35 Years of Indiana Jones

RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia
Original review from 2001

No other movie in the last thirty-five years has given me greater pleasure than "Raiders of the Lost Ark." It is the epitome of high adventure, pure spectacle and grand entertainment. In fact, it is the most entertaining action-adventure movie of all time - the only film, outside of the prequel and sequels in the Indiana Jones series, that is 100% pure escapism with a greater velocity of escapist scenes of peril and action than any other film prior. Its serialesque quotient is so high that it set a standard since director Steven Spielberg upped the ante by making it intense and bloodcurling every step of the way. It also helps that Harrison Ford is the gruff, reluctant hero of the film, sidestepping danger from every angle, from giant boulders to death traps involving poisonous arrows to a pit of snakes, and so on. Karen Allen was the perfect leading lady...tough and lovely in a white dress. So below is my review of the film commemorating its twentieth anniversary in 2001. If adventure has a name, it is still Indiana Jones.

The late Pauline Kael once said that a film is only worth seeing once and that the initial viewing is usually the best - one's impressions are often correct upon seeing a film the first time. When I first saw "Raiders of the Lost Ark" in 1981, I could not wait to see it again. And again. And again. The film is a thunderous assault on the senses and a wonder to behold, but more than that - it is a roller coaster ride that you want to keep visiting again and again. It is thrilling, scary, adventurous, spooky, amusing, nerve-wracking and the kind of movie that will literally keep you on the edge of your seat.

By now, everyone knows who Indiana Jones is. He is the resourceful, stubborn, educated archaeologist and adventurer seeking unusual artifacts around the globe in the era of the 1930's. The first sequence, notably the most gripping opening sequence in the entire action-adventure genre, has Indiana in Peru entering a dangerous cave where a golden idol is kept. He must endure several booby-traps before acquiring it. The action never lets up as he faces a rolling boulder, poisonous darts, collapsing temple walls, ugly corpses and so on. It is a continuous action serial where we wonder if the hero will make it out of one mishap after another. He always does, of course.

Harrison Ford is pitch perfect as Indiana Jones, showing sly changes from a bespectacled professor who is admired by his students to an action hero with a felt hat and trusty bullwhip who never thinks twice about shooting a swordsman (easily the best joke in the film). In fact, it is a shock after the opening sequence to see Indiana teaching an archaeology class - who is this guy, we wonder. When he is asked to find the Lost Ark of the Covenant, a relic being sought by Adolf Hitler, the gleam shows in his eyes as he is ready for adventure all over again. Indiana's first stop in this adventure is Nepal where an old flame, Marion Ravenwood (Karen Allen), has a medallion that is a key to finding the Ark. She denies having it, and punches him in the face for ignoring her for so long (turns out that Indiana had deflowered her when they were younger). The villains enter as he leaves, threaten Marion since they also seek the medallion, and a shootout in a bar turns into yet another thrilling action setpiece. Other stops around the globe include Cairo and some fortress where the Ark is to be unveiled on some unnamed island. Indiana rescues Marion and the medallion from Nepal, and they confront a variety of dangers and pratfalls along the way. There are mean Nazis, bare-chested, bald fighters, slithering snakes, rotting temples, poisonous dates (the fruit that is), clever monkeys, naval ships, trucks, rotating planes, and so much more that you feel you have entered a museum of 1930's memorabilia come to life. It is a pulp fiction world that director Steven Spielberg loves as does most people and it shows. And the action never stops, though it is not as headache-inducing as say "Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom." Spielberg knows when to quit, when to let us breathe. It is only fitting that there is even a scene where Indiana sleeps instead of making love to Marion. He needs his rest.

What makes all this silliness work is Ford's charismatic performance - he makes us believe in him and makes the hero vulnerable enough to make us hope he will make it out of every single jam he is in. Also noteworthy is a hissing villain, one who is as credible as Ford is as a hero. Belloq (Paul Freeman), a French archaeologist, also has a gleam in his eyes and wants the Ark for his own needs - "a radio for speaking to God." Both of these men are in pursuit of a magical relic and will do anything to get it. 

Steven Spielberg is at his very best here, making every event as cinematic as possible and accentuating all the visual gags with flair. The action scenes are tightly edited and frightening in how explosive they are, especially the climactic truck chase where Indiana rides horseback to get inside the truck holding the Ark while dozens of jeeps and trucks go after him (as if this was the beginning of World War II). The gags come from everywhere but are never obtrusive, even if at one point a monkey does the Nazi salute! But what makes "Raiders of the Lost Ark" wonderful is Spielberg's sense of fun and his surefire direction, which somehow makes all the old cliches seem new again. The old marksman versus the swordsman joke is old-hat but Ford's sense of desperation makes the scene seem wondrous all over again, and one understands his reflexive action of shooting the swordsman. Every scene tingles with excitement and tension. The first time I saw the famous opening sequence, I was literally grabbing the arms of my theatre seat. I am not sure how Spielberg does it exactly but it works in ways most action movies have not since - it is witty and there is an element of surprise that engages us. The rousing, memorable musical score by the incredible John Williams lends support and enhances our enjoyment.

The cast is superb and, surprisingly, there is little in the way of overacting or exaggeration as say in "Romancing the Stone" or "Jake Speed." Harrison Ford's secret is that he plays it straight, as if he believed what was happening all around him. It is not easy for an actor not to wink at all the chaos and mayhem but he succeeds admirably. Karen Allen is a great choice as the also stubborn, tough, romantic interest in Indiana's life - a shame she did not appear in any of the other entries of this series (Note: She did return in "Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull"). She is clearly the woman for Indiana and knows how to match his wits, and delivers a knockout punch. For some good belly laughs, there is John Rhys-Davies as Indy's Cairo sidekick, Sallah. And for a charming yet insane villain in the grandest of traditions, there is Paul Freeman as the sympathetic Belloq who even has a thing for Marion.

"Raiders" does not end on an uplifting note. Instead it sort of ends abruptly as Indiana reclaims the Ark (what did you expect?) and brings it back to the United States, yet it falls in the hands of the government rather than a museum for research and study. There is no sense of victory, and yet it is Spielberg toying with us all over again. The movie is a big wind-up action toy, a comic-book style film yet infused with humanity, humor and horror. That is why it remains the best action-adventure film ever made, as rousing and engaging as any film ever made. The sequels and numerous rip-offs tried but couldn't do it justice. "Raiders of the Lost Ark" showcases Spielberg at his kinetic best, bringing us into a world we can only dream of. After all, isn't that what great movies are all about?

Homage to buddy-buddy cop comedies? A cop out I say!

COP OUT (2010)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

 Kevin Smith has been an influential force in the independent film community. There was a time when nobody could talk about anything but "Clerks." Since that 1994 comedy, there has been critical praise (myself included) for "Chasing Amy," "Zack and Miri Make a Porno," and "Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back." "Cop Out" is the first Kevin Smith film to not include his screenwriting skills. I think those skills might have elevated this stinker beyond the bowels of turdland.

