Martin Scorsese/USA/2005; R4 (2-disc)
Garth Jennings/USA/UK/2005; R4
Roadshow, NZ$39/34.95 | Reviewed by Alexander Bisley

Martin Scorsese directing a documentary on Bob Dylan: How choice a combination is that? Scorsese is possibly the greatest living film director; Dylan is the Buddha of singer-songwriters. No Direction Home develops over 208 beautiful minutes, focussing on the classic 1961-66 period.

Visions of Johanna, Blowin’ in the Wind, Like a Rolling Stone, Man of Constant Sorrow and other baubles of music are complemented with passionate tributes from the likes of Joan Baez and Allen Ginsberg and footage of civil rights protest.

There’s nothing on Sad Eyed Lady of the Lowlands, but given the near- matchless richesse of Dylan’s oeuvre and its implications, impressively assembled here, I can’t really complain. No Direction Home is a must, of course.

It’s easy to complain about music video directors directing movies. Some of them, like Francis Lawrence and McG, have about as much talent as a Big Mac. Garth Jennings (Blur’s Coffee and Tea) is much more Spike Jonze than McG, helming The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy with informed zip.

“I have a headache now”. Hitchhiker’s very funny standout is Marvin, the terminally manic depressive robot, deliciously voiced by Alan Rickman. Could there be a savvier choice to play Arthur Dent than Martin Freeman, aka Tim Canterbury, the exemplary everyman?

His alien friend Ford Prefect (Mos Def) whisks him away, still wearing his dressing-gown, at the last minute; Planet Earth is in fact being destroyed for an intergalactic bypass. After escaping from the bureaucratic Vogons, our duo fall in with the annoying Zaphod Beeblebrox (Sam Rockwell), who spouts things like “I’m President of the Galaxy. I don’t get a lot of time for readin’”. Arthur’s ex-girlfriend Trish (Zooey Deschanel), who he classily wooed by exclaiming “all these people are idiots” at a party, had eloped with Beeblebrox. Like John Malkovich’s new character, this bland relationship is a jarring, but not fatal, note.

The spirit of Monty Python, strained through Terry Gilliam’s Brazil, hovers overhead: as in the snappy opening number where dolphins perform So Long &Thanks For All the Fish. The rest of the galaxy has it share of humour. The answer to all life’s big questions? “42”. The resurging Bill Nighy (The Constant Gardener) scores as Slartibartfast, the planet designer. For Hitchhiker’s virgins, some of this may seem in-jokey; in context it’s accessible.