God's Hand did the killing

FRAILTY (2001)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

(Originally reviewed in April, 2002)

Serial killers have come and gone in the last few years, in everything from "The Silence of the Lambs" to "American Psycho." "Frailty" has a different spin - it places an ambiguous supernatural twist that may sound absurd but proves as chilling as any film on the same subject matter.

Bill Paxton is the hard-working, Texan father of two young boys, Fenton and Adam Meiks (both played by Matthew O' Leary and Jeremy Sumpter), living in a house near a rose garden. All is well with them until one night, the elder Meiks is confronted by an angel. The angel tells Meiks that demons are running around on Earth, preparing to fight for the end of the world which is coming their way sooner than expected. Meiks has been assigned to destroy these demons who are all in human form. He is told to acquire magical weapons to destroy these demons, namely a good old-fashioned ax. The boys are perplexed to hear about their dad's visions, and Fenton gets nervous when his father gets a list of names of demons they must destroy. The demons are normal neighbors, people who do not seem to be demonic in any shape or form. Nevertheless, a mission must be adhered to. But is the elder Meiks only think he is seeing these visions, or are they a call from God to do His bidding? Fenton refuses to believe it, calling his father a murderer, and trying to convince a police sheriff at one point to check out his dad's grisly business.

"Frailty" is told in flashback by an elder Fenton (played by a quietly morose Matthew McConaughey), who explains to an FBI agent (Powers Boothe) that he knows who the perpetrator is of the latest string of murders in town, known as the "God's Hand" killer. The surprised agent is led by Fenton to the rose garden, and gradually we discover the truth of what happened in the Meiks family unit and how they dispatched their intended victims. We also see how the elder Meiks felt a sensation by touching the victims that told him how evil these supposed demons were (an indirect nod to "The Dead Zone," as well as a plot device in "Unbreakable.")

"Frailty" is eerie, scary stuff, and remarkably disturbing when showing the killings which occur offscreen. There is no sense of irony in the film (except for the final twist at the end) . As directed by first-time director Bill Paxton, he refuses to pander to audiences by turning it into a joke or playing it for laughs and cheap scares. The movies takes itself seriously and treats the subject matter with an air of ambiguity that is refreshing in a day and age in which everything is spelled out for the viewer.

Bill Paxton brings sympathy and humanity to Meiks, making it difficult to brand him as a killer who could be going insane. We almost start to believe that what he sees in these victims (and which Fenton is blind to) could be real. It is a frightening performance that ranks with his best work in "A Simple Plan" and "One False Move" - all portraits of men who push themselves to the edge without acknowledging their weaknesses. Matthew O'Leary and Jeremy Sumpter are also powerful as the kids, one who senses that his dad is insane, and the other who does his father's bidding without question. Seeing their reactions to their father's actions is stunning to watch, and makes the ambiguity even more disturbing in retrospect.

I only wish the film tried to tell its story without the McConaughey as the older Fenton - it only serves to distract the audience too much, particularly the FBI agent character. The flashbacks do not need such baggage - the story itself is compelling enough. The final twist at the end is a shock, but it also falls under the postmodernist movement of "The Usual Suspects" where a big secret can be enough to render the whole film as a lie or as a series of lies masking the truth. It does neither but also feels somewhat cheap, reducing the horror that preceded it.

Flaws aside, "Frailty" is chilling to the bone. It has elements of Stephen King crossed with the ominous tone of "Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer" (though not as realistic). Never overplaying anything for effect, Bill Paxton makes a startling debut as director, and continues to show how talented an actor he is.

I'm My Own GrandPaw

PREDESTINATION (2014)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

If any of you have read Robert Heinlein's short story "-All You Zombies-" then you might know what to expect from "Predestination." If you love time-travel stories and wild paradoxes that will induce head-scratcher conversations, then "Predestination" (naturally based on "All You Zombies") will do. It is a nervously frantic doozy and a half - a time-tripping, paradoxical, emotional tour-de-force that must be seen to be believed. It is an exceptional treat for science-fiction lovers - a reminder that sci-fi and fantasy, dependent on imaginative literary sources, can still produce great movies.

Ethan Hawke is a Temporal Agent, a time-travelling agent from a secret police agency (the Temporal Bureau) sent to prevent specific crimes from the past without intruding or communicating with others, only with the event itself and the criminal. One truly horrific and traumatizing event has to do with a New York City Terrorist, known as the Fizzle Bomber, who leveled a few city blocks and killed 10,000 people. John's mission is to prevent this disaster from happening. It is also his mission to be a bartender in 1970 and expect a customer to walk in, a somewhat androgynous customer named John (Sarah Snook) who has quite a story to tell. John's story deals with growing up as an exceptionally bright orphan, bareknuckle fighting kids in school, proving to excel in all studies and eventually recruited to the Space Corps before being let go due to, nope, can't reveal it. In fact, I can't say much more because ruining a movie's triumphant designs on time-travel logic is the last thing on my mind.

Directed with whiplash intensity by the Spierig Brothers ("Daybreakers"), "Predestination" flows with great velocity like a coiled snake that unravels slowly, surprising us at every turn with unexpected results. I can state without spoiling anything that Hawke's Temporal Agent carries a briefcase that is actually a time machine itself, and it allows the agent to vanish into thin air and arrive at the destination, albeit slightly discombobulated for a few minutes. There are always safe houses with money and clothes from the period (excellent touch). Beyond that, if you have read Heinlein's short story or not, there are some differences. For one, Heinlein's story doesn't have a Fizzle Bomber and thus it lacks the hero's actual dilemma that takes identity and paradoxes further than intended. This is one of those times where I can say that the movie is an improvement on the already superb and intimate literary source.

Sarah Snook is a revelation as John, communicating empathy, sympathy and a real emotional core. His identity is put to the test with a final twist that can't easily be anticipated, asking the age-old question we all ask sometimes - not so much why I am here but who am I. Ethan Hawke has matured into a hard-edged, charismatic leading man - he is no longer the slacker type of movies like "Reality Bites" or the nervous student of "Dead Poets Society." With this film, "Boyhood" and "Training Day" among others in the last fifteen years, Hawke has crafted a persona of grace, understated humor and rugged good looks - he is an accomplished, unsung actor and a refined movie star.