With typically wisecracking, bald-headed Bruce Willis and foaming-at-the-mouth-to-elucidate-every syllable Tracy Morgan headlining the cast, this should be a winning buddy-buddy cop comedy. The problem is the movie is eager to explode with the usual cliches that have since become a bore and a trial and half to sit through. The cops are after a drug dealer. Tracy Morgan dresses up as a cell phone. Willis is tough but getting too old for this...you get the picture. The cops have caused a ruckus, let the bad guys get away and we get the standard scene of giving up your shield and gun. The cops still want to pursue the drug dealer, mainly because a precious baseball card was stolen by a junkie (Seann William Scott) and...need I go on?

"Cop Out" has precious few hallmarks of Kevin Smith's writing, most likely improvised or suggested by Smith. One example is Bruce Willis standing outside the window of the interrogation room and naming the titles of all the films Tracy Morgan is acting out against a suspect. One of them is from "Die Hard" which Willis's character has not seen. That is funny. I also like the far too precious screen time of Seann William Scott who has a habit of repeating exactly what another person says to him. Other than that, the film wastes the great talent of Rashida Jones in a throwaway role. "Cop Out" is exactly what the title implies, and less. The canceled TV show, "The Good Guys," was funnier and tighter-paced.

Those darn evil kids!

BLOODY BIRTHDAY (1981)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

I don't mind cheesy slasher pictures and I certainly get a kick out of anything resembling "The Bad Seed" or the demonic children from the Village of the Damned. "Bloody Birthday" is no exception in the cheese department of bad kids, but even cheese needs a little more processing than this film provides.

The story goes that three children were born on the day of a total eclipse. Since the moon and sun block Saturn (the planet that controls emotions) during the eclipse, the newborns eventually mature into raging, smiling psychopathic children. They grin but their singular emotion is a mask for pure evil. They shoot adults without provocation, pretend to place rat poison in birthday cakes, lock a kid in a refrigerator at a junkyard, and have a thing for looking through a peeping hole at a woman undressing! The girl of the trio even keeps newspaper clippings of people they killed in alleged freak accidents!

"Bloody Birthday" is not likely to gain much favor from anyone except slasher film completists. The movie shows one murder after another in succession, so much so that it becomes monotonous. Nice to see future comedienne Julie Brown as the dancing girl who undresses unwittingly for the murderous tykes, and there is a throwaway appearance by Jose Ferrer as the doctor who oversaw the birth of these kids (his scenes must have been shot in one afternoon). Susan Strasberg is criminally wasted as a stern schoolteacher, who might have shot her scenes in an hour. Several gratuitous female breast shots later (which may have been shot through endless takes), the movie has nothing but a creepiness that settles in from the sight of psychotic children with guns and bows and arrows (more alarming now than back then, especially in light of the post-Colombine massacre). Still, aside from the day the children were born, there is no depth to their evil doings. Eerie picture but mediocre as far as slashers go.

Comfortably and shockingly numb

SHOCKER (1989)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Wes Craven's "Shocker" is witless, hardly electrifying horror garbage. It belongs in a scrap heap, or burned along with some old, broken-down televisions. It is a poor man's Freddy Krueger, with far less ingenuity and imagination.

Horace Pinker (Mitch Pileggi) is a brutal serial killer who kills entire families in their homes, thanks to his job as a TV repairman that allows him easy access! Aspiring college football player Jonathan Parker (Peter Berg) has premonitions of Pinker and where he will kill next. Jonathan's adoptive family is the next target, and another probable target is the standard-issue blonde girlfriend (Camille Cooper)! Parker's father (Michael Murphy, looking quite dazed) is a police detective who is perplexed by his son's gift! Once Pinker is captured, he is fried in an electrical chair that transforms him into an electronic Freddy Krueger energy source of some kind (with a bald spot covered by burns) who zaps himself from one unlucky soul to the next to continue his murderous bidding. In one clever scene, he brings along Jonathan and both are zapped from one TV program to another, which includes a brief appearance by Timothy Leary!

There are multiple problems with "Shocker." For one, the villain is too one-dimensional - he is simply a raving maniac with a lust for blood. Yep, that is one for the books. I don't need to know why someone kills in a movie, but a backstory wouldn't have hurt. Freddy Krueger had his reasons - we learned he was burned to death by the townspeople. The only illuminating aspect to Horace Pinker is that he runs a loop of grisly war footage on his TV's! And playing Megadeth's "No More Mr. Nice Guy" adds some level of wit, to the soundtrack anyway.

As for Peter Berg, he is practically an emotionless actor so that when the big scene arrives of witnessing his murdered girlfriend's corpse with blood splattered on the walls (hate to spoil that one), his reaction is that of a kid who just found out his bike was stolen! Michael Murphy doesn't register much either as the beleaguered father - he seemed more hot and bothered by Jill Clayburgh in "An Unmarried Woman" than here.

Wes Craven has crafted some imaginative ideas into the dream vortex that he brought about so elegantly in "A Nightmare on Elm Street," and attempts to bring some of that same dream logic here. But most of this movie is unmemorable and far too brutally violent to the point of nausea. The movie screams exclamation marks, the psycho stalks, screams and sweats in exclamation marks, and the editing and direction elicit exclamation marks. It is a movie punctuated with exclamation marks sans punctuation in between those exclamations for them to comfortably settle in.

All in the name of EXCESS

CASINO (1995)

BACK HOME YEARS AGO

An Analysis with context by Jerry Saravia 

(written in 2005 as a tenth-anniversary retrospective)

THE REAL SIN CITY

 Martin Scorsese's "Casino" is one of the saddest, most brutally violent crime movies ever made - an epic about lost souls driven to excess, pride and death. It is not just a mob drama (in fact, it really isn't one) - no, this is a tragedy of hubris at its most extreme, an elegy about a lost world, or a lost paradise evocative of Milton. It is about the neon-flashed, mob-controlled Las Vegas of the 1970's and early 80's, before it was bought out by the corporations. This is the real Sin City, not the Frank Miller cartoon portrait, about real people involved in a limitless money-making scheme of power and wealth. Sure, you can make all the money in the world but what does it do the people involved and their relationships with each other?


