Walking the streets of Paris when it rains

MIDNIGHT IN PARIS (2011)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Ever since Woody Allen departed the Gershwin-ized New York City of neurotic intellectuals for the city of Paris, he changed a little. Woody's filmmaking became liberating, somehow freer as if Manhattan was a heavy weight he had to shake from his shoulders. Not that the characters in "Midnight in Paris" are a new breed - we still got a Woody Allen-type and those fake intellectuals he so adores to put in their place. What the film has is something magical, something more askew that is closer in spirit to "Purple Rose of Cairo," "Alice" or the vastly underrated "Shadows of Fog" than "Manhattan" or "Deconstructing Harry." "Midnight in Paris" is fairly close in spirit to those earlier examples, though not as surefooted or as deep. Still, a good film from the Woodman is better than a bad one.

Owen Wilson plays the Woody Allen-type this time, a writer of Hollywood hack material who aspires to be a novelist. Inez (Rachel McAdams) is Gil's fiancee who wishes Gil would put away such aspirations - she feels he is lacking in a cultural education (a typical Allenism, to be sure). Gil and Inez are visiting Paris but she has no time for love or for walking the Parisian streets when it rains - she'd rather learn about Rodin and Picasso from a Sorbonne professor (Michael Sheen), the fake intellectual. The professor is so willing to prove he is so cultured that he questions a stated fact from a museum tour guide (Carla Bruni - talk about shrewd casting). Gil, meanwhile, has encountered a strange incident, right past the midnight hour. A horse and carriage arrive on the street and the occupants ask him to join in. It turns out that Gil has, well, shall we say, stepped out of his time and into the Paris of the 1920's and meets people like F. Scott Fitzgerald, Gertrude Stein, Salvador Dali, Luis Bunuel, Picasso etc. He is in a world with real novelists, true intellectuals, imaginative painters - a genuine time of excitement and discovery.

It is not fair to reveal much more of "Midnight in Paris" except that Gertrude Stein (Kathy Bates, who also appeared in "Shadows and Fog") reads Gil's manuscript and provides guidance. The trick is that Gil has to appear on a certain street corner at the midnight hour, but is it all real or in Gil's head? I will never tell. As sweet and scrumptious as the atmosphere is that the Woodster has created, "Midnight in Paris" is more of a valentine to an era when creativity and art really took hold and transformed the early 20th century. My issue is that some characters, not the historical artists, lack the spark and bite that can make the material really come alive. Michael Sheen perfectly plays the part of a bearded professor to be sure, but Rachel McAdams as Inez is left on the sidelines - her fiancee role serves to make Gil see that there is a world of opportunity that she can't or won't see. She merely irritates and makes one wonder what Gil saw in her in the first place. Likewise, Inez's parents are shrill and also see no hope in a wannabe novelist as a future son-in-law (though Inez's mother has no qualms about spending a fortune on extravagant chairs for the couple's new home, and the father is a Tea Party supporter). When Inez fights with Gil over moving to Paris, a city she hates, it smacks of tired Allenisms that I have heard one too many times.

When "Midnight in Paris" focuses on the Parisian scene of the 1920's, especially the angelic Marion Cotillard as Picasso's fictional mistress who has a nostalgia for the days of artists like Toulouse Lautrec, I was transported to another world that seemed so romantic that I did not want to leave. I understood how Gil feels when he has to go back to the modern world but the city of Paris seems no different from the past and the present. The city is depicted as intoxicating, winsome and elegant - the film makes you want to visit the city. "Midnight in Paris" has an inspired premise and some wonderful, inspired gags (the one with the detective cracked me up). But it also has the Allenisms that I had hoped the Woodster would've let go of by now - the young couple arguing and bickering over intellectualism and culture feels like refried leftovers from "Annie Hall" onwards. Even then, the last scene is one of the most sweetly romantic in Woody Allen's career. 

Portrait of a Narcissistic Lost Soul

BLUE JASMINE (2013)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Maybe all Woody Allen needed was a fresh story and an invigorating actress to make his work feel new again. "Blue Jasmine" is a masterstroke, a deeply humanistic and provocative film that deals with characters we may have seen a million times before, but never with such acuity and polish by a master filmmaker who still has some golden nuggets of wisdom to share.

Talkative to the point of irritation, formerly wealthy Jasmine (Cate Blanchett) has just arrived in San Francisco to temporarily live with her sister, Ginger (Sally Hawkins). Jasmine has delusions of grandeur, hoping to meet the right man again after her embezzling, fraudulent investor of a husband (Alec Baldwin) committed suicide. She has no real prospects except to enroll in college and work part-time at a dentist's office. Jasmine disapproves of Ginger's apartment, her life and her new boyfriend, Chili (Bobby Cannavale), a mechanic head-over-heels in love with Ginger. Jasmine considers Chili a loser and hopes Ginger will meet someone else, which she does. Meanwhile, Jasmine starts talking to herself and has flashbacks of her opulent lifestyle.

"Blue Jasmine" may sound like a stiff bore and I can sense someone feeling that we have seen enough movies about wealthy socialites who despise everything that is not upper class. Thankfully the Woodster invests a measure of humanity in Jasmine, also thanks to Blanchett's acute, explosive performance. To Blanchett's credit, we never hate Jasmine but we do see her as nothing more than a pathetic, fragile creature who is out of her natural habitat. She lived a life of lies and never questioned anything her former husband did, that is when he conducted obvious fraud in their home and had love affairs with other women. Fragility underlies Jasmine - a woman whom we would regularly scorn acquires our sympathy. Blanchett is amazing and has a showstopping transformation towards the end that made me quite emotional, something I've not felt in a Woody Allen picture since 1988's "Another Woman" with Gena Rowlands.

Heaps of praise must also go to Sally Hawkins as the compassionate sister whose own love life is in turmoil; Andrew Dice Clay in the most sensitive, colorful performance he has ever had as Ginger's former husband who was bilked out of his lottery savings by Jasmine's ex; Bobby Cannavale as the mechanic who so dearly loves Ginger and cries in a grocery store to win back her love; Peter Saarsgard as a wealthy diplomat who has his eyes on Jasmine, and Louis C.K. who offers solid support as Ginger's occasional bedmate who seems nicer than the character from his "Louie" TV show.

Cate Blanchett informs "Blue Jasmine" in every scene with her idiosyncrasies and little asides - she is a nervous, loquacious spirit who is, possibly, seeking some measure of redemption. Her own son will not talk to her for reasons best left to the viewer. Her memories feel less substantial because her life was superficial before she lost her money. Now she finds people of a different economic state who are more welcoming, including her sister, and she freezes and loses sight of who the real Jasmine is. "Blue Jasmine" is one of the most penetrating and moving portraits of a narcissistic lost soul I've seen in years.

We only get one take!

THE HARD WAY (1991)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

(Originally viewed in 1991)

"The Hard Way" is largely a generic action-comedy with superb performances and oodles of post-modernist goo to give it a slight lift...maybe a slight lift on a swing set as opposed to a large crane. Without Michael J. Fox or James Woods, the movie would sink fast.

