Choose Me
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Synopsis
An achingly romantic neon dream, Alan Rudolph’s comic and cutting exploration of the mysteries of human desire established him as one of the most boldly idiosyncratic independent auteurs of the 1980s. At the smoky dive Eve’s Lounge, a collection of strangers—including an insecure radio sexpert (Geneviève Bujold), a commitment-phobic former sex worker (Lesley Ann Warren), and a globe-trotting mystery man (Keith Carradine)—become entangled in a web of passion, jealousy, and self-discovery. Grooving to the rhythms of Teddy Pendergrass’s sexy slow jams, Choose Me exists on its own offbeat wavelength—knotty, surprising, and deeply tender in its vision of lost souls wounded by love yet still reaching out for human connection.
Picture 9/10
Alan Rudolph’s Choose Me joins the Criterion Collection through a new 4K UHD special edition, presented on a triple-layer disc in its original aspect ratio of 1.85:1 with Dolby Vision. The 2160p/24hz ultra high-definition image comes from a new 4K restoration scanned from the original camera negative. Criterion also includes a standard dual-layer Blu-ray with a 1080p presentation and all of the release’s special features.
Not a title I would’ve expected to receive the 4K treatment, but it looks surprisingly good, aided by the film’s visual style. Choose Me loves neon and shadow, and the combination of Dolby Vision and HDR makes the most of both. The opening scene, a kind of stylized dance number on a dimly lit city street, sets the tone, with thick smoke effects, reflective pavement, and glowing neon signage. The shadows are deep but still reveal detail, and the neon glows with a nice intensity without getting ridiculously bright. This carries throughout the film, whether in the warmer lighting of the bar interiors or the more subdued glow of the various characters’ homes. Reds and pinks, in particular, vibrantly pop. It’s really quite striking.
The rest of the presentation holds up well. Grain can be a little heavy and occasionally noisy in highlights or skies, but it's generally well-rendered and consistent. The restoration has scrubbed away any notable damage, leaving the film looking fresh, almost as if it were shot in the last few years.
Minor hiccups aside, it’s an impressive presentation and a welcome surprise.
Audio 7/10
Despite the film reportedly originating as a music video for Teddy Pendergrass’ “Choose Me,” the soundtrack is only presented in monaural—not even stereo—and delivered here as a lossless single-channel PCM track. That said, it’s a surprisingly strong mono presentation, offering a decent amount of range, with the music in particular sounding vibrant. Dialogue is clear and sharp, with excellent fidelity throughout. There’s no notable damage, and it doesn’t appear that any heavy filtering has been applied.
Extras 7/10
Criterion has assembled a strong selection of supplements for Choose Me, with a particular focus on Alan Rudolph’s creative process and collaborative relationships.
The centerpiece is a warm 36-minute conversation between Rudolph and actor Keith Carradine, filmed with the two seated across from one another. Their easy rapport makes for a fun and insightful discussion, with Rudolph sharing how a late-night relationship advice show sparked the idea to insert Geneviève Bujold’s character into an existing script, an idea that, as another supplement reveals, originally began as a music video for Teddy Pendergrass’ song Choose Me. Carradine speaks fondly of the experience and the freedom it afforded, and reflects on working alongside the rest of the cast, before talking about some of their other collaborations.
Complementing that is Directed by Alan Rudolph, a 28-minute Criterion-produced featurette gathering comments from Rudolph, cinematographer David Blocker, production designer Steven Legler, and producer Carolyn Pfeiffer. Expanding on the earlier anecdote, this segment outlines how the project began as an attempt to help Pendergrass financially following the 1982 car accident that left him paralyzed, before Rudolph transformed it into a full-blown feature. The modest budget prompted plenty of creative problem-solving, and the participants share stories around the film’s camera style, visual texture, and practical effects, like how the visually elaborate street scene at the start came together with surprising ease. It’s also here that we learn that Rudolph's aversion to bare walls is the reason for everyone having posters scattered across their walls.
Finally, there’s an unexpectedly rich 70-minute Q&A recorded at the Midnight Sun Film Festival, with Rudolph walking through his unconventional path into filmmaking. Candid and self-effacing, he recalls being deeply affected by Invaders from Mars as a child (showing him what movies could do), working his way up from Paramount’s mailroom, and having the chance to observe the filming of Rosemary’s Baby. He’s honest about his early missteps, referring to his debut Premonition as “awful,” and shares how turning down a job as assistant director on a Martin Ritt film (over a request to cut his hair) was one of his big regrets. Ultimately, his fortunes changed when he connected with Robert Altman, leading to an assistant director role on The Long Goodbye and launching the next phase of his career.
Altogether, the new interviews and the archival Q&A provide an engaging portrait of the filmmaker and the making of the film. Though some academic material would have been welcome (the essay by writer Beatrice Loayza found in the included insert is a decent read at least), it’s a fine set of supplements.
Closing
Criterion delivers a solid special edition of the film, highlighted by a sharp new 4K presentation.
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