Deconstructing Bad Woody Allen comedy

 ANYTHING ELSE (2003)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Original Review from 2003

I would have to say that Woody Allen is one of the great comic geniuses of the 20th century. Any time I see a Woody picture, I always look forward to his brazen, frank dialogue and all the typical

Allenisms about relationships in the Upper East Side. There have been slight missteps here and there ("September" and that sex parody with too a long title to print here), but there are just as many

terrific films in his resume. "Anything Else" is not just a misstep, it is easily the worst Woody Allen comedy ever made, not to mention one of the most putrid romantic comedies I've ever seen. It is so

unfunny, so forced, so unnatural that you kind of wish Meg Ryan would show up and give it a lift.

I am a big fan of Woody Allen - he was always the master of the romantic comedy. His "Annie Hall" is his greatest comedy by far. I can also list "Zelig," "Broadway Danny Rose," "Bullets over Broadway"
and "Love and Death" and, well, there are many more. There are also his Bergmanesque films, such as "Another Woman" and "Husbands and Wives," that are criminally underrated. Watching "Anything Else" is like watching a carbon copy of the real Allen. It is junior-league all the way with almost nothing transpiring on screen that will move, excite or stimulate you. Casting Jason Biggs and Christina
Ricci may have seem like natural choices, but they almost have nothing to share on screen - they appear like cardboard, stock characters who are reciting lines for a Woody Allen play, not a movie. In fact, I got the impression we were watching a filmed recital! The film's staginess and virtually static camera shots with only occasional coverage (a stylistic choice of Woody's for quite some time) emphasizes the staleness of the whole project.

Describing "Anything Else" is like describing a bland souffle - it is bland and not much else. All the vigor and juice we expect from Woody is gone. There are jokes about the Holocaust but none ring
with the truth he brought to his earlier films - even some digs at the Jews come off as tired. Jason Biggs plays a comedy writer named Jerry Falk but he is not permitted a single line that is remotely
funny - Allen did a superior job playing a comedy writer in "Annie Hall." Christina Ricci is completely unconvincing as a self-involved, jazz-loving, wanna-be actress, Amanda, who may or not be cheating
on Jerry. These two lovebirds seem more like siblings than a couple.

There is also Stockard Channing as Amanda's mother who moves in with them and tries to goad Biggs into writing lines for a song she has composed. Then we get scenes that hardly elicit more than a
mere chuckle - a chuckle in recognition of the Woody Allen of the past. An opening park bench sequence with Woody making snappy comments on Freud and other philosophers will make you cringe - he seems to struggle for laughs that aren't there.

That leads me to describe Woody Allen himself. He plays a New Jersey teacher who tries to guide Jerry, but I just got annoyed with him. His character is supposed to be an offbeat sociopath but he comes
off as artificial. There is a whole extended sequence where Woody tries to persuade Jerry to arm himself. There is a lot of hysteria over this episode, including trying to move a piano that belongs
to Amanda's mother. It is such a laughless affair that you wonder what is the point. Woody would've been better off not appearing in the movie at all.

"Anything Else" will leave you stunned as if you are watching someone imitate the comic master's style. His films of late haven't reached the comical and personal nature of "Deconstructing Harry" but they have not been offensive to the funny bone either - "Hollywood Ending" had more laughs than this travesty. An unfunny Woody Allen comedy is a criminal act in the annals of cinema.

Played it too Many Times, Sam

 HOLLYWOOD ENDING (2002)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Original Review from 2002

It may be that Woody is simply too old to keep his famously neurotic schtick seem new all over again. In "Curse of the Jade Scorpion," Woody made us laugh by trying to make whoopee with Helen Hunt, and thus enduring all her putdowns. The fact that it was set in the 1930's made it almost refreshing from the usual stuff that passes for comedy nowadays. In "Small Time Crooks," he played a trashy loser who decides to pull a robbery to make ends meet. Since "Bullets Over Broadway" and "Manhattan Murder Mystery" (a decade ago), Woody has seemed content in making comedies, some as refined and less slapsticky as his early films. But in "Hollywood Ending," Woody is becoming a former shadow of himself. He is still funny (and I can't imagine a single Woody film being anything less than remotely funny), but he is losing his rougher, snappier edge - a quality that in something like "Deconstructing Harry" could attack us and make us laugh nervously.