Based on a true story by Nicholas Pileggi (who also wrote GoodFellas), the film begins with the expert Jewish odds maker and number cruncher, "Ace" Rothstein (Robert De Niro) blown away from an explosion in his silver Cadillac Eldorado while Bach's St. Matthews Passion plays on the soundtrack (originally "House of the Rising Sun" was going to be used in the opening and in fact was screened with that song at Vegas ShoWest early screening). Our first impression is that Ace is dead and this is his story of what went down in Vegas considering he narrates the story in Sunset Blvd.-style. However, we do not have one narrator but two. The second voice-over is from Nicky Santoro (Joe Pesci), the volatile Mob enforcer (Santoro's real name was Tony "The Ant" Spilotro). For the first hour of the film, Ace and Nicky narrate the behind-the-scenes action of the fictional Tangiers casino (the real "Ace," known as "Lefty" Rosenthal, ran the Stardust casino). We learn how the Kansas City Mob skimmed the profits from the count rooms, how they got financing from the Teamsters Pension Fund to buy the casino, and how the "pinched" Ace could operate the casino while being a food and beverage chairman or a public relations director. In one of the most astounding, electrifying and memorable montages in the film, we watch money being rolled into coins as we segue to a silver-haired man carrying a briefcase that holds money from the count room. The bag man, referred to as a Mormon fuck by Nicky, leaves in a cab to a plane which takes him to Kansas City and into a room inside an Italian grocery store where the godfather, Gaggi (the late Pasquale Cajano), counts the money. Meanwhile, in a flashback with the jokey title that reads "Back Home Years Ago," we learn how Gaggi hires Ace to keep track of all the skims as well as run a casino. This can only happen with the aid of the head of the Teamsters Pension Fund, Andy Stone (the late Alan King), and a hotshot real-estate agent, Philip Green (Kevin Pollak), who has no criminal record, serving as the head of the Tangiers Hotel and Casino Corporation. We also see how Nicky keeps an eye on Ace and serves as protection. Ace never has to get physical - Nicky does the dirty work of keeping other crew members in line. Sometimes security guards at the Tangiers do the dirty work.


Unfortunately, Ace has no idea that Nicky is coming to Vegas with him. Ace doesn't really like Nicky (though they've known each other since childhood) and the last thing he needs is any heat from a psychopath. Ace wants to run a smooth operation but it is not happening with Nicky in tow who comes to town with his own crew, including his mob crony Frankie Marino (Frank Vincent). They open up a jewelry store called The Gold Rush, they rob people, keep crap dealers in their pocket, kill and bury people out in the desert (which the Vegas cops are known to do), and basically make Vegas a place drenched in pools of blood. Any time that Nicky kills someone, there are no witnesses and so he is acquitted thanks to his lawyer Oscar Goodman, essentially playing himself. None of this matters except to the bosses back home - too much heat is generated from a vicious bastard like Nicky (This makes me wonder why the bosses thought it was a good idea to send him there in the first place).

But the house of cards really fall apart when Ace refuses to hire back a dim bulb employee, Don Ward (well played by John Bloom aka Joe Bob Briggs) who happens to be connected to Pat Webb (L.Q. Jones), a county commissioner. Webb is connected to the politicians who can run anyone out of town, and Ace's pride gets him bested when his Mob connections are brought to the media's attention. So now Ace and Nicky are virtually inseparable in the media's eye. Ace manages to make matters worse when he gets his own TV show, criticizing the town that let him play there in the first place. But can anyone take a guy seriously who juggles on TV while Flight of the Bumblebee is played by a violinist? It is no wonder that one scene has De Niro's Ace framed behind a sign that reads "Jokers Wild." Rupert Pupkin would know all about being a joker.


To make matters worse, there is Ginger McKenna (Sharon Stone), a former showgirl and gold-digger married to Ace. She is first shown as the glitziest showgirl on Earth - an ex-hooker with enough connections to operate as the best hustler in town. Ace is attracted to her when she cheats a high roller out of stacks of chips. He is driven by her energy, her smarts, her glamour. What possesses Ace to think he can mold and matriculate her into society when he is not fully accepted himself is a mystery. Ginger herself has two vulnerable spots that Ace can't control: her affection for a childhood friend and moocher, Lester Diamond (James Woods), and her frequent alcoholic binges. Since she is no longer operating on the streets, she is consumed by an empty lifestyle of drugs and alcohol. She seeks solace from Nicky, and they start a brief fling that the FBI (who have been surveilling Nicky) get wind of. Don't forget that Ace has had her under surveillance as well. The bosses back home know this could mean the end of their control, and Nicky, Ace and Ginger may all get whacked as a result. It doesn't help matters that the FBI has been surveilling the Italian grocery store owned by the Kansas City underboss Piscano (Vinnie Vella), who spends a lot of time complaining about the casino skims. Yes, Ace and company managed to really screw it all up.
EMOTIONAL CHAOS IN AN EMPIRE

"Casino" is the rise and fall of the Mob in Vegas - the rise is depicted as a form of entertainment that you would find on the Strip. The fall is depicted as a tragedy of limitless power - how much is enough? In a way, "Casino" is the equivalent of high-speed cocaine, an addictive drug with a major high and such a major low that you feel the loss of a kingdom in a vivid, visceral manner. Since "GoodFellas," Scorsese has taken on the interior emotional states of his characters by making us feel the way they do. For example, in "GoodFellas," we witness the coke-fueled paranoia of Henry Hill (Ray Liotta) in such a subjective way that we feel as paranoid about helicopters and pasta sauce as he does. The Age of Innocence has a two-act structure where one feels as much despair as Newland Archer (Daniel Day-Lewis) does from never having the woman he so desires. In "Casino," the loss of a casino empire is felt as the downward spiral begins. You keep hoping that there will be a return to the initial high but the rhythm changes, the stakes have changed and the chips fall where they may. Critics and audiences have confused the change in tempo as a sign of weakness or overlength. Not so, as you will see.

The first half of "Casino's" three-hour running time focuses on the glitz and the lure of Vegas (there are more shots of money than any film I can think of). It is the attraction of Vegas and all the money that instantly grabs your attention, as well as the documentary-like scenes of backroom intrigue. Sharon Stone's own attractive poses as Ginger steals and cheats her way to Ace's marriage proposal qualifies as pure eye candy (Madonna and Traci Lords were previously considered for the role of Ginger). We also have the rattling of slot machines, the high rollers, the pit bosses, "the eye in the sky" camera and monitors watching everyone, the rooms full of money, the swanky hotel suites and vulgar interior decor (thanks to production designer Dante Ferretti), the numerous lights that catches attention even on the Strip, and so on. Music complements the allure of Sin City as we hear Moonglow and the Theme from Picnic (during the count room scenes), Louis Prima, Les McCann, Little Richard, even Love is Strange by Mickey and Sylvia when Ace first discovers Ginger. Still, despite an entertaining first half of "Casino," something seems slightly amiss amidst all the glitz. When we are introduced to Nicky, he jams a pen in an unidentified man's neck who insulted Ace without warning. The scene ends with cigarette smoke rising in the foreground as Nicky holds a bloodied pen while the Stones' Satisfaction echoes - a pure vision of Hades. Then there's a later scene where a gambler's hand is severely pummelled with a hammer - this cheating gambler was caught by Ace and his casino manager, Sherbert (Don Rickles in a largely mute role). Yes, all of the glamour of Vegas looks enticing but a sickness already seeps in - it is a spotlight on Vegas with blood just boiling under the surface.