You might be scratching your head for days after watching "Predestination" but you will not easily forget it. I am not sure I can wholly accept the time-travel scenario with its final twist but maybe that is less important than I realized. "Predestination" is a film about understanding and accepting your place in the world, and realizing there are changes that can be made. Not everything is predestined. 

Death Wish-lite

VIGILANTE (1983)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Before Bernard Goetz, a real vigilante who shot at some black youths in a New York City subway, we had a little film called "Death Wish" and its repugnant sequel, not to mention a variation on the same theme called "Fighting Back" with Tom Skerritt. "Vigilante" is another disposable NYC revenge flick, though the revenge is largely muted until the filmmakers decide to call out all the stops.

Robert Forster, in a largely emotionally mute role, is Eddie Marino, the factory worker whose wife is brutally attacked and his son killed with a shotgun blast to the head. The culprit is a Puerto Rican gang who run rampant in NYC and with brute force. Eddie's pals are also factory workers and sometimes drive around in a van, viciously beating and occasionally killing the deviants of society such as drug pushers and pimps (all staples of 70's and early 80's exploitation pictures). All this leads to confessions about a politician in the mayor's office who is the drug supplier. When Eddie can't seek justice for the killers responsible, he attacks the judge, goes to jail, comes out and does his Charles Bronson imitation.

I always enjoy watching Fred Williamson, with his contractual cigar in his mouth, as one of Eddie's main allies - he is "judge and jury" (of course, how many times have we heard that line before?) It is also nice seeing the late Richard Bright as another ally and part of the vigilante force. Rutanya Alda is Eddie's wife who even slaps the gang leader at one point! The main flaw is that for large chunks of screen time, we do not see Eddie who ends up in jail for contempt for assaulting the judge. Instead there are endless scenes of the vigilante group targeting random people in the street (at least random to the viewer since we are never given any real clue who these deviants are). When we finally get to Eddie's release from jail, all momentum is lost and the man is as indifferent as he was in the beginning.

Often crudely directed by William Lustig, "Vigilante" has a lively car chase, an interminably silly foot chase that involves knocking over a guy in a wheelchair, and some counterproductive banter and cheaply staged violence in most of the jail scenes. I do not mind gritty, low-budget suspense pictures of this kind but a coherent screenplay and a vigilante with some personal rooting interest would've been nice.

Dear Ndugu

ABOUT SCHMIDT (2002)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

(Originally viewed and written in 2002)

"About Schmidt" is a curious hybrid of the road picture, black comedy and drama. It is all those things and then it ends up being none of them. The film has been advertised as a comedy. Truthfully, it is anything but. This is one of the saddest, bravest films ever made about growing old with age and what life has to offer in what are supposed to be the "golden years."

Warren Schmidt is the 66-year-old actuary of the Woodman of the World Insurance Company in Omaha, Nebraska. The first shot of Schmidt establishes everything we need to know about him. He sits in his office with packed file boxes, waiting for the clock to get to the minutes leading to his dismissal. This is not just another day at work for Schmidt - he is finally retiring. He lives with his wife, Helen (June Squibb), a woman he has been married to for 42 years. He is still unsure of who she is, questioning her minor eccentricities with car keys and that she forbids him to urinate standing up in their beloved bathroom toilet. Schmidt also questions her private collection of figurines and trinkets, and he also hates to be interrupted by her when they have company. When Helen suddenly dies of a blood clot, Schmidt is left fending for himself. His daughter (Hope Davis) is about to get married and can't take care of him (nor does she want to). The real question is: what kind of life is there to look forward to now? He knows he may die in twenty years or less - what has he done in his life that is remotely valuable? Will anyone remember him? When Schmidt visits the office and sees the new hotshot who replaced him, he is surprised that this new worker (who graduated from Drake) has no questions for him. Schmidt is also deeply disturbed to see his file boxes are being discarded.

Since he has no one to take care of him, Schmidt takes a trip in his Winnebago Adventurer to see his daughter. He meets her soon-to-be-wed son-in-law, Randall (Dermot Mulroney), a balding, goateed waterbed salesman with pyramid schemes in mind. There is also Randall's mother, the feisty, vibrant Roberta (Kathy Bates), who is as blunt as a whistle. Schmidt is not pleased that her daughter is marrying a buffoon and unsuccessfully tries to talk her out of it. Roberta is pleased as punch that they are getting married, and is extremely proud of her son (no doubt it has something to do with perfect school attendance records that proudly hang on his wall). Roberta comes on to Schmidt in a jacuzzi scene that is the biggest highlight of the film, and possibly of Schmidt's life. He also has to wrestle with his son-in-law's waterbed in a truly funny scene - waterbeds are tough to sleep in based on my own experience with them. What appears to be sitcom variations on "Meet the Parents" is nothing less than window dressing - the movie has bigger issues to fry.

"About Schmidt" is based on a novel by Louis Begley and adapted to the screen by Alexander Payne and Jim Taylor III. Payne and Taylor have previously collaborated on "Citizen Ruth" and the marvelous "Election." Payne is also the director of those earlier films, and his genius is in articulating nuances and subtleties in the most minute of expressions in his characters. He has a field day with Warren Schmidt who shows degrees of sadness in every scene, not to mention shock and regret. Payne and Taylor sometimes get sidetracked a little, particularly with the inclusion of a trailer park scene involving a married couple that seems a little heavy-handed (though the wife does illustrate how sad Schmidt appears to be). I would have preferred a little more time with Schmidt's best friend, Ray (Len Cariou), whom he discovers had a thing for Helen twenty years earlier. There is a moment when we think there will be a payoff where they can at least discuss their problems, but it is never followed through. It might have led to some illumination about Schmidt and how others feel about him. The only big scene Ray has is when he makes a speech at the retirement party about how superficial it all is, or when he is pelted with letters by Schmidt. Nicholson is the perfect actor for the role, and has given similarly laid-back performances before. Here, though, he avoids his usual arched eyebrows and arrogance in his demeanor (not to mention his typical sunglasses) and gives a measured performance of quiet charisma and the absolute boredom the character feels with his life. At times Nicholson disappears into the character so well that we forget it is good old Jack.