Fox is a Nick Lang, a spoiled movie superstar who makes Indiana Jones clones to make people smile. Lang's agent (Penny Marshall, always the scene-stealer) reminds him that it is his job to make people smile, not think about the darker recesses of the human soul (Those are my words, not paraphrasing, but it is implied). Lang wants to break out of the sequel cycle of his "Smoking Gunn" series, mature and make a gritty, realistic cop movie after watching the news and seeing the hard-bitten cop, NY Detective Moss (James Woods). Lang's plan is to research the role of the cop by living and breathing Moss on a 24-hour basis. Need I remind anyone of the formula that has been beaten to death in buddy-buddy cop lore? You know what to anticipate next. Moss is not interested in educating a naive Hollywood star about the inner workings of good detective work, no sir, yet Lang is undaunted by Moss's resistance - Lang is fascinated and records Moss's thoughts and angry tirades in a tape recorder.

It is a shame that 'The Hard Way" does not stick like glue to this concept - here was the brave, postmodernist opportunity to deconstruct Hollywood buddy-buddy cop thrillers/action comedies from the point of view of a movie actor and a real high-wire cop. There are some priceless moments - I love Lang imitating Moss's girlfriend to Moss - but they are few and far in between. The screenplay is more interested in the Party Crasher (Stephen Lang), a serial killer who shoots the derelicts of society especially drug pushers at nightclubs. Too much time is devoted to this grinning one-dimensional maniac, resulting in two extended action scenes towards the end that stop the movie cold.

Annabella Sciorra as Moss's hapless girlfriend exudes a magnetism that is intoxicating - she provides a slight emotional center (for film fans, you will enjoy seeing a very young Christina Ricci as Sciorra's daughter). Fox and Woods make a good team and have fine chemistry - check out Woods towards the end as he comforts a wounded Fox. But the movie loses focus and patience with these electric, dynamic actors, concentrating instead on a plot that is manufactured television fodder at best. I would have preferred if director John Badham and his writers had fun with Lang and Moss on a 24-hour cycle that involved real grit, real shootouts, real violence - a police procedural with wit to give it some oomph. As it stands and as fitfully entertaining as it is, "The Hard Way" often looks and feels like a Nick Lang movie.

Chris Rock's rigorous honesty

TOP FIVE (2014)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

I have not seen too many Chris Rock movies, but his confrontational stand up is always profoundly funny. He also has a habit of bringing a measure of discomfort with his stinging sense of humor, witness his recent provocative "Saturday Night Live" monologue in 2014. "Top Five" is a sneakily charming and often witty comedy from writer-director Chris Rock and although the wit heads for the mildly profane bone, it never loses sight of its unflinching honesty.

Chris Rock is Andre Allen, more or less based on Chris himself, a formerly alcoholic movie star who made people laugh and is now going through a transitional phase into more dramatic territory. His self-centered, gold-digging fiancee, a reality star (Gabrielle Union), has their love story and future marriage shaped into an episode of her own reality show though it is really to meant to boost her career ("I slept with Bradley Cooper!"). Allen's transition from comedy gives way to a serious movie about the Haitian slavery rebellion entitled "Uprize." When he checks a movie theater to see how it is performing, the latest Tyler Perry flick (with Madea in a haunted house) is the winner, not "Uprize." What is Andre Allen going to do if he can presumably be funny only when he drinks?

Enter Rosario Dawson as a New York Times reporter, Chelsea Brown, who is eager to interview Andre and find those sneaky truths or, as recovering alcoholics will tell you, "rigorous honesty." Andre reluctantly accepts her interview request, slowly building trust with Chelsea, even so far as to show his old neighborhood which includes his old friends and an ex (Sherri Shepherd) who wishes she stuck with him. Andre's friends (which includes a barfingly funny cameo by Tracy Morgan) remind Andre of his roots, how his first stand up gigs were disastrous, and also share their favorite five rappers.

Andre Allen is also shown as the alcoholic he once was. One particular naughty flashback deals with Cedric the Entertainer as a Texan freewheeler who introduces him to clubs and prostitutes. A hotel room involving pillows and champagne results in...dare I reveal it? Let's say it involves more than a couple of less-than-sanitary spots involving Cedric (it is a sequence that would been at home in "The Wolf of Wall Street"). There are also bouts of aggression when Allen dressed as Hammy the Bear, a character Allen played in three movies (something which Rock himself might not have ever agreed to - perhaps a commentary on how black actors are offered cartoonish roles such as Madea, or perhaps a little dig at Eddie Murphy who dressed up in an amusement park outfit in "Beverly Hills Cop III." According to Rock, it references Whoopi Goldberg's T-Rex partner in the forgotten "Theodore Rex"). The final straw is when Allen sees his Hammy character is used to sell beer.

"Top Five" has big belly laughs but it also has uncomfortable, sincere truths - remember, rigorous honesty. When Allen returns to his old neighborhood, he confronts a seemingly wise codger (Ben Vereen) who knew Allen and needs some cash, despite putting Allen down with regards to returning to his roots only for an interview. It is one of the best scenes in the film - the sly codger turns out to be Allen's father. There is also an uproarious scene where Allen talks to his hollering, frustrated agent (Kevin Hart) - their conversation about how his upcoming marriage is the only thing Allen has got going may recall the Kanye and Kim K. wedding. Added to that is a conversation about how 1968's "Planet of the Apes" might have inspired James Earl Ray to kill Martin Luther King, Jr. (dubious theory, funny at any rate). I can't leave out truly hysterical moments from DMX singing "Smile" and Jerry Seinfeld listing his top five rappers...but you have to stay tuned during the end credits for that.

"Top Five" isn't a top-of-the-line comedy (the cinematography has a rather dim, neutral look) but it has a terrifically bouncy edge to it, and Rosario Dawson's charms and wide smile (almost too wide for widescreen formats) is more than enough juice added to Chris Rock's observations on race and our celebrity obsessed culture. I am just being rigorously honest.  

Pick Tracy Flick

ELECTION (1999)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

(Originally reviewed in 1999)

Just when you thought that there was nothing more than brainless, insipid teenager movies obsessed with sex and money comes a delectable treat known as "Election." It is one of the best, quirkiest, smartest and most outrageous movies of the year - a bright, comical triumph from first frame to last. It also boasts one of my favorite performances of the year - from the wondrous fireball of energy known as Reese Witherspoon.

Witherspoon stars as Tracy Flick, a scheming, energetic, overly ambitious, overachieving high school student (how rare nowadays to witness such a person in any movie) with dreams of running for office. Tracy tries so hard that she makes muffins with the logo "Pick Flick" emblazoned on each one while seated at her campaigning table. And campaign she does, as Tracy runs for the upcoming high school election for school president. Only the civics teacher, Mr. McAllister (Matthew Broderick), is not sure he wants Tracy to win, and she has a hell of a chance since she's the only one running. So he encourages a dumb jock, Paul Metzler (Chris Klein - a keen reminder of Keanu Reeves) into running for the election, thus sending a chord of resentment through some principal characters. Tracy is understandably furious thinking she's the only one who should run. Paul's sister, Tammy (Jessica Campbell), is a rebellious loner with lesbian tendencies, and decides to run for president as an attack against her brother's girlfriend. What transpires are voting posters torn from walls, countless affairs, inarticulate political speeches, bee stings, meditating between power lines, lies, bitter jealousies, and enough catastrophic events to make Monica Lewinsky blush with shock.

"Election" is deftly written and imaginatively directed by Alexander Payne. His first effort, "Citizen Ruth," was a mild, uneven black comedy that nevertheless raised issues about abortion rights - a touchy subject. With "Election," Payne explores and deeply uncovers a cutthroat comic spirit in the realm of politics , and there is an occasional mean streak - all the characters suffer and pay for the consequences of their actions. Yes, even the righteous Mr. McAllister, who knows the difference between morals and ethics but does not apply them to his daily life. As played by Matthew Broderick, it is hard to dislike him, but you can reject his ethical and moral choices.

