PAPER MOON 4K UHD/BLU-RAY [PRE-ORDER]

Street Date 11/26/24

All pre-orders will be shipped as soon as they are in stock. Sometimes this is 1-2 weeks early, sometimes this might be a few days after the street date.

If other in-stock items are ordered at the same time, all items will ship together. If you want your in-stock items shipped immediately, please place pre-orders separately.

All dates, artwork and features are subject to change.

Pre-orders will be charged when you place the order.

No cancellations on pre-orders.

Maverick director Peter Bogdanovich affectionately recreates the world of the 1930s Dust Bowl in this beloved, briskly entertaining chronicle of one of cinema’s unlikeliest crime sprees. Real-life father and daughter Ryan and Tatum O’Neal (who became the youngest-ever Oscar winner for her spark-plug performance) play off each other with almost musical agility as a Bible-hawking con man and the precocious, recently orphaned tomboy who falls into his care—and soon rivals her newfound father figure’s skill as a swindler. With period-perfect detail, glowing monochrome imagery by cinematographer László Kovács, and a memorable supporting cast (including the inimitable Madeline Kahn), Paper Moon is a witty, loving portrait of two natural-born hustlers on a road trip through Depression-era America.

FEATURES:
New 4K digital restoration, with uncompressed monaural soundtrack
One 4K UHD disc of the film presented in Dolby Vision HDR and one Blu-ray with the film and special features
Audio commentary featuring director Peter Bogdanovich
Introduction to the film by Bogdanovich
New video essay by Bogdanovich biographer Peter Tonguette
Three-part making-of documentary featuring Bogdanovich, production designer Polly Platt, associate producer Frank Marshall, and cinematographer László Kovács
Archival interview with Platt
Excerpts from a 1973 episode of The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson featuring Bogdanovich and actors Ryan and Tatum O’Neal
Trailer
English subtitles for the deaf and hard of hearing
PLUS: An essay by critic Mark Harris