The supporting cast is excellent as well. Hope Davis, a usually bland actress, brings some reality and pathos to Schmidt's daughter. I also liked Dermot Mulroney (one of my least favorite actors) for his mullet-shaped hair and for his deft delivery of dialogue. Kathy Bates is the greatest of all scene-stealers and even shows up in her birthday suit - her Roberta character is as full of life on screen as anyone in the movie. Also worth noting is Howard Hesseman (best know for TV shows like "WKRP in Cincinnati" and "Head of the Class") as Robert's ex-husband who shares his own sadness, though it doesn't run as deep as Schmidt's. Watching and hearing Roberta fling insults at her ex is one of the few strange delights of this movie.

"About Schmidt" is not on the same scale of elevating social satire and delectable wit as Payne's previous "Election," but it is a memorably enlightening story of one man's loneliness and detachment in a life carefully arranged from the beginning. When he discovers his life might have some meaning after all (involving a certain Mr. Ndugu), we realize it is never too late, even at the age 66.

Killer Father Knows Best

A KILLER IN THE FAMILY (1983)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

No matter what role he ever had, Robert Mitchum stood tall. He was a muscular, vigorous actor who always gave off the vibe of someone who had lived. Sometimes haggard, sometimes sleepy-eyed but always giving off a blazing amount of dynamism, Mitchum held his own in noir tales from the 50's onwards. With the 1983 TV movie "A Killer in the Family," it is more than a summation of the man's career - it is the nuances by which he denotes sympathy, apathy and a tremendous presence where you are never sure what he will do next. Mitchum is one of the very best reasons to watch "A Killer in the Family."

The film is based on a true story about a convicted killer in prison serving a life sentence, Gary Tison (Mitchum), who is hoping to break out with the help of his three sons. One of his sons, Donny who is studying law, is a little reluctant (James Spader) to partake, but does so anyway to protect them. The other sons, Ray (Lance Kerwin) and Ricky (Eric Stoltz), are somewhat ignorant of their father's true nature and want nothing more than to be with him. The prison break goes without a hitch, and along for the ride is Gary's cellmate, Randy Greenawalt (Stuart Margolin, a terrific character actor delivering a most wicked smile). Tison's hope is to get to Mexico but trouble follows when the car breaks down, followed by the murder of an unsuspecting family by Tison and his accomplice. The kids stare in horror and realize their dad is not the kind man they had thought he was (an early sequence shows them having a family picnic outside the prison and Gary seems gentle and caring). This one murder sequence (the only one in the film, though there is another that leaves more to the imagination) is extreme even for television, all the more effective for not showing blood and gore. 

"A Killer in the Family" is a hardcore, unsettling thriller, dependent on the psychology of a family unit that is slowly breaking apart. The Tison matriarch (Lynn Carlin) is as forgiving of her husband as the sons are. The truth is that Gary Tison was a cold-hearted, vicious killer who still loved his family, and Mitchum evokes the tragedy of a man whose murderous ways governed the rest of his life. Also effective is an early performance by James Spader as the one son who sees beneath Gary's exterior - there is deep-seated anger there, thrillingly paired off with Mitchum in the various scenes they have together. Lance Kerwin's Ray is the son who will do anything for his father, likewise Eric Stoltz's Ricky though both are thrown off course by their father's mercurial personality. There is also a brief part with Catherine Mary Stewart as Donny's girlfriend - you wonder why Donny leaves her behind for a father he can barely trust. It is Mitchum though who gives us the humanism of a killer, and how pathetic and disorganized he was (what kind of life did he hope to have in Mexico with his sons and a killer accomplice?) The magnificent Mitchum and especially a spellbinding Spader give "A Killer in the Family" a pulse. 

A Holy Sci-Fi Mountain of Staggering Possibilities

JODOROWSKY'S DUNE (2013)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

There are many "what if" films - films that never came to fruition for one reason or another. David Lean never got around to filming the epic Joseph Conrad novel "Nostromo," for example. Stanley Kubrick never got around to his version of "Napoleon." Orson Welles has one too many films that never got beyond the writing stage - never mind the films he never completed. What is indelibly fascinating about Alejandro Jodorowsky's "Dune" is that we see the blueprints for a phantasmagoric, spellbinding, absolutely beautiful and mystical sci-fi film that could have changed the genre forever, that could have shown filmgoers that "2001: A Space Odyssey" was a mere footprint in what could be accomplished visually with science-fiction. It never happened but this riveting documentary shows what might have been.

Frank Herbert's epic 1965 book, "Dune," was floating around the Hollywood barn, optioned by one producer who died before it lifted off. In the early 1970's, Alejandro Jodorowsky bought the rights to it, sensing a film that would approach the level and visual sensation of hallucinogens (much like the drug of choice in the book, the fictional "spice"). Jodorowsky makes it clear that he hoped to transport audiences to something truly out-of-this-world and transcendent and, in fact, we do see illustrations of what might have been in a thick book he keeps in his office. The colors look psychedelic (lots of pink), the erratically designed ships look like something out of a heavy metal cover album, the characters look otherworldly - in short, I am not sure any actual sci-fi films since look anything like Jodorowsky's vision. I can go further and say nobody else made films that look anything like Jodorowsky's actual films whether it is his most famous film, the most bizarre, religiously symbolic western ever made,"El Topo," or his hallucinatory "The Holy Mountain." They are films made by a, for lack of a better phrase, eccentric genius or simply a genius stuck in a drug-fueled state of his own mind.

The hope for the Chilean visionary was to cast people like Orson Welles as the obese Baron Harkonnen, Mick Jagger, David Carradine, and Salvador Dali as the Emperor (who had wanted to be paid $100,000 a minute so that he could be the highest paid actor in history). Dali, by the way, also requested a burning giraffe be on the set (now that sounds like a Jodorowsky invention). The hopes of this most ambitious artist were dashed when the executives liked what they saw in terms of pre-production and extraordinarily visual detail but did not see dollar signs in terms of box-office, especially if it was to be 15 hours long! Jodorowsky didn't understand why the financiers backed out, and why Dino DeLaurentiis bought the rights and instead made a hideously boring "Dune" in 1984 with director David Lynch at the helm.