The second half begins after a horrible vise sequence with the firing of Don Ward over three slot machines hitting the jackpot in a short amount of time. This works in tandem with the first act where Nicky's vicious pen stabbing incident is followed by Ace's disapproval of the "dumb white man," Don Ward - both scenes of Don show Ace and his casino manager, Sherbert. Thus, we get a recapitulation of similar scenes from the first half where tempo and rhythm change dramatically. We hear "Moonglow" again as we see the skimming from count rooms except our Mormon guy is now skimming from the skims; an inebriated Ginger in bed arguing with Ace, the very same bed she laid in with Ace trying on all the gold bracelets; Nicky's pal, Frankie, visiting Gaggi with shorter and shorter stacks of cash; Ginger's key to Ace's safety deposit box transformed into a beeper so he can watch her; Ace's car explosion shown at the beginning and in the climax from various angles; and Nicky's ranting to a wounded man about crying leads to a scene where he sobs over his brother's death. There are other various repetitions of individual moments but the pace slowly gets tighter, sometimes looser as in two significant trailer scenes with Ginger and Nicky (there is one other moment in a hotel where Ginger has visible bruises after an S&M encounter with Nicky).

Screaming matches between the characters begin and end with great velocity, as in Ginger's repeated foul-mouthed screams to Ace at their house, Nicky shouting at Ace in the middle of the desert, Ace as intense as ever in a restaurant with a visibly drunk, stoned Ginger, the constant surveillance and snapshots from the FBI, Nicky screaming and slapping Ginger, and so on (Believe it or not, actor Robert Blake had a problem with the screaming matches, saying it had nothing to do with the acting style he knew). The music amplifies the tension and becomes more erratic as we get the Animals' "House of the Rising Sun," Devo's cover of "Satisfaction," B.B. King's appropriate The Thrill is Gone, a live version of the Stones' "Gimme Shelter," the furious energy of Cream's Toad, the melancholic Stardust and the theme from Contempt, even Devo's Whip It. Devo's version of "Satisfaction" sums up the characters' trials and tribulations - Nicky, Ginger and Ace simply can't get any satisfaction from Vegas anymore.

Melancholia seeps in as Ginger gets more drunk, more boorish, and even ties her own daughter to the bed! Stone is so good in these scenes, even foreshadowing Ace's near-demise ("Who blew you in the parking lot?"), that some felt she was too repetitively annoying - well, that is the point. Nicky also gets drunk to the point he can't punch a craps dealer and he also grows boorish, irritable, as well as unstoppable in his thirst for violence - you want someone to just shoot him and Ginger and get it over with. Curiously, Ace stays the same - he never seems affected by the chaos. He feels every problem can be solved like a game of poker - life to him is a crap shoot. Ace realizes he can't control Nicky or Ginger as they are doomed in the no-exit trajectory of life they have pursued. The problems get worse and nobody wants to leave - Ginger keeps returning to Ace despite marital problems, to say the least. Nicky is banned from every casino yet still walks into one just to annoy Ace (Nicky is listed in the dreaded Black Book). Ace also refuses to leave, thinking that the Supreme Court and his own TV show will help him gain tenure. Eventually, all the familial and mob-related stupidity resort to Ace nearly getting burned to a crisp in a car explosion gone awry, Ginger dying in a hotel corridor as she exits her room (actually, the real Ginger died screaming outside a hotel until she collapsed in the lobby), a number of casino executives shot or bludgeoned to death, and Nicky and his brother stripped and beaten to death with baseball bats (they were found three years later buried in an Indiana cornfield). Afterwards, a lot of the old casinos are demolished and bought out by the corporations, turning the old Vegas into Disneyland. Or as Ace says in voice-over, "it is like checking into an airport." The tragedy is that the one survivor of a lost casino empire never learned his lesson - he is still an unredeemed bookmaker with giant spectacles and that's that. Such a cold, detached finish left many viewers with no emotional surface to cling to, which is precisely the point. The first screening I recall attending, the audience got up in great haste and left as soon as the end credits came up.


THE CRITICS SAY IT IS A SUCKER BET
Critical perception of "Casino" was mixed. The late Gene Siskel felt that as a love story, it didn't work (though the love story is really about the mob's love for money in Vegas). David Denby of New York magazine, among other critics, felt the relationships between Ace and Ginger and Lester made no sense since they lacked depth. There's a lack of depth in terms of character but not in terms of emotion, though Ace seems more like a calculating, analytical humanoid than a man - his past remains enigmatic. Ace expresses emotion when seething at Ginger who continues to support Lester, saying he wants to literally kill her. Most of the time, he is a vigilant robot who gathers no joy from his work. As Entertainment Weekly's Owen Gleiberman pointed out, "he may as well be running a bank." His control-freak demeanor, particularly at having the same amount of blueberries in every muffin, or his need to check his tie in every mirror he comes across, or keeping a series of monitors in his bedroom to keep track of the casino, or keeping his trousers in the closet in his office, remind one of Howard Hughes's own obsessive-compulsive needs (it is no accident that Scorsese later made a film about Hughes called The Aviator.) Though I generally agree with the criticisms, people forget that Ace was emotionally bankrupt to begin with. As Sight and Sound's Jonathan Romney wrote: "Ace inherits his paradise at the cost of 18-hour working days, and consequently has no time to be a person." But check out the scenes toward the end where Ace argues vehemently with Ginger, and even has a tiff with Nicky - De Niro proves his element in his slow burn routine in one of the last great performances he gave. Also, notice the visual sense of a king ruling over his empire - almost every shot of De Niro is at a low-angle accentuating the sense he's above all. He's not so above Don Ward who is visibly taller than Ace is (one of two scenes that shows Ace could lose what he gained). Sometimes a king can lose stature.

Most critics agreed that Sharon Stone turned in a highly credible and nuanced performance playing Ginger, from a gold-digger who seems to be having a good time to a drug-addicted mess who dies a lonely death (though earlier shots show her vacuity and loneliness when surrounded by gold jewelry). Stone is the emotional center of the movie, from a giddy, glamorous hustler (who is as vigilant in her line of work as Ace is) to a screaming, frantic woman who gets plastic surgery and snorts coke in front of her daughter (a scene improvised on the spot by Stone). The Golden Globes and the Academy Awards nominated her, and she did win the Golden Globe for Best Actress (Scorsese, by the way, was nominated for Best Director at the Golden Globes).


