Having a lot of buzz surrounding a film doesn’t always mean big box office. For all of the critical acclaim surrounding Drive, the returns didn’t match the hype. Unfortunate – as Drive is one of the best films of 2011.

The plot is B-movie simplicity at its best: a Hollywood stuntman (Ryan Gosling, credited only as “Driver”) moonlights as a getaway driver for anyone who will pay for his services, at least until he’s double-crossed.

After a phenomenal opening sequence that turns the standard chase sequence on its ear – a tense game of cat and mouse is substituted for screeching tires – Drive settles into a clean, minimalist aesthetic. Driver’s relationship with his new neighbor Irene (Carey Mulligan) is shown not with long conversations, but in sparse, eloquent glances and self-conscious gestures.

As good as Gosling and Mulligan are, the standout of the film is Albert Brooks, superbly cast against type as a former film producer turned wannabe crime boss.

If you get a sense of deja-vu while watching Drive, there’s a good reason. The film has drawn comparisons to everything and everyone from Clint Eastwood’s man-with-no-name to Robert DeNiro’s Travis Bickel.

However, the film owes its greatest debt to the ’80s. From its pastel-colored opening credits on, it draws the most inspiration from William Friedkin’s To Live And Die In L.A., and even more so from Michael Mann efforts such as Thief and Heat, with a little “Miami Vice” tossed in for good measure. There are also explosive bouts of Tarantino-esque violence from time to time.

This is not to say that Drive is simply a copy of what came before – it’s much more. Danish director Nicolas Winding Refn lovingly and brilliantly mixes all the elements to creates his own unique world – a beautifully layered universe where a genre flick can achieve arthouse respect. Not only that, but he can do it with a completely straight face, not with the winking, knowing irony that comes so easily these days when filmmakers want to pay homage.

The Blu-ray suffers from a weak list of special features; four of the five featurettes don’t go into enough detail to make them anything more than a passing curiosity, and only the 25-minute offering with Refn is worth more than a passing glance. Drive deserves a better release than this.

U2: From The Sky Down
IFC

Having reached the pinnacle of being the biggest band in the world after the release of The Joshua Tree, U2 nearly let it all come crashing down under the weight of a mammoth tour, and the resulting big-screen release, Rattle And Hum. To many, its portrayal of the band discovering American roots music and musicians came across as both pretentious and sanctimonious – as if they were saying “Hey look, we just found this really cool guy named B.B. King, and we’re gonna let you all in on the secret. You’re welcome!”

Licking their wounds, the foursome retreated to the warm confines of post-communism Berlin, where they immersed themselves in the club and experimental culture that had previously been inspiration for David Bowie and Iggy Pop.

For the 20th anniversary of Achtung Baby (the film had been included with the high-end edition of last year’s reissue), From The Sky Down takes a look at the band’s time at Berlin’s Hansa Studios, where the album was conceived and delivered. Not only had Hansa midwifed the Bowie and Pop projects, but it also inhabited space mere yards from where the Berlin Wall had fallen just months earlier.

Sure, U2 may have absorbed and recycled German musical styles for this outing, but this time their self-awareness had been previously unseen.

From The Sky Down suffers from having little archival footage of U2 actually recording the album at Hansa, so they make do by going back to the studio and doing the interviews and performances present-day. Despite this, director Davis Guggenheim does a nice job reminding us of what Germany was dealing with at the time, and the inspiration it provided to U2.

Special Features include extra performances of “So Cruel,” “Love Is Blindness,” and “The Fly,” as well as a Q&A with Bono, The Edge, and Guggenheim from the Toronto International Film Festival

– Timothy Hiatt

At a Grammy Awards ceremony a decade ago, U2 frontman Bono proclaimed that his band was “reapplying for the job of the best band in the world.” In order to accomplish this Herculean task, the Irish quartet would fall back on a dependable approach, specifically aping their own sound for maximum impact. The side effects, apparent on records like All That You Can’t Leave Behind and How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb, were static artistic results and mountains of concert tickets sold.

Click here for a full gallery from Tuesday night’s show at Soldier Field!

Fast forward to 2009. The band releases No Line On The Horizon — arguably their most ambitious and creative effort since 1997’s Pop — and embark on the 360° Tour, which would ultimately overtake The Rolling Stones as the most profitable road trip in history. The North American leg of the tour was postponed in mid-2010 when Bono needed emergency back surgery. The rescheduled dates brought them back to Chicago’s canyon-like Soldier Field for a sold-out show on a storybook summer night in the city by the lake.

