

You wrote, “the extra content of the deleted scenes are locked in the memories of those who saw it.”

Me, for instance. Also Beverly and Ron Cobb, who was at that same first-night screening. I didn’t know Jon Davison saw the longer cut; maybe he and I should compare notes. The only things I remember for sure was that Poole originally ran around the centrifuge ELEVEN times (I began counting after the third revolution). Later, not only did we follow Bowman all the way out to the rear antenna to check the AE-35 unit, but we followed him all the way back, too. Beyond those two elements, I don’t really know what was in, then out. Same is mostly true for  The Shining, which I also saw in a somewhat longer cut.

The Warner Theater on Hollywood Blvd. (where 2001 opened and played more than a year) had a policy of Saturday screenings for students at $1.25, so I saw the movie a dozen or more times during that year. I never got tired of it. Still haven’t. — Bill

Reviewed by Glenn Erickson

2001: A Space Odyssey 4K
4K Ultra HD + Blu-ray rates:
Movie: Excellent
Video: Excellent
Sound: Excellent
Supplements:
Audio commentary by Keir Dullea and Gary Lockwood audio commentary.2001: The Making of a Myth (42 min, 2001)
Standing on the Shoulders of Kubrick: The Legacy of 2001 (480i; 21:25) features folks like Steven Spielberg and George Lucas discussing what the film has meant to them and the art of cinema generally. George Lucas, Steven Spielberg, Roger Ebert, Sydney Pollack, James Dickerson, Jan Harlan, Douglas Trumbull, John Baxter, Peter Hyams and more visual effects luminaries (2007)
Vision of a Future Passed: The Prophecy of 2001 (21 min, 2007)
2001: A Space Odyssey: A Look Behind the Future (22 min, 1966)
What Is Out There? (21 min, 2007)
2001: FX and Conceptual Artwork (10 min., 2007)
Look: Stanley Kubrick! (3 minm 2001)
Audio interview with Stanley Kubrick, from 1966
Theatrical Trailer (480p; 1:51).
Deaf and Hearing-impaired Friendly? YES; Subtitles: English (feature only)
Packaging: One 4K Ultra-HD disc and two Blu-ray discs in Keep case
Reviewed: June 16, 2024
(7145spac)

Visit CineSavant’s Main Column Page
Glenn Erickson answers most reader mail: cinesavant@gmail.com

Text © Copyright 2024 Glenn Erickson