Many critics felt that Joe Pesci, as effectively hateful as he was, merely did a reprise of his Tommy DeVito character from "GoodFellas." The main difference is that his Nicky Santoro speaks with a vague Chicago accent and is far more sadistic and irritable. Pesci is also allowed some sense of humanity, as previously displayed in "GoodFellas." He is seen cheering his son at a baseball game, cooking pancakes for him, sobs at his nearly-dead brother, and even feels bad at squashing a guy's head in a vise ("Don't make me have to do this, please. Don't make me be a bad guy.") This is not an ordinary psychotic gangster - he simply gets carried away with his willful power. Jennifer Santoro (Melissa Prophet from "GoodFellas") is Nicky's wife, mostly seen sleeping on the couch or listening for the FBI's clicking sounds on their tapped phone or mouthing off to the FBI. She has a funny scene where her hairdo conceals some stolen diamonds, and one of them gets stuck in her hair. She is subservient to Nicky's needs, though her character remains largely in the sidelines. After all, Nicky Santoro is a busy man, especially at requesting oral sex from other women. The joke is that Nicky and Jennifer are introduced into town by Ace as "regular Ozzie and Harriet."

Nearly all critics felt that Scorsese had made one gangster movie too many. First of all, Mean Streets and "GoodFellas" were the only two gangster pictures he made before "Casino." Scorsese's directorial debut picture Who's That Knocking at My Door didn't qualify as a gangster picture per se - hoods that appear in the film are only incidental to the personal story at hand. Raging Bull happened to have Mafioso characters in it yet they were not central to the story. Perhaps following the civility and good manners of The Age of Innocence with a gangster picture was seen as a commercial move and a case of a director merely repeating himself (although "Casino" was not a substantial hit, it has gained some status in the Scorsese canon).

No one felt that Scorsese lacked directorial prowess. His signature camera moves were all there, including extensive Steadicam work, zoom-ins, endless quick pans, fast tracking shots, etc. What was new was the look of the film, as bright as the neon lights of Vegas thanks to the burnished lighting design patterns by cinematographer Robert Richardson (who has lensed many of Oliver Stone's films). Editing by Thelma Schoonmaker, with the usual hand of Scorsese, was as always electric. There were mini-dissolves within the same shot, swish pans galore (effectively used during the montage of who's looking at whom in a casino), freeze-frames (particularly telling during Frankie's fib to Gaggi about Nicky), jump cuts, etc. As Chicago Tribune critic Michael Wilmington said: "the blazing style suggests a hopped-up rock n' roll film noir documentary."

There is also great beauty throughout, something almost mystical and transcendental in the adoration of Vegas and its characters. An overhead shot of the city of Vegas at night is followed by an aerial shot of the desert floor. Overhead shot of Ace as he watches all the gaming tables, later followed by an atypical overhead shot of a large pool area where Ace meets with Andy. Overhead shot of Ginger tossing chips up in the air followed by Ace's freeze-frame of her. The luxurious bedrooms, dressing rooms, swimming pools, hotel suites, rolling coins on a conveyor system and other luxuries that no one ever seems to enjoy (decorative clothes is another matter). Sometimes, the beauty is tarnished by dutch angles and stark lighting. A scene of heightened violence with Nicky's crew is followed by a hallucinatory, impossible point-of-view shot inside a cocaine tube. The pristine, grayish backroom with overhead lights where a guy's hand is struck with a mallet looks rather uninviting. Other moments of violence are sometimes shown in silhouette, as in the executions towards the climax. Even a straight sequence of baseball bats pulverizing bruised bodies is almost haunting in a way, as we hear the crickets and nothing else except for Nicky's moans.

Scorsese's own knowledge of the mob thanks to his own childhood past and crime writer Nicholas Pileggi's own book lent a major hand to the authenticity of a world that longer exists (no doubt helped by the casting of actual FBI agents, croupiers and even hit men like Frank Cullotta, a former mob crony of Tony Spilotro's!) Also on hand was Scorsese's acute ability to direct his actors. He could probably direct De Niro and Pesci in his sleep, but the surprise was the dynamite performance by Sharon Stone. At least most critics agreed that "Casino" was hardly the precipitous low of The Godfather Part III, which disappointingly closed Francis Coppola and Mario Puzo's own gangster trilogy.


THE AUDIENCE
So why were audiences not lining up to see such an amazing movie? The major drawback was the excessive, grisly violence that scared them away. Those who like their violence sanitized and cartoonish were given a cold slap in the face by Scorsese - the violence in "Casino" is never gratuitous and is honestly presented. The vise scene is easily the most disturbing and nightmarish footage ever shot by Scorsese but it illustrates a point about Vegas. As Scorsese said, "it underlies the entire structure that creates something like Vegas. The more cash, the more blood. The more shining gold, the more blood, the cracked skulls, the more heads they find in the desert. That's the basis of it. And it gets me angry." It is all about excess, excessive pride, excessive arrogance, excessive blood. And when the baseball bats are used to kill Nicky and his brother, we sense that there's nothing left - this is as far as one's loss of humanity will go. These scenes inexplicably led Entertainment Weekly critic Owen Gleiberman to pronounce that Scorsese was getting off on the violence. Gleiberman could easily accuse Tarantino of the same with Pulp Fiction, which he gave a higher grade than "Casino."

Speaking of Tarantino, another reason audiences weren't ready for such honesty is that the year before we had Natural Born Killers and "Pulp Fiction," both of which were trendsetters for ironic, cartoonish violence. Scorsese didn't quite fit in. An example of what some exhibitors remarked at a ShoWest screening of "Casino" were that it was either too dark or the kind of thing that they know happens, but they rather not see it. The first screening I attended, people were complaining about the violence (though most of the patrons remained quite silent during the truly graphic beatings at the end). One person walked out during the vise scene. I have seen these walkouts before, particularly in "GoodFellas," and have come to expect and understand that Martin Scorsese doesn't make films for the average viewer. The appropriate reaction to realistic, honest violence is nausea and shock, and Scorsese is one of the few that can manage to portray it so vividly (though he has said since that he no longer wishes to play it straight, as evidenced by the stylized violence in Gangs of New York or the aftermath of violence in Bringing Out the Dead). Heck, Scorsese was from the mean streets and had seen a corpse or two.

Another drawback may have been the length of the film and the immorality of the story - not many will sit still for a 170-minute movie unless it is Titanic or Lord of the Rings. A nearly three-hour elegy about the mob is not exactly brisk, sentimental entertainment - Scorsese may be too heavy-hearted and unsentimental for most audiences. "Casino" has no sense of redemption, no happy resolution (hell, it is based on a true story) and none of the characters are people you'd want to invite for dinner. Film narrative in America often means employing a sense of hope circulated around likable characters with a comprehensible three-act structure. "Casino" is about the corruption of the human soul, showing unsavory characters getting their comeuppance from indulging in money, drugs, murder, more drugs and more murder. No limits, too much money and no sense of joy from it all, all told in two acts with a three-character structure.