There is a strong case here to be made that those visuals, meticulously drawn and detail-oriented by supreme talents like H. R. Giger, Chris Foss, and Jean Giraud, were the inspiration for similar shots in films such as  "Star Wars," "Raiders of the Lost Ark," "Prometheus," etc. Most telling is Jodorowsky's description of the opening shot of the film, an unbroken take through the universe and its cosmos (Robert Zemeckis' "Contact" opens with such a similarly splendid sequence). Director Frank Pavich gives us a strong, healthy, ripe for rediscovery, 84-year-old Alejandro whose vision had to be that of a madman - the implied message that only a madman could make "Dune." It is sad to note that we never got that madness on screen.

Everyday is a Winding Road

ERIN BROCKOVICH (2000)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

(Originally reviewed in 2000)

There is no other female star as watchable as Julia Roberts - no matter what film she is in, she is indeed the sparkling star whom can't take our eyes off. She sometimes makes good films ("Notting Hill," "My Best Friend's Wedding") and rotten films ("Runaway Bride," "Sleeping With the Enemy"). Count her latest "Erin Brockovich" as one of her best, a conventional but unquestionably spirited and entertaining romp showcasing Julia's qualities to full flowering effect. She burns on screen with such radiance, beauty and toughness that the film will leave you beaming in phosphorescent delight.

Julia stars as Erin Brockovich, a real-life crusader who went against all odds and came back as a winner of justice. At the beginning of the film, Erin is desperately trying to get a job and uses her persuasive, feminine skills to get one (she fakes resumes to obtain interviews). She fails, ends up in a car accident, and gets a lawyer (Albert Finney) who fails to get her compensation for her neck brace. Erin is so overwhelmed with anger that she confronts the lawyer, Ed Masry, and convinces him to give her a job in his shabby L.A. office. She is after all a divorced, single mom with starving kids, but her attitude and flashy clothes, not to mention excessive cleavage, causes her fellow employees to take notice. After sifting through a pro bono case involving the company Pacific Gas & Electric in a nearby town named Hinkley, Erin discovers that deposits of a lethal substance called chromium had been placed in the water causing various tumors and other afflictions in the townspeople. She investigates and questions the townsfolk, and before you know it, she is knee deep in the water literally pulling a dead frog out as evidence.

Erin's personal life has its ups and downs. She reluctantly has a babysitter named George (Aaron Eckhart from "In the Company of Men"), a biker with multiple tattoos, a bandana and a big grin, but he is also a very nice guy and falls in love with Erin - the character is refreshingly cliche free of what we expect to see from hardcore bikers. After a while, George becomes the caretaker rather than the boyfriend since Erin is on her endless adventurous crusade against PG&E. Will Erin realize that her work is less important than her family, or will she fight to the bitter end and lose the multi-million dollar court case? This may be the stuff of a Lifetime TV drama, and I only wish that writer Susannah Grant devoted a little more attention to this inevitably fractured relationship. There is an uneasy balance between Erin's case and her home life, especially since George almost disappears from the story.

What makes "Erin Brockovich" special is Julia, and she cuts a dazzling figure out of this character. She is tough, funny, sexy, charming, rude, obnoxious, warm, caring, tender, flirtatious - my goodness, what a delight to see such a real, intoxicating woman on screen for once! Julia disappears into the role so well that we forget it is Julia, the movie star. For the first time in years, Julia acts with tremendous, dramatic force.

Albert Finney is also pleasurably engaging as the haggard Masry, and his double-take reactions to Erin's behavior and inappropriate language are priceless. Another miraculous performance is by Marg Helgenberger as Mrs. Jensen, one of the Hinkley townspeople afflicted with cancer - her porch scene with Julia is as moving as one can expect.

Director Steven Soderbergh, known for nonlinear puzzles like "The Limey" and "Schizopolis," effectively taps into Julia's high-wire act to keep things afloat. If the screenplay took more chances with such a conventional storyline, it might have been a more winning character study. As it is, Soderbergh allows for some occasional jump cuts during Erin's frantic moods, and a burnished glow to the desert scenes in L.A. that makes one feel the heat and humidity. And Julia creates an inspiring character - an uneducated, strong, honest woman who used her brains and beauty to uncover corruption and to save people whom she cared about. Inspiring indeed.

Making an unbreakable promise

THE PLEDGE (2001)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Originally reviewed in Jan. 2001

After seeing Sean Penn's latest directorial effort, "The Pledge," I am convinced that Penn can work equally well on both sides of the camera. He is an exceptionally superb actor but his first two films as a director, "The Indian Runner" and "The Crossing Guard," showcased his stunning ability to write sharply defined characters and to know how to get the most out of his actors. He has had the macho ethic of actors like Dennis Hopper, Charles Bronson, David Morse and, yes, Jack Nicholson diminished in favor of showing men grappling with the sins of their past. Nicholson is the star of "The Pledge," and it is his most gripping portrayal yet in what remains Penn's best film by far.

Nicholson is the retired Nevada cop Jerry Black, a man torn by the latest savage murder of a little girl. The night of his retirement party is the night he chooses to investigate the case, despite the averse reactions of the hotshot detective Stan Krolak (Aaron Eckhart) and his former boss (Sam Shepard). A mentally challenged Indian (Benicio Del Toro) is seen at the scene of the crime and is forced to confess to the murder but Jerry doesn't buy it - he feels the real killer is still on the loose. And to temporarily relieve his retirement, Jerry makes a pledge to the dead girl's mother (a devastatingly fierce Patricia Clarkson) to find the killer.

I know what you are all going to say - the same old story about a cop resting on his gut instincts to solve one last case. "The Pledge" stars off as a routine cop story but what unfolds afterwards is stimulating, haunting and unpredictable. This is no ordinary movie-of-the-week and it is no action thriller - it is, my goodness, an existential character study of one man's pledge and obsession leading to madness and despair. Sounds too depressing? Well, yes, but who says all movies need to end in happy endings?

As the film progresses, Jerry buys a gas station following a hunch that the killer resides in a nearby county. There is also the suspected car model deduced from the dead girl's drawing of a tall man who gave her porcupine chocolates. I will not say much more except that Jerry meets the local town waitress (Robin Wright-Penn) and his intentions with her and her own daughter are not what they seem.