But unlike their last visit, the four lads from Dublin didn’t seem to be in a gambling mood. Upon its release, No Line was met with closed ears and equally stingy wallets from the band‘s faithful. The record was a critical success but a commercial bust. Never mind. The band played huge chunks of it during that first outing and past-as-prologue usually dictates that the boys would reach even deeper into their catalog as the tour progressed.

Quite the opposite was true on Tuesday night. A paltry three songs from No Line made the setlist. As it were, they were some of the evening’s brightest moments. “Get On Your Boots” felt as enormous as its surroundings, with Adam Clayton’s bass and Larry Mullen Jr.’s thunderous drums drenching the cavernous interior with rumbling low end under The Edge’s scuzzy, repetitive guitar riff. “I’ll Go Crazy If I Don’t Go Crazy Tonight” was completely reworked into a Euro-disco dance hall rave-up, an homage to its host city’s historic house-music scene. “Moment Of Surrender” was a long, sumptuous groove over which Bono moaned, purred, and shouted to the stars (at least the ones that could be seen from under the band’s enormous, four-pronged stage) for redemption.

Unfortunately, the rest of the evening was blueprint sturdy, a cavalcade of radio hits (“With Or Without You,” “Pride (In The Name Of Love),” “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For”) and concert staples (“Sunday Bloody Sunday,” “One”) that were guaranteed to sate those behind glass in the luxury suites who paid some $250 for the privilege.

Having said that, the band did tear through these standards with a renewed sense of purpose. Maybe Bono’s brush with mortality was a reminder that even messianic megalomaniacs can eventually fall to Earth. His bandmates roared behind him on “Where The Streets Have No Name,” allowing their figurehead to bound, preen, and emote toward the back rows like few performers in rock can. It’s a repetitive, grand gesture that somehow never feels insincere.

Although at a premium, there were moments of spontaneity. An early single (“Out Of Control”) or a deep cut (“Scarlet”) that doesn’t get dusted off very often were quick reminders that the band seems to peak when they leave the road map on the spaceship floor.

On the 25th anniversary of his death, the band trotted out “One Tree Hill,” a eulogy of sorts written for their friend Greg Carroll. (At the time of its release, they also dedicated The Joshua Tree to his memory). The song lurched out of the gate, The Edge struggling to remember the chord structure. But slowly it built, Bono putting a prayer to music as the rhythm section galloped behind, gaining strength as the song swelled toward completion, complete collapse always lurking, but never arriving. The fact that they barely made it to the finish made it all the more compelling. Too bad the evening didn’t have more of those moments.

– Curt Baran

For a good part of film history, the western genre always seemed curiously out of place. Not because it wasn’t worthy subject matter, but because the execution never seemed right. The settings, old-timey enough to be sure, but too clean, too pristine to be believable. The heroes and villains were clearly defined, creating the cliché of the bad guy in the black hat, and the good guy in white (and with a surprisingly large collection of neckerchiefs).

Yet in the early to mid-’60s, the “Spaghetti Westerns” changed all that. Financed by Italian producers, shot mostly in Spain on modest budgets, and sporting a cast of either fading Hollywood stars or young up-and-comers, the western suddenly looked real. The good guys were nowhere near virtuous, and the bad guys were just downright nasty. Not to mention, the old west was suddenly dirty, and I mean grit under the nails, sand in the shorts dirty. Exactly what you’d expect in a world without indoor plumbing.

Of all the Spaghettiers, it was director Sergio Leone that rose to the top, thanks in no small part to his casting of a young sprout by the name of Eastwood for his “Man With No Name” trilogy. A Fistful Of Dollars, the first film in the series and itself a remake of Akira Kurosawa’s Yojimbo, finds Clint playing two rival gangs against themselves for control of a tiny town, all because there’s money to be made. The second, For A Few Dollars More, pits Eastwood against a rival bounty hunter played by Lee Van Cleefe as they pursue the most wanted man in the land. And finally, The Good, The Bad, And The Ugly again features Eastwood and Van Cleefe (a different character this time, though) with Eli Wallach thrown in as the comic relief, on the trail of some stolen gold.

Now, all three films are available on Blu-Ray in box-set form. While the actual film transfers aren’t quite stunning, they’re awfully close, considering the quality of the original ’60s film stock. Best of all, each film comes jam-packed with special features; so much so that to list them all in detail would make this a two-page treatise. Suffice to say, phone in and get some time off work before diving into them.