AND THAT'S THAT
"Casino" is not a reworking of the themes of "GoodFellas" and it is not a remake, despite the similar cast. "GoodFellas" showed that crime does pay for the mob. Its central character, Henry Hill, felt that he could work his own business drug deals and get away with it, regardless of the objections from the don, Paulie (Paul Sorvino). And when Henry sells out everyone in his crew, he relocates and only wished he kept living the life of a gangster - it is all he knew. With "Casino," Ace Rothstein survives a near-fatal car explosion but it doesn't qualify as a rude awakening - he is still a bookie by the end and only wishes he could keep his job in Vegas (apparently, the real Ace continued to frequent Vegas in disguise and did pass away not too long ago). He thought he could control Ginger - his one long shot that didn't pay off. Sadly, only number crunching means anything to Ace. At the end of the film, he stares at the audience with his oversized spectacles, as if to say that he could bet your money would disappear if he was given the chance. Everyone to him is a sucker. Like most of Scorsese's antiheroes, Ace never has to justify himself. He just forgets he lost everything.


Trivia not listed on IMDB: 1.) Martin Landau was offered a role in "Casino" but declined, saying there was nothing to the part. I wonder what role it was, but my sneaking suspicion was that it was the Andy Stone role played by the late Alan King.

2.) Don Rickles aka Sherbert has actually appeared on the Lefty Rosenthal show, thanks to a recent clip shown on the Biography channel.

3.) During the scene where Nicky spies on the FBI who's spying on him, Sammy Davis Jr.'s song "EEE-O-Eleven" can be heard in the background. The significance of this song is that it was sung by Sammy during a scene from the original Ocean's Eleven. "Ocean's Eleven" is one of Scorsese's guilty pleasures, and the attitude and look of it was one of the inspirations for "GoodFellas." 


References: Jonathan Romney. Review. Sight and Sound. 1996.
Owen Gleiberman. Dicey Proposition. Entertainment Weekly. November, 1995.
David Denby. Married to the Mob. New York Magazine. November, 1995.
Scorsese and Pileggi. Casino: screenplay. Faber and Faber Limited. 1996.
James Kaplan. The Outsider. New York Magazine. March, 1996.

Nosferatu: The Plague-Carrier

NOSFERATU: SYMPHONY OF HORRORS (1922)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia (originally written in 2001 and updated since)

Max Schreck as the Count Orlok

The name "Nosferatu" is actually derived from the Old Slavonic word "nosufuratu," which is borrowed from the Greek word "nosophoros" meaning "plague-carrier." The term does not actually signify "undead." That meaning exists thanks to Bram Stoker, who of course wrote "Dracula" back in 1897. Stoker's novel is set in Transylvania and London, but the famous author had never set foot in Transylvania. Thus, his knowledge of the country came from Emily Gerard's travelogue entitled, "Land Beyond the Forest" (1885). This travelogue is a essentially a guide to the wonders of Transylvania but it is also the first to mention the nosferatu as an actual being, or as someone "undead." Here is an excerpt from Gerard's book: "More decidedly evil is the nosferatu, or vampire, in which every Roumanian peasant believes as he does in heaven or hell."

Thus, to correct one of many misconceptions regarding the character of Dracula and his origins, plague-carrier (or bringer of plague) is the correct definition though no Romanian dictionaries illustrate this significance or mention the word. This is why it never made sense that the film Nosferatu would be titled as such, or that such remarks about the undead would occur in almost every vampire film since. Naturally, F.W. Murnau's extraordinary and "loose" interpretation of Bram Stoker's novel actually has a title that is being correctly used, if they only knew.

Hutter (Gustav von Wangenheim)

The vampire in this adaptation is known as Count Orlok (played magnificently by Max Schreck), who is really the plague-carrier. Initially, he makes his real-estate deal with Thomas Hutter (Gustav von Wangenheim) back at Orlok's castle in Transylvania, finalizing the purchase of an abandoned house in Bremen (or Wisborg depending on which film version you've seen). Hutter is bitten by Orlok later that night, though the next day Hutter assumes the bites were from some insects. Orlok later leaves from Transylvania via coach and a ship where the plague spreads, mostly from crates filled with Transylvania dirt and rats. He arrives in Bremen and the plague immediately rises in the town, resulting in numerous deaths (an actual plague occurred in Bremen in the 1840's, which is the time period of this film, depending on which version you see. Some prints indicate the date as 1838 or 1843). Orlok's desire is to seek Ellen (Greta Schroeder), Hutter's wife, who has a psychic connection to Hutter and Orlok. Orlok arrives in her bedroom (remember that his property is a building directly opposite to her house seen through her bedroom window) and she keeps the vampire in blood drinking mode through the night until the first cock's crow. The sunlight peers through the window and destroys Orlok in a wisp of smoke but Ellen also dies having had her body drained of blood.

Ellen's sacrifice is a fascinating addition to the vampire lore. Traditionally, the women in "Dracula" films tend to become vampires but only until the Count is dead, thanks to the heroics of Jonathan Harker and Van Helsing and other male heroes. When the Count dies, the curse is lifted and usually Mina or Lucy (depending on which of several versions you have seen) is saved from bloodthirsty tendencies. In this case, Ellen sacrifices herself to the Count to save her beloved Thomas, (who of course is dangerously close to becoming a vampire) and who remains powerless and useless through the whole film. She does it all on her own by reading up on how to find and destroy vampires in a book simply called "Book of Vampires" (maybe feminists today would love that a woman would go through such lengths to protect her lover since she ultimately triumphs over evil).

And where is Van Helsing in all this? Nowhere to be found since here he is referred to as Bulwer, and is seen teaching classes about plants like the Venus flytrap and its vampiric similarities. This may be the only Dracula film where Van Helsing has a fleeting cameo and where his biggest line is, "Never walk away from your destiny!" Interestingly, in Herzog's remake, Van Helsing is arrested for staking Dracula in the heart!

Count Orlok is an ugly, rat-like creature, not your typical vampire in any sense of the word (thus with exceptions to homages in Herzog's remake or Stephen King's homage in "Salem's Lot," no vampire in film history has ever looked remotely like Orlok). Generally, Count Dracula or any distinguished count is depicted as an European aristocrat with charm and elegance - Mina or Lucy in Stoker's novel always invited the Count to bite them because of the Count's charm or sex appeal. Let's face it: Bela Lugosi had it, Frank Langella had it, as did John Carradine. Women swooned over them but they would likely be repulsed by Orlok, the kind of creature you would want to stay away from. He has big, pointed ears, bushy eyebrows, a long, semi-V-shaped chin, two prominent fangs in his mouth, extended shoulders, long fingernails or claws (which grow longer as the film progresses), and a bald head. Not someone you would want to invite to dinner or want to see in an dimly lit alley! He is also not someone personified in a Halloween costume unlike Bela Lugosi's famous visage.