In "Election," it is impossible to know whom you should be rooting for or whom you should sympathize with. And Payne cleverly shifts from one character's point-of-view to another to the point where we at least hope everyone gets away with their individual actions. We hope that Tracy gets the shot as president, but we start to doubt her ethics (she wants to get ahead in the world, after all). However, is she any worse than McAllister, who has an affair with his friend's wife? Does it matter that his friend was a former geometry professor who had an affair with Tracy and, as a result. ousted from the school? Or what about the dumb, sweet Paul who can't give a speech to save his life? Or Tammi who has ambitions beyond elections, and considers suspensions to be restful vacations?

The cast is uniformly perfect. Reese Witherspoon is a spunky, tense, frighteningly ambitious creature who will do anything to get support (not unlike her similar character in "Freeway") - she is like a tight ball of energy ready to burst. Broderick has his best role in ages - he adeptly switches from an omnipresent, good-natured teacher to a repulsive-looking creature with a bee sting aiming to destroy Tracy - an act Ferris Bueller's principal (the memorable performance by Jeffrey Jones in "Ferris Bueller's Day Off") would have been fond of. Jessica Campbell goes against the grain of zit-free, attractive teens with her braces and rebellious attitude towards the school - she would have been a fitting replacement for Rachel Leigh Cook in "She's All That." And the cameo by Colleen Camp as Tracy's mother is a shrewd casting choice - she is as ambitious as her daughter.

"Election" is a hysterical, wonderful movie guaranteed to keep you in stitches throughout. It is original, offbeat, edgy and facetious.

Broken coal in your stocking

JINGLE ALL THE WAY (1996)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

(Originally viewed in 1996)

Virtually unfunny, crude and masochistic are indicators of Arnold Schwarzenegger's "Jingle All the Way," a comic fantasy selling itself as a family comedy with "family values."

Arnold plays Howard Langston, the workaholic dad who is never around when his son or his pretty wife (Rita Wilson) need him. His son's Christmas wish is to get every kid's favorite action toy figure, Turbo Man. Problem is that every parent wants to get it including a hysterically less-than-amusing Sinbad, who plays a postal worker dad. Please, no gone postal jokes - Arnie is already there.

"Jingle All the Way" is an uncomfortable mix of "Toy Story," "Hook" and arguably Arnie's worst picture, "The Last Action Hero." Instead of the screenplay sticking with the idea of toying with today's obsessive consumerism, "Jingle All the Way" attempts to cajoles us with anything but. There are relentless fistfights, lots of broken glass, eager shoppers shoving and pushing each other, a group of Santa con men led by Jim Belushi, and even a desperate reindeer - this is prime comedy material? There is so much cartoon violence that it becomes nauseating, including a jarring ending with Arnie wearing the Turbo Man outfit to please his kid. Arnie tries to go the route of sentimentality but it is more than heavy-handed - it is darn right delivered with a bulldozer. Funny how Schwarzenegger used to make movies - give us a violent action movie early in the year, then cajole us with some kinder Arnie tale near Christmas as if to redeem his bloodbath trespasses. Early in 1996, he gave us a reasonably entertaining action picture, "Eraser." "Jingle All the Way" will make one yearn to watch "Eraser" again.

The whole cast of "Jingle All the Way" is wasted except for Phil Hartman as the irksome neighbor who rises above this tripe with unblemished wit and grace. If Hartman had played the absentee dad, then it might have developed into a minor Christmas comedy classic, without a doubt. As it stands, Arnie merely jingles all the way to the bank on this one. 

Communicating ideas based on hard facts

THE 50 YEAR ARGUMENT (2014)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

I was never an avid reader of the New York Times nor the New York Review of Books so I am approaching this documentary with a cold perspective. "The 50 Year Argument" is an incisive revelation, a rip-roaring guide through the years of the numerous articles, authors and writers who dominated the hot potato of controversy of a magazine that, upon its inception, was anything but what it remains today - an intellectual, eye-opening discourse on politics and key central figures in our history.

The documentary covers the gamut of writers like Norman Mailer, Gore Vidal, Isaiah Berlin, Noam Chomsky, W.H. Auden, James Baldwin and Stephen Jay Gould, among many others, who covered a wide range of topics and scrutinized (rather than lionized) many central political figures such as Nixon and, most alarmingly, Leni Riefenstahl, the documentarian of the most beautiful and controversial propaganda film of all time, "Triumph of the Will." Sometimes the focus was on current American issues of the day such as the Vietnam War, feminism and Norman Mailer's own virulent discourse on women (his 1971 Town Hall standoff with Susan Sontag has to be seen believed), and other times it was on the political progression of countries like North Vietnam, post-Vietnam War, and how it implemented power no different than its formerly Communist regime. Naturally, all of these various topics, covering alternative ground on matters that the national dialogue would not permit, is watched, read and analyzed by Robert Silvers, the New York Reviews of Book's founding editor who knew his writers better than they knew themselves.

Three writers stand out in "The 50 Year Argument" - Norman Mailer, Gore Vidal and Joan Didion. Mailer criticizes Vidal for placing his hot-temperedness on the same list as Charles Manson, and for Vidal's understandable concern about Mailer's "sexual violence" leanings in his novels not to mention his opposition to feminism. The two duked it out famously on the Dick Cavett Show.

Writer Joan Didion, who used to be a screenwriter, is featured in one segment as having written that something was askew in the assigning of blame to three black men for allegedly raping the Central Park Jogger. She correctly surmises that the three black men were innocent years before it was fact - assigning quick blame to black men for raping a white woman, something which she mentions casually has happened before. Thus, a historical perspective and a societal mob mentality, with varying degrees of polarization, enables scapegoating the wrong assailants.

"50 Year Argument" is exceptionally shaped and lucidly structured as a document of 50 years of ardent discussion and communication in the little magazine that could. The fact that it helped to shed light on matters of national and societal importance, something which mainstream newspapers couldn't or wouldn't articulate with regards to apparent cultural shifts in foreign and domestic stories, is exemplified by Silvers who sought complex truth, not simplicity. A barrage of clips of authors speaking of the magazine as one whose intellectual prowess reached the isles of Ireland, directors Martin Scorsese and David Tedeschi have concocted a massively detailed history in just over a hour and a half without missing a beat. More significantly, the film reminds us of a time where a communication of ideas based on hard facts could take precedence over arguing without them. Today's news could take a page or two from the New York Review of Books.

Revenge of the Mossad Squad

MUNICH (2005)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

(Originally reviewed in 2006)

Steven Spielberg's "Munich" is a troubling though affecting mess. It is definitely a good film but it lacks an overall center and contains affectless characters. It is also too long, occasionally disjointed and overdone. Despite that, "Munich" will keep you glued to the screen.

In the opening sequence set in 1972 during the Munich Olympics, we see a group of Palestinian terrorists invade an apartment next to the Munich Olympic stadium. They hold a bunch of athletes hostage, and some are executed. Tragedy ensues as all the athletes and virtually all the terrorists, members of the Black September group, are killed. We see this as a mixture of reenactment and actual news footage - some of it is truly spellbinding in how seamless it all is.