"The Pledge" is full of symbolic montages, beautifully lush scenery, and Penn's typical slow-motion scenes punctuated by moments of silence. One terrific moment is likely to be missed where a long shot of Jerry fishing on a lake with a rainbow in the distance mirrors one of the dead girl's drawings. I also love the scene where Jerry breaks the news to the girl's parents in a turkey farm - a typical scene, powerfully executed.

Nicholson uses admirable restraint as Jerry Black, in lieu of his trademark persona, for a complex portrait of a man who may be losing his marbles investigating a seemingly no-win case. He shares some great scenes with actors like Vanessa Redgrave as the dead girl's teacher, Helen Mirren as a child psychologist, Tom Noonan as the local Reverend, Harry Dean Stanton as the owner of a gas station, and Mickey Rourke in a heartfelt performance as the dad of one of the murdered girls in town.

"The Pledge" begins with Nicholson scratching his legs and muttering to himself, and the frustration the character feels slaving away at this murder case is felt by the audience. "The Pledge" is a pessimistic, tough-minded film that stays on course through its existential journey. For the last year or so, I've been saying that in this postmodern world of cinema, irony has replaced existentialism and that stories are now bereft of the risks they used to take, particularly with characters as unsentimental as Jerry. "The Pledge" is proof that some directors are willing to take the plunge into the sea of despair without making compromises. Bravo Sean Penn!

Worn-out tequila sunrise

THE BORDER (1982)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Tony Richardson's "The Border" is two movies in one - a scathing criticism of the border patrol agents in El Paso, Texas and a human story of salvation. The criticism works in spades, the salvation story just barely.

Jack Nicholson plays Charlie Smith, an exasperated border patrol cop from L.A.,who has just accepted a new job in El Paso, TX after living in a trailer with his money-hungry wife (Valerie Perrine). Of course, her idea of money-hungry is living in shared quarters with another border cop and his wife, and revitalizing their rather cramped quarters into a dream house by buying a new plastic-sealed couch on credit. The fellow border cop is Cat (Harvey Keitel), a man involved in shady dealings with the illegal immigrants. There is no real dilemma on immigration presented here - it merely states the corruption of these cops with dollar signs when it comes to smuggling people and buying newborn babies for wealthy families. Cat and his superiors are involved (including a far too brief performance by Warren Oates) and it pays their way, including allowing some illegals do work as day laborers, but it is all a front - money is the motive and murder is occasionally a necessary evil. The Rio Grande is the dividing line.

Charlie wants nothing to do with it - his conscience is put to the test. Should he turn a blind eye and allow such injustice, including the selling of a baby from one unfortunate, caring mother (Elpidia Carrillo, who says more with a look than a line of dialogue)? Or will Charlie kowtow to their efforts and keep doing a job that is useless and uncertain so as to keep his wife happy? Unfortunately, the symptomatic problem of this illegal operation is barely given much depth. The illegals, with the exception of Carrillo, become background fodder and the movie never illuminates the issues. It is all in the service of a suspense thriller by the end with two unsatisfactory freeze-frames that seemingly resolve the salvation of a character, yet further dim the narrative.

Nicholson works up a fever pitch of a performance, especially scenes with Perrine where he begins to wonder about the status of his life. Mostly Nicholson is watchable but rather forgettable in the role - had he switched parts with Harvey Keitel, I would have had more sympathy with Keitel as Charlie. Still, for a film that touches on the immigration problem at all (and let us not forget that it is still an issue today), it is passable entertainment but it just misses the mark of making the most of a pressing issue.

Money trumps art in 1930's Hollywood

THE LAST TYCOON (1976)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Elia Kazan's last film is not a full-bodied portrait of a film producer losing his way in the 1930's Hollywood. Based on F. Scott Fitzgerald's last incomplete novel, "The Last Tycoon" is a largely a series of pauses, silences and whispers in isolated room interiors - there is a claustrophobic feeling to the film even at the site of an unfinished construction of a beach house.

Monroe Stahr (Robert De Niro) is the Irving Thalberg-like movie studio chief who has a penchant for trimming and reshooting certain films to achieve something passable - he takes these projects as his personal vision, sometimes hiring and firing writers and directors at will. The movie revels in the pitch meetings and studio screenings where everyone waits to hear Monroe's word - can a film sink or swim depending on Monroe's mood that day? He does face an uphill battle - the union, the movie executives and such are concerned about ballooning budgets and last-minute revisions and reshoots. The name of the game is money and Monroe Stahr is too concerned with the writers' process and making personal statements, all of which is slowly seeping away in a New Hollywood.

Monroe is a workaholic but he does notice a lovely presence on the set one day - a young starlet in
the making perhaps named Kathleen Moore (Ingrid Boulting). She is a ravishing presence who is soft-spoken and has no phone number. Monroe is taken by her and, in some of the most romantic scenes I've seen from director Elia Kazan in ages, he tries to seduce her in that unfinished beach house. There is a certain artificiality to these scenes and that is what makes them leap from the screen - a "dream" romance that could be Monroe's imagination at work.

Written by Harold Pinter, "The Last Tycoon" is not on the same list of other monumental Kazan films but I did appreciate its understated, low-keyed qualities. De Niro also proves his worth as an elegant romantic leading man (certainly a 180 from his Travis Bickle role the same year) and it is marvelous to watch him play such an emotionally restrained character. Added to Kazan's gallery of extraordinary cast members are Robert Mitchum as an executive who sees Monroe losing his grasp of reality; Jeanne Moreau as a Joan-Crawford type (or maybe Bette Davis) actress who demands retakes; an exquisite Jack Nicholson as a union organizer; the wonderful debut of Theresa Russell as Mitchum's flirty daughter; Tony Curtis as an impotent movie star, and lastly Donald Pleasence as the drunk screenwriter who is convinced by Monroe, albeit briefly, that movies can sing when it is all about the images.

There is a profound sadness to "The Last Tycoon" and, in its own muted palette of earth tone colors, you get the impression that the excitement of making movies is withering away - it is becoming a business where personality is trumped by economics. 