Such a visage lends a tragic quality to the character that few other Counts have since possessed. Orlok is so animalistic that he seems to have been ravaged by vampirism as if it was a disease. In a sense, the many years of being a vampire reduced his body to a frail, gaunt-like shape. He walks at a slow pace, carries coffins wherever he goes when arriving in Bremen, and never blinks. When he rises from his coffin, it is as if Death itself has risen. Schreck's snail-paced walk was an inspiration, some say, for Boris Karloff's interpretation of the Frankenstein monster in 1931 (this homage is likely since Karloff played a horror movie actor named Orlok in Peter Bogdanovich's "Targets"). As the film leads to its startling conclusion, Schreck's frightening features become more and more pronounced to the point that he emerges as a full-bodied animal.

"Nosferatu" was an unusual film for its time. Shot in 1922, director F.W. Murnau ("The Last Laugh," "Sunrise") used mostly exterior locations rather than studio sets. His approach was to aim for realism and authenticity, and it worked remarkably. At times, "Nosferatu" resembles a documentary of the times with subtle, barely noticeable German Expressionist motifs on first viewing. On second or third viewing, you'll notice that almost every shot is diagonally composed, such as the arrival of the carriage carrying Hutter near Orlok's castle or the scenes of Orlok carrying the coffin to his new domicile. Diagonal shots create distortion, definitely an Expressionist visual cue. Extreme shadows and one negative shot in a forest further enhance the distortion. The acting is certainly over-the-top, mostly Wangenheim's performance as the child-like Hutter and of course, Alexander Granach as the harried Knock (inspired by Renfield from Stoker's novel) who dances around and makes wild gestures with his arms and legs and laughs uncontrollably. This type of acting style was common in silent films (this is long before the Method style adopted by Marlon Brando) but in German Expressionism, a heightened emotional response was necessary to convey subjective feelings over an objective reality. "Nosferatu" is not meant to be realistic, merely a fantasy where real feelings and emotions, as expressed by Ellen, Hutter and Knock, are preferred over any concrete reality. In other words, the Expressionists were interested in dealing with themes through an emotional reality, rather than simply making a literal translation of text.

As for Schreck, he does not give an exaggerated performance. Instead his makeup and features are plainly exaggerated fitting in with the grotesque characters of something akin to "The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari." The film is not frenzied in terms of pacing but its overall feeling and mood are - time-lapse motion, superimpositions, shadows and low-angle shots are used to represent Orlok who is usually centered in every scene. Also, whenever Orlok enters or exits a room, there is a transitional cut to him either exiting or entering instead of a complete shot showing both. As played by Schreck, he may not be sympathetic or empathetic in any way nor does he express any singular emotion, but he is a tragic figure nonetheless, a monster devoid of humanity. (Klaus Kinski brought a touch of humanity and tiredness to the character in Herzog's excellent, highly underrated remake).

"Nosferatu" has had a troubling history. When first released in Germany, Florence Stoker, Stoker's widow, sued the filmmakers with the help of the British Incorporated Society of Authors for using Stoker's novel without permission. Although the names and locations were changed, there is no doubt that Murnau's film used "Dracula" as its basis (some prints do not even have the names changed!) Nevertheless, Florence Stoker won the suit and had almost every print destroyed. One copy managed to find its way to the United States, and by the 1960's, "Nosferatu" emerged as a film classic of its period and an important film in the German Expressionist movement.

What is especially enigmatic about the film is its production. Who the heck was Max Schreck? His last name in German means "fear," and he had it changed though he came from the Max Reinhardt company, as did Murnau and leading lady Greta Schroeder. Nobody knew Schreck's true identity (was he in hiding or was he in fact a real vampire as the recent "Shadow of the Vampire" suggests?) yet he went on to make several films as a character actor. I wonder if Murnau knew Schreck's true identity.
 
"Nosferatu" was close to being the genesis of "Dracula" on celluloid. Two previous "Dracula" films were shot prior to "Nosferatu," one was Russian and the other Hungarian. Neither film is known to have any existing prints so we have "Nosferatu" as the official template and standard of all vampire films to come (reportedly, the first vampire film ever made was Great Britain's "The Secret of House No.5" in 1912).

It is important to note that Orlok is the first cinematic vampire to have fangs! He has only two in the front of his mouth (appearing like a rat) rather than the typical canine teeth. He also is the first vampire to die by the rays of sunlight, an invention of Murnau's that differs from Stoker's novel. In the novel, Dracula dies by having a stake driven through his heart - sunlight was essentially harmless. Do not forget that Dracula was able to walk around during the day without getting burnt to a crisp - the difference was that sunlight made him powerless. Though "Nosferatu" was not initially popular nor did it receive too many theatrical showings for many years, the other film better known to audiences to introduce sunlight as deadly to a vampire was 1943's "The Return of the Vampire," which starred Lugosi as Count Armond Tesla who had a werewolf as an assistant (not one of my favorites in this genre by any means).

Many versions of "Nosferatu" exist today. Some have the correct tinting of shots, blue for night, sepia for day. Most versions known to audiences are strictly in black-and-white with no tints, thus inducing laughter when seeing Orlok walking around as if it was daylight since no scenes were actually shot at night (contrary to what the film "Shadow of the Vampire" shows). Also, some prints run 60 minutes and others run 90 minutes. This may have to do with the correct projection speed and perhaps elimination of some scenes or transitions (one shot not seen in the 60 minute version that I recall was the shadow of Orlok's hand as it grabs Ellen's heart - if only the "Saw" sequels had a tenth of that visual magic). 

Whatever version you happen to see is not significant except to purists (such as myself). "Nosferatu" is a haunting mood piece, frightening and ugly and disorienting - a stellar example of German Expressionism. Not quite a scary film, it does manage to shock thanks to Max Schreck's appearance and performance as Orlok - a vampire ahead of his time in conveying the dread of being a vampire (certainly long before Anne Rice was published). He will also live on as the definitive plague-carrier.

Review of Nosferatu: The Vampyre (1979)

Review of Shadow of the Vampire (2000)

Review of Nosferatu in Venice (1988)

Review of Nosferatu (2024)

References: The Vampire Book: The Encyclopedia of the Undead by J. Gordon Melton. 1994. Visible Ink Press.
Also, special thanks to Lokke Heiss's invaluable commentary on the DVD edition of "Nosferatu." A must-hear (?) for any film buff.

Dear Alice: Are You Not Amazed by What You See?

ALICE IN WONDERLAND (2010)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Tim Burton's lavish, handsomely mounted version of the Lewis Carroll classic is something to behold - a treasure of hallucinatory fairy-tale images come to life. It is like reading a pop-up fairy-tale book, just like Peter Jackson's "Lord of the Rings" trilogy was like looking through the dusty pages of vivid illustrations as imagined by J.R.R Tolkien. But what is so vividly realized visually is oddly distancing and meandering in terms of characters and story. It is almost as if Burton's heart wasn't into it as his eyes see miraculous wonders but he is at an emotionally empty lake for the stuff we really care about - storytelling magic and a sense of wonder.