The Prime Minister of Israel, Golda Meir (Lynn Cohen), has decided to take action, to exact revenge - essentially, to compromise their values like every other generation. She asks that a group of ex-Mossad members be assembled and assassinate those responsible for the tragedy. Avner (Eric Bana) is selected as the leader, a former bodyguard for Meir, and heads four teammates. There is Robert (Mathieu Kassovitz), a toymaker who is an expert at disarming bombs rather than building them; the bespectacled Carl (Ciaran Hinds) the Cleaner; Steve (Daniel Craig), the one who is eager to shoot to kill; and Hans (Hanns Zischler), the expert forger. Ephraim (Geoffrey Rush) denies this group their existence for protective reasons and claims they work for no one - the team has to travel under false names and passports. Their link to the Palestinian terrorists is through a Frenchman named Louis (Mathiew Amalric) whom they pay handsomely for information. The question becomes simple: if this Frenchman doesn't work for any government, then can he be trusted? More pointedly, can the Frenchman reveal the identities of the Mossad squad if the price is right? Although insinuated, Spielberg is not interested in going down that path.

"Munich" is essentially a tale of the dehumanizing effects of exacting political revenge when the values of a country are questioned and compromised. Avner begins to suffer a debilitating blow to his conscience - is he doing the right thing by hunting down terrorists and killing them with bombs? Is he no different from the terrorists? Just when the job seems to be over, Avner grows more ambitious - he wants to venture into unsafe territory by going after the leader, presumably hiding in Beirut. At the same time, his team grows wary of this mission. Violence begets violence and there seems no end to it. Peace is barely in the horizon. What makes it worse is that not all the targets are terrorists - some are affiliated or were involved with the Munich hostage plan.

"Munich" asks lots of questions but it lacks the pacing and rhythm of a genuine political thriller such as Costa-Gravas's "Z.". It is highly charged at times, and sometimes it feels ponderous, as did Hitchcock's "Torn Curtain." Some scenes are truly suspenseful, especially the attempt to subvert a booby-trapped bomb inside an apartment where a little girl inadvertently answers the phone. A few bomb blasts keep us on alert, and there are some painfully violent executions. But I think Spielberg lost his way here a little. Once we realize how fruitless the whole righteous assassin scenario is, there is a little too much padding to push the film to an almost unwarranted two hour and forty minute running time. The padding comes in the form of far too many talky scenes, and suspiciously not enough interaction between the team members.

I did enjoy the scenes between Avner and Louis, however, and particularly Louis's father, Papa (Michael Londsdale, who can make any film lively) who explains that Avner is not part of his family despite being invited to a hearty lunch at his manor. There is something sinister and playful about Papa, a former member of the French Resistance - he and his son have access to information on anyone. So, once again, one is left wondering if they have any information on the Mossad. Remember that Father and Son work for no one, or do they? Do they work for the CIA? They can summon information for the right price - would they do the same for the Palestinians as they have for the Israelis? I just felt more friction and unease in those scenes than almost anything else in "Munich."

Perhaps, "Munich" is not economical enough, not brazen enough to be straightforward as a revenge film where morals and ethics among the supposed "heroes" of Israel slowly deteriorate. There just doesn't seem to be enough depth to Avner or his team, not enough exposure of their idealized view of Israel (Avner decides to abandon Israel and move to Brooklyn). There is a powerful scene where Avner discusses with a Palestinian terrorist what the concept of home is to a land that doesn't belong to the Palestinians - it is the only time that the "holy war" is ever mentioned.

As I said, "Munich" is occasionally effective and certainly morally ambiguous, the latter being a departure for the Spielman. I love the ending which ranks among Spielberg's best endings ever, including the subtle allusion to 9/11. But I don't think that "Munich" is meant for Spielberg - the material is too shaky, too contemplative and too morally complex for him to handle. It is overlong and overstuffed, trying too hard to be more intellectually moving as opposed to emotionally moving (similar problems plagued Spielberg's "Amistad"). I like the intellectual approach, the spirited speeches of patriotism or lack thereof, but its overall sensibility is closer to Costa-Gravas or Oliver Stone than Spielberg.

Crime pays for Abagnale

CATCH ME IF YOU CAN (2002)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

(Originally reviewed in 2002)

The previews for Steven Spielberg's caper comedy are off the mark one-hundred percent. I was led to believe that this was a comedy-drama with thrills every second. I thought it was about the excitement of trying to catch up with a con man on the loose with the FBI on his tail. Well, "Catch Me if You Can" has such moments but this is not a thriller or a comedy in the strictest sense of the words - this is a drama with comical innuendoes. In many ways, it is one of the nicest surprises of 2002.

Inspired by a true story, Leonardo DiCaprio plays Frank Abagnale, Jr., a 16-year-old teenager with two supposedly loving parents. Christopher Walken plays Frank Sr., who has trouble maintaining house payments and keeping his wife faithful. His French wife, Paula (Nathalie Baye), leaves after a divorce proceeding and Frank Jr. has to choose between the two. Instead, Frank Jr. runs away. This is after Frank had impersonated a substitute teacher for two weeks at the very school where he was attending as a student!

At the age of sixteen, Frank Jr. successfully impersonated an airline pilot, a doctor and a lawyer. During all that time, he forges checks of up to 4 million dollars, gets to travel all around the world, almost gets married to a naive nurse, stays in luxurious hotels, eats at the finest restaurants, and fools everyone along the way with constant variations on his name. But someone is not so easily fooled. Carl Hanratty (Tom Hanks) is the FBI agent on his trail who is convinced that the checks being forged are the work of a sixteen-year-old con man. His foolproof theories are met with initial reluctance by other agents, particularly when Carl mentions that the routing numbers on the checks are indicative of which state Frank is residing in.

Frank's reasoning for his criminal activities is that he wants to help his father and mother enjoy their lives, offering free flights and free Cadillacs. Frank Sr. can't be seen with a Cadillac considering he owes the IRS so much money. Curiously, the opening scenes of Frank Sr. trying to get a loan from a bank may insinuate that junior's cons are hereditary. Another scene shows Frank Sr. trying to get a black suit for his son at a dress shop. The shop hasn't opened for business yet but Frank manages to persuade the owner to open by holding a gold necklace (he claims she lost it in the parking lot). This trick is later repeated by junior in other cons.

"Catch Me If You Can" does not easily fit into a thriller mode or a comedy mode or a dramatic mode. Spielberg seems to be pulling strings everywhere, merely toying with us and conning us every step of the way. In a way, one can enjoy Frank's cons and ability to fool people (my favorite moment is when he convinces Hanratty that he is a Secret Service man) but the film is not merely about conning. On the other hand, one can see this as a comedy-drama but the comedy is lightweight (the film is not really meant to be funny) and the drama is directed not with a sledgehammer of sentimentality (as is sometimes the case with the Spielman) but with minimalist, implicit style. No performance aims to go over the top in this movie. DiCaprio, who gives the finest, most relaxed performance of his career, exudes the right touch of bravado, cleverness and wit. He can seem sad, romantic, desperate, suave (when he dresses like James Bond), enthusiastic and debonair - whenever he is in a tight spot of trouble, he is a quick thinker and eludes any suspicions of whom he pretends to be. One priceless sequence has Abagnale at his fiancee's parents' house. The girl's father (Martin Sheen) asks Abagnale what he does for a living. Mistakenly, he responds he is a doctor and a lawyer and that he graduated from the father's same alma mater. When Sheen asks about a professor's dog, Abagnale responds: "The dog died."

Christopher Walken walks tall in this movie, and gives a towering performance of controlled pain and regret as Abagnale's father. One can't help but feel sympathy towards him when he says to his son: "They will never catch you" or "Frank, I had to take the train to work. I can't be seen with a Cadillac." His early scenes reminded me of Harvey Keitel's con artist in the underrated "Imaginary Crimes," but then we realize this character has made mistakes in his choices. Perhaps he was not such a con man as he first appeared to be (whether he is a con man or not is unclear). This is Walken at his most piercing, giving his most heartrending performance since "The Dead Zone." I want to see an Oscar nomination for this man.