Kemo sabe has uneven spirit

THE LONE RANGER (2013)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

"The Lone Ranger" is hardly a total washout but it has tonal shifts the size of bulldozers trying to operate during a rampaging tornado season. Within the first hour, the film works wonders, appropriating the right tone and spirit of that Masked Man. The middle section has too much padding and unnecessary twists and too many villains, and then the finale works up its old-fashioned spirit again.

We are back in Colby, Texas with John Reid (Armie Hammer), a John Locke admirer, as the attorney who is deputized as a Texas Ranger by his brother, Dan (James Badge Dale). Before you know it, the next reel sets in with the escape of the nasty, murderous Butch Cavendish (William Fichtner), a cannibal of all things. The Rangers approach the Cavendish gang's hideout and guns are ablazin', and I imagine most Lone Ranger fans know what happens next. John Reid is the only surviving Ranger, saved by Tonto (Johnny Depp), a smart Comanche warrior who senses the Ranger is just another dumb white man. A mask is adorned by John, the white horse Silver appears, a silver bullet is created by Tonto, need I say more? Apparently so, because the story segues into a plot involving a fearless railroad tycoon (Tom Wilkinson), the Cavalry killing a bunch of Comanches, and the separation of Tonto from Lone Ranger for far too long. When they reunite, there is a lot of humorous bickering between them but not much in the way of chemistry. Still, how can a Ranger compete with Johnny Depp's inspired performance.

Directed by Gore Verbinski ("Pirates of the Caribbean"), "The Lone Ranger" is moderately entertaining though there are a couple of lulls before the story gets revved up again. The main issue is the tone which is everywhere except where it needs to be. Part of the charm of "The Lone Ranger" is that it was always meant to be old-fashioned escapism where the Masked Man followed a certain moral code (never kill anyone) and Tonto was always his second banana. This version has Tonto in fierce defiance of his white friend, and I appreciate that they took it in that direction. Aside from that difference, the movie is practically a Warner Bros. cartoon, especially in the endless train collisions and derring do of the final act. But the movie also features a Butch Cavendish who eats the heart of his murdered victims, and there are rabbits with canine teeth who must have run away from the set of "Night of the Lepus"! There is also the slaughter of a whole tribe that doesn't mesh with the cartoonish violence we see throughout. All this told from the point-of-view of a Tonto posing as a mannequin at a 1930's San Francisco Fair! Huh?

If nothing else, this bastardized yet colorful version is ten times better than the dull 1981 remake. But there is no comparing to the real Lone Ranger - the one and only Clayton Moore who made him iconic. Armie Hammer is no Clayton Moore, yet Johnny Depp stands up to the task in his revisionist update of that most noble savage, Tonto. I enjoyed about 6/10 of this bizarre popcorn movie but its infrequent and brutally violent elements and severely uneven tone almost ruin what could have been a far livelier adventure movie. 

Teaching 10,000 stars how not to dance

LIFE ITSELF (2014)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

I had been toying with the idea of whether I should review "Life Itself" or not. My memories of growing up with Siskel and Ebert during the 1980's made such a review almost too emotional. Out of respect to the film critic of the stars, I had to do it - review the film, not my nostalgic memory. Viewers familiar/unfamiliar with the late film critic Roger Ebert will find "Life Itself" a fascinating, almost voyeuristic and deeply penetrating documentary from acclaimed director Steve James ("Hoop Dreams," Ebert's pick for best film of 1994). An expose of the Chicago Sun-Times film critic who was the other half of the Siskel and Ebert at the Movies show, it is unforgettable, sad and explicitly honest. Another plus - it does not judge the critic himself.

Much has been written about Ebert, especially his prolific essays on politics, book bans and much more in the latter years before his death. He was also an avid film viewer who loved movies with a passion, and loved his wife Chaz just as much. Ebert is also the screenwriter who worked on the infamous "Beyond the Valley of the Dolls" by Russ Meyer (a film Siskel hated). It is interesting to note that Ebert had also been active as a writer of hot-button political issues long before film criticism became his mainstay, specifically writing for his college newspaper on civil rights and the unfortunate church bombing that included the deaths of four young black girls. Doubly interesting are Ebert's bouts of alcoholism, far worse than even I had ever heard before, and his dates with women that were a far cry from what his saloon pals expected.

The documentary also manages to capture the rivalry between Ebert and his co-partner and Chicago Sun-Times film critic in their popular TV show, Gene Siskel, yet it was not a bitter rivalry (Siskel was present at Ebert's wedding). Still, acrimony to some degree existed, as in Siskel's amazing attempts to get certain celebrities' interviews before Ebert did. Yet Ebert was also the first film critic to ever win the Pulitzer Prize and he was an expected and strong presence at the Cannes Film Festival for many years. There is no shying away from the fact that Ebert considered himself the best at what he did (I do recall Premiere Magazine once quoting Ebert as saying he was the best film critic in the world) - his arrogance was paramount. Ebert also championed smaller, independent filmmakers and, thus, was not nearly as populist as many had thought. Though he did not change his mind on his pans of "Blue Velvet," "Full Metal Jacket" and "A Clockwork Orange" (Chaz Ebert's favorite film by the way) through the years, he remained committed to his opinions and justified them.

Viewing "Life Itself" can be an overwhelmingly emotional experience, especially for myself. To watch Ebert struggle with his thyroid cancer and lose his most useful tool - his voice - can be especially tough on the average fainthearted viewer who cannot stand to watch people suffer (something that Ebert knew all too well). His writing got stronger though - he was never at a loss for words - and that is the most welcoming and appreciative element of the film. Had it not been for Roger Ebert during the 1980's, I would never have considered writing film reviews. I owe much to him and I am sorry I never expressed to that him, via email or in person. "Life Itself" appreciates the man himself and the critic who expressed his disgust for bad cinema and his love for passionate labors of love. I can only hope that Ebert is having a passionate discourse with Stanley Kubrick up above on how to teach 10,000 stars not to dance. Siskel might find that discussion boring and give it a thumbs down.

