Criterion Crazy: February 2027 Releases
Written by Andreas Babiolakis
How are all of our wallets doing this month of the Barnes & Noble Criterion sale? Don’t feel too safe, fellow Canadians, considering that the Cinema Cellar mini sale now means that you may feel tempted to take part in the November festivities now, too. Well, just to make things better and matters for your bank account worse, the Criterion Collection revealed their February 2027 slate early (rather than waiting until the Monday after the fifteenth of the month like they have in the past). I will say that this is a medium-sized lineup of eight titles, but that you likely won’t feel compelled to buy everything (or even most releases) here. What we have are some niche titles, where one film will likely stand out to you more than others; otherwise, I can’t foresee you wanting to pick up all eight titles (at least not right away). From some pleasant surprises, to one of the more random selections in recent memory, let’s have a look at this modest haul.
The Favourite: The Sweet Hereafter (1997)
Now, where has this film been this whole time? Atom Egoyan’s brilliant The Sweet Hereafter (a Canadian art drama that is so damn good that he was nominated for Best Director at the Academy Awards the same year as James Cameron’s Titanic sweep — hot take: The Sweet Hereafter is much better) is finally in the Criterion Collection, joining the popular purchase Exotica. This compelling film about trauma and memory is available on 4K and Blu-ray (I think the cinematography of this film is a little underrated and worth the highest quality your home theatre experience can muster), and it contains quite a few features. The most interesting is the pair of audio commentaries, both featuring Egoyan (from 1998, and then from 2012); knowing that this is a film about memory and recollection, this is quite the interesting feature. Additionally, you’ll find some interviews (one including star Sarah Polley, who deserves to have her own directed films in the Collection — ahem), featurettes about the film, and Mychael Danna’s score as an isolated track (this last feature is quite neat, if I do say so myself). If you are the kind of naysayer who scoffs at Canadian cinema, firstly, how dare you. Secondly, maybe a film like The Sweet Hereafter will kill that parasitic stigma you are nurturing. This one is worthy of a blind buy, folks. It is a national, cinematic staple.
Have a Silent Film Marathon: Victor Sjöström’s Hollywood Masterworks
You know how Criterion’s Eclipse series introduces people to lesser-known or forgotten works by important filmmakers? Victor Sjöström is one such auteur who deserves to be celebrated in many ways. His most famous work is the silent horror film The Phantom Carriage (mainly due to the axe sequence that got referenced in Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining nearly sixty years later), but this new box set by Criterion will get you more familiar with some of the Swedish master’s other phenomenal works. This miniature celebration of Sjöström’s Hollywood period (and the end of his silent pictures, before his brief foray into talkies) is quite the release. This set comes with a trio of pictures: He Who Gets Slapped (1924), The Scarlet Letter (1926), and The Wind (1928); all of these films are available only on Blu-Ray (considering that they are each around a century old at this point, I think that Blu-ray would suffice this time around). The set comes with a small variety of essays, commentaries, and interviews about each of the separate films that you may find interesting. The reason why I didn’t place this higher than The Sweet Hereafter this month is because this set is a little specific and will likely have a small demographic, but I still think that this set will be a must for any hardcore cinephile (especially those who entertain the silent era — as we all should).
Respect the Hustle: Kung Fu Hustle (2004)
Fuck it. Why not. Stephen Chow’s Kung Fu Hustle. I’m not against the Criterion Collection having some fun and picking such a wild and different film like this action-comedy romp. I’m just a little startled by this selection (and I think it is still far from the strangest pick this month). The beloved cult classic is now available on 4K and Blu-ray in the Collection, and it is a must if you are tired of having pretentious, artsy, super-serious films in your Criterion catalogue (throw this curveball into your library, why don’t you). There are also quite a few features, including different audio commentary tracks (one including Chow), making-of featurettes, essays, and — probably one of the only times it makes sense for a Criterion film — bloopers and deleted scenes. I now that Criterion has been adding more martial arts films over the years, but I never thought that we would get something like Kung Fu Hustle. I feel like we are a couple of steps away from Kung Pow! Enter the Fist entering the Collection, and I’m not angry about it (even though, yes, Kung Fu Hustle is considerably stronger in all ways). Nevertheless, I do anticipate what films will follow in the footsteps of this pleasant surprise.