For once, Tom Hanks plays a serious, cartoonish goofball, a "Dragnet"-like FBI man who is as straight as an arrow. He is unable to crack much of a smile, and when he pooh-poohs fellow agents with a crude knock-knock joke, I could not help but laugh. His reaction shots are excellent and perfectly-timed, especially when he narrowly loses Abagnale at every opportunity. Hanks's best rection shot is when he almost traps Abagnale at an airport, using Frank's fiancee as bait. A young man is seated in a car with a pilot's hat and when he turns out to be a limo driver holding Hanratty's name, I was laughing hysterically. Hanks, the righteous Everyman of Hollywood, propagates a comic flair that is as breathless as any of his dramatic roles. I wish he was this freewheeling in the "Dragnet" remake from long ago.

As "Catch Me If You Can" ended, I could not help but feel that Spielberg has matured greatly from his Hollywood wunderkind days. Ever since "Schindler's List," he has given us "Amistad," "Saving Private Ryan," "A.I.," and the sci-fi thriller "Minority Report." He is treading on darker waters than usual, and sometimes aims for some moral ambiguity (though I think he got squeamish about such ambiguity in "Minority Report.") With this film (more lighthearted than dark), he shows us a young man as a sort of innocent, 60's antihero who did no harm to anybody except steal money. And when he goes to jail and gets to work for the FBI in the check fraud department, one can't help but feel that Spielberg is saying something about crime he has never dared to say before: it pays.

Morality of Pre-Crime just skims the surface

MINORITY REPORT (2002)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

(Originally reviewed in 2002)

Something has happened to Steven Spielberg - he has been haunted by the ghost of Stanley Kubrick. The warm, sensitive, sentimental Spielberg is trying to tap into the darker recesses of fables and science-fiction stories. After last year's fabulous "A.I.," itself based on ideas by Kubrick, Spielberg was aiming for something more ominous and foreboding, and he basically succeeds with his new science-fiction dazzler, "Minority Report."

Cropped-haired Tom Cruise stars as John Anderton, the chief of Pre-Crime, an organization in Washington, D.C. that prevents actual crimes from happening. They manage this feat with the use of Pre-Cogs, precognitive humans who lie in a water tank and are tapped into some video computer that shows their premonitions of upcoming crimes, mostly homicides. When the main Pre-Cog, Agatha (Samantha Morton), the strongest of the three Pre-Cogs, sees a vision, a red ball is unleashed through some tubes with the name of the murderer. John's job is to use a high-tech system using motion control to find where the murderer will commit the crime. Along with his compatriots, they travel to the destination on a ship and prevent the murder within seconds. Pre-crime is a solid, workable system that has prevented crimes from taking place in almost six years (only, of course, in D.C.). The bureau director of this organization, Burgess (Max Von Sydow), is facing a crucial election year where Pre-Crime has been under total scrutiny. Enter the cynical bureaucrat from the Justice Department, Danny Witwer (Colin Farrell), who questions the validity of Pre-Crime, and is sure that flaws must exist in this system. Before you know it, John Anderton is in hot water when he discovers that he will commit murder himself.

Based on a short story by Philip K. Dick, "Minority Report" has a lot of story to work with, and it helps that Cruise is cast as the hot-blooded, doped-up John, facing his own crisis over the loss of his son. Cruise makes John the hero to root for in a world that is grayish and washed-out, thanks to the dazzling cinematography by Spielberg regular Janusz Kaminski. This world is no picnic and technology has taken precedence over personal privacy. The year is 2054 and we see souped-up Lexus cars that can travel on ramps alongside the surfaces of buildings, plants that move and can poison intruders in private homes, eye scanners at every single street corner, advertisements that salute you particularly at Gap stores, newspapers that have rapidly changing images, spider-like robots that search for murder suspects, and so on. It is a world as eerily prescient as the world shown in "Blade Runner," and now that the FBI can scan library records of just about anyone, our universe is becoming just as Orwellian as ever.

The aspects of Pre-Crime are fascinating, particularly the nature of it and if any flaws exist in a supposedly foolproof system. That is the function of the Danny Witwer character, questioning if any crime would have ever existed and if the Pre-Cogs could ever have been wrong in their assertions and visions. What if a homicide that took place was justifiable in some way? What about self-defense? What about a crime that leads to some positive consequences? The morality at stake of preventing crimes that may happen in the future is frightening, if you consider the consequences. And it comes out of John's character who may commit a murder, but to whom and why? Spielberg, however, is not as willing to plunge deeply with such questions. Despite working with Kubrick's ideas in "A.I." and fusing a questionable future for a child robot, Spielberg brings us close to the immorality of Pre-Crime but refuses to stick with the ideas. It is like watching a magician who speaks of magic tricks yet never actually performs them. This is no surprise coming from the eternal optimist who believes that hope will always prevail. Kubrick or, for that matter, Ridley Scott might have stuck with the phase that is set in motion because they see that darkness sometimes prevails, and the consequences of real-life crimes sometimes prevents others from seeing the wrongdoing ahead of time. The future is never that bright in movies, so the last thing I expect is a happy ending.

"Minority Report" is a stunning achievement in special-effects and production design, and Cruise fires his acting missiles with acute timing and perfect pitch. I like some of the dark humor in the film and the Kubrickian homages, and the film does have a spellbinding look to it - it is like a darkly humorous, sci-fi noir comedy. But it also goes on too long just when it appears it might have ended (a common Spielberg fallacy) and the last section in the film is overwrought and overdone. Still, it is quite a marvel of a film and the ironic look into the future of privacy invasion is haunting.

Wagging the Dog

A Look Back at PRIMARY COLORS (1998) and THE WAR ROOM (1993)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

(Both originally reviewed in 1998)

 After hearing the media's relentless obsession over President Clinton's sexual life and personal affairs (not to mention "Wag the Dog"), we get Mike Nichols' irreverent, deeply hysterical "Primary Colors" that centers on a presidential candidate trying to evade questions about purported sexual dalliances. This couldn't be a more timely subject and make no mistake, this film is about President Clinton. "Primary Colors" also reminded me of the intoxicating documentary "The War Room" from 1993, which focused on Governor Clinton's run for the presidency in 1992. The same basic premise exists for both films: the underdog aiming for the presidency amid a flurry of rumors and personal bashing.

"Primary Colors" stars John Travolta as the white-haired, doughnut-eating, Arkansas-bred Jack Stanton who vies for the presidential office. As played by Travolta, Jack is quite a charmer and full of charisma, more so than Clinton. He is even married to a Hillary Clinton-type, played to the hilt by Emma Thompson using an authentic American accent. Stanton gets help from his campaign staff headed by a James Carville-redneck-type (Billy Bob Thornton), and a promising, idealistic campaign staffer Henry Burton (Adrian Lester). Jack has fleeting sexual flings with co-workers while the staff prepares a campaign aimed at proving to the people that Stanton believes in putting the people's needs first.

Unfortunately, Stanton's sexual history is put at the forefront of the political forum and is exploited by fellow candidates, including Gov. Fred Picker (Larry Hagman in top form) who enters the race late - Picker may intentionally remind you of Ross Perot. In order to defend himself against verbal attacks and seemingly fabricated tape recordings, Jack enlists the help of an old friend, Libby Holden (an intense Kathy Bates) a.k.a. "Dustbuster," a lesbian, all-purpose troubleshooter who has no qualms about placing a gun on a man's privates.

