That the Special Edition DVDs of The Hunt for Red October, Patriot Games, and Clear and Present Danger mark a first for Paramount--the studio's preliminary venture into the DTS market--is dangerously close to being the most noteworthy thing about them. With the exception of Clear and Present Danger's pockets of splendour, the abovementioned "Jack Ryan Trilogy" (packaged in a new collection with franchise reboot The Sum of All Fears) maroons us on Planet Suit-and-Tie with scant relief from the tedious procession of bureaucrats.

Unequivocally the best-directed of the three films discussed herein, The Hunt for Red October nevertheless leaves one feeling parched. Fresh off their triumphant Die Hard, helmer John McTiernan and cinematographer Jan De Bont bring an immaculate vision to a monotonous adaptation of Tom Clancy's popular beach-read. As the Barry Nelson of Jack Ryans, Alec Baldwin has plasticine hair and a pearly smile, and he's persuasively full of youthful naïvete (at this point in his screen legacy, Ryan is merely an analyst for the CIA). Alas, these Ken doll-isms don't really correspond with the throwaway backstory that Ryan spent a year in traction following a near-fatal chopper accident: when he cheerfully explains to a flight attendant that he can't sleep on airplanes because of the turbulence, it's a screenwriter's exchange to flaunt useless knowledge. (One of those dreadfully patronizing audience surrogates, the stewardess doesn't know what "turbulence" means. Wouldn't a man afraid to fly be beside himself at such a display of ignorance from someone in air travel?) Ryan is brought in by Deputy Director of Intelligence James Greer (James Earl Jones, the only actor to appear in all three '90s-era Jack Ryan movies) to help deduce the master plan of defecting Russian sub captain Marko Ramius (Sean Connery)--who, of course, has read Ryan's textbooks! The death rattle of Cold War paranoia, The Hunt for Red October, however shallow and contrived (the closing shots elicit nothing but groans), is at least executed with a confidence that makes you think you've seen a good movie even though it bored you blind. I'll take a dozen more of these from McTiernan before another Rollerball.

At long last available in an above-average home video presentation, The Hunt for Red October looks fresh in this 2.35:1 anamorphic widescreen remaster, save the apparently irredeemably washed-out opening close-up of Connery's eyes. While there is persistent haze and a light filter of grain on the image, such is intentional and/or the obvious by-product of shooting techniques. As for the DTS remix, it's a little more precise than the Dolby Digital 5.1 track, though the sound tends to localize itself and lacks the depth of today's recordings. The climactic gunfight is borderline demonstration material thanks to the aggressive pimping of each of the six channels.

Extras: A full-length commentary from a grumpy but comprehensive McTiernan, whose habit of waiting until a shot or a line of dialogue triggers a recollection results in a lot of dead air. He fesses-up to stealing the film's famous Russian-to-English dialogue shift from Fred Zinnemann's Judgment at Nuremberg--had only Zinnemann anything to do with Stanley Kramer's Judgment at Nuremberg! McTiernan returns as a more benign presence in "Beneath the Surface" (28 mins.), a satisfying retrospective making-of dominated by interview snippets with producer Mace Neufeld, screenwriter Larry Ferguson (referred to as if credited co-author Donald Stewart never existed), and, believe it or not, Baldwin. (Connery chimes in via archival footage.) De Bont gives himself the lion's share of the credit for the film's visual achievement, and there's a glimpse behind-the-scenes of the submarine model-work; folks from ILM say that CGI was unfeasible but so newfangled and elite that McTiernan insisted on using it to create the underwater ripple effects. The Hunt for Red October's trailer rounds out the disc.

