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As part of the PBS American Masters series, Man Ray: Prophet of the Avant-Garde covers the life and artwork of this innovative modern artist with both clips of interviews and archival footage of the times he lived in. Born in Brooklyn as Emanuel Radnitsky, he grew discouraged by the New York art world of the early 1900s, changed his name to Man Ray, and moved to Paris. He was embraced by the Dadaists, many of whom later became Surrealists. Although painting was his main love, he took up photography, making portraits of famous people such as Ernest Hemingway, James Joyce, and Henri Matisse. He developed a new technique, the rayograph, in which he placed objects directly onto paper and exposed them to light. He even made an avant-garde film with this technique. Whether creating Dada sculptures, such as his famous iron with a row of tacks enigmatically entitled Le Cadeau, The Gift, innovative photographs, films, or sculptures, Man Ray always managed to surprise. In order to earn a living, he turned fashion photography into art. After living in California and New York during World War II, he returned to live and work in Paris after the war. Included in this program are wonderful shots of his Paris studio and home. Just under an hour long, this program presents a good look at a remarkable artist. The DVD format also includes an essay by Neil Baldwin, his biographer and author of the script, which underlines the influence of the women in his life. The crispness of the images and the intelligent insights into the ideas of the avant-garde make viewing a great pleasure. --Anne Barclay Morgan

In her snowy home state of Utah, Marie Osmond serves up a warm cup of holiday cheer with Marie Osmond's Merry Christmas, her very first Christmas special. Mixing traditional songs and carols with modern melodies, Marie presents a sentimental hourlong program (originally aired on television in 1989), blending music with short sketches. The show features Kirk Cameron, then-teen heartthrob on Growing Pains; Candace Cameron, his sister and star of Full House; country singer Lee Greenwood; Sally Struthers and daughter Samantha, ice dancers Judy Blumberg and Michael Siebert, and the Osmond Boys.

Marie opens the show with an outdoor rendition of "We Need a Little Christmas" and then moves into the studio where Kirk Cameron arrives on a snowmobile (fresh from rescuing a trio of blonde snow bunnies) to read "The First Christmas Story." Lee Greenwood performs "Christmas to Christmas" and later a duet with Marie. "It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas" is sung by Sally Struthers and daughter with help from the Osmond Boys--six stepping stones ages 4 to 12 who have the senior Osmonds' moves down pat. The adorable award, though, goes to Marie's 5-year-old son, Steven, who performs a rockin' version of "Santa Claus Is Comin' to Town" (clapping on the off-beat nearly the whole song).

Marie has a good, strong voice, but many of the songs are overproduced and melodramatic. This, most likely, is a product of the big, pouffy '80s (her hair and outfits are also bigger-than-life) rather than a reflection of her talents. The closing number, "O Holy Night," sung by Marie alone, is quite lovely. --Dana Van Nest

The first image seen in The Middle Passage is a spotless tropical beach. But this is paradise lost, and most of the remainder of this poetically harrowing feature is spent on a slave ship bound from the African coast to the New World. The purpose of Martinique-born director Guy Deslauriers is not to tell a story--there is no dialogue--but to impressionistically capture the horror of the "middle passage," the trans-Atlantic journey in human cargo. As the images of death and disease move by, they are augmented by narration spoken by an African--perhaps his voice is every slave's--on board. The fascinating narration, adapted by the novelist Walter Mosley (from the original French), is spoken in the hauntingly musical cadences of Djimon Hounsou (Amistad), and brings home the spiritual ruin of people separated from land and ancestors. This is a film not only of horror, but of sorrow. --Robert Horton