Bennifer can make you vomit

GIGLI (2003)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Oh, pity the movie that rhymes with "really." Pity the poor fools who thought that Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez could rate as mob enforcers or hit men. Pity the people who thought that sexually explicit jokes are funny if they are not written by Kevin Smith. Oh, and sadly, pity director Martin Brest who thought he could make something artful out of something so artless.

This wasteland of a movie has Ben Affleck as Gigli, a hit man-of-sorts whose job is to kidnap the mentally-challenged brother of a federal prosecutor so that some mafia henchman (Al Pacino) will not get a stiff sentence for whacking people. Gigli is so incompetent that Ricki (Jennifer Lopez) is sent to make sure he does his job correctly. Excuse me? Let's see if I get this right: a lesbian mob enforcer is sent to make sure a hotheaded, arrogant mob enforcer doesn't screw up holding a hostage in his own apartment? Why didn't they just give the job to Ricki? As the movie ensues for an eternity, Ricki and Gigli verbally duel on matters involving sex, sexual preference and sexual orientation. Ricki decides to sleep with Gigli on the same bed, but not make love. Gigli loves to strut and tries to prove his case that heterosexuality should be the preference for everybody. Ricki proves her case by mentioning there are two orifices from which a woman can get pleasure, rendering lesbianism as the sexual preference. It should come as no surprise that Gigli and Ricki do get it on, which proves that lesbians in Hollywood movies eventually put out.

Martin Brest directs these scenes with no flair, no energy, using mostly long lenses. A lot of films nowadays are shot with long lenses, so long in fact that actors and backgrounds often merge in a flat, two-dimensional look. The problem is that these actors are about as interesting as a piece of cardboard. Ben and Jen never convinced me they were mob enforcers. Christopher Walken does a walk-on, Al Pacino shows up and kills somebody in a "Scarface"-like rage, and that's about it. Most of the movie centers on Ben and Jen, formerly Bennifer, chattering away like annoying neighbors. It is a two-hour joke on sexuality with graphic violence thrown in for no real measure. And to think that the director once made "Going in Style," "Beverly Hills Cop," and "Midnight Run," not to mention "Scent of a Woman," is enough to make you vomit when his latest endeavor rhymes with "really."

Fake Movie vs. Real Politics

ARGO (2012)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Ben Affleck had has a wayward career as an actor, riding up and down from Kevin Smith's films to foolhardy decisions such as "Gigli" and "Surviving Christmas" (if you can stand to watch more than ten minutes of the latter, I applaud you). As a director, his career has supercharged and revitalized him, from "Gone Baby Gone" to "The Town." "Argo" is a more ambitious effort, parading around international conflicts in Iran during the 1970's which is a far cry from the Bostonian settings of his first two flicks. Does it work? Yes, but it is not a great movie. However, it is a fittingly suspenseful political thriller of sorts with enough intrigue, drama and a Hollywood satirical subplot to give it a lift. Of course, all this is based on fact, a true story that might've been concocted by a movie studio.

It is 1979 and a cancer-striken Shah of Iran, who wanted to Westernize his country, is ousted. The Ayatollah Khomeini is now in power and many Iranians are sympathetic to his cause and deplore the Westernization of anything, perhaps because it is a reminder of America. Things are awry in Iran - flags are burnt on the streets and the American Embassy is coming apart at the seams when the people decide to break down the fence and windows of the building. 52 Americans are taken hostage while six U.S. State Department officials from the Embassy escape to a Canadian ambassador's house. Then we see Iranian soldiers and children piecing together shredded documents and pictures with the hopes of identifying those six missing Americans.

The international situation is a scandal for the Carter administration and it has to be fixed, but how? CIA officials suggest the Americans flee in bikes but winter is nigh. An experienced CIA operative, Antonio J. Mendez (Ben Affleck), suggests an undercover operation where he can pose as a Hollywood scout seeking Iranian locations for a fictitious sci-fi project called "Argo." The six Americans will pose as a Canadian film crew. It sounds too good to be true but, hey, this is based on a true story.

Director Affleck and writer Chris Terrio have fun with the dynamics of Hollywood meetings in trying to drum up interest in a film that does not exist. Alan Arkin plays a no-nonsense Hollywood producer and the underrated John Goodman is a Hollywood makeup artist, John Chambers, who makes sly comments on the truth of Hollywood moviemaking. Most of these scenes are far more entertaining and involving than the Iranian incident. To be fair, Affleck builds up the tension towards the inevitable climax where the six Americans have to flee by plane (the actual incident did not end up as a chase scene) but it is the middle section involving Iran that doesn't quite jell. It has no real immediacy and no sense of real political strife - to be fair (with the exception of the realistic crowd protest scenes), it could have been set in any country. And when you cast an actress like Clea DuVall and leave her and the other Americans in the dark, you are risking losing interest in a situation that drives the movie. Interest doesn't wane and you want them out of the country, but did all the Iranian soldiers have to be so cartoonish?

Aside from the Hollywood backstory, the scenes that truly work are the CIA briefings and the incredible ignorance of some CIA officials. Bryan Cranston does solid work as the sympathetic but tough CIA chief who gives the dubious mission a go. Victor Garber (a fascinating actor since I first saw him in Atom Egoyan's "Exotica") is the kind Canadian ambassador who keeps calm in a crisis. Ben Affleck is clearly a better director than an actor but he is not bad as the bearded Mendez (charges from critics that an Anglo-Saxon played a Hispanic man are futile - I am Spanish and look as white as snow and the real Mendez is only partly Hispanic). My issue with Affleck is that he is not a charismatic actor and hardly exudes much personality. Of course, you have to keep calm in Iran and not stick out like a sore thumb. That could easily describe the film "Argo" - pleasant and fitfully entertaining time-filler that doesn't try to stand out like a sore thumb or a polemic. Just imagine, though, what someone like Costa-Gravas could have done with this.

Tony says Kubrick's Epic Horror tale is better than ever

THE SHINING (1980)

An interpretation and re-evaluation by Jerry Saravia

Many years back I wrote this about Stanley Kubrick's "The Shining": There are horror films that come with expectations, namely to spook and scare us with the unknown. And then there is Stanley Kubrick's misguided though definitely spooky "The Shining," a horror film that is unaware of what it wants to say or how to say it. I admire Kubrick greatly, he is one of the finest directors in the history of cinema, but this film is definitely on a lower standard than some of his other works. Lower standard? Baloney. "The Shining" is one frustrating Kubrick film I had the most trouble with since I first saw it in 1982 on VHS. My father hated the film and said it was not scary, but the ending left him angry and perplexed. I didn't care for the film at all, upon first glance, and it was something I had steadily avoided looking at again until 10 years later. I suppose this is a cliche when it comes to repeated viewings of Kubrick films but the second time, I truly admired it and found it more eerie than initially. More eerie than scary, more hyped-up and uncomfortable and agitated than jumping out of my seat every two seconds. Seeing the film again and again since, I have come to the realization that Kubrick's "Shining" is not a horror film at all - it is about using elements of horror to show moral decay and madness in everyday life and especially in a family unit. 