"Primary Colors" is based on the book of the same name by Anonymous (recently known as political journalist Joe Klein), and it is rife with richly drawn characters, an acidly sharp script by Elaine May, and astute direction by Mike Nichols. It is a film that begins as comedy and slowly evolves into a dark satire - a reproach of the process by which someone like Jack Stanton gets elected despite the personal allegations.

"The War Room" is a vibrant, witty excursion into the presidential campaign of 1992 when then Gov. Clinton was running for office. The film follows the campaign process via chief political strategist James Carville and adviser George Stephanopoulos, and is all set in the "war room," formerly a Little Rock newspaper office.

Carville and Stephanopoulos are two of the most charismatic characters I've seen in a documentary (or film) in a long time, and they couldn't be more opposite in their physical demeanor. Carville, in his Southern drawl, is always actively making decisions whether it's about prepared speeches, the look of a campaign poster, or arguing endlessly on the phone about the other candidates or Clinton's past - "Every time somebody even farts the word 'draft,' it makes the paper." Stephanopoulos is the more timid, quiet, reserved individual - he reminds me a lot of Michael J. Fox's character Alex P. Keaton in "Family Ties"; Fox subsequently played a variation of George in "The American President." George is more subtle and calm than Carville, and operates in an equally articulate manner. At one crucial point, George receives a call from a black woman claiming to have given birth to Clinton's child. George convinces the caller that she will be ridiculed in the press if she comes out with such a sensational story. This scene is reminiscent of the scene in "Primary Colors" where Stanton's advisers visit a teenage black girl claiming to have the candidate's baby.

As directed by D.A. Pennebaker and Chris Hegedus, "The War Room" is very keen on details and conversations between staff and personnel regarding the plight of the Clinton campaign. The atmosphere grows more and more tense as we get to the inevitable climax where Clinton wins the nomination in the election victory. On the eve of the election, Carville gives an emotional speech regarding the strong effort he and his aides have made in helping Clinton, and the positive effect politics has had on his life. George is even questioned by the secretary as to how he feels: "Exhausted."

"The War Room" could have used more footage of Clinton and perhaps the filmmakers could have caught him in truly private, unguarded moments as to how he really felt about the adultery charges. Still, "The War Room" and "Primary Colors" greatly succeed in capturing the political atmosphere and the exhausting process in which a candidate is elected. The irony is that Clinton and Stanton's adulterous affairs not only sidestepped their political agendas, but made them stronger candidates for the presidency. In other words, give the people what they want.

Bright Angel in Tennessee Williams territory

JUNEBUG (2005)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

"Junebug" is one of those rarities - a cinematic treat that works in many ways, and yet undercuts most of what it could have delivered. It has promise, skill, choice lines of dialogue, a fine cast, but they do not coalesce to deliver the socko punch of a family drama.

Don't get me to say that I am one of those who expect a family drama to be unambiguous and clear-cut - not at all. One of my favorite dramas dealing with the breakdown of a family, minus clichés and melodrama, was "Shoot the Moon." One of the worst was a little-known melodrama about parental abuse called "Firstborn" (oddly, those two films starred Peter Weller). I also admire an understated style, as in "Ordinary People," and the hyperbolic stylings of "American Beauty." "Junebug" is in the understated category, and it details the breakdown of a family minus clichés and melodrama.

A pair of young Chicago newlyweds, Madeleine (Embeth Davidtz) and George (Alessandro Nivola), are headed to North Carolina. One aspect of their trip is for Madeleine to promote a bold and original painter for a showing at an art gallery. While they are in town, Madeleine meets George's family who give new definition to the word repression. George's mother, Peg (Celia Weston), is anything but friendly. George's brother, Johnny (Benjamin McKenzie), barely makes much eye contact, has trouble operating a VCR and has a giddy pregnant wife, Ashley (Oscar-nominated Amy Adams). There is also George's virtually silent father, Eugene (Scott Wilson), whose primary goal is to find his Philips screwdriver. Not exactly a happy household that spreads good cheer.

Peg and Eugene are the version of real-life parents that we probably have encountered at one time or another. They are humorless, devoid of emotion, and barely up for small talk. Peg seems happiest at a baby shower whereas Eugene merely walks through life, perhaps having given up on any social interaction.

Johnny is happiest at work and absolutely miserable at home (his mother is always pestering him). There is some tension, perhaps some unspoken feud, with his brother George, though we never learn what that is. Johnny loves his wife Ashley, but he may not be ready for a baby or a life with her. As Ashley suggests in the movie's best line, "God loves you the way you are, but he loves you too much to let you stay that way."

It is only Ashley that seems like the bright angel who can set this family in a more hopeful direction. She is the inquisitive type, excited to see her brother-in-law and his new bride. Ashley asks Madeleine questions a mile a minute, and seems to brighten Madeleine's day.

"Junebug" is a movie about character interaction, setting each character to interact with the other, often isolating two at a time in individual rooms (it is surprising that the film was not adapted from a play). Madeleine tries to reason and understand Johnny's pain. Peg and Eugene, in again individual moments, do not respond to Madeleine's humor. Ashley tries to have some fun activities with Madeleine, including having their nails painted and going to a mall - their relationship is the only one that actually does work. Johnny is consistently berated by his mother, and takes out his aggression on Ashley. Peg obviously prefers her other son, George, though he doesn't figure as much in the action.

"Junebug" is the feature debut of director Phil Morrison (from a script by Angus MacLachlan), and it is a stunning achievement. Morrison has an eye for character detail and meticulous attention paid to tone (it may be too soon to say it but he's parading on Tennessee Williams' territory and that is a good thing). The screenplay, acting and the largely rigid camerawork exemplify a rare grace unseen in most current films. If I have a couple of gripes, it is the portrayal of the far too repressed character of Eugene, George's father. The insight is in the wearying wrinkles and his lack of communication but this guy would've been more at home in Edith Wharton land than in the 2000 decade of South Carolina. That is not to say that such characters do not exist in modern times, they do, but such pure scrutiny to reality is not always the best route when you present such a character with no true inner life.

The same can be said for George and Madeleine who exist more as characters defined by their work than anything else. Madeleine may be soul searching, thanks to a subtle reawakening by Ashley, so that is a forgivable slight on the screenwriter's part (and her final scenes as played by Davitz are a revelation). Unfortunately, George's character is practically left in the sidelines. Though we understand George is a clear favorite son of his mother's, any other insights are to be gained by inference, not by ambiguity.

"Junebug" is a fascinating, troubling, exasperating, exhausting, quietly affecting drama but it lacks something pungent, something more forceful. The movie is all about ambiguities and not much depth, and such ambiguity serves some characters better than others. In the case of Ashley, she is such an incandescent beauty that it is surprising that none of the other characters can crack a smile in her presence.

Too cruel to be kind

INTOLERABLE CRUELTY (2003)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

(Originally reviewed in 2003)

For every "Fargo" and "Blood Simple," there is a "Raising Arizona" or a "O' Brother, Where Art Thou?" In other words, the Coen Brothers can be at their best in their film noir mode, as proven with their last great film, "The Man Who Wasn't There," or they can create comic inanities the size of the moon, especially "Raising Arizona." "Intolerable Cruelty" is the Coens in their inanely comic mode with bizarre sequences and histrionic acting. It worked in "Big Lebowski" but here, it results in a humdrum disaster.

