Punch-Drunk Love

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Synopsis
Chaos lurks in every corner of this giddily off-kilter foray into romantic comedy by Paul Thomas Anderson. Struggling to cope with his erratic temper, novelty-toilet-plunger salesman Barry Egan (Adam Sandler, demonstrating remarkable versatility in his first dramatic role) spends his days collecting frequent-flier-mile coupons and dodging the insults of his seven sisters. The promise of a new life emerges when Barry inadvertently attracts the affection of a mysterious woman named Lena (Emily Watson), but their budding relationship is threatened when he falls prey to the swindling operator of a phone sex line and her deranged boss (played with maniacal brio by Philip Seymour Hoffman). Fueled by the careening momentum of a baroque-futurist score by Jon Brion, the Cannes-award-winning Punch-Drunk Love channels the spirit of classic Hollywood and the whimsy of Jacques Tati into an idiosyncratic ode to the delirium of new romance.
Picture 10/10
Paul Thomas Anderson’s Punch-Drunk Love receives a 4K UHD upgrade from The Criterion Collection, presented on a triple-layer disc in its original 2.39:1 aspect ratio. The 2160p/24hz ultra high-definition presentation, enhanced with Dolby Vision, comes from a new 4K restoration sourced from the 35mm interpositive. A Blu-ray is also included, but it’s a direct port of Criterion’s 2016 edition, using the older master and housing all video supplements.
Criterion’s previous Blu-ray presentation looks to have been derived from an older master. Though I can’t say with certainty whether it was the same one used for Sony’s original DVD releases, it wouldn’t have surprised me if that were the case. While the results were fine—colors looked good, and the image was stable—there was still a distinct video quality to it, with shadows showing limited depth and range. I suspected a new scan would improve things but couldn’t say by how much.
Now, with an all-new 4K scan and restoration, I can confirm that it makes a substantial difference. Though sourced from the 35mm interpositive rather than the negative, the new scan resolves far more detail than the previous digital master ever could. This includes a much finer rendering of the film’s grain structure, which results in a cleaner, more organic filmic look—something the previous Blu-ray fell short of delivering.
The most striking improvements, however, come from the addition of HDR/Dolby Vision. This is such a vibrantly colored film, and the 4K presentation handles those hues far more effectively. Barry’s (Adam Sandler) signature blue suit appears richer and more brilliant, standing out even in the film’s darker sequences. The reds and violets—both of which feature prominently—are equally striking. The film’s frequent lens flares, often tinged with blue or violet, now appear brighter and more nuanced. Highlights, which could look a bit blown out on the Blu-ray, retain more detail here, avoiding clipping while preserving an intensity that my SDR screen grabs won’t fully capture. Black levels are also significantly deeper, with improved shadow detail and minimal crushing, with the wider contrast range allowing the film’s colors to maintain their full intensity, even in dimly lit scenes.
The result is a gorgeous new presentation, vibrant and full of life—just like the film itself. It’s everything I’d hoped for.








































Audio 9/10
Criterion includes a newly remixed Dolby Atmos soundtrack on the 4K disc, replacing the original 5.1 mix, which, unfortunately, isn’t available as an option here. However, it remains the sole audio track on the included Blu-ray. While the lack of the 5.1 track is a bit disappointing, this new mix still more than delivers.
Though the film has its quieter moments, many scenes are packed with overlapping dialogue, background activity, and sudden, jarring sound effects—whether it’s a chaotic argument or a car crash. The mix does an excellent job spreading these elements across the soundfield, making already stressful sequences even more intense. Dynamic range is impressively wide, jumping from near silence to shockingly loud bursts of sound without warning. Low-end frequencies also get a solid workout, particularly in moments like Barry’s explosive breakdown in a restaurant bathroom. The film’s music, from Jon Brion’s percussive, rhythmic score to the surreal use of He Needs Me (from Popeye), is beautifully mixed throughout the channels.
As for the Atmos “upgrade,” it adds some subtle height effects in busier sequences, but I wouldn’t call this an especially aggressive Atmos mix. That said, my setup is 5.1.2, so mileage may vary depending on the system.
Extras 7/10
Since all supplements are housed on the standard Blu-ray, and Criterion is simply reusing the disc produced for their 2016 edition, everything has been ported over. As I felt back then, the material is fine, but for a film of this stature, I would have expected more.