You know a movie's not trying very hard when a credit reads: "And Richard Harris as Paddy O'Neil." After the more or less retired Jack (Harrison O'Ford; Baldwin opted to star in a play instead) thwarts an IRA assassination attempt on a member of the British Royal Family, killing a terrorist in the process, the botched mission's leader Kevin O'Donnell (Patrick Bergin) sits with his buddies in O'Dwyer's pub cooking up a revenge scheme that involves springing the dead radical's brother (Sean Bean) from prison to assist them in besieging the Ryans. Just when Ryan thought he was out, they pull him back in, in other words: Greer hands him a CIA badge while placing him under surveillance--which proves ineffectual against the villains, who engage the Ryan clan in a rain-drenched showdown, Cape Fear-style. Other than a much-celebrated (at the time) 13-second silent close-up of Ford as he drops bombs from behind a computer terminal (Patriot Games somewhat subversively capitalized on the hands-off approach to warfare promoted by the media coverage of the Gulf War), the film--despite an inexplicable R rating--feels like TV hackwork, even insomuch as it ends with a silly cliffhanger. The bigger the budget, it seems, the less adventurous (and more condescending) director Phillip Noyce becomes, with the exception of the film he made immediately following Patriot Games, Sliver--the one Basic Instinct cash-in worth a damn.

Patriot Games is a tad dark in its 2.35:1 presentation (refurbished in anamorphic widescreen), but shadow detail is sufficient. Colours pop within the limited palette. The DTS remix in this case is certainly loud, if not necessarily nuanced, and it leans heavily on the front mains; there's subwoofer usage aplenty (o'plenty?), but rarely is it guttural. (Still, the DTS option is superior to the Dolby 5.1 track.) Neufeld is the only Red October participant to resurface in the Patriot Games documentary, "Patriot Games: Up Close" (25 mins.), a respectable piece featuring recent interviews with Ford, Archer, and most of the key crew that ironically begins with an anecdote about Ford turning down an offer to play Ryan in The Hunt for Red October--because he found the Russian sub commander more intriguing! (Ford got his wish in last year's K-19, of course.) Patriot Games' trailer fills out the platter.

There are a few moments in the operatic Clear and Present Danger that Alec Baldwin might have pulled off better than Harrison Ford--Ryan's meek protest to the Prez (Donald Moffat) that he's "not a negotiator" and therefore can't mediate a financial arrangement between the American government and the Columbian cartel, for instance. But Ford's peculiar melancholy wrings every ounce of humanity an actor possibly could from the two-dimensional, "Mr. Smith"-like Ryan, something that's crucial to this ambitious instalment in which death for the valorous characters finally seems not just possible, but also imminent. After Greer contracts pancreatic cancer, Ryan assumes his role in the murder investigation of one of the President's oldest and dearest friends, who happened to be laundering money from the thinly-disguised Pablo Escobar analog Ernesto Escobeda (Miguel Sandoval). Clear and Present Danger is perhaps a hypocritical film for lecturing against its own senses-tickling show-stopper, the sanctioned slaughter of innocent civilians, but since that's the precipice on which many a military-themed summer blockbuster teeters, more constructive to cite the picture's individual merits (palpable tension; a beautiful parallel action alternating funeral and combat sequences; the verbal bitch-slapping Ryan gives Mr. President--a denouement that would likely not survive development today for fear of anti-American interpretation) and failings (routine performances, more exposition than a CIA technical manual).

The revised 2.35:1, 16x9-enhanced transfer of Clear and Present Danger is compromised by mild edge-enhancement, flat colours (the LaserDisc had a less dominant grey-blue overcast), and dimness, but the disc is easily the best-sounding of the four Ryan titles. (Clear and Present Danger was also among the earliest DTS theatrical releases.) The DTS track, superior to the DD 5.1 alternative, is both thunderous and intricate, full of tight bass blasts that flutter one's pant-legs. Any of the major set-pieces justifies an upgrade for owners of the film's previous DVD. "Behind the Danger" (27 mins.) is less interesting than the aforementioned featurettes for its emphasis on casting and plot, with Noyce coming off strangely rehearsed. Starry-eyed Canadian actor Henry Czerny's genuine expressions of love for the process--he's in awe of the way that Clear and Present Danger's computer duel turned out--and a fascinatingly sophisticated animatic storyboard of the cartel's attack on Ryan's motorcade engender further admiration for the film, though. Once again, the picture's original theatrical trailer completes the proceedings.

The Sum of All Fears

See our full-length review. (Please note that no DTS track was added to The Sum of All Fears for "The Jack Ryan Special Edition DVD Collection".)-Bill Chambers

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