As is the case with most movies nowadays, "Intolerable Cruelty" starts off well. In the opening sequence, Geoffrey Rush plays a ponytailed TV producer who finds his wife cheating on him with the pool cleaner (a scene not unlike "Mulholland Dr." where a film director finds his wife in bed with the pool cleaner). Rush goes berserk, gets stabbed by his wife, starts shooting at her, and then calmly takes pictures of his butt so he can sue her in court. Then we are treated to a delightful opening credits sequence with Cupids firing arrows while we hear Elvis Presley's "Suspicious Minds." I thought we were in for a real treat. I was wrong.

George Clooney plays a cold-hearted divorce lawyer named Miles Massey, who is as concerned with the whiteness of his teeth as he is with the law or his fool proof prenup (one used in law school apparently). When he is in court, he is king of the hill. He oversees so many divorce cases that he is likely to lose his marbles (of course, the Coens show him off his rocker from the start). Then he becomes seriously smitten one day with Marylin Rexroth (Catherine Zeta-Jones), a serial divorcee seeking separation from her philandering husband (Edward Herrmann, looking more foolish than ever). Of course, Massey falls for Marylin's charms quickly, after winning the case against her, to the point that he would marry her and forgo his ironclad Massey prenup. But then Marylin marries some Texas oil tycoon (Billy Bob Thornton), whose manner of speech is as incomprehensible as the rest of the movie.

"Intolerable Cruelty" could be the Coens' own homage to the screwball comedy genre, a genre worth commemorating with the likes of classics such as "Bringing Up Baby" and "His Girl Friday." Unfortunately the film is hardly funny and seems to coast on the swagger and over-exaggerated expressions of its stars, including George Clooney. I knew something was off when Clooney spends a lot of time fretting over his teeth, a trait not likely to be found in any of the leading men of the past. At least Zeta-Jones plays down the exaggeration, much to her benefit. She is a becalming presence, as sensuous, iridescent and glamorous as an actress can get. Her performance is the sole saving grace of this endless, deadly bore.

The rest of the cast acts funny, mugging excessively to the camera. Sometimes they speak in hushed tones, sometimes they scream out their lines. Some of the dialogue is clever, but you'd be hard-pressed to understand every bit of it. There is a cantankerous aging lawyer, strapped to a chair with tubes to keep him alive, who offers legal advice to Clooney - a Coens invention to be sure but I missed every word he said. Then there is an asthmatic hit man! Oh, yes, and then there is the private investigator (Cedric the Entertainer) who takes pictures of philandering husbands and wives caught with their pants down. All these characters are stripped of emotion, humanity or wit - they are like automatons operated by remote control.

"Intolerable Cruelty" looks like it was assembled out of outtakes and, to quote Andrew Dice Clay (!), it is all about as funny as a bottle of milk. It is a grueling, embarrassingly frustrating experience - all the more so for the extraordinary talent involved. One would have to be cruel to recommend it.

It is good s**t

BURN AFTER READING (2008)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

(Originally reviewed in 2008)

How do I review the Coens latest wacky comedy? Tough to say except that it is blazingly original and wacky and schizophrenic and, occasionally, hilarious and spectacularly uneven. You know, the usual brand of Coens humor.

John Malkovich is CIA analyst Osborne Cox, who is beyond upset that his services are no longer required due to rampant drunkenness. He is unhappily married to Katie (Tilda Swinton), who is having an affair with one of the strangest Coens characters ever, Harry Pfarrer (George Clooney), a married and paranoid federal marshal who has a predilection for dildos! Harry navigates an online dating service where he meets Linda Litzke (Frances McDormand), who works at a gym called Hardbodies. It is there where the foolhardy and foolish Chad Feldheimer (the hilarious and truly zonked-out Brad Pitt) comes upon a computer disk that supposedly contains CIA secrets ("It is s**t and more s**t.") Somehow all this leads to the irascible Osbourne Cox, who is trying to write his memoirs, Cox's CIA boss (J.K. Simmons) who hopes to make sense of all this, Pfarrer's paranoia thinking he is being followed, and some business revolving around Litzke's planned plastic surgery and the alleged CIA disk being sold to the Russian Embassy.

On the Coens scale of pure frenetic idiocy, this is not as much fun as "The Big Lebowski" but it is far superior to "Hudsucker Proxy" and "Intolerable Cruelty." All the actors in "Burn After Reading" pretty much overact and do it as well as you can imagine. Brad Pitt comes off best as the most idiotic and memorable character in the Coens universe, salivating every syllable of the Coens language to the nth degree. Clooney is rather creepy in this film, playing a very mysterious character to say the least. McDormand is always fun to watch as is the underrated Richard Jenkins, the manager of Hardbodies who doesn't like espionage. Malkovich gives the F-bombs a special kind of lunacy with his temperamental diction - you swear he is saying the words as if they were written by Shakespeare. Brilliant, I say.

"Burn After Reading" is manic, riotously funny and rather empty. It is full of calories but it pretty much dissolves after its abrupt ending and you wonder, what the heck was that all about? Why am I still hungry after it is over? I love jokey, harebrained movies like this, which are hardly a dime a dozen, but I am not sure what to take away from it. Just like its equally jocose cousin, "The Big Lebowski," that movie also ended before it should have. I guess the best way I can describe it is like this: "Big Lebowski" was about a stained rug that managed to involve bowling alleys, cremation, violent Vietnam Vets, mixed identities and Yma Sumac. "Burn After Reading" is about a CIA computer disk that involves gyms, plastic surgery, dildo contraptions, unfortunate encounters, paranoia and some other s**t. It is good s**t but don't ask me to analyze this s**t.

Brilliant rock and roll film; sour, cold portrait

THE DOORS (1991)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

"The Doors" is a hallucinatory acid-trip of a rock and roll movie...and a bummer. Ray Manzarek (Kyle MacLachlan) even tells rock superstar Jim Morrison that his last acid trip was a bummer. Exactly. There is no joy, no celebration of rock and roll as an art form in "The Doors," only as a creative means of expression fueled by drugs and nothing more. That is not to say that the movie is worthless, it is often quite brilliant and vivid and furiously alive, but there is precious little to Oliver Stone's vision other than a drunkard who did his best to appear on stage and make himself into a loud raving lunatic.

Jim Morrison is first seen in a truly hypnotic flashback as a kid who observes a car wreck involving a Native American family. The image haunts and fascinates him, and the rest of Stone's Rock and Roll Odyssey shows a Jim Morrison obsessed with death. Val Kilmer plays the young rock and roller who is at peace as a poet living on a rooftop, searching for something transcendental and falling in love with the tragic flower that was Pamela Courson (Meg Ryan, in a role that far out shadows her overbearingly cutesy rom-coms of the late 90's). When Morrison can't bear the criticism of his NYU short films, he starts writing lyrics and lets his pal, Ray Manzarek (MacLachlan), hear them as he sings. Before you know it, a band forms as they record songs such as the iconic "Light My Fire" (when Morrison takes his first crack at it, written by Robby Krieger, it will give you goosebumps).