Jack Nicholson is the wild-eyed, seemingly mischievous Jack Torrance. He has been hired as the caretaker of the Overlook Hotel, stationed in a highly remote, isolated area of Colorado. There is definitely something wrong with Jack from the start since he rolls his eyes and hardly flinches when hearing a past story of a graphic murder that took place at the hotel from the hotel manager, Stuart Ullman (Barry Nelson). His wife, Wendy (a frail and purposely fragile-looking Shelley Duvall) and their son, Danny (Danny Lloyd) who talks to his finger referred to as "Tony," come to stay with Jack at the Overlook for several months so of course, something will go wrong. There are several hints of this at the beginning of the film, most telling example is when Jack is driving the family to the hotel and mentions a cannibalism that occurred in the area. Wendy looks at him in disbelief and Danny, seated behind them, says "it's okay Mom. I saw it on television." Jack replies, "You see. He saw it on the television." The reference is to the infamous, real-life Donner Party, a story as gruesome and disheartening as any you might ever read about

"The Shining" is essentially about those long, wintry months spent at the Overlook, and the isolation is clearly felt from frame to frame. Most the months are broken up by intertitles that indicate the days of the week. Jack's madness begins to settle in, as he screams at Wendy for intruding while he is at work on a novel. Then he begins to see ghosts, such as a beautiful naked woman in a tub in one of the rooms of the hotel (237 to be precise) and a bartender from the 1920's (the fantastic Joe Turkel) whom Jack confides in about his fears and insecurities with his family, casually mentioning his wife as the "sperm bank upstairs." Then something grows wild within Jack, an animal is let loose and before you know it, the ax comes out and he is ready to kill his family.

"The Shining" could be a conventional horror film much like Stephen King's scary novel but there is something unsettling and unnatural from the start of the film. We see hypnotic wide-angle views of the Colorado mountains that certainly rivet the attention. Danny already sees a vision of the blood from the hotel elevator (a shot that perhaps is shown far too soon in the film, especially after becoming an iconic shot from the infamous teaser) and the Torrance family hasn't even settled in at the hotel yet. The labyrinthian hedge maze that is seen in one impossible trick shot from overhead, as if it was seen from Jack's point-of-view since he stares at a mock-up of the maze in the hotel lobby, is enough to make for a heart-stopping moment in time - you can already feel a little anxious at this point. Jack stares at his family a lot, sometimes from the famously low-angle Kubrick stare that creeps one out.

The over-the-top performances may seemingly undermine credibility and cause us to lose sympathy with the characters but it is a theatrical, progressive hysteria. Jack is typical Jack, wild and insolent, seeming like an insane madman from the very start rather than a character study of a man slowly losing his sanity, yet he is really an average dad who is consumed by his typewriter and the hotel's past - he is rather restrained at the start with some typical Jack mannerisms (let's say that the Jack at the start of the film and at the end are two different personalities to be sure). I initially thought Shelley Duvall's screams and gaping looks were grating and cumbersome but I also understood that Wendy was starting to lose her sanity considering her husband attacks her and her son becomes catatonic - you feel bad for her and she actually becomes the emotional center of the film. Danny Lloyd can be a tough endurance test for first-time viewers, especially when he simply stares into oblivion during his "shinings" and makes rather offputting gestures with his finger, mimicking the voice of "Tony" (an actual improvisation by the tyke). Still, despite repeated catatonia and various screams defining the character, Danny is a watchable presence but his character still leaves me feeling a little unsatisfied. His scene with Jack where Danny sits on his lap as they discuss what is going on is, however, positively chilling.

There are several other virtues to "The Shining." The film has an ominous, otherworldly quality that is well-suited for such a disturbing horror tale. There are the particularly ominous opening helicopter shots of the roadways leading to the Overlook. The colors of the hotel ballroom are mostly gold and pink, thereby evoking the 1920's atmosphere in great splendor. There are the point-of-view shots of Danny riding in his bike through the corridors and hallways, all accomplished with a Steadicam (one of the first films to use such a camera in great ubiquity by inventor Garrett Brown). There is one truly horrifying scene where Danny sees twin girl ghosts who ask him to come and play, immediately realizing they were the girls who were killed in the hotel by the former caretaker (there are two Gradys mentioned in the film so I am guessing the 1920's Grady, brilliantly played with poise by Philip Stone). There is a brilliantly edited and shot chase through the hedge maze outside the hotel where Jack torments poor Danny. In terms of production design, art direction, cinematography and sheer atmosphere, "The Shining" is triumphant in all departments.

Yet "The Shining" does not conveniently fit in as a simple horror film - it is a horror mystery with lots of hidden meanings in every shot (the haunting final scene justifiably asks more questions than answers though I have a keen idea on what it all means now). Its histrionic performances and purposely overdone chilling musical score  (using samples of Krysztof Penderecki, Wendy Carlos synthesizer sounds, and an uncredited sample from the ominous Berlioz's "Symphonie Fantastique") turns it into a freak show with occasional moments of terror. But Kubrick has more in mind than shock tactics and freaky ghosts performing fellatio or holding bloody glasses of champagne. He is saying that a history of violence repeats itself, generation after generation. The Overlook Hotel was built on a sacred Native American burial ground and violence was used against Native Americans who were understandably provoked by the white man ("White Man's Burden"), thinking that this sacred land was theirs. So the blood from the elevators may symbolize a genocide against the Native Americans as well as former caretakers wiping out their own families due to cabin fever and ghosts from a Great Gatsby ballroom egging them on. The only black person in this film is the cook Dick Hallorann (Scatman Crothers, another chilling performance) who is killed (the only murder in the entire film which was not in the book). The white man must do away with anyone who is not white. The white man must also control the family unit or "correct them." So it turns out that "The Shining" is far more contemplative and illuminating than first thought - a classic horror picture about the real horrors of the world that overwhelm supernatural elements. Sorry it took this Kubrick fan thirty years to figure that one out.

Patrolling through Police Academy streets

NIGHT PATROL (1984)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

"Night Patrol" is a disposable "Police Academy" clone, short on cleverness and long on vulgar, plainly brain-dead jokes that you see coming a half mile away. Clearly the makers of this so-called "film" watched a lot of the forgotten "Police Squad" TV episodes and possibly indulged in the Zucker Bros. own classic "Airplane" for starters. But whereas the Zucker Bros. found their footing by actually writing jokes and imposing several, clever background gags, not to mention their dependence on their acute knowledge of film history, the makers of this film amp up the gross-out factor and think that farts equals tickling the funny bone. Not quite.

A vastly inept police officer named Melvin (Murray Langston) is promoted to night patrol with an older partner (Pat Paulsen) who has sex with every young woman he comes in contact with. The truth is Melvin is moonlighting as the Unknown Comic (a character Langston originated on the "Gong Show"), an act where he wears a paper bag over his head so that no one knows his identity. This works for the first few minutes but, after a while, even his stale jokes can be seen coming from miles and miles. Throw in sweet Linda Blair as an officer who loves Melvin, Bill Barty as a hypocritical, angry police captain who is consistently farting, a terrific Jaye P. Morgan as a talent scout, a cringe-inducing and unfunny bit involving blackface (it shameless steals a bit from "Silver Streak" though that film was funnier in context), a little Sergio Leone homage which includes a cop performing the musical score with a guitar (that made me smile) and Pat Morita as some scared rape victim speaking with a young girl's voice (not so funny). The cockfighting bit is obvious before we actually see it (let's say it has nothing to do with actual birds).

