Blu-ray Disc Details 1.33:1 Original Aspect Ratio 2.0 DTS-HD MA (English) Subtitles: English Not Closed Captioned; Extras Not Subtitled Release Date: September 17, 2013 Suggested Retail Price: $39.95 Single-sided, dual-layered disc (BD-50) Digipak in Cardboard Slipcover Also available as 2-Disc Criterion Collection DVD ($29.95 SRP; repackaged/repriced September 3, 2013) and on Amazon Instant Video Previously released as 2-Disc Criterion DVD ($39.95 SRP; September 14, 2004)

VIDEO and AUDIO

Slacker is old and low-budgeted enough to raise some picture quality fears, even in the hands of the restoration wizards at Criterion. Occupying a then unusual 1.33:1 aspect ratio, the film maintains its early '90s indie look in this grainy but very good presentation. The HD video isn't impervious to the occasional minor imperfection, but on the whole, it looks pretty terrific when you consider its origins.

The 2.0 DTS-HD master audio surround soundtrack similarly satisfies. Dialogue remains more crisp and intelligible than you'd suspect, though in long shots it is clearly and not that convincingly looped. As usual, Criterion includes English SDH subtitles for the film, but none of the extras.

BONUS FEATURES, MENUS, PACKAGING and DESIGN

Criterion is known for their bonus features and, as in all other regards, they surpass other studios on this front. Still, there is the typical solid Criterion effort and then there are Criterion's Richard Linklater releases, which shatter expectations and defy the space limitations of a dual-layered Blu-ray.

Slacker's breathtaking collection of supplements starts with three audio commentaries recorded for the 2004 DVD. First, we hear from Richard Linklater alone. Obviously the most informative of speakers, he gives insight into every moment and touch. Then, a cast commentary patches together remarks from twelve of the unseasoned locals in the film. Their lack of film experience heightens their memories of this and of the Austin that was (though some of them, specifically one of the cartoon philosophers, are unqualified for such a forum). Finally, a crew commentary teams Linklater with longtime collaborator and director of photography Lee Daniel (not to be confused with possessive director Lee Daniels) and coproducer Clark Walker for a somewhat more technical group chat.

On the visual side, where everything is encoded in HD though limited by source materials, things kick off with a navigable series of 45 sequence descriptions from Linklater's original script, titled No Longer/Not Yet. Obviously, not all of them made it into the film and some differ from their final version, making this an interesting read.

Under the heading Showing Life, "The Casting of Slacker" recalls that process through two text screens of reflections by casting director Anne Walker-McBay. Those are complemented by clips from the 1989 cast interviews (14:43) they describe, which find the (non-)actors talking about themselves and their lives in Austin, revealing some parallels between the characters and those who portray them.

"Taco and a Half After Ten" (12:00) contains behind-the-scenes footage from production. Needless to say, it's not as slick, polished, audible, or watchable as the typical making-of featurette that has long since become the norm.

Thirteen deleted scenes and alternate takes (28:24) are preserved under the title "Ain't No Film in That Shit." It includes some lines spoken by Linklater's otherwise silent cabbie, completely cut scenes with the missing man's friends, movie buffs, and more philosophical diners, plus extensions to the "medical doctor" and the old man and his would-be burglar. There's nothing essential that's cut, but it's obviously cool to get this footage, even in its rough-looking state.

Orion's fun, widescreen redband trailer (2:50), which reportedly made Madonna bolt a full screening where it played, is preserved with its turn-of-the-'90s music selection and amusing billing block ("Cast: A LOT OF PEOPLE").

"...End of Interview!" (20:03) captures onstage and backstage footage from the Austin Film Society's 10th anniversary celebration and screening of Slacker reuniting Linklater and much of the cast. It's a very neat piece gathering warm recollections and experiences of being recognized.

A long trailer previews Viva Les Amis (10:33), Nancy Higgins' 2005 documentary celebrating a cafe featured in Slacker that has since shuttered and been turned into a Starbucks, but for a long time was popular and an integral part of Austin's scene. Linklater is among the former patrons and employees interviewed in the back of a taxi cab who lament the restaurant's loss, of which Starbucks baristas reveal their ignorance. As the full film supposedly only runs 49 minutes, you get more than a fifth of it here.

Woodshock (7:18) is a 1985 16mm short film by Richard Linklater and Lee Daniel artfully documenting the 1985 incarnation of Austin's Woodshock rock music festival with the focus on the rowdy youths attending it.