The band calls themselves The Doors but Jim often sings at clubs with his back to the audience. Pretty soon, he faces them and begins to improvise ("This is the End" has some impromptu lyrics with regards to, well, incest that shocks the audience). The band members, including Ray on keyboards, John Densmore on drums (a fantastic Kevin Dillon) and Krieger on guitar (the underrated Frank Whaley), aren't receptive to Morrison's drug-fueled rages on stage and off. When Morrison isn't allegedly exposing himself on stage, he urinates inside a bar. When he isn't tripping on acid in the middle of the desert, he is destroying a Thanksgiving meal prepared by Pam, hoping she will stab him to death. He is an unwieldy, defiant soul who needs death to be lurking (Death makes a frequent cameo appearance in the guise of a bald man) to obtain potency when having sex. When Jim isn't screwing every groupie on tour, he finds some measure of solace with reporter Patricia Kennealy (Kathleen Quinlan), a Celtic Pagan whom he marries though he doesn't take the ceremony seriously.

Sometimes Morrison changes the lyrics when performing on the Ed Sullivan stage, sometimes he makes pronouncements that come out of left field ("Let's make a road movie in black and white. We will call it Zero"). More often than not, the man is not really attuned to his surroundings - he is outside of them.

For a visual journey back to the late 1960's and early 1970's, "The Doors" is a hyperkinetic, expressively high-pitched and poetic assault on the senses that captures the essence of the times - it is like stepping into a time machine and going back to an era I never got to witness. Never has the desert looked so beautifully mesmerizing in any film (excepting Antonioni's "The Passenger") and never has concert footage looked and felt so remarkable, as if you were there with the audience at a live show (the show stopping "Break on Through to the Other Side" number is an unbelievable sequence that has to be seen to be believed). No one can argue that Oliver Stone is an immeasurably gifted director with a keen visual eye (thanks largely to gifted cinematographer Robert Richardson). Some scenes inspire awe, such as Morrison in one of several trance states at a party where he meets Andy Warhol (Crispin Glover, relishing his cameo while licking his lips) while Lou Reed's "Heroin" plays in the background; Mimi Rogers as a sexy photographer who captures a glorious, iconic image of Jim as he removes his shirt during a photo shoot; the stunning overhead shot of Venice Beach as Ray tries to meditate as the McCoys' "Hang on Sloopy" plays; an accurate depiction of a college audience's reaction to Jim's "pretentious" student film (the student film is not an actual recreation of any of Jim's work); the desert and the caves where Jim sees the ghosts of Native Americans from that horrifying car crash of his youth, and much more. Stone has captured the look and feel of the era but not the man, and that is largely his fault. Anyone who has read a book on Morrison or seen the 2009 documentary "When You're Strange" knows that Jim may have been a hardcore alcoholic and an unrepentant drug addict, but that is only half the story.

I've seen "The Doors" in theaters twice and on video several times, and every time I watch it, I am riveted...and depressed. Those reactions may be the intentions of Oliver Stone, a director who makes you feel numb by the end of most of his films, but I wanted more out of Jim Morrison. There are half-second flashes of Morrison's humor, especially when after a recording of one his songs, his groupies are told to leave the studio and he says, "Okay, see you all later." I also love the moment when Jim tells a crowd outside of the Whisky a Go Go, "Come on! How many of you people know you are really alive?" It is Jim sending his message of opening the doors of perception. The tragedy, perhaps a false one, is that Jim stayed in a druggy trance until the end of his life. The real Patricia Kennealy had once stated what Jim wrote to her in a letter: "My side is cold without you." That is the Jim Morrison we only see flashes of - Stone's fervor feels cold without it.   

Neither here, nor there

THE MAN WHO WASN'T THERE (2001)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

(Originally reviewed in 2001)

I can't figure the Coens out. First, they craft a beautifully filmed atrocity like "O'Brother, Where Art Thou?" and the next year, they craft one of the best films of their career, "The Man Who Wasn't There." Go figure. The Coens are nuts but I like the fact that you never know what they will come up with next. "The Man Who Wasn't There" is a return to their film noir roots, originated by "Blood Simple" and later followed by "Fargo." What is astounding is not so much the noir elements of their latest story but that the look and feel of the film is an homage to the film noir of the 1930's and 40's with rich blacks and silhouettes clouding every scene. And those who consider black-and-white photography to be pretentious have no concept of what film noir is.

Billy Bob Thornton stars as a laconic barber named Ed Crane who works in the small town of Santa Rosa, California, circa 1949. He is married to the usually drunk Doris Crane (Frances McDormand) who is cheating on him. It turns out she is having an affair with her boss, Big Dave (James Gandolfini), who is ready to improve his store and make adjustments. Ed Crane indirectly sends a note demanding 10,000 dollars from Big Dave in exchange for keeping quiet about the affair. Only Ed has something else in mind with the money. A fastidious dry-cleaning salesman (Coen regular Jon Polito) needs a partner for his business and Ed happily obliges. Of course, it is unwise and unfair to say much more because the film is not as dependent on surprise as it is on characters who act on instinct, thus surprising us at every turn with their motives. 

The Coens have expressed their admiration for the late "dirty" novelist James Cain, who penned the deliciously naughty film noir classic "Double Indemnity." But the Coens are not as interested on twists and turns as they are on Ed's dilemma that shifts from a murder where someone else is wrongly held responsible to a life where he questions his own existence, adding an analogy about how hair grows back even when someone is dead. There are hints of other aspects to Ed's life, namely that he is living a pointless existence. He is a damn good barber and sees himself as more than just a barber, but what else is he? In one tense scene, Big Dave even asks Ed, "what kind of man are you?" Ed barely smiles much, has nothing to say and pays particular attention to other people's thoughts. He is not happily married but is devoted to his wife enough to shave her legs while she takes a bath, knowing full well she is adulterous. Ed also wants to help a seemingly talented pianist, Birdy (Scarlett Johansson), despite the fact that she has no interest in a musical career. It is obvious that Ed is unhappy in his station in life and wants to move on to other things, like the dry-cleaning business. 

In the world of film noir, the fatalistic antihero is usually virile and potent in his sexual drive, drawn to circumstances beyond his moral control. Ed is not your usual protagonist - he is not quite virile, definitely asexual and possibly impotent but he also means well. He is not quite driven to circumstances beyond his control because he basically instigates them - he just has no control of the consequences. Ed is also an observer of other people and their actions and Billy Bob Thornton is superb at evoking simple gestures through looks and glances - he is such a powerfully magnetic actor that his eyes say it all. Moments like the dinner sequence come to mind where he sees his wife laughing up a storm with Big Dave while he sits quietly nodding and barely smiling. I also enjoyed the scene where he observes Birdy talking to a male friend of hers and you see a glimmer of jealousy in his eyes. But the sexuality of Ed is also put to the test, such as the scene where the perspiring salesman makes a pass at him, or where Birdy wants to please Ed for his interest in her future in ways he had not intended. Ed wants to help people if for no better reason than to improve his life or bring some joy to an empty, pointless one.

"The Man Who Wasn't There" is consistently intriguing and gratifying from start to finish. The Coens and cinematographer Roger Deakins have encapsulated everything about noir they have learned, to instill a sense of dread and impending doom. Just like David Lynch's "Muholland Drive," there is also a fascination with the era of the late 40's and early 1950's when Roswell and communism were majorly hot topics and when couples had to learn how to live inside a house together after the war. Some of this is beautifully realized in the scenes between Ed and Doris who seem uneasy in their comfortable home - they just learn to get used to each other.

"The Man Who Wasn't There" is film noir with a postmodernist edge only in its depiction of a man who is not quite here or there - he is a nobody with no ego. Like "The Deep End," it represents a new route for the film noir leading men and women characters where they remain unaffected by the twists and turns their lives take, unaware of what is coming ahead. Pure fatalism in an existential climate where men and women do not participate in their fates as much as observe them.