Jim Carrey making amends

BRUCE ALMIGHTY (2003)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

(Originally reviewed in 2003)

There was a time when Jim Carrey could make one's heart miss a beat with his anything-goes comedic hijinks - a mixture of the slapstick with a physical prowess that was unlike anything ever seen before. Carrey didn't just make us laugh by making faces or talking out of his derriere - he was the comedic equivalent of the Plastic Man. He could contort his body to do the kind of acts that could realistically cause herniated disks. With "Bruce Almighty," Carrey is rather toned-down from his usual manic act. More restrained than usual, I got the feeling that he wanted to apologize for making even the most rubbery facial expression.

Carrey plays Bruce Nolan, a feature reporter for Eyewitness News in Buffalo. He longs to be anchor and known for something besides the customary tag line, "and that's how the cookie crumbles." He is the butt of jokes in the office and even his boss (Philip Baker Hall) does not take him seriously (Bruce is later fired for making obscene remarks in a live broadcast at Niagara Falls). Bruce's devoted girlfriend (Jennifer Aniston) feels slighted when he calls his life mediocre. All it takes is for him to be given a second chance by God Himself (Morgan Freeman). This God lives in some abandoned warehouse, mops the floor, fixes the electricity, and wears a snappy white outfit. He offers Bruce a chance to redeem himself (and for his blasphemous name-calling) by taking over as God for seven days, utilizing all His powers to do anything he wants except the use of free will. Bruce starts tearing up Buffalo by getting revenge on some hoodlums who had beaten him up; create a fountain of water out of a fire hydrant; mimic parting the Red Sea in a bowl of tomato soup; get his reporter job back by mysteriously finding the remains of Jimmy Hoffa; make a rival news reporter fumble his newscast; literally lasso a moon and force it to come closer to the Earth's surface (a cute Capraesque nod to "It's a Wonderful Life"); make his girlfriend grow larger breasts and get the orgasm of her life, and so on. All of this adds up to a fun-filled first hour of pure delight - all we can do is wait and see what Bruce will come up with next.

The trailer for "Bruce Almighty" indicated nothing more than pure laughs based on Bruce's extraordinary powers. Alas, there is more up the film's sleeve, and not all of it is as funny as its initial premise. God is sad to see Bruce using his powers to his heart's content, never thinking for a moment that maybe people's prayers need to be answered. In other words, Bruce has to amend for his blasphemous name-calling and his selfish needs in order to help others, particularly his girlfriend who dumps him after finding him kissing another woman. What we get is the constant referencing to God and constant praying - if you are selfish, God can help you. All you need to do is pray for a miracle. The last thing I would expect from a Jim Carrey flick is a religious sermon.

"Bruce Almighty" has a few laugh-out-loud moments, and quite a few superb zingers. Carrey and Aniston have sparkling chemistry and seem to really play two people who are deeply in love. In fact, the final scenes where Aniston pleads for his return, even if she wants to forget him, is truly touching. Carrey also has the ability to make me care about him in ways that few actors can accomplish (even the ugly "Grinch" elicited a brief emotional response from me). It's just that for such an inventive premise, the movie opts to rationalize and moralize Bruce's behavior, making us think that such brazen use of the Almighty's powers is not enough - we have to realize it is also wrong to use them to our own advantage. It may also mirror Carrey's own amending for his purely maniacal and physical humor. Why should he apologize for what made him so popular in the first place?

Boyish womanizing Hugh Grant

ABOUT A BOY (2002)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

(Originally reviewed in 2002)

If Hugh Grant didn't exist, it would be necessary to invent him. In my estimation, he is a modern-day Cary Grant with a touch of healthy cynicism and the heart of a skeptic when it comes to human relationships. Alas, in "About a Boy," he has found the perfect role of Will Freeman, a man who has still not grown up or matured beyond the stage of a boy looking for his status in life.