"Night Patrol" is a relic of its time, instantly forgettable and funny only in short spurts. Sort of fun to see Andrew "Dice" Clay (billed here as Andy Clay) as a comic trying to get Jaye P. Morgan's attention, but this comedy's few pleasures are outweighed by moments of laughless stupidity. "Night Patrol" might make a decent Saturday night rental with your partner or spousal equivalent because you'll spend more time talking to each other than paying attention to the film.   

1980's cheesy flick predicted the New Avengers

TUFF TURF (1985)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

"Tuff Turf" is not that rough or violent for a teenage exploitation picture, and it ain't sexy enough for devoted Kim Richards fans. However, the movie is technically watchable for fans of James Spader and devotees of Robert Downey, Jr., you know, the crazy party boy actor before his stunning turn in 1987's "Less Than Zero."

Spader is the teenage protagonist, Morgan Hiller, who is pretty quick on the trigger with his dart guns. He and his family have moved from the posh digs of Connecticut to some place in San Fernando Valley. Morgan's father (Matt Clark) lost his job in the East and now drives a cab (question: what job did the father have where they all came from wealth to living in modest digs where he is now a cab driver? Some job running a company that went down under, possibly a Reagan commentary on the job crisis of the 80's but who knows). Morgan doesn't quite fit in to the new high school, which looks less uninviting than its other cinematic counterparts such as 1989's "Lean on Me" or the 1982 cult film "Class of '84." It looks like a school out of a CBS Schoolbreak special. Morgan has a bully nemesis - a mugger named Nick (Paul Mones) who destroys Morgan's bicycle! I expected a cheesy fight scene to ensue and instead, Morgan picks up his broken bike and heads home to fix it. Yep, cheesy beyond belief. Morgan has a thing for Nick's girlfriend, Frankie (Kim Richards) but no matter how many times the gang beats Morgan up or pelts him with towels holding locks and other heavy metal items, Morgan keeps coming back and invites her to his house for dinner.

"Tuff Turf" is a strange, slapdash picture because it has no real identity and no real structure. It is not quite exploitation and not quite sleazy enough, though there are technically two sex scenes and enough hardcore violence in the climax to qualify as exploitation. Most of the film parades along without any real urgency since Morgan and Nick are like the Terminator - you beat them down and they keep getting back up for more. Spader is always a compelling presence on screen (and still looks much too old to be in high school) and his scenes with his father are well-written. Robert Downey, Jr. is welcome comic relief and Paul Mones is as revolting a gang leader as I've seen since "The Warriors." Plus, you can't hate a picture that features a musical performance by Jim Carroll.

A cheesy guilty pleasure of a movie, but I am still not sure what Morgan is rebelling against. The message is take the girl from the wrong side of the Valley to a dance club and everything will be fine.

Footnote: A warehouse scene where Jim Carroll performs features a graffiti sign outside the entrance that reads: THE NEW AVENGERS. It is interesting to note that Robert Downey, Jr. and James Spader are seen exiting the warehouse right in front of the graffiti sign, considering Downey later went on to play Iron Man in three films and "The Avengers" and Spader has been cast as a villain in the "Avengers" sequel.  

Women want HALF!

EDDIE MURPHY RAW (1987)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

1987 might have been the most notorious, controversial year for Eddie Murphy. Here was a man who was not just a star, he was a superstar. He had power and commanded attention from everyone - his gargantuan laugh, wide, flashy grin and misogynistic jokes and impressions of other celebrities were the toast of the town. Murphy was riding high and everyone knew it. So his just return to comedy concerts was a welcome one. However, as in the purely misogynistic "Beverly Hills Cop II," Murphy's new concert film, "Raw," was as much about his hatred and putdown of women as it was anything relating to comedy.

Great comedians like Richard Pryor, Lenny Bruce and the like can take personal subject matter and make it funny and truthful as well. Eddie Murphy took his childhood stories and his gross-out bathroom humor in "Delirious" and made it hysterical with a core of truth - everybody could relate to difficulties in maintaining bowel control or an erection. "Raw" is Murphy's attempt to understand women and their obsession with money. If a woman marries Johnny Carson, as he states, then she can divorce him and take half his money. "Half!," a phrase repeated again and again by Murphy. He does not apply this only to rich people but to himself. His quick recovery is to marry a buck naked African woman who has no idea about material or financial needs - she will love Eddie for himself, not for his money. But this scenario is not likely to last when she starts to talking to other housewives. It will not be just the money but as he states, "What have you done for me lately?"

The beginning of "Raw" has a terrific pre-title opening scene where we see a young Eddie entertaining his family by simulating urination and bowel control (look quickly for Samuel L. Jackson). Then we head right to the concert film, which starts with Eddie's acute impressions of Michael Jackson, Mr. T., James Brown and so on. This is Eddie at his best. But when he gets to the subject of women, he loses control. Murphy does not have the talent to make such a topical subject less than hateful. Any subject is ripe for comedy but Murphy is too obviously caught up in making a point when he should be making people laugh. He is angry and raw and downright nasty yet his comic tone, unlike "Delirious," is more abrasive. Whatever comic potential exists is lost with his repetitive whining that can get monotonous.

"Raw" is not a total flop, and I did laugh occasionally. I am an Eddie Murphy fan and I have seen this film twice, once in a theater and other time on video. His bit on Bill Cosby who accused Eddie of abusing the four-letter word is laugh-out-loud funny. I also like the story of his drunk uncle or the hamburgers his mother made that rarely resembled McDonalds' own brand. The funniest bit involves a club where a man threatened to sue Murphy for blinding his vision thanks to strobe lights! Those bits are enjoyable to watch again and again. But the rest of "Raw" will likely exhaust you, wondering when Murphy will give up talking about his constant dismissal of women as nothing more than sexual objects. When you are staring at the screen at Eddie Murphy for an less than an hour and not laughing then something is quite rotten in Denmark.

Citizen Kane II: Xanadu in Ruins, God, no!

CITIZEN KANE II: XANADU IN RUINS or how I wish they would leave IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE alone

By Jerry Saravia

Not to worry, there are no plans for a "Citizen Kane II." There are plans for a sequel to "It's a Wonderful Life." Yes, the classic 1946 weeper with James Stewart and Donna Reed, the cinematic staple of every Christmas season (that and Bob Clark's "A Christmas Story"). According to Variety, "the proposed $30 million sequel still lacks a director, yet the producers have lined up 73-year old Karolyn Grimes, the actress who played Zuzu Bailey in the original, to reprise her role — though now she’ll play the angel who has to guide George’s grandson through a similar crisis. The twist: the new George Bailey is unlikeable and Aunt Zuzu shows him how much better the world would be if he’d never been born. The filmmakers are also in discussions with long-retired septuagenarian actors Jimmy Hawkins and Carol Coombs to revisit their Bailey-child characters as well. None of the three actors have been in a major film in decades."