Fistful: ***1/2 Features: ****
Few Dollars: *** Features: ****
Good,Bad,Ugly: *** Features: ****

Stones In Exile
Eagle Vision
Funny how things now regarded as classics were not well-received on arrival. Van Gogh was regarded as a hack who never sold a painting in his lifetime, Dustin Hoffman was called “dull & uninteresting” in The Graduate, and Exile On Main Street recieved mixed reviews, with the general consensus being it was too overblown and disjointed.

Now, of course, it’s not only regarded as the Rolling Stones‘ best album (go ahead, argue all you want), but as one of the greatest albums of all time.

Upon its 40th anniversary, the set has not only been remastered and rereleased, but Eaglevision drops Stones In Exile, an exhaustive account of the the album from concept to release. With interviews and musings from all five Stones, as well as thoughts from others such as Martin Scorsese, Exile engineer Andy Johns and more, every aspect of the album is exposed. From the drinking and drug use, the the un-air conditioned environment of Keith’s French estate rented just to set up a studio so they could record whenever the mood struck — it’s all here.

At two and a half hours, it’s a bit much, but if you’re the person who needs to know all things Stones, it doesn’t get more complete than this.

Film: *** Features: **1/2

Also available . . . There’s a pattern emerging with U2: Do a tour, release a DVD. U2: 360 At The Rose Bowl continues the trend by presenting the band’s most recent tour stop at Pasadena’s most famous New Year’s Day destination. For the 360 tour, the band again indulged their grandiose impulses by playing massive stadiums under a giant, claw-like thing. The claw seemed to serve three purposes — hang the circular video screen, dwarf four Irishmen, and generally be a B.F.T. (Big Fuckin’ Thing). The concert footage itself is acceptable, albeit a bit dark and muddy at times, but the special features are many, including two segments on the tour’s opener here in Chicago.

– Timothy Hiatt

For the longest time, the mega arena rock show was a tired cliche. The symbol of bloated excess reserved for a rock hierarchy that had not only lost touch with the fans, but seemed to see touring as a cash grab. However, with 1991’s Zoo TV tour, U2 redefined what a stadium show could be. That multimedia extravaganza rewrote the book and made all giganto outdoor tours after (including their own Pop Mart tour) look like tired wannabes.

For an expanded photo gallery from Saturday’s opener, visit www.illinoisentertainerphoto.com!

Having scaled back their road show the past couple of tours, U2 return to the great big outdoors with the 360 Tour to support No Line On The Horizon, their most risk-taking release since Achtung Baby. This time out, instead of massive banks of individual video screens or giant lemons, we get the mammoth setup known as “The Claw.” The best way to describe it is: It’s a big fuckin’ thing. Aside from hanging the wrap-around video monitor and shooting lights into the sky, it really doesn’t serve much purpose other than to be a big fuckin’ thing. As a result, the band were dwarfed, reduced to a seemingly secondary consideration. And, for a surprising portion of the show, U2 played like it.

Perhaps it was the fact that this was the opener of the U.S. leg of the tour, or maybe something else was going on, but in the many times I’ve seen them live I’ve never seen them as they were during the first half of the evening – tentative. After a rousing run-through of No Line’s “Breath,” the group seemed to step back, as if they were putting a toe in the water to see if it was safe to jump in. On the standard “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For,” Bono was content to let the audience do the heavy lifting and sing half of it for him, and throughout the evening gave the obligatory shout-outs to all the Chicago landmarks. He mentioned Soldier Field, Grant Park, the CTA, and other tourist spots so often one half expected the audience to be led out of the stadium to a fleet of double-decker buses. Even “The Unforgettable Fire” – once an absolute show stopper and revived here, arrived tired and uninspired.

Yet something happened at the exact halfway point. With the one-two punch of “Vertigo” and the wisely reworked “I’ll Go Crazy If I Don’t Go Crazy Tonight” played over the club beat of “Discotheque,” the switch was thrown and it seemed as if they remembered what they were capable of.

Earlier in the show, Bono had poked fun at his lack of humility, saying there was no room for humility with a crowd such as this and calling the band “The wind in the Windy City.” And as such, his world views were on full display by dedicating “MLK/Walk On” to imprisoned Burmese activist Aung San Suu Kyi and a video introduction for the encore by Bishop Desmond Tutu.

