KNIGHT AND DAY (2010). Cameron Diaz did some of her best acting when she was cast opposite Tom Cruise in Vanilla Sky, but the difference between that dark mindbender and this sunny concoction is as glaring as the difference between ... well, I'm not gonna say it. The similarity between the films, though, is obvious — specifically, the fact that Cruise and Diaz again prove to be an engaging team. Diaz here plays June Havens, an innocent who gets sucked into the high-voltage world of secret agent Roy Miller (Cruise). Roy repeatedly insists to June that he's actually an honorable FBI agent who's been set up by his colleague (Peter Sarsgaard) as a way to cover up his own nefarious actions; June doesn't know whether to believe him, although she does know that he's remarkably adept at keeping her alive whenever danger appears. Director James Mangold and writer Patrick O'Neill mean for none of this to be taken seriously, but even escapist popcorn fare should have some semblance of intelligence. Instead, Knight and Day is often so preposterous that it makes The A-Team look as complex as L.A. Confidential by comparison. Luckily, Cruise and Diaz both have their movie-star wattage burning bright, and their easygoing rapport makes the whole confection go down easily.
Blu-ray extras include a 13-minute making-of featurette; an 8-minute piece on the location shooting; and a 9-minute look at the collaborative effort between Cruise and the Black Eyed Peas (who perform the theme song "Someday").
VAMPIRES SUCK (2010). Despite that blanket title, don't expect any digs at Bela Lugosi, Christopher Lee or Anne Rice, and True Blood and The Vampire Diaries are dismissed with one brief gag apiece. No, this is strictly all-Twilight-all-the-time — thus, in the town of Sporks, we find Becca Crane (Jenn Proske, the best thing in the movie) falling for the sparkly vampire Edward Sullen (Matt Lanter), with wolfboy Jacob White (Chris Riggi) sniffing at her heels with a bad case of puppy love. While I've seen worse movies than Vampires Suck this year, I saw none that were as lazily constructed as this one — even a homemade YouTube video simply capturing a dog chasing its own tail displays more effort and imagination than anything here. Because this is an obvious ploy to con money out of all the Twilight haters out there, writer-directors Jason Friedberg and Aaron Seltzer don't even try to come up with clever ways to mock the material in the biting manner of, say, MAD magazine or early Zucker-Abrahams-Zucker. Instead, they merely plop down some sequence practically lifted wholesale from the first two Twilight movies, add a gross-out gag, a piece of knockabout humor or a pop culture reference that will seem hopelessly dated in just a few years, and leave it at that.
The Blu-ray features both the theatrical cut and an extended "Bite Me" edition. Extras include 13 minutes of deleted scenes; a 4-minute gag reel; and the theatrical trailer.