This is not the first time that a continuation or remake of the perennial classic has been considered. Marlo Thomas appeared as a gender-reversal of Jimmy Stewart's George in a 1977 made-for-TV remake called "It Happened One Christmas." The film retained the 1940's setting, good old Bedford Falls, and featured Emmy-nominated Cloris Leachman in another gender-reversal role of the angel Clarence known as Clara Oddbody. Despite high ratings, few remember the film since it got shuffled aside in favor of the endless TV airings of the original. There was also 1990's TV-movie "Clarence" starring Robert Carradine as a more youthful Clarence helping another human, but who needs to be reminded.  

But is a sequel necessary? Definitely not. Sequels rarely work or eclipse their original counterparts so a sequel or continuation of the George Bailey saga feels unseemly and a tad sacrilegious. Perhaps the makers will have their hearts in the right place but the central Frank Capra theme of an alternate reality where the protagonist does not exist has been done to death. Everything from even a subplot of "Last Temptation to Christ" to "Back to the Future Part II" to the insufferably cute "Mr. Destiny" with Jim Belushi are just a few examples of how important the idea of one's destiny in our universe matters. I would have bought a sequel back in the late 40's or early 50's with Stewart and Reed filling in for their iconic roles, but I do not see the sense in revisiting something that was as much a staple of that era as it was universal in its themes of commitment and family values. The original film had a complete beginning, middle and end - it was airtight in its complex narrative of George Bailey's life as a banker who cared about his small town more so than himself (what a distant past that was compared to now). Was the colder, darker reality that the angel proposed to Bailey suppressed truth or pure fiction? Would Mr. Potter ever have a change of heart towards George and the citizens of Bedford Falls? Do you see now why we do not need a new chapter? Heaven forbid.

Ack, ack, ack this!

MARS ATTACKS! (1996)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

(Originally viewed in late '96)

The absolute worst is expected when a celebrated Hollywood director is given the reins to a multi-million dollar project after having helmed a small-scale cult film like "Ed Wood." I hate discussing what the budget of the film is but "Mars Attacks!" cost $80 million to make, and was expected to gross over $120 million (which it didn't) - in other words, it should have been a financial blockbuster. Truth is that when you hand the reins to a dark, twisted genius like Tim Burton, anything goes. "Mars Attacks" did not fare well at the box-office and it is just as well - it is a hilarious, witty, nihilistic satire of those old Martian invasion movies from the 40's and 50's. This is not "Independence Day." Its tongue is firmly placed in its cheek.

"Mars Attacks!" begins when a flaming herd of cattle makes its way into a typical all-American small-town - a flying saucer has just had an accidental run-in, but are they here for peace? When the Martians land in the middle of the Nevada desert to be greeted by The President of the U.S. (Jack Nicholson) and other gleeful citizens, the aliens begin blasting everything in sight. When the President decides to greet them at the White House sensing that this was all a misunderstanding, the Martian ambassador proclaims, "We come in peace." Unsurprisingly, the ambassador and his cohorts zap everyone with laser guns and burn all Congress officials into toast.

"Mars Attacks!" doesn't just end there. Burton brings on his magic bag of tricks by mocking all those alien-invasion disaster movies and adding his own bizarre sense of humor. Based on the gory Topps "Mars Attacks!" cards that were banned in the 1950's, the movie is an assemblage of in-jokes, cheeky dialogue, offbeat gags, dozens of special-effects, and sheer comic mayhem and destruction. Nearly the whole cast is demolished but it filled me with cartoonish delight to see how they are demolished. Watch Michael J. Fox melt while trying to reach for Sarah Jessica Parker's hand! See the incredible sight of a dog's head being grafted on Parker's body! The movie reads like an outrageously zany comic-book with amazing sights, indeed.

The cast is first-rate for this material. We have wicked Jack Nicholson as not only the straight arrow leader of the U.S. but also as a sleazy, leering Vegas businessman; Glenn Close as the nervous First Lady; Annette Bening as a New Age freak obsessed with meeting the Martians; Danny DeVito as an unctuous lawyer who tries to reason with them; Jim Brown as a former boxer who takes them on; Sarah Jessica Parker and Michael J. Fox as unctuous media reporters; Lisa Marie as the memorably slinky alien in disguise who woos Martin Short; and the hilarious (alien-like) Sylvia Sydney as the elderly grandmother of the trailer park family. There are dozens of other cameos, but the aforementioned actors are the most facetious.

What's most outrageous in Burton's fantasy are the Martians themselves - they are green, skeletal aliens with large brains and bulging eyeballs protected by a shield so they can breathe on Earth. They zap everyone and everything in sight, laughing like gremlins at the expense of human lives. All they have to say is "Ack, ack, ack, ack, ack."

"Mars Attacks!" doesn't start off well. For one, the Martians grow tiresome after awhile - all that "Ack, Ack" business is not very imaginative or funny. But then, the movie incredibly gains a fast-paced, inventive comic spirit and gets funnier by the minute. There are also some great lines, such as Lukas Haas's response to the Martian's interpretation of earth: "Hey. He made the international sign of the donut." I also like the President's heartwarming "Can't we all get along" speech to the Martians. And seeing Tom Jones playing himself in Vegas and confronting the aliens causes one to smile despite the ridiculous scenario.

"Mars Attacks!" is not Tim Burton's best film but it is more savagely funny and subversive than "Beetlejuice" or "Batman." Burton has fun with the sci-fi genre and cleverly attacks it at the same time. This is definitely no ordinary studio blockbuster film.

Ring around the toilet bowl

PANE E TULIPANI aka BREAD AND TULIPS (2000)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Anyone who thinks that Hollywood is the only industry that makes formulaic romantic comedies is sadly mistaken. Silvio Soldini's "Bread and Tulips" is an Italian romantic comedy with all the necessary ingredients to make it a success. The difference is in the execution.

"Bread and Tulips" stars Licia Maglietta as Rosalba, the dutiful housewife who boards a tourist bus with her son and husband back from vacation. At a rest stop, Rosalba loses her engagement ring in a toilet bowl. While trying to retrieve it, the bus leaves without her. What is Rosalba to do now? She decides to go to Venice by hitchhiking there, and enjoying her own vacation for once. This leaves her husband mad who blames her for not being in the bus. Did he ever stop to think that maybe he had taken her for granted and should have checked to be sure she was in the bus before leaving?

Nevertheless, Rosalba stays in beautiful Venice for a day until she misses the train that would take her home. She goes to a cheap hotel, eats a cold dish at the local restaurant, and decides to get a job working for a florist! Rosalba suddenly feels liberated but where will she stay since the hotel has just closed down? Back at the restaurant, a waiter named Fernando (Bruno Ganz) lets her stay in his flat out of sympathy. Rosalba has now neglected her family in favor of her own interests and desires. She becomes acquainted with the reticent Fernando, and forms a friendship with a masseuse next door named Grazia (Marina Massironi). But what of her familial obligations? It seems that her husband has hired a plumber, Constantino (Giuseppe Battiston), to do some private investigating on his wife in Venice. He needs her for her cleaning and cooking and little else since he satisfies himself with a mistress.

"Bread and Tulips" is fairly predictable since you can sense how these characters will mingle and connect. I only wish that writers Soldini and Doriana Leondeff had devised more unexpected turns and twists, especially with the overweight Constantino who fancies himself a real detective though he is only an amateur. I also wished that more was said about Fernando, and his curious habit of hanging a noose in his bedroom. He is obviously suicidal but it is hardly mentioned again when he meets Rosalba the first time. I also would have liked to hear Rosalba mention just once how she felt about her past life and her newer, happier one. The film seems to aim for that speech but it never arrives.