Not to say that "Alice in Wonderland" is not a vision to behold. There is an effervescent color palette; the stark, ominous clouds; the ever beaming White Queen (Anne Hathaway), who glows so much that she might burn your eye sockets; the gleaming, devilish eyes of the Cheshire Cat (voiced by Stephen Fry); the dimness of Tweedlee and Tweedledum (Matt Lucas); the disproportionate head and body of the diabolical Red Queen (Helena Bonham Carter); the dull Knave of Hearts (dully played by Crispin Glover, in comparison to the rest of the CGI critters) and much more. For pure visual beauty, Burton's film is as spectacular to watch as it is to listen to. Most dialogue passages, though, are difficult to understand and Johnny Depp's kooky, maniacally giddy Mad Hatter is tough to endure - an inspired creation but a monotonous one as well.

The final battle sequence also feels tired - it would've been more of an inspired touch if Alice had just fought the Jabberwocky while everyone else watched. And Alice, dear grown-up, 19-year-old Alice, is played by an insipid Mia Wasikowska - if they cast someone like the animated Emma Stone (so wonderful in "The House Bunny"), then the film might have been more fun to sit through.

I am also not fond of the idea of making Alice a Victorian teenager, unwittingly getting married to someone rather snooty (Burton already shows his impatience for special-effects when he shows a caffeinated Rabbit long before Alice falls through the hole). The epilogue is fascinating, however, suggesting an exploratory side of Alice's that goes beyond all creatures great and small (some may be a bit miffed that it suggests a colonialist in the making).

I recommend "Alice in Wonderland" because it is a trippy, hallucinatory marvel to watch. But my memory of the 1951 animated version (and the book) was that it was a nightmare with creatures of all sizes and shapes that you wanted to get away from. Alice doesn't seem fazed by them, which is to say she has seen them before (since this film is technically a sequel) and, thus, the magic and wonder and nightmarish quality is gone. It is Alice Just Going Through the Motions but, oh, what Marvelous Sights and Motions.

Smoke Gets In Your Eyes

DYM aka SMOKE (2007)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

In 7 minutes, Polish director Grzegorz Cisiecki conjures a boat load of emotions and hidden, repressed, and forbidden desires in such a tantalizing manner that you'll come away overwhelmed. "Dym" aka "Smoke" is an expressive experiment in surrealist cinema, but that is its cover - it is actually a penetrating film about overcoming sexual repression.

A young man is shown sitting in his room. He has a tape recorder. He turns it on, and right away we get shock cuts, the kind that get under your skin with the musical chords underscoring them. The shock cuts are to images of a woman with frizzy hair; a car ride with a heavy-set passenger, but whom? This is followed by a plate of blood with a tape recorder on it. There is also a woman dressed as a cleric, but why? Hmm. A party with members wearing masks that echo Kubrick's "Eyes Wide Shut" and the costumed balls of many other films from the past, not excluding Kenneth Branagh's "Dead Again." A lesbian couple kiss. There is also a murder, or is it murdered innocence?

My guess is that "Dym" is actually about a young man with a girlfriend, who may or may not exist, and whose love for her has not been consummated. Sex is show in crimson red colors with smoke in the background - hazy, confusing and beyond his control. The young man might also be a priest, which would explain the lack of consummation. And the tape recorder triggers memories that he can't help but be immersed in.

"Dym" is exquisite subjective cinema, the kind I love because it centers on what a person thinks of the world around him. Surrealists, like Dali and Bunuel, always focused on the world as filtered through someone's mind. This "Dym" is fragmented, coarse, sinister, and valuable to our collective minds because it is relatable. It is about things we often think about, but refuse to discuss. Sex is as timely a subject as ever, particularly in the U.S. and our popular culture. Cisiecki has focused on sexual repression as filtered through memory and desire. Don't listen to those who call films like these pretentious or self-indulgent - this is masterful filmmaking. Cisiecki had me at surrealist.

Watch the film by clicking below:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KHyUwbBbrag

The unveiling of pioneer life as it was

HEARTLAND (1979)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Siskel and Ebert first featured this exquisite Western on their "Buried Treasure" section of their movie review program. Unfortunately, despite winning the Golden Bear award at the Berlin International Film Festival, few have heard of or spoken of this film since. A shame because "Heartland" is the definitive film on the perils and hardships of frontier life in the early 20th century, detailing every aspect in documentary fashion.

Conchata Ferrell is Elinore, the newly employed housekeeper for the Scottish farmer, Clyde Stewart (Rip Torn), the owner of a Wyoming ranch in Burnt Fork. Elinore has her slightly bratty daughter (Megan Folsom) in tow, who is more of a helping hand on this ranch than anything else. There are plenty of cattle, pigs, horses and chickens to attend to in this vast wilderness. There is so much land that Elinore takes an interest in buying her own piece of it, an unclaimed tract of land adjacent to Clyde's, though she is reminded by Clyde that she can't afford it. Winters are brutal, for one, and there is not much she can do to make ends meet without livestock or credit. Clyde's trusty hired hand is Jack (Barry Primus), though he is ready to call it quits when the money gets tight in Clyde's farm. If Clyde has trouble, what can Elinore expect when she is expected to live in this newly acquired land for ten years?

Elinore decides that the best thing to do is marry Clyde. Their marriage is not depicted as rocky or flawed, only merely put to the test with the harsh winters, their daughter's minor frostbite, and Elinore's pregnancy. And without Clyde's hired hand, times are getting tougher and tougher.

"Heartland" is not sentimental or nostalgic about a bygone era - it suffuses the era with a harsh light, not an incandescent glow. The movie doesn't shy away from the realities and difficulties of pioneer life. Whether it is a cow giving birth, the cattle dying from the cold weather or a wandering horse that hopes to get fed, in addition to Elinore giving birth to a baby that has convulsions, every detail is given 100% authenticity. It also helps that actors Rip Torn and Conchata Ferrell lend this film immediacy, urgency and a sense of heartbreak. There are no cliches to be found here, and most of the film (astoundingly directed by Richard Pearce) is muted and restrained with little to no dialogue for long passages of time. One scene in particular is cliche-free and unexpected. Elinore is scrubbing the wooden floors while her daughter balances a book on her head. The daughter is walking on the unscrubbed floor section and she nearly and purposely steps on the scrubbed section. She knows her mother will notice it and scream at her, and the daughter decides not to step on it. A jaw-dropping moment in a film filled with them.

"Heartland" is based on the diaries of the real-life Elinore Pruitt Stewart later published in the book "Letters of a Woman Homesteader." The film itself is not likely to appeal to anyone besides those with a vested interest in the old American West, but it would be a shame to miss it since films like this barely exist now, let alone back in 1979 (Only the 1981 Canadian production of "Silence of the North" with Ellen Burstyn comes to mind). I would say if you like westerns stripped of cliches and stereotypes and like to see the hardships of a different way of life, then check out the engrossing "Heartland." It is an American masterpiece.