It’s Time to Get Screwy: Ruggles of Red Gap (1935)
Now, this is the type of comedy that I am more accustomed to in the Criterion Collection. Here’s a thirties classic by Leo McCarey (who is one of the titans of that era); after Criterion added what may be his greatest achievement (The Awful Truth), Ruggles of Red Gap is a highly welcome addition (and I hope more McCarey films get added from this point on). Ruggles of Red Gap is only available on Blu-ray, but I wouldn’t fuss too much when it comes to films from the thirties or earlier; I do know that we are getting close to the point where any film of any physical quality can be remastered to nearly mint condition digitally now, so who knows when that tide will turn for some of these releases. Ruggles of Red Gap will include very little pertaining to bonus content, sadly. The complete package includes an interview with critic Farran Smith Nehme, a classic Criterion essay by critic Mark Harris, three radio adaptations (likely the heftiest feature, honestly), and the film’s trailer. If you are unsure about diving into the deep end blindly here, I would either try watching this film first, or kicking off with The Awful Truth. Otherwise, I still think that Ruggles of Red Gap is quite a great film that you may want in your collection; who would turn down a really good comedy from an early master?
Um… Okay?: Jay Kelly. (2025)
Look. I actually like Noah Baumbach’s Jay Kelly. You can read my review here and see that I am not rewriting history for any convenient reason. Having said that, why this film, and why now? Also, why this cover? I consider this film a little underrated, but many people just didn’t vibe with it at all, and the film was forgotten about as quickly as the night before when you wake up with the worst hangover ever. My only rationale is that Criterion’s affiliation with Baumbach and Netflix meant that we would get to this point eventually, but a year after its release feels questionably late (even though I like this film, I am not sure if it is the kind that is strong enough to turn the perception of the general public in the future — but, then again, what do I know). The best news for the handful of Jay Kelly fans out there is that this film will now be available on all major formats (4K, Blu-ray, and DVD). However, there aren’t too many special features here to incentivize those who don’t already love the film (at least enough to own it) to want to purchase it. The features include “programs” with Baumbach and stars George Clooney, Adam Sandler, and Laura Dern, co-writer Emily Mortimer, and composer Nicholas Britell. Finally, there is a making-of documentary. Toss in a signature Criterion essay (this time by critic Nicolas Rapold) and the film’s trailer (which is probably my least favourite piece of bonus content, for the most part), and you have one of the more random Criterion accessions in recent memory. While we are adding more Baumbach pictures, why not, say, The Meyerowitz Stories, which remains the director’s most underrated film?
It’s Time to Upgrade: The Irishman (2019)
I suppose this is the month where Criterion and Netflix look after their partnership a little bit. The Irishman was one of the more welcome early Netflix titles to join the Criterion Collection, and now it will be available on 4K. I know there is some discourse surrounding this film (from its length to some of its more random artistic choices by director Martin Scorsese), but I still love The Irishman and welcome any additional reason to rewatch or discuss the film. I will say that this 4K upgrade is instantly enticing, but consider this: do you find the de-aging technology already distracting? Would it look better or worse in 4K? I leave that in your hands to decide. Me? I think that Blu-ray would suffice for this one just because I don’t want the uncanny end result of some of the earlier sequences to hit even harder. However, it would be a shame to not see the rest of The Irishman in 4K (and most of the imagery deserves the upgrade), so this does feel a bit like a double-edged sword here.
We Accept Upgrades of All Sorts: Mala Noche (1986)
Usually, Criterion upgrades past titles to 4K, ever since they started including the format in their collection. This time around, however, Gus Van Sant’s debut feature film, Mala Noche, was previously only available on DVD. Now, you can get it on — drum roll, puh-leeze — Blu-ray (ta-da!). Listen: I will take any upgrade at any time, and maybe there’s a reason why Mala Noche couldn’t be upgraded further, but this feels like a bit of a random announcement. Nevertheless, this one is for any Van Sant aficionados, and I am happy that this film will likely experience a bit of a second life with this awareness that the Blu-ray release will hopefully bring it. For newbies, the Collection has a few of Van Sant’s best works (like Drugstore Cowboy and My Own Private Idaho) that you should check out before this one, but Mala Noche is due a spot in your collection at some point.
Finally, Criterion Premieres: Romería (2025)
The Criterion Premieres catalogue has been excellent so far, but part of its lineup feels either like films that should have outright been official Criterion releases (like Bi Gan’s exemplary Resurrection — listen, if Jay Kelly can be an official Criterion title, how the hell is Resurrection not), or they feel a bit more fitting of the exposure that Criterion Premieres can offer lesser-known titles (like Sergei Loznitsa’s Two Prosecutors). This time around, we have a film that feels more like the latter category: Carla Simón’s Romería, which has flown under the radar a little bit. The third film in the Spanish filmmaker’s blossoming career, Romería will hopefully drive more cinephiles towards the work of Simón via this release; she deserves the exposure for sure.
Andreas Babiolakis has a Masters degree in Film and Photography Preservation and Collections Management from Toronto Metropolitan University, as well as a Bachelors degree in Cinema Studies from York University. His favourite times of year are the Criterion Collection flash sales and the annual Toronto International Film Festival.