And yet, this is a fairly enjoyable, delicious film that holds back and never goes for any cheap gags. It simmers but never boils. Hollywood may remake it and cast Gwyneth Paltrow as the masseuse, Conchata Ferrell as Rosalba and Gene Hackman as Fernando, but I should hope not. If you like "Chocolat" or the simple pleasures of comedies that deem to be uncomplicated and optimistic, then "Bread and Tulips" is the film for you.

Marion Crane in living, breathing COLOR!

PSYCHO (1998)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

If anyone attempted to do a remake to the 1960 classic "Psycho," it should have been the Master of Suspense himself, Alfred Hitchcock. He did that with "The Man Who Knew Too Much." Hitch isn't around anymore and he's probably rolling in his grave as director Gus Van Sant ("Drugstore Cowboy") attempts to step into the limelight. This "Psycho" remake is a complete bastardization, a dull, callous, near parodic film of little or no consequence.

Granted, I am aware that they have used Joseph Stefano's original, excellent screenplay (almost word for word), and Van Sant has adopted the same angles and camera shots through most of the film. But this movie is a recreation, in the literal sense, not a remake. It replicates the original, but with none of the grace, stamina or conviction that the actors or the director brought to the original. Anne Heche comes off best as Marion Crane, but we'll get back to her in a minute.

Anthony Perkins will always be Norman Bates, just as Harrison Ford will always be Indiana Jones. Therefore, it is a shame to see another actor step in his shoes. The shameful overacting by Vince Vaughn as Norman Bates sheds no doubts in my mind. He has a self-deprecating type of laugh but he brings none of the wit, charm, or nervous tension associated with the stuttering, sexually ambiguous Perkins. He's like a big baby who wouldn't harm a fly, nor scare one either. The marvelous cast on hand is a complete waste of time and talent. There's Viggo Mortensen as Sam Loomis, originally played by John Gavin, a hardware store owner who looks like he's poised to kill. Here's an actor who's too seedy and animalistic to be normal, playing a boyfriend for the second time in a Hitch remake, the first being the suspenseless "A Perfect Murder." Julianne Moore is the biggest disappointment as the one-note character, Lila Crane. I never imagined Moore to be faceless, unsympathetic, and uninteresting yet she manages all the same. Bring back Vera Miles! Worst of all is William H. Macy as the flippant detective Arbogast dressed in a blazing dark blue suit and wearing a ridiculous-looking fedora - how could anyone take this guy seriously, including Norman? Macy's line readings are so flat and antiseptic that I realized why the performers were so listless - they brought no energy or conviction to their roles. They rattle through their line readings quickly with no degree of nuance or diction. Ditto Robert Forster as the psychiatrist in a final scene that was unnecessary in the original, though meant as a joke perhaps.

No one can blame the script, but you sure can blame Van Sant for not recreating the feeling or the mood. There's no tension, no surprise. By the time the marvelously sensual Anne Heche exits, the rest of the film flounders searching for an identity. There is none. Philip Baker Hall is the only actor who brings a sense of authority as Sheriff Chambers. Anne Heche brings class, elegance and a wink of humor to Marion before she's offed.

The original "Psycho" is one of the few great horror classics of all time. I've seen and studied it at least thirty to forty times. I have committed most of the camera shots and dialogue to memory. I can sense Van Sant's giddiness in stepping in the Hitch's shoes, and seeing the film through his eyes. I wish Van Sant would use that giddiness to make an original creation of his own. I just don't see the justification in making a colorized recreation of a film that was pitch-perfect.

Check out of this Bates Motel room

PSYCHO III (1986)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Norman Bates is one of the most indelible portraits of psychotic killers in cinema. Hitchcock and Anthony Perkins made Norman a household name. Sadly, in 1986, Anthony Perkins chose to revisit the Norman character in a slasher flick in the guise of a Hitchcockian thriller. The Bates House and Motel are still there but it may as well be Crystal Lake.

Perkins reprises Norman Bates as far more kooky and anxious than normal. He still runs the motel that nobody ever stays in, and good old mother is still seated in a chair seen through the bedroom window. Something wicked this way comes in the form of an ex-nun, Maureen (Diana Scarwid), who resembles Janet Leigh from the original "Psycho," and a drifter and musician named Duane (Jeff Fahey) who is probably just as kooky as Norman. Ladies and gentlemen, we have a trio of nutcases staying at the Bates Motel who don't deliver a smidgeon of humanity or sympathy from us.

For gore fans, there is more than expected. A woman is killed while sitting in a toilet, another one while making a call in a phone booth, and there are the requisite impalements, great falls from great heights, and so on. This movie is not as gory as most slasher flicks from the same period but it is nasty and gorier than "Psycho II."

Except for one scene featuring Hugh Gillin as the Sheriff who licks a bloody ice cube, "Psycho III" merely recycles what worked so well before minus the suspense, the atmosphere, the thrills or the black humor. There are no new insights into poor old Norman - he is merely as insane as he was before (though he tries to woo Maureen with great difficulty). The late Perkins is a shadow of his former self and "Psycho III" (also directed by Perkins) is a pale echo of the Hitchcock classic.

Decent but Hitch might still twitch

PSYCHO II (1983)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

(Originally viewed in 1983)

Anthony Perkins will always be Norman Bates in my heart, and the original "Psycho" will always be one of the great suspense thrillers of all time. Having said that, I watched "Psycho II" again the other night and as much as I admire some of it, it falls two thousand peaks below the original (but less so than the bloated Van Sant remake).

Perkins is once again a tanned - but older - Norman as he is released from a mental institution after spending 23 years there for murder. The man is still as loony as ever and returns to the dreaded, ominous house across from the Bates Motel. Life has changed dramatically for poor old Norman. Firstly, he starts to work at a greasy spoon kitchen. Secondly, a sleazy owner (Dennis Franz) runs the Bates Motel now, occupied by oversexed teens, drug addicts, drunks, etc. And to make matters worse, Norman has invited a demure, clumsy waitress (Meg Tilly) to stay at his house as a roommate. But now Norman is getting phone calls from someone purporting to be his dead mother! Who is it? Could it be the high-strung, vengeful Lila Crane (Vera Miles returning from the original)?

"Psycho II" has some tension generated mostly from Perkins, who does solid work as an older, kinder Norman. I particularly like the moment when he slices bread while staring intensely at the knife. The direction by Richard Franklin is diverting, and there are numerous high-angles of the Bates House and one exceedingly wide-angle lens shot that shows the house to be more dangerous than inviting. In fact, there is a lot to savor in this film, but it never jells (as Martin Balsam's Arbogast said in the original). During the second half of the film, it borders on the slasher-film mentality (including a gratuitous scene where two teens make out in the basement of the Bates House). One too many killings slices the psychological impact that I am guessing writer Tom Holland was after - to expose Norman as something more than having a murderous Oedipal Complex.

The cast is uniformly perfect (including Vera Miles, Meg Tilly and Robert Loggia as a doctor), the visuals are scarily effective, the music occasionally spooky (though it does lack the late composer Herrmann's thrust). But it is an undernourished sequel, lacking the cleverness, depth and madness of the original. And showing the infamous shower scene from the original does little justice to this movie.

