Julian Schnabel’s background as a painter and artist lends his films an undeniable quality lacking in not only many Hollywood studio films but most modern films in general — the ability to summon emotional connection through a sort of dreamlike, non-pandering visual subjectivity. He puts that same evocative stamp on his latest film, Miral, a look at the generations-old Israeli/Palestinian conflict, but it isn’t enough to save what is an inert, self-important script.

Based on the semi-autobiographical novel of the same name by Rula Jebreal, Miral opens in 1948, with Hind Husseini (Hiam Abbas) coming across and rescuing more than four dozen orphaned kids in East Jerusalem. In the midst of an occupied war zone, she sets up a school that serves as a safe haven, an oasis from the surrounding madness. Much later, when the troubled Nadia (Yasmine Elmasri) commits suicide, Jamal Shahin is forced to entrust their young daughter Miral (Slumdog Millionaire‘s Freida Pinto) to the care of his friend Hind. As Miral grows up into a teenager, the commitment to peace through education that she has learned under Hind’s watchful eye is tested by more radical elements, and a growing social and ethnic consciousness.

Pinto is strikingly beautiful, and easily turns back any misguided criticism of an Indian actress playing a Palistinian girl. The problem is that Miral is so ploddingly plotted, and constructed to tug at heartstrings in only obvious, inartful ways. Almost all of the movie’s dialogue can be distilled to some variation of, “This is just what happened, and this is what it means.” Schnabel’s film doesn’t show; it merely tells, over and over. For a much better recent look at religious and ethnic strife in the Middle East, instead check out Yaron Shani and Scandar Copti’s Ajami.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case in turn stored in a cardboard slipcover, Miral comes to DVD presented in 2.35:1 anamorphic widescreen, with a Dolby digital 5.1 audio track, and optional English SDH and Spanish subtitles. A feature-length audio commentary track from Schnabel and producer Jon Kilik nicely balances stories regarding the movie’s production with a discussion of its geopolitical underpinnings. Other supplemental features consist of a 14-minute making-of featurette which mixes movie clips with chats from the cast and crew, as well as Jebreal; a seven-minute tour of Schnabel’s art studio, in which he shares and explains paintings of Sheikha Moza; and three brief deleted scenes, totaling around four minutes, one of which is documentary footage featuring Arabs and Israelis alike celebrating the (as yet enacted) 1993 Oslo peace accords. The main bonus feature, however, is a 31-minute post-screening moderated Q&A, from the Chicago Palestine Film Festival, with Schnabel, Jebreal, Rabbi Brant Rosen, Ali Abunimah and Yali Amit.

Re-released as-is today, 2001′s Original Sin would likely easily outstrip its meager $16 million domestic theatrical earnings, and rack up a litany of exclamatory blurbs saying things like, “Antonio Banderas and Angelina Jolie sizzle in this erotic thriller!” All of which would be true, strictly speaking. Adapted by writer-director Michael Cristofer from a novel by Cornell Woolrich, Original Sin is the sort of movie of which there were precious few just a decade ago, and even fewer still these days: the smoldering, sex-saturated erotic thriller, with just a pinch of caste-system costume drama intrigue, thrown in for good-measure “classiness.” A movie which might best be described as richly ridiculous, Original Sin centers on wealthy Cuban merchant Luis Antonio Vargas (the decidedly un-Cuban Banderas), who knows his American bride-to-be, Julia Russell (Jolie), only through their letters. When she arrives, it quickly becomes apparent they’ve kept certain secrets from one another, and so begins a weird, steamy dance — two steps forward, and into bed, then two steps back — that culminates with Julia disappearing. Luis then hires a private investigator (Thomas Jane) to try to track down his new object of obsesssion.

Debuting on Blu-ray, the unrated film (a steamier two minutes longer than the theatrical cut) is presented in a so-so 1080p, AVC-encoded transfer, in 2.35:1 widescreen. A few issues here and there with edge enhancement and color consistency mar what is otherwise a very nicely shot film, by cinematographer Rodrigo Prieto. Audio comes by way of a DTS-HD 5.1 English language master track, with complementary 5.1 Dolby digital Spanish and French language tracks thrown in for good measure, and optional subtitles in all three languages. The only bonus features are imported over from Original Sin‘s previous DVD release — the original trailer, a music video for Gloria Estefan’s “You Can’t Walk Away From Love,” and an audio commentary track from Cristofer in which he talks about the film’s source material and shares various production anecdotes.