Friedkin's Beautifully Ugly Mess

CRUISING (1980)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

"Cruising" may have been unfairly maligned upon its 1980 release to some, and particularly during its production shoot. Gay groups protested, regular moviegoers maybe not so much. We are talking about a pre-AIDS era where homosexuality was seen as a deviant act by the deviants of society, and today it still is regarded by some, albeit in smaller conservative groups. William Friedkin's "Cruising" is about the search for a serial killer who is targeting only gays in the underworld of gay leather clubs. My issue is that there is no single purpose in the film beyond being a gay slasher flick, and no real character exploration either to give it a lift.

A few murders in NYC result in body parts found along the Hudson River. Since there is no way of knowing who these body parts belong to, the murders cannot be identified as homicides. Meanwhile, there is pressure on exhausted Captain Edelson (played by Paul Sorvino, who walks with a limp for no discernible reason) from above (a Democratic Convention is coming to town) to solve these murders, pronto. Edelson asks a patrolman, Steve Burns (Al Pacino), to go undercover and find the gay killer in the homosexual underworld of quickies and S&M - bars, nightclubs and underground lairs mostly. The trouble is that the killer always wears sunglasses, participates in sex yet no DNA is found (for reasons that you can discover for yourself), and slaughters his victims with a kitchen knife and dismembers them but with no obvious blood trail. What is the motivation behind the killer's handiwork is not clear nor do I need to know - how this affects Steve is the real question.

That is a good question and it seems such questions were never really asked. Friedkin spends more time showing how unhealthy, filthy and downright deviant the lifestyle of this particular group of homosexuals is. He expresses no empathy towards them; they are merely a sideshow attraction that mainstream America can look at with disgust and nod in agreement that all homosexuals are like this and are, therefore, deviant. The cops respond to them as if they were a sickness, a pestilence which must be remedied (some cops ask for sexual favors from them). Though one line of dialogue makes it clear that this underworld is not mainstream gay America, it might have helped if there was one gay character we could actually like (Steve's accommodating next-door neighbor is given short-shrift). As for Steven, here is a detective who seems to like this world, or hates it, or sees himself as one of them. It is difficult to say which but the film and Pacino make no attempt to be subtle - one troubling sequence has Pacino's Steve attacking a next-door neighbor for no real reason. It is a volatile, violent scene and there is an aftermath and coda that suggests Steve is not quite what he seems. Any clues or foreshadowing is largely absent for a rather perplexing final scene.

There are virtues to "Cruising." It is certainly watchable and Friedkin's atmospheric eye and the use of sound (love the footsteps on the city streets, the crinkling of the leather jackets) definitely catches your attention. I also adore Karen Allen as Steve's girlfriend, though her purpose beyond being a girl who is not getting enough sex from Steve wastes the magnetic talent of this stellar actress. But "Cruising" is ultimately nothing more than an average slasher flick with above-average production values and excellent actors. Pacino remains doe-eyed from the beginning to the end - no nuance whatsoever so it was a waste to cast him. The movie is a beautifully ugly mess (a green tint figures throughout) but it is never boring. In retrospect, "Cruising" is also a little too morally reprehensible. 

Snowden's Clear and Present Danger

CITIZENFOUR (2014)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

A clear and present danger is displayed in "Citizenfour" with such unbridled urgency that anyone jaded over the malfeasance running our government is likely to suffer a twinge of disbelief after watching it. The U.S. government may have Big Brothered our society before but none of us may be prepared to know the extent of it. This is not an Orwellian nightmare in our landscape but also abroad, with help from Verizon! And the NSA used 9/11 to justify all this? This highly critical, exploratory and damning documentary details the roots and aftermath of Edward Snowden's leakage of top secret documents.

Edward Snowden

What is especially telling about "Citizenfour" is that anyone can be on a watchlist - not just any known celebrities or political figures. Top secret documents stipulate that the government looks for catchphrases on google search, facebook, texting - everything is inextricably linked together. Your IPad, IPod and cell phone all have a GPS signal - linked together like a connective web that reveals the depth of the web threads to any single person. Directed by Laura Poitras, herself the subject of consistent surveillance at airports and border crossings with no reason given as to why, the film slowly but surely gets under your skin. Part of the reason she may identify with Snowden is because some of the documentaries she has made, such as her Iraq documentary "My Country, My Country" which was told from the point of view of a Sunni Arab doctor, offer an alternative to the national dialogue on political matters.

Laura received encrypted emails over the period of five months, thanks to her notoriety of being on a watchlist, by an individual known only by the username, Citizenfour. Initially, Poitras was set on a documentary about The War on Terror (which would have culminated in the completion of her post-9/11 trilogy), where she was set to interview investigative journalist for the Guardian, Glenn Greenwald. Later we see Laura (armed with a digital video camera) and Glenn meeting their unknown source (Citizenfour) in a Hong Kong hotel room, along with Ewen MacAskill, a defence and intelligence correspondent for the Guardian. Citizenfour is Edward Snowden, a former CIA analyst and NSA employee who outlines the intricate, massive surveillance on American citizens who speak out and criticize the government in addition to foreign officials and other dignitaries, and how this information is shared with various intelligence factions. Fire alarms are heard in the hotel in one eerie scene of questionable coincidence just before he spills the beans. And after unveiling the damaging evidence, Snowden decides that he has to reveal himself as the source with the hope that the information should take precedence over who the source is. 1.7 million secret documents are discussed, not all are published. Naturally, those who thought Snowden was a traitor were only concerned with the source and bringing him to justice.

Filmmaker Laura Poitras and Guardian journalist Glenn Greenwald

"Citizenfour" is a hallucinatory view of surveillance in general, funneling our worst fears that our privacy is at the behest of analysts in their twenties (Snowden himself was 29 years old at the time) who, we are told by Snowden, watch screens where our privacy is torpedoed and sometimes without full knowledge of the real context. There is also focus on William Binney, a former 30-year NSA analyst who quit his job after 9/11 and blew the whistle because Homeland Security and the NSA were conducting illegal surveillance on citizens who had nothing to do with terrorism.  Privacy is not the central issue in "Citizenfour" - in fact, it is almost of tertiary concern (how often are pictures hacked and shared on a daily basis by anyone who is not affiliated with the government?) Snowden correctly claims that we are afraid as American citizens and residents to speak out on issues for fear of being on a watchlist. The government has 1.5 million people on their watchlist and not just exclusively those who spout rhetoric about our government - who are the rest? Why aren't these people told they are on a watchlist? And that latest statistic comes from another unnamed whistleblower - information that makes even Snowden incredulous.