Overall, this is a decent sequel that would not make Hitchcock roll over in his grave in shame. Maybe he would just twitch a little.

Hip to be Psycho

AMERICAN PSYCHO (2000)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Patrick Bateman is not your typical serial killer. He is obsessed with consumerism and has an affinity for music by Huey Lewis and the News and Whitney Houston, not to mention Phil Collins. He also happens to work at a firm in Wall Street. Patrick is a handsome, young man who is ruthless and arrogant - a yuppie who just happens to love killing people.

I was initially miffed to hear that Christian Bale was going to play the title role, but then I guess I had forgotten his smugness and arrogance in 1994's wonderful "Little Women." Bale is the perfect choice because he encompasses the soulless, excessive period of the 1980's integral to the character of Patrick Bateman better than any other actor would have.

Bateman's life is not all that exciting. He works in merger and acquistions (which is slyly referred to as "murders and executions"), though we mostly see him listening to his walkman in his office. He has a pretty secretary (Chloe Sevigny) and has a group of friends whose main concern is where they will be eating dinner and if there are reservations available at any one of the top restaurants. Bateman's day begins by applying several lotions and creams to his body while taking a shower, working out by doing a thousand push-ups a day and, in general, planning his evening with his dates including a socialite girlfriend (Reese Witherspoon). Sometimes Patrick picks up some prostitutes and then kills and dismembers them. Other times he will kill someone he knows, such as an ex-girlfriend or a rival co-worker (who has mistaken him for someone else) by using an ax or a nail gun. But who is Bateman really? Is he so devoid of identity that murder is all he needs to bring spice to his life? Or has he lost his soul and thinks that his identity is defined by his consumerist ideals, or the specific type of business card he carries?

I have read the controversial, infamous book by Bret Easton Ellis, though I am fuzzy on recalling certain details. Naturally, the big shocker of the book was the relentless, graphic violence against women - how they were dismembered and, well, you get the idea. For about the first hour of director Mary Harron's adaptation (she co-wrote it with Guinevere Turner), "American Psycho" has great fun with all the minute details of Patrick's life and his circle of friends. There is a classic scene set to the music of Huey Lewis's "Hip to be Square" where Bateman invites his rival (Jared Leto) to his home while explaining the brief history of the rock group and their gradual artistic integrity - the scene is especially tense considering that one can smell murder in the air. But the film loses its grip after a while mainly because Bateman seems to lose his mind, and we can't fathom why. Has he realized the errors of his murderous ways? We are never sure and though I would not expect a motive necessarily, his reasons can't be any more silly than that he feels his life has become a void - empty and unidentifiable. Many other Wall Street types may feel the same way without having to kill anyone. Somehow this rings false, as in the book, and I wish that the twist ending was removed. It feels like a cheat and makes the whole affair more surreal than it should have been.

"American Psycho" is often fun and, at times, surprisingly funny and on-target. Thanks to Harron's almost monochromatic visuals, such as Bateman's apartment, there is a Kubrickian coolness to it, detached and grayish as if life meant nothing. Even the restaurants look like science-fiction artifacts from "2001" - this is the alternate reality of the 1980's where money and greed were all that mattered. But the film also feels cold and remote and since we follow Bateman in his violent streak, we never come close to understanding him one bit. Despite some satirical touches and Bale's superb performance, this "Psycho" needed a little more savagery to really hit the mark.

Andy Kaufman is alive?

MAN ON THE MOON (1999)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia
(Originally reviewed in 1999)

Andy Kaufman remains as the old saying goes, "a mystery wrapped inside of an enigma." He was the most unconventional comic to ever grace a stage or an open mike because he purely challenged the whole notion of what comedy was. Comedians are known for one-liners, such as the famous Milton Berle, and punchlines - a plethora of jokes are expected to make the audience laugh. Kaufman is not someone you would accuse of taking the easy road to make people laugh - his intentions were based on showing up as the showman and nothing more. He did not tell jokes nor did he know how to tell them, and he was not a political or angry comedian like Lenny Bruce was. No, this man played the theme to "Mighty Mouse" and wrestled with women to get laughs.

"Man on the Moon" stars Jim Carrey as Andy Kaufman, showing us his early stage routines of mimicking Elvis Presley leading to his famous Latka Gravas character on the popular TV show "Taxi." His agent (played by Danny De Vito, who does not do a reprise of his "Taxi" character) is amazed by Kaufman, but has no idea how to promote such a talent so he lends him the coveted "Taxi" role promising a "Fonzie-type" breakout character. It is no secret that Andy despised "Taxi" and caused a ruckus often using his hateful alter-ego character, Tony Clifton, a lounge singer, to cause chaos on the set. It is also no secret that Tony become a bigger star than Andy, especially in the days of Andy wrestling with Memphis wrestler Jerry Lawler (amusingly playing himself).

The moments where Tony Clifton appears, silencing the crowd before singing or insulting audience members, are the most outrageous and the funniest. Clifton was Andy, and sometimes Andy's best friend and writing partner, Bob Zmuda (Paul Giamatti), was also Tony and so this caused more confusion among audiences. How could anyone respond with a straight face to anything Clifton or Andy did on stage or on TV?

In fact, that is largely the appeal of "Man on the Moon." The film distorts reality on screen just as Andy did - we never knew what to expect from him or when he was staging fights or insults or actually doing them. The truth is that it was all staged, including the punishingly slow one-year debacle of Lawler fighting Andy on the ring or on David Letterman. That distortion or the fact that Andy was always in on the joke himself is what makes his life so speculative. Who was Andy? What kind of man was he? When was he not fooling around, and when was he being serious? There came a point when his sister did not believe that Andy had lung cancer, which he tearfully admits on stage while the audience bawls with laughter.

Carrey is so good as Andy that he disappears into the role, and it is more than just a recreation of the man or his acts - it is spookily eerie in that it really feels like Andy Kaufman is alive and well on screen. Carrey also carries scenes of tenderness beautifully such as the movie's key line where he tearfully replies to his girlfriend's remark "There is no real you" with "Oh, yeah, I forgot." I also like the moment where Andy is tricked by a psychic surgeon, who is actually a charlatan, into believing that his cancerous condition will be taken away - Carrey's face shows a mixture of elation and sadness. Jim has so many good moments that an Oscar nomination should be guaranteed - we have not seen such an authentic recreation of a key figure in show business since Val Kilmer's Jim Morrison in "The Doors."

If only the film dealt with his childhood past in more detail, especially in the days when he thought there were cameras in his bedroom walls watching his act (a reminder of Carrey's performance in "Truman Show"). And what did his parents think of Andy's act? Or his sister and friends, especially his girlfriend (thanklessly played by Courtney Love)? There must have been some thoughts on Andy - was he just a showman out for thrills or a genius of comedy?

"Man on the Moon" does not try to understand Andy Kaufman nor is there any attempt to. The mystique is still there, including the possibility that his lung cancer was a joke and that he will return in the year 2000 (the film makes no attempt to disprove the hoax). It is not a complete or fulfilling biography as was director Milos Forman's last film, "The People vs. Larry Flynt," but it is a strange and entertaining experience. I have a feeling Andy would have wanted it that way.

Can you imagine?