Last but not exactly least, we get Linklater's aforementioned real first feature film, It's Impossible to Learn to Plow by Reading Books (1:26:02). Made in 1988 for $3,000, this Super 8 production aired on public access television, but was not widely seen until its brave inclusion on Criterion's DVD. Short on narrative, what sparse dialogue it has is incidental. It centers on a Texas college student (Linklater) who takes a long train ride out to see a friend in Montana with whom he exchanges audio cassette messages. They shoot hoops with a basketball filled with gas station air, watch TV, and go hiking, before the protagonist takes another long train ride back home, where his adventures include house-sitting for his folks, taking his car to the shop, filling up a jug of water, riding in a mirrored elevator, hitting the post office, shaving, partaking in a family meal at his grandmother's apartment, and, probably out of legal obligation, restlessly surfing his car radio and home television.

If you found Slacker dull, you'll want to stay far away from this tedious affair, as it takes "slow and aimless" to new heights. It's a project of evidently greater value to Linklater than us. It has a student movie feel, but one made without any real assistance or guidance. Perhaps because of that and because you can easily imagine Linklater setting up the camera before stepping into frame, some of its photography seems pretty impressive, albeit underlit. Not subjected to Criterion's high restoration standards, this quiet meander looks dark and washed-out. You can find some value in its images and connect them to Linklater's future works, but it takes considerable effort to get through this, your biggest takeaway being the ability to declare that you've seen Richard Linklater's first feature film.

It's Impossible is even joined by a 2004 Linklater audio commentary, which, given the nature of the film, might not be a bad way to see it a first time. He describes the project as a crash course in filmmaking as he reflects upon the project's challenges, unusual evolution, deliberate ambiguity, and filming locations. More interestingly, he cites his personal influences and takes note of how far he's come from the poor Texas kid who made this over fifteen years earlier.

The creative main menu presents interesting views of Austin alleys and backyards while birds chirp and cars whir by. As always, Criterion kindly equips the disc with bookmarking and resuming capabilities.

Like Dazed and Confused, Slacker gets Criterion to depart from their standard packaging in a creative way. Within a sturdy cardboard slipcover lies a Digibook that holds the disc (labeled with an Austin, Texas manhole cover and showing a hand-written chapter list behind it) and also accommodates a sturdy 70-page softcover companion book. After a complete cast list (which, as the giant list above reveals, is the only easy way to credit this lot), the book offers a number of articles that are wonderfully illustrated with quotes, documents and behind-the-scenes photos. It's the kind of book you could expect to pay $10 for in stores included completely free with no bump to Criterion's standard $39.95 Blu-ray list price.

First, professor and author John Pierson attaches a new introduction to a reprinted 1995 excerpt from his book on the indie film movement which explains how he helped Linklater sell Slackers to Orion Classics and overcome mixed reviews at Sundance and in the New York Times. Next, "Slacker's Oblique Strategy" reprints a 2001 Ron Rosenbaum article from the New York Observer which pretentiously celebrates the film for resembling Russian literature. Reprinted from a July 1990 Austin Chronicle issue, Chris Walters' "Freedom's Just Another Word for Nothing to Do" mostly synopsizes the film following its local premiere.

"Looking Back" provides Michael Barker's 10th anniversary reflections on acquiring Slacker from the film's 2001 Austin Film Society reunion, which do not overlap too much with Pierson's remarks. Then, Linklater shares his own preproduction notes establishing rules and principles for Slacker to follow, from its nonnarrative structure to casting. Finally, veteran filmmaker Monte Hellman's short 2004 essay on It's Impossible to Learn to Plow by Reading Books is also reproduced.

CLOSING THOUGHTS

Slacker kind of plays like a more realistic, contemporary American Graffiti. It's not as enjoyable or traditional as George Lucas' one-night coming-of-age drama or as Linklater's kindred follow-up effort, Dazed and Confused, but it is an arresting and unconventional portrait of humanity that seems to benefit from the passage of time. Essentially the self-taught director's first film, Slacker is kind of depressing and could use a stronger ending, but it's a fascinating piece of art anticipating the great things to come from its maker.

Criterion's Blu-ray is as loaded as any and the substantial supplements, especially Linklater's first film (a challenging watch), a terrific companion booklet, and a winning 10th anniversary reunion, add great value to this easily recommended set.

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