The deleted scenes, originally included on Sony’s DVD, return here, running just under 10 minutes in total. There are only two, both more like alternate sequences than full deletions, though the first one offers a lot of previously unseen footage. Both suggest that Anderson originally had a significantly different edit in mind. The first scene presents an alternate introduction to Barry’s sisters, with him fielding multiple phone calls about the upcoming party while getting caught in the middle of one of their quarrels. The sequence runs a lengthy seven minutes, and Anderson was wise to streamline it in the final cut, where Barry only receives a couple of quick calls. The second scene is an alternate edit of Barry withdrawing money from the ATM while being harassed by the brothers. The re-edit slows the pacing down considerably, making it less frantic than in the final film. While these scenes are interesting, Anderson clearly made the right choices in altering them.
Criterion also retains the 52-second Mattress Man commercial, featuring Philip Seymour Hoffman in character, filming an ad for his furniture store. I won’t spoil it for those who haven’t seen it, but something tells me what happens wasn’t planned—Hoffman, ever the pro, stays in character regardless.
From the original DVD, Blossoms & Blood is essentially a montage of deleted scenes, alternate takes, and additional Jeremy Blake artwork, set to Jon Brion’s score and the song Here We Go. Though more of an abstract piece, it holds some hidden gems, like an extended scene of Barry searching for Lena’s apartment. A similar feature, Scopitones, is a six-minute compilation of Blake’s artwork mixed with film footage, though the standard-definition upscale is rough, looking noticeably blocky.
The biggest highlight among the new supplements is an interview with composer Jon Brion, easily the most insightful feature here. Brion provides a thorough breakdown of the film’s sound design and score, detailing his collaboration with Anderson and how their work on the music shaped the film itself—even influencing editing, rhythm, and key story elements. In fact, the harmonium, a central object in the film, wasn’t in the original script but emerged organically from their process. Brion even describes the film as Anderson’s attempt at making “a musical where no one breaks into song.” His 27-minute interview is accompanied by 10 minutes of orchestra recording session footage, offering a fascinating look at how the film’s sonic world was constructed. If there’s one supplement to prioritize, it’s this one.
Another new addition, though not quite as engaging, is a 20-minute discussion between gallerist Lia Gangitano and curator Michael Connor about Jeremy Blake’s digital artwork in the film. They touch on Blake’s artistic influences and how his work is integrated into the narrative, while also providing a general overview of digital art. It’s informative but remains fairly high-level, lacking deeper engagement with the film itself. A three-minute slideshow of additional Blake artwork is also included.
Criterion also carries over two Cannes-related video segments from the film’s 2002 premiere. The first is a 7-minute studio interview featuring Anderson, Sandler, Watson, and Hoffman. It’s a fairly light and amusing affair, with plenty of joking but little substance. The 38-minute press conference is a bit more informative, featuring the same four alongside producer Joanne Sellar. They field audience questions on topics like the title, Sandler’s casting, Anderson’s collaboration with Hoffman, and the use of He Needs Me from Robert Altman’s Popeye. While there are some good responses—Sandler, surprisingly, is fairly open—Anderson himself is noticeably guarded and tends to give vague answers, except when discussing technical aspects like cinematography or sound. It’s worth watching, but it can be frustrating, especially since Anderson doesn’t appear in any other features.
One of the more entertaining additions is a 5-minute 2000 NBC interview with David Phillips, “The Pudding Guy,” whose real-life scheme to exploit a Healthy Choice air miles promotion inspired Barry’s similar venture in the film. Phillips explains how he managed to accumulate millions of air miles for only $3,000—a fun little inclusion that contextualizes the film’s quirkiest subplot.
The disc rounds out with the film’s theatrical trailer, a teaser featuring Blake’s artwork, and what appears to be a TV spot. Criterion also includes an insert with an essay by filmmaker Miranda July, offering a stream-of-consciousness reflection on why she loves the film. It's the same essay written for the 2016 release.
Once again, I’m glad Criterion has carried over everything from Sony’s release, and the newly added content is solid. Still, for a film as distinct as Punch-Drunk Love (and the only film by Anderson to appear in the collection post-LaserDisc so far), I can’t help but feel like there was room for more.
Closing
No new supplements, but the new 4K presentation looks outstanding and is a significant upgrade over the previous Blu-ray.