THE MASTER (2012)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

"The Master" is the most frustrating, exasperatingly opaque film of P.T. Anderson's career. At times emotionally draining and emotionally cold, "The Master" never fully establishes itself and it never hits the high notes of its very ambitious themes. That being said, "The Master" offers a lot of food for thought and is often rather brilliant, and sometimes simply offputting and a little overlong (even "Magnolia," P.T's best film that ran 3 hours didn't feel as long as this one that runs an hour less). But it is Joaquin Phoenix who will leave you feeling far more frustrated than P.T. Anderson might have intended and that is the film's ultimate flaw.

Freddie Quell (Joaquin Phoenix) is a emotionally crippling and horny WWII vet who is left to fend for himself and discover what the future holds, or if it holds anything in particular. Quell is an alcoholic lost soul (he concocts a drink using paint thinner) who parades from one job, one drink and one woman after another. He is a seaman, works as a migrant farm worker, a department store family portrait photographer, and eventually he finds himself as a stowaway in a yacht. It turns out that Lancaster Dodd (Philip Seymour Hoffman) is in this yacht, acting as a minister for a wedding and reception. Dodd is also the founder of a new religion called The Cause (obviously meant to evoke Scientology and its own creator, L. Ron Hubbard) where he indulges new participants in a recorded session of repeated questions such as "What is your name?" and "Did you ever kill anyone?" Quell participates and lives "rent free," along with Dodd and his wife Peggy (Amy Adams), in the homes of women who support the Cause. But Freddie is as lost as ever, though he acts as muscle for Dodd's non-believers or those who challenge the Master's book. 

My main quibble with "The Master" is Joaquin Phoenix whose misshapen body language and catatonic persona reduced my interest a little. For a short film about a WWII vet undergoing disillusionment and dissatisfaction, Phoenix would have been mesmerizing. At 2 hours and 17 minutes, it is simply a chore to watch Freddie who engages in sex or humping a nude sand figure, stares and laughs maniacally or indulges in uncontrollably violent confrontations. The performance has two notes and maintains it even when he may be changed by Dodd's "processing" through the Cause but I can't say for sure if he is remotely changed at all. A fine actor overall, Phoenix aims for a level of restraint during the film's closing scenes that goes beyond what he had shown in the first two hours. That may be too little and too late for most viewers. 

Philip Seymour Hoffman brings humor, a slight touch of sympathy, lightness and the occasional outburst particularly when his movement is criticized for suggesting outrageous claims, such as claim that Earth was created a trillion years ago. Hoffman is indeed mesmerizing as a the founder of a religion he is clearly making it up as he indulges further into his subjects - he is a charlatan and knows how to control those he processes. It is a frighteningly vivid and top-notch performance.

 Various scenes and shots in "The Master" will stay with me for a long time such as the motorcycle endlessly rampaging through the desert; the ocean's waters that look mysterious and uninviting; the somehow askew wedding and reception on the yacht; the moments where Dodd relentlessly tests Freddy with clinical trials that make no sense whatsoever such as walking from one end of a room to the other; Amy Adams' compassion and smile masking a far more firm individual than her own husband; the models in a department store, etc. Yet as intoxicating as many scenes are, the overall effect is deadening and too coldly detached. P.T. Anderson may be trying for a touch of Michelangelo Antonioni ambiguity but even Antonioni could wring emotion out of dead silence and sustained long takes. Every time I saw Freddie, I saw a catatonic lost soul from a war that may have ravaged his psyche. That is a realistic angle but I can only handle so much catatonia with no shades or glimmer of anything other than suppressed anguish, or a need for a father figure though that angle is disputable. 

"The Master" is indelibly fascinating and spellbinding and worth a look but it is also dramatically inert - a bit of a Catch-22. 

Jeers, mate!

CROCODILE DUNDEE IN LOS ANGELES (2001)

Reviewed By Jerry Saravia

 

Eddie Murphy made this movie in 1984. It was called "Beverly Hills Cop," an uneven, fitfully funny fish-out-of-water action-comedy. Paul Hogan did his bit in the original "Crocodile Dundee" in 1986, and then returned for a mildly entertaining sequel in 1988. Considering both Dundee movies scored well at the box-office, it is amazing it has taken a whole decade to make a sequel so bereft of anything remotely comic.

Paul Hogan once again returns as the formidable crocodile hunter, Mick Dundee, who still remains naive about the world and pop culture (though the latter is not a bad thing to be naive about). He still resides in the Subaru Outback, though he is unable to catch a crocodile. He is also still living with Sue (Linda Kozlowski), the Newsday journalist, though they are not legally married. They do have a son who worries about razorbacks. So far, not too bad. That is until the filmmakers decide to take the family out to the big city, yet again. The reason? Sue has a job in L.A. at her father's bureau. Whoa! Her assignment is to investigate a movie studio that is making sequels to "Lethal Agent" though they are all financial disasters - sort of what Paramount is doing with Crocodile Dundee. Is the sequel business a front for something else? Of course, and Mick Dundee does all the hard work while Sue sits behind the desk. Meanwhile, we have product placements for the Paramount tour and Wendy's. There are also one-note, thinly veiled jokes about Mike Tyson and meditating, coffee enemas and George Hamilton, gay bars, Hispanic gangs, cartoonish villains, Tom Cruise, Mel Gibson, and chimps that can't follow directions on a movie set. Using a chimp in a movie sequel is the cry of DESPERATION. Lest we not forget that there are a few women in the movie who find Mick attractive, though he remains naive about their suggestive remarks. How's this for a different kind of sequel - the setting is the Outback where Mick decides whether or not to legally marry Sue while fending off alluring women's advances from his tours, as well as training his son in the secrets of the wilderness? Not funny? Well, then you can see why a return to this shallow character was not a great idea in the first place.

Like its once charismatic star, "Crocodile Dundee in Los Angeles" is the equivalent of a flatline.

I can't shoot it like Hitchcock

THE KEY TO RESERVA (2007)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

"I can't shoot it the way I would. Can I shoot it as Hitchcock? I don't think so. So who will I shoot it as?" - Martin Scorsese

Thus begins the one of the most unique commercials I have ever seen - an ad for Freixenet Cava wine. What is interesting is that director Martin Scorsese is not as focused on the wine as he is on the approach of doing a Hitchcock filmmaking style for an unfinished fictitious script. The script is only 3 pages long and it deals with a Hitchcock hero (Simon Baker) searching for a key that opens a box of wine that holds top secret information in its cork. The setting is a concert hall where the conductor and orchestra perform Bernard Herrmann's classic theme from "North By Northwest." One of the violinists (Christopher Denham, who later appeared in Scorsese's "Shutter Island") spots our hero in the theatre box and leaves to strangle him. Chaos erupts as Herrmann's music builds with more and more intensity. Homages to classic shots and compositions from Hitch's films abound, though Scorsese's touch is not evident (excepting the pull-back shot of the concert hall which reminded me of "Age of Innocence"). Of course, this is precisely the point and it asks the tough questions about a filmmaker with a distinctive style imitating another - can it be done and should it? At the end, Scorsese even flirts with the notion of completing Erich Von Stroheim's "Greed" (Scorsese himself would never attempt to complete someone else's work, despite this commercial which may be his first jokey, postmodernist approach to another master director. Only the adaptation of Joseph Conrad's novel "Nostromo" comes to mind - a film that would have been directed by David Lean who died during pre-production. Scorsese had been attached to direct it at one point but it is doubtful he would have shot as Lean would have).