"Citizenfour" is shot and edited like a 70's thriller, complete with a cryptic voiceover by Laura over shots of an endless tunnel and beautifully composed shots of Glenn Greenwald sitting in a chair in Rio de Janeiro - this is the opening of the film and I thought for a second I was watching something other than a documentary. Once we get to the footage of Snowden in a hotel room, which makes up the bulk of the film, it is riveting, sweat-inducing and unsettling to watch. At one point, Snowden looks out the window and we get the sense that snipers could be targeting him, or maybe he is being watched by someone with binoculars. In fact, he may be asking himself, "where do I go from here?"

Life is nothing but showbiz in 1994

THE APPLE (1980)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

I do admire musicals with eccentricity written all over them. For the uninitiated, I do not mean "The Sound of Music" or straight-as-an-arrow animated classics like "The Lion King." I am talking about "The Rocky Horror Picture Show" and, naturally, the wild shenanigans of "The Apple." "The Apple," for all its dissenters and vocal critics who grant it the status of a "good bad movie," is actually a kinetic, supremely watchable and Biblically-themed sci-fi musical, the likes of which not even "Rocky Horror" could muster.

Catherine Mary Stewart and George Gilmour in "The Apple"

It is 1994 and the Worldvision Song Festival, a sort of early precursor to "American Idol," is looking for hot talent - the kind that can make the targeted audiences' heartbeats literally increase to the magic number, 150. There is a discotheque music group with a dash of hard rock thrown in called BIM that inspires the audience - in actuality, it is all programmed to be consumed by the average person. After BIM performs, a young folksy couple named Alphie and Bibi (George Gilmour, Catherine Mary Stewart in her film debut) sing about love in strains equal to Peter, Paul and Mary and the audience loves it more but Mr. Boogalow (Vladek Sheybal) can't allow that. To backtrack, the movie is set in a future where Mr. Boogalow controls and owns everything - his ideal world is one of temptation, sin and pure glitzy musical numbers. This place (looking a little like West Germany which is where it was filmed) is where BIM stickers shaped like pyramids (New World Order, indeed) are required to be worn by all citizens to control them, where the aging 60's hippies are forced to live in caves, and where a multilingual music promoter like Boogalow can have a group sell records before any recording takes place. Alphie and Bibi are the new recording stars, forced to sign contracts where they sing songs about drugs and uninhibited sexual pleasure. Alphie wants none of this, hoping to score as a love song poet but he is continually rejected. It is implied that love and peace, the latter being a word never uttered in this future, are prohibited - just sell yourself and your body for pleasure. Oh, also, do not eat from the apple.

Not all of "The Apple" makes sense - why does Boogalow give Alphie and Bibi a chance when all they sing about is love? I guess it is to show that the Satanic Boogalow can convert Bibi into some sort of hard rock/disco singer but the songs BIM sings and the ones Bibi covers couldn't be more different - Bibi's "Speed" song serves as satire of America's addiction to consumerism. Would such an Orwellian police state allow such a song? I should think not. Still, despite the film's reputation as an awful musical with cult potential since its inception, I truly enjoyed "The Apple." A sci-fi, supernatural Faustian tale of excess set in a police state with definite Biblical overtones is certainly not the norm, especially one that features The Rapture. The cast performs these songs with gusto (Baby-faced Catherine Mary Stewart's voice was dubbed) - there is also an unbridled and threatening spirit to the film. The future seen in "The Apple" is one of a Satanic cabaret infused with pre-programmed and restrictive music, thus not allowing for free thought. Life is nothing but show business in 1994.  

Jokey 'Murder' misses the boat

MURDER BY THE BOOK (1987)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

It is Robert Hays, with a little help from his alter-ego character and an accomplished supporting cast, who saves "Murder By the Book" from being a largely banal mystery thriller with a simple twist of lemon.

Speaking of banal, Hays plays a best-selling mystery novelist, Hank Mercer, who wishes to retire his romantic 40's detective hero, Biff Degan (also played by Hays). Hank's publisher wants him to reconsider but Hank has other ideas, namely creating a different detective hero. While discussing this in a swanky restaurant, Hank sees a possible crime in progress - an alluring woman (Catherine Mary Stewart) is kidnapped by a wealthy art dealer (Fred Gwynne). Hank gets help from his alter-ego, his detective creation - Biff. Of course, this means there are many scenes where Hank is actually talking to Biff in street corners and cafes while the onlookers believe he is crazy. So does the kidnapped woman whom he eventually saves - her brother created a priceless statue that is being sought. In the midst of this rather thin plot is a matchbook containing microfilm and a police lieutenant of another color, the Columbo kind (Christopher Murney) with the same beige raincoat, who may or may not be what he seems.

Robert Hays and Catherine Mary Stewart in "Murder by the Book"

"Murder By the Book" has a great premise - an author and his detective hero trying to solve a murder case - that often lags behind its plot with some minor digressions. Worse digression is an overlong escape from a Long Island, NY home that belongs in some other movie (sodium pentothal figures into the situation). It would have been worked best to have Biff only speaking to Hank in his mind rather than the imaginary hero frequently appearing in the worst circumstances. Hank must realize that others look at him when he is talking to thin air but nothing comes of this peculiarity - it would have been more comical had Hank done everything to avoid suspicion that he is talking to an imaginary character. A final substandard chase scene in a warehouse looks like something you might have seen in any TV episode of "Starsky and Hutch."

Robert Hays as Biff Degan and Hank Mercer (left to right) in "Murder By the Book"

"Murder By the Book" does benefit from subdued performances by Hays, Fred Gwynne (that booming voice alone is enough to make you sit up and listen), Catherine Mary Stewart as the kidnapped girl with a soft spot for Hank (though her lack of surprise at him talking to the unseen Biff feels off),  Celeste Holm as Hank's mother who wishes he wrote about real-life, and Christopher Murney as the impish lieutenant. The movie is a curiously jokey noir but its story does not have the slyness and mercurial plotting it could have used to really poke fun at the genre. It is safe and fun enough for a family viewing (Stewart in particular could have been infused with far more sultriness) but it is mostly a near-miss.