Will is a London womanizer, eager to meet any woman for one-night stands. He frequents clubs, restaurants and supermarkets in search of his next date, only to throw away the number of a disappointing date the next day. He has his trusty Macintosh computer, watches television, including videos and, best of all DVD's, and that is about it. This man has no life and no interests outside of picking up women and shopping for electronics. He does nothing, and he is nothing. Will lives off of royalties from the song "Santa's Super Sleigh," a song composed by his late father. In short, Will is content with what he has - he just needs women at his every convenience.

One day, he starts dating a woman who has a son. Will is not crazy about the notion, but she remarkably dumps him. He takes it well considering he was planning the same thing. But he realizes that women with children have a need for sexual pleasure and passion, so he goes to a single parents's group called SPAT, pretends to have a son and takes an interest in one blonde. Through a series of mishaps, Will becomes a paternal figure to the blonde's friend's son, Marcus (Nicholas Hoult), a sweet kid who is bullied around in school and has aspirations to sing. Marcus also needs a father figure, and who better than someone who has nothing to do in his spare time.

Marcus's mother, Fiona (Toni Collette), is a mess. She bawls every morning and afternoon, attempts suicide, and dresses "like a Yeti," as Will observes. Fiona is happiest when she sings along with Marcus, but clearly another person is needed in this dour household. Is it Will? I will not tell. Suffice to say that the film does not travel to the predictable road we have traveled through before, though one can expect Will's life may change around at some point.

"About a Boy" is written and directed by Paul and Chris Weitz, both responsible for the hugely successful "American Pie." This film is a complete change from their gross-out comedy theatrics of sexual innuendos and pie jokes. For once, pre-teens are treated with some degree of sensitivity. Yes, sex and rap remain interests of these London kids but other things also enter their mind. In the case with Marcus, he needs a guardian who can take care of him and his poor mother.

Marcus may be a boy because he is still young, but Will has lots of growing up to do. Will has nothing in his life outside of a handsome flat and the latest technological gadgets and electronics (this is the first film I can recall seeing where DVD's are mentioned in such a carefree way). He is deceitful but never appearing less than sincere which I suspect is why women love him at first sight. He does after all catch the eye of Rachel (Rachel Weiz), a single mother who senses some good in this man, even if he lies about Marcus being his son.

The best scene-stealer of modern times is Hugh Grant, and he handles his double-takes and nuanced expressions of befuddlement and blinks of disbelief marvelously. I can think of no other actor that comes close to handling leading roles in romantic comedies better. From "Four Weddings and a Funeral" to "Notting Hill," Grant delivers every ounce of Will's caddish persona, compassion and sincere insincerity in droves. It is an Oscar-caliber performance in my mind, one that will be surely overlooked because Grant does it so well that it is invisible. No matter - he is the new Cary Grant in every respect.

Kudos must also go to Nicholas Hoult as Marcus, a kid actor who is not insufferably cute or too clever as is frequently depicted. Hoult makes Marcus feel like a real kid going through a tough time with his mother and with school, and handling both situations with admirable restraint. I also enjoyed Toni Collete's small role as Fiona, and watching her sullen eyes made me feel pity for a woman ready to end her life and still see the joy and the tears of what she already has. Writing all of this makes me more and more amazed that the Weitz brothers actually wrote the screenplay.

"About a Boy" ends rather abruptly, and the last two sequences involving an embarrassing rendition of "Killing Me Softly" at a school assembly and the other involving a neat little wrap-up of Will's problems, smack of rushed resolutions for characters whose lives are far more complicated than they seem. However, ten years from now, when people ask which films will best reflect lonely bachelor men of today, I have no doubt that "About a Boy" will be mentioned. Will's life needed some changes, and Marcus has embraced and seen through this man and his isolation. If a kid cannot even understand how someone can do nothing, then there may be hope for men like Will indeed.

Glad Darkman retired

DARKMAN III: DIE DARKMAN DIE (1996)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Some sequels never even try to match up to the originals. "Darkman II: The Return of Durant" is one of the least inspired sequels ever made, especially when you consider what a perfect beginning, middle and bittersweet conclusion the original "Darkman" had. "Darkman III: Die Darkman Die" (talk about an uninspired title to boot) was shot around the same time as the second film, though this movie was supposed to be number 2. Sometimes I can't tell which one of my turds is supposed to have ejected first, the second one or the humongous third one so I can see where the filmmakers got confused with their own cinematic waste.

