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"PRETTY THINGS." (2001. NOT RATED. SYNKRONIZED USA. $24.98.)

Long before "La Vie en Rose," Marion Cotillard, then 25, starred in this strange 2001 film about a woman who slips into the life of her twin sister (also played by Cotillard). Her sister, a promiscuous, drug-abusing wannabe singer, somehow lands a recording contract, but she can't sing, so the twin does a concert in her place -- and on that very night, the drug-taking sister kills herself. The surviving twin makes a split-second decision. She will assume the dead sister's identity to maintain the burgeoning recording career. This is a terrific premise that gives Cotillard a lot to chew on. There is more interesting stuff going on, in terms of character, during the opening credits than can be found in 100 minutes of most American movies, at least with regard to women. The surviving sister has to contend with a parade of ex-lovers showing up, including her own boyfriend, who she finds out was having an affair with the lewd twin. The movie's only weakness, a familiar one in European cinema, is the lack of a third act. Something amazing is set up. Then it goes to an interesting place. And then ... well, not much. This is probably why the film was never released in the United States. The movie is flawed, but it has atmosphere and provides such a juicy role for a young talent that its virtues outweigh its limitations. And this DVD is the only way to see it.

-- Mick LaSalle

"CHARLIE CHAN, VOLUME 4." (1938-39. NOT RATED. 20TH CENTURY FOX HOME VIDEO. $49.98. FOUR DISCS.)

The latest series of old Charlie Chan releases includes four competent films: "Charlie Chan in Reno," "Charlie Chan in Honolulu," "Charlie Chan in City in Darkness" and "Charlie Chan at Treasure Island." The formula of the films, based on the character created by Earl Derr Biggers, is almost the same in all of the films: Chan (Sidney Toler, who took over the role after Warner Oland died in 1938), the ace cop from Honolulu, is in some strange locale and is brought in on a murder case. Though he seems an innocuous and affable caricature, he ends up seeing clues no one else sees and solves the crimes. But the real appeal of this series is in the extras. In "Treasure Island," we get a wonderful short film about the 1939 World Exposition. With "City in Darkness," which takes place in Paris, a bonus feature explains that this is one of the rare pre-World War II films made during a Production Code ban on propaganda that nonetheless criticizes Neville Chamberlain's appeasement policy with surprising frankness. And "Reno" includes a wonderful extra about Kay Linaker, the actress who often played murderers in the Chan films. The movies showcase nice supporting performances by Cesar Romero, Lon Chaney Jr. and Lynn Bari.

-- David Wiegand

"THE MAYOR OF HELL." (1933. NOT RATED. WARNER HOME VIDEO. $19.98.)

We remember the pre-Code era mainly for the depictions of sex and courtship. But there was another side of it that flourished, only to be quashed when the forces of repression took power. The era abounded in films with a strident social conscience, particularly those released by Warner Bros., the only studio that endorsed Franklin Roosevelt over Herbert Hoover in the 1932 election. (It ended up endorsing Alf Landon in 1936.) In this 1933 film, James Cagney plays a gangster who, through graft, becomes the overseer at a boys' reformatory. He befriends a nurse (Madge Evans) and begins to take an interest in the kids and look askance at the administrators, who are bigger crooks than he is. They're skimming profits by serving substandard food, and they're dishing out cruel punishments. The film exposes reform-school conditions and serves as an example of the era's blanket distrust of organized authority. Most of the film takes place inside the school and focuses on the kids, who represent a sampling of the era's urban demographics (black, Jewish, Irish, Italian, Anglo-Saxon). You'll be surprised just how much the movie is on their side. Cagney, who grew up in urban poverty, was especially interested in the issues discussed in the film and often commented on them in interviews. Special features include a newsreel, a music short, trailers and a commentary by film historian Gregory Mank.

-- Mick LaSalle

"DEATH OF A CYCLIST." (1955. NOT RATED. CRITERION COLLECTION. $29.95.)

Inspired by the Italian neo-realists, this film begins abruptly with the central action: A bicyclist is injured by a speeding car. The occupants, Juan (Alberto Closas) and the elegant Maria (Lucia Bose), get out, and she decides that they should leave the cyclist to die and speed away. Director Juan Antonio Bardem (uncle of Javier) enlists the audience into a complicity with the guilty, so that we find ourselves rooting for them to get away with it. Stylistically, Bardem is fond of shots that look up at the protagonists, which perhaps also has the effect of aggrandizing them. His compositions are stark and evocative. He also has a way of changing scenes without using an establishing shot, so that for brief moments we're dislocated in an interesting way. From an upper floor, a man will look down at a scene of poverty in a street. The camera will return to his face and then, from the same angle, show people in a wealthy district. For a second, we think we're still in the poor neighborhood, but what Bardem has done is force us to link the two worlds. The film is a leftist commentary on bourgeois Spain under Franco, but its passion and sensitive observation transcend its political intent. Criterion's digital transfer is exemplary.

-- Mick LaSalle

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