Still, the uneven pace and heavy-handed arena cliches would all be forgiven with a burning delivery of “Where The Streets Have No Name,” a song that’s always seemed tailormade for this type of venue. Scanning the crowd, it was impossible to find someone who wasn’t singing along with the band (instead of for them) and didn’t have an ear-to-ear smile. The vibe alone seemed to be enough to push Bono over the top for “Bad,” proving to all that he still had the chops to hit the high notes and inspire everyone within earshot.

While the 360 Tour isn’t as innovative or ambitious as Zoo TV, there’s hope that once U2 starts hitting on all cylinders, the phrase “stadium show” doesn’t automatically have to be regarded as a four-letter word.

– Timothy Hiatt

Under a shroud of secrecy not seen since the Bush Administration . . . O.K., that may be a bit of an exaggeration, but on Tuesday, March 11th, U2 — arguably the biggest band on the planet — were ushered onto the famed Metro’s stage. Unfortunately, the reason wasn’t an intimate performance from an act accustomed to playing soccer stadiums; it was to participate in a live-radio broadcast hawking their excellent new album, No Line On The Horizon, in front of a few hundred contest winners and a host of industry people.

“It’s a shame that we’re here and we don’t have guitars,” said The Edge. It was one of the more profound statements of the evening, especially considering the following night U2 would host a similar event in Boston and play four songs for those in attendance. The band members picked tracks they deemed critical to their development (Van Morrison’s “Brown Eyed Girl,” The Waterboys’ “Whole Of The Moon,” and Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” to name a few). Between selections, they participated in an impromptu Q&A with audience members, moderated with biting sarcasm by Garbage’s Shirley Manson.

Questions ranged from innocuous (“What’s your favorite song on the new album?”) to ridiculous (Will drummer Larry Mullen Jr. ever get married?), and finally worthy when someone grilled the group on a ticket-sale fiasco that shut out numerous fan club members from getting the best seats last tour.

After an hour, it was over. The band hung around for an additional 30 minutes, shaking hands and signing autographs. But considering all the historic performances that have taken place on that stage, one couldn’t escape the feeling that tonight was less a special event than an hour-long commercial, and more of a missed opportunity.

– Curt Baran

The Argument: The Hits, And Nothing But The Hits

YES:

With the concert dollar stretched further than ever, acts on the road have to make sure their show is strong enough to guarantee butts in the seats. The sure-fire solution? Unroll all those classic hits on the red carpet, lacquer them with a fresh coat of paint, and show those fans what it was like in an era when records actually sold. Just ask Eagles, Fleetwood Mac, Leonard Cohen, and even Michael Jackson, some of whom haven’t toured in ages, but are capitalizing on baby boomers’ big bucks and rocking all the way to the bank. While it’s easy to point fingers at the motive, all those acts are promising (and delivering) the golden oldies, which is a generally a high-yield recipe for re-enlightenment and enjoyment, for die-hards and casual appreciators alike.

– Andy Argyrakis

NO:

The jazz credo goes, “First you play for yourself, then you play for the band, and then you play for the audience.” Rock ‘n’ roll, as it stumbles oafishly through middle age, could do with a bout of such selfishness. Golden anthems like “Satisfaction” and “Born To Run” have been rendered meaningless under the guise of giving the people what they want. There’s nothing wrong with “the hits” per se, but there’s no way Eric Clapton is in the same place now as he was when he recorded “Cocaine.” Reinvesting in songs (written in the throes of youth) is totally acceptable; tossing them out like Tootsie Rolls and guitar picks is not. Robert Plant gets it. Musicians are obsessed with protecting their work nowadays, but never are they so negligent than when it comes to how they handle their legacies in concert.

– Steve Forstneger

DOUBLE YOUR PLEASURE

When the Metro turned 25, it brought us back to the spiritual birth of underground rock in Chicago. The Double Door, which turns 15 this year, points to the mid-’90s, when the city’s independent spirit hit full steam and Wicker Park’s bloom was the envy of a nation. So what does one — who isn’t a hispanic teen — do when they want to celebrate una quinceañera? Book the bejesus out of the place, that’s what! A bonanza of oversized anniversary shows are on the docket, and the first slate has been announced: OK Go (April 23rd), Local H (May 21st), Lucky Boys Confusion with The Urge’s Steve Ewing (May 24th), Th’ Legendary Shack Shakers featuring Duane Denison (May 31st), and Smoking Popes (June 5th). As an added bonus, Melvins have disembarked from Seattle to celebrate their silver anniversary on May 18th.

– Steve Forstneger