Arnold Vosloo reprises his role as Dr. Westlake, the scarred avenger of the streets who is seeking a liquid skin concoction for a face mask that will last longer than 99 minutes. He apparently steals cash from drug lords and drug deals gone bad to help finance his scientific research, which I guess proves that a freakishly disfigured man in a black trenchcoat and hat can't work any menial job unless it is in the circus. Jeff Fahey gets top billing this time, as the snarliest, smoothest drug lord I've seen in a long time. He plays classical piano yet ignores his wife and daughter, and has open affairs without a shred of remorse. Fahey is the star of this movie and is good enough to make one wish he played Dr. Westlake, but hey, I am not in the casting department for direct-to-video movies so what do I know. Vosloo is not the right fit to play an angry, avenging hero with the strength to beat a hundred men. He looks like someone who should be running a restaurant.

There is one truly galvanizing moment in "Darkman III." The good doctor adopts a face mask of Fahey's character. He attends a surprise birthday party for Fahey where the song "Up Where We Belong" plays in the background, as he caresses the frustrated wife. It is an alarming, almost enchanting moment with a dose of welcome humor. It lasts a whole ten seconds or less. You still got less than 9,900 seconds to go. 

Drop out of this school

SATAN'S SCHOOL FOR GIRLS (1973)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Maybe including Satan in the title of anything, especially a semi-adequate TV movie of this nature, is asking for trouble, the kind where nuance and implication has no rightful place. "The Omen," "The Exorcist" and "Rosemary's Baby" sound like decent demonic titles where Satan's name was not required for horrific effect. "Satan's School for Girls" is a moronic title for a listless, undernourished horror picture, the kind where a little subtlety in its title and in its overall direction could have been used. You'll be straining to stay awake.

A frightened female student, Martha Sayers (Terry Lumley), is running away though it is unclear from what or whom. She locates her sister's house but her sister, Elizabeth, is not home. After entering the house thanks to an eerie-looking neighbor, Martha suddenly sees something horrifying and her high-pitched scream carries us over to the next scene where she is found hanging from a noose. The film had me interested at that moment because we never see what made her scream and it gave me a nice jolt. Elizabeth (Pamela Franklin) finds Martha dead after the police burst through the door and her emotional reaction is the kind I have when I have to wake up early to go work - emotional indifference. It was at this point that "Satan's School for Girls" lost me. Nevertheless, Elizabeth ventures to the school her sister attended, enrolls in several classes and discovers that other students have committed suicide. Who is to blame? One student has a painting that resembles a dungeon (and the girl in the painting suspiciously looks like Martha, but that point is never raised). This student also commits suicide. The professors include one sadistic S.O.B (Lloyd Bochner) who is irritated when his students can't figure out his mice in a maze lessons. This one professor, known as Delacroix, might also be up to some questionable business in the cellar of the school, which of course resembles the dungeon-like atmosphere of that one painting. Is the school actually a coven of witches with Satan as their leader? Which professor is Satan? And are all the girls witches or are some more innocent than others?

"Satan's School for Girls" is adequate horror fare for those who enjoy watching women entering dark cellars with candles and flashlights, searching for devilish clues to a mystery. This would have made a nifty Nancy Drew mystery, and it turns there was one such book from the 1950's called "The Witch Tree Symbol." With the exception of Kate Jackson as a student named Roberta who has her own growing suspicions about her school, the movie never quite comes alive. I can only stand so many shots of women running through the woods or entering and exiting dark rooms. Pamela Franklin seems more apathetic than scared by anything and she is not allowed a single truthful emotional reaction - from the start, I thought she might be a witch or Satan herself. "Satan's School for Girls" lacks urgency and it is more likely to induce occasional boredom unless you find the prospect of entering and exiting dimly-lit rooms an exciting proposition.