"The Key to Reserva" will make most Hitchcock aficionados giddy with spot-on references to "The Birds," "Notorious," "Saboteur" and "Dial M for Murder" and "North By Northwest." Simon Baker even resembles Farley Granger from "Rope" and "Strangers on a Train," not to mention the casting of Kelli O'Hara in the Grace Kelly/Eva Marie Saint role and Michael Stuhlbarg as the James-Mason-type villain who clearly wants Baker's character killed. Mostly, "The Key to Reserva" is Scorsese having a ball trying to adopt a style that has been filtered through in his own work. Now about those stills from "Greed"...

A tongue-in-cheek martial-arts classic

ENTER THE DRAGON (1973)

An appreciation by Jerry Saravia

It is strange to think that the late Bruce Lee just hit his international Hollywood mark with "Enter the Dragon" and never lived to see his legacy. He died of a cerebral hemorrhage at the tender age of 32 back in 1973. He was gone way too soon yet none of that diminishes the impact of one of the finest martial-arts flicks of all time, the one and only "Enter the Dragon." It is a comic-book movie, a sort of Chinese James Bond but with none of the gadget gimmicks. In this case, Bruce Lee plays Lee, a Shaolin Temple fighter who enters an epic martial-arts tournament by a most evil yet charming Mr. Han (Shih Kien).

Lee is not the only fighter entering the competition in some remote island where guns are not allowed. John Saxon is Roper, a gambler and con-man who is pretty good with his fists even when evading some mob muscle while playing golf. The late Jim Kelly is Williams, the one with the huge afro who admonishes Han for acting like a villain from a comic-book. Roper and Williams are old friends who want to party and get the girls. Lee merely has a mission unbeknownst to anyone - to find evidence of women OD'ing and left to die off the shores of Han's island. Naturally, Lee also has a vendetta against one of Han's prized fighters, O'Harra with a nasty facial scar (Bob Wall), though I will not reveal what that vendetta is.

"Enter the Dragon" has many classic sequences that are pretty much iconic in the action-adventure realm as well. Bruce Lee's fight sequences are legendary, especially fighting with nunchakus, flip-kicking or delivering flying kicks in slow-motion (the flip kick is not actually performed by Lee but by his double, though Lee had planned to incorporate gymnastics into his Jeet Kune Do style). He steals the show from everyone (though as former film critic Danny Peary once said, you kinda wish Lee had shared at least one moment with Williams).  Still even a scene-stealer like Lee can't take away from the charms of John Saxon or Jim Kelly. Saxon has many crowd-pleasing moments (and he has great chemistry with the wonderful Ahna Capri as Han's assistant) but it is Jim Kelly and his sarcastic asides to Han that elevate the tension of a most unwelcome island where guards are killed if they do not protect the island's deep dark secrets. Kelly's Williams also has a funny flashback to some racist cops who can't allow a black man to travel to Hawaii - it has a racial charge and its denouement had audiences cheering back when I saw the film in theaters in 1978. And when Saxon's Roper fights the rough and vicious Bolo (Bolo Yeung), it is electrically charged escapism, particularly the segue to hundreds of minions fighting our heroes in what must have been hellish staging by director Robert Clouse and Bruce Lee, who choreographed all the fights.

Also noteworthy is the Hall of Mirrors climax, nicely echoing a similarly startling moment from Orson Welles' "The Lady From Shanghai." It is thrilling and nail-biting entertainment with Han's claws dominating the sequence as he tries to tear apart Lee. Lee also has a slow-motion scream in close-up where he destroys one fighter during a tournament - it has to be seen to be believed and it is positively chilling.

A vastly entertaining martial-arts action picture, "Enter the Dragon" can infrequently get silly and a little unbelievable (watch Lee fly from the ground up to the top of a tree branch) but it is tongue-in-cheek without getting too goofy. At once humorous, graceful and full of some truly hypnotic fight sequences that seemingly last an eternity (Angela Mao as Lee's sister has a very intense fight sequence with dozens of fighters that lasts a good five minutes), this is the best of the ensemble martial-arts action pics, a precursor to Clouse's own "Force Five" and others of its ilk where the director hoped he would reignite that "Dragon" feel (Clouse never managed to make lightning strike twice). It is the catlike Bruce Lee, though, who shows what a charismatic fighter and electrifying screen presence he really was. We'll never know, after doing four action pics and the incomplete "Game of Death," where Bruce Lee's career would have taken him. "Enter the Dragon" is a great hint.

When Prince Struts

PURPLE RAIN (1984)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

"Purple Rain" is one of those movies I recall seeing but have little recollection of anything substantial. I know I saw it on cable back in the 1980's and recall the scenes by the lake with the strutting Prince and the curvaceous Apollonia taking her clothes off. I also remember the concert sequences, the song "When Doves Cry" played as an MTV video (an excerpt I can recall was played on the TV special "Sneak Previews" back when Jeffrey Lyons and Neal Gabler were the critics), and Morris Day dumping a woman literally in a trash bin. Seeing the movie again recently, I can say it is flashy and watchable but also listless and uninvolving. The music sounds great but there is nothing else to groove to.

Prince is the Kid, a rising musician in Minneapolis who plays at a local club. His songs of late have disappointed the regular club customers, mostly because he is playing to himself. The club owner tells Kid not to be like his father, another musician who failed to harness his talent. The group that really plays to the crowd is the Time with Morris Day (playing himself) as the playboyish, strutting, preening lead singer. His song "Jungle Love" is electrifying, exciting and sexual, as well as other pop songs he plays to the crowd. The Kid does not cater to the crowds the same way - he is too concerned with his own traumas to care. The Kid doesn't just have his own ego-inflating persona to deal with - he also has an abusive, emotionally shattered father who beats up his white mother. But there is some measure of hope when the Kid meets Apollonia, a nineteen-year-old singer with huge aspirations. They start having an affair and when the Kid makes her undress and beats her, we see him imitating his father. By the end of the film, things will go back to normal.

"Purple Rain" has its best moments dealing with the Kid's band, especially the two backup singers, Wendy and Lisa (playing essentially themselves). Wendy often writes her own songs and wants Kid to hear them and play them live. Kid merely mocks them with a hand puppet. I also enjoyed Morris Day's interludes with his assistant as they look for sexy dancers in their act. Clarence Williams III scores a realistic, tough performance as Kid's long-suffering father who keeps unperformed lyrics in the basement of their house. Beyond that, "Purple Rain" is empty and lackluster in the dramatic department. Prince may have presence on stage but in close-up, he looks like a weeping Liberace with big eyes and bright outfits. There is no real energy in his performance - he merely stares stupefyingly into empty space. Apollonia is barely given much to do outside of singing and appearing like a sexual creature in lingerie and black outfits.

The musical stage acts are well-choreographed and titillating - they keep your eyes and ears glued to the screen. Most of the movie is an MTV video and, on that level, it has a kinetic charm that is hypnotic. I still say that Morris Day should have had the lead role - he is more alive than anyone else in the entire movie.