For fans of SpongeBob SquarePants and other spunky, wild animation that can play to the young and young-at-heart alike, spiritual antecedent Rocko’s Modern Life offers up no small amount of amusement, whether it’s a nice trip down memory lane or a first-time find. Predating something like Adult Swim (the show ran from 1993 to 1996 on Nickelodeon), creator Joe Murray’s series centers around the engaging, titular wallaby, his dim-witted best friend Heffer, his loyal dog Spunky and a colorful cast of supporting characters. Packing in plenty of double entendres and social commentary around wacky plots concerning the surreal enviroments of health clubs, the DMV and more, the show successfully entertains on multiple levels. Shout Factory’s attractively packaged two-disc DVD set includes all original 13 episodes of the show’s debut season (divided into halves), in a 1.33:1 full-screen presentation with Dolby digital 2.0 stereo sound. Apart from a promotional insert there are no special features, but one imagines if this set sells well enough there might be some retrospectives or other supplemental material pegged to future releases further down the road.

Another nice slice of nostalgia arrives in the form of two Transformers: Beast Wars DVD releases. After the success of Hasbro’s original Transformers, an animated Saturday morning serial from the mid-1980s, the decision was made in 1996 to reboot the franchise, not unlike Star Trek: The Next Generation, by having a new show take place in the future. Hence Beast Wars, in which, three centuries after the timeline of the original, the heroic “Maximals” do battle against the evil “Predacons,” all disguised as some of the most ferocious animals on Earth. The series’ first season comes to DVD in a four-disc set that collects all 26 full-screen episodes of its debut run, centering around the search for a powerful fuel known as energon. The show’s personalities are well sketched, and for the most part Beast Wars nicely balances its message-stamp moralizing with engaging animated action. Young boys, now as then, should eat this up, regardless of their level of previous involvement with the Transformers mythology. Bonus material consists of an art gallery, plus scale reference sheets and character models, and a look at the creation of new characters for the series. An eight-DVD box set of the entire series is also available online via Shout Factory’s website, www.ShoutFactoryStore.com. Its bonus material includes a 12-page book, more art galleries, and a 24-page comic book (originally published in 2006) that serves as a prequel of sorts to the Beast Wars series.

For fans of the surreal, meanwhile, there’s the Blu-ray debut of the imaginative Cirque Du Soleil’s Journey of Man, in full high-definition 3-D. Narrated by Ian McKellan, the crisply staged show charts the stages of human development and life, from birth to adulthood and old age. The story here is more than a bit self-serious and pompous, but the amazing and colorful antics of its talented performers — and their jaw-dropping routines, performed against a backdrop of various natural and historical landmarks from around the world — is certainly eye-popping and entertaining, no doubt about it. The Blu-ray’s 1080p 1.78:1 widescreen presentation abets this wildly costumed signature madness, and if there are no supplemental extras, then the vast array of subtitle options certainly proves that the language of enchanted amazement is universal. (A 2-D presentation option is also included.)

Finally, for fans of music and dance and those who view both belts and nuanced plot as their mortal enemies, You Got Served: Beat the World enters the home video marketplace. Is there high-energy hip hop? Yes. Is there a big battle with multi-ethnic dance crews twirling about and pop-and-locking? Sure. Are there offstage pressures, and people who just don’t understand what dance is really all about? You betcha. Sigh… it’s harpooning fish in a barrel, saying this movie is bad. But You Got Served: Beat the World isn’t only bad, it’s the inferior of just about every other dance flick of recent memory. Formulaic mush poorly rendered and re-heated to boot, this DVD release makes one yearn for the outtakes from any of the Step Up franchise entries. Presented in 2.35:1 anamorphic widescreen with a Dolby digital 5.1 audio track and English SDH and Spanish subtitles, director Robert Adetuyi’s movie comes with a motion menu screen and two slim bonus features — an eight-minute making-of featurette that intersperses film clips with a pinch of interviews from cast and crew in which they chat about the choreography and what not; and a seven-minute breakout look at the parkour on display in the movie.

Written by: Brent Simon