Woody plays Val Waxman, a has-been superstar director who is stuck making deodorant commercials in cold environments. A new project has potential but it has already been offered to Peter Bogdanovich. However, Val's ex-wife, Ellie (Tea Leoni), a producer for Galaxy Pictures, has Val in mind to direct a gritty script she wrote called "The City that Never Sleeps." The story is set in New York and who doesn't know the Empire state better than Val. She has a tough time convincing Hal (Treat Williams), the executive backing the picture, that the has-been has the talent to pull it off. Unfortunately, Val suddenly acquires psychosomatic blindness and this can be a problem for someone who has to direct a cast and communicate with the cinematographer. Val has to appear like he is smoothly handling the reins of a 60-million dollar production, despite choosing strange angles and letting actors perform without the slightest bit of subtlety. You know the French would love this kind of film.

"Hollywood Ending" has humorous touches but Allen barely attacks Hollywood - his zingers lack the bite that earlier, similar films have handled with far more savage wit. It is funny hearing Val's suggestions that the film be shot in black-and-white and have a hand-held camera shot instead of a Steadicam shot to suggest the inner chaos of a character. I also like a house party scene where his friends comment that Hitchcock was an artist yet very commercial (the debate continues for all film scholars on that issue alone). But the movie's handling of Val's blindness is oddly unfunny, though it is a kick to see him to walk into people or fall from a scaffold. Every scene where a character talks to Val unbeknownst to his blindness falls flat. All Woody can do is stare in the opposite direction and flail his arms and speak in a nervous chatter (he does this routine better than anybody). Somehow the movie never really kicks into gear and offer the numerous comical problems that could occur if a director was blindly making a movie (bad pun). We never to get to see the dailies of Val's work nor do we get many comical payoffs while Val is on the set. A scene where an actress (Tiffani Thiessen) tries to seduce Val also falls flat - why couldn't the scene build on having the seduction actually work in Val's favor?

What works best is Tea Leoni as the sweet-tempered Ellie who greatly admires her ex-husband, though his focus and concentration on filmmaking was more important than their relationship (yet another Allenism we have endured again and again). I also like Treat Williams as the executive who fails to understand why he can't see the dailies. Debra Messing is the only annoying performance in the movie, heightening her character to near cartoonish status (maybe that was the point but she is far too bubbly and absent-minded for my tastes). George Hamilton as another business executive mostly recedes in the background. Mark Rydell, however, is superb as Val's beaming agent who tries to help Val get into his director's chair on the first day of production.

"Hollywood Ending" is Woody Allen at his most comatose, failing to wring the laughs from his cliched subject. Maybe there isn't much left to satirize about Hollywood anymore. It is interesting that Woody had more to say about La-La Land in 1972's "Play it Again, Sam" than he does thirty years later.

Joy and sadness at the festivities

 THE ANNIVERSARY PARTY (2001)
Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Digital video has become a revolution ever since "The Blair Witch Project," which was shot using video and 16mm film. "The Anniversary Party" is one of the latest films shot entirely on digital video. Though the medium is not so outstanding, it is creatively used in this film where nobody mistakes a dizzying hand-held camera as a motive for making a movie. In fact, this film doesn't look like a home movie and that is one of its strengths, not to mention the addition of an incredible cast.

Jennifer Jason Leigh and Alan Cumming play Sally and Joe, a married couple living in the canyons outside of Los Angeles. Joe is an author who decides to take a shot at directing his own film, though he knows it may fail (he hates movies). Sally is a thirtysomething actress, who is thought to be past her
prime. Joe is making his movie based on one of his novels, using a bright twentysomething actress, Skye Davidson (Gwyneth Paltrow), to play the role of Sally. Sally herself is rightfully upset that she is not playing the role. The bulk of the movie is a party hosted by Sally and Joe celebrating their sixth
anniversary of their marriage. They seem like the perfect, loving couple until each guest arrives and we learn one small detail after another that reveal not all is well. The guests include Joe's best friend, Gina (Jennifer Beals), who creates an exemplary photograph of the married couple; Jerry (John Benjamin
Hickey), the business manager, and his loud wife (Parker Posey); John C. Reilly as a director, convinced that Sally has ruined his latest opus, and his largely neurotic wife (Jane Adams); a good friend of the family (Michael Panes) who looks and acts like Peter Sellers; Cal and Sophie (Kevin Kline and Phoebe Cates), a former movie idol and his retired actress wife; and, finally, two fussy neighbors next door (Denis O'Hare and Mina Badie) who are always complaining about Sally and Joe's barking dog.

Written and directed by Alan Cumming and Jennifer Jason Leigh, "The Anniversary Party" is an amalgam of Henry Jaglom crossed with the eavesdropping bravura of Robert Altman. In fact, the film reminds me a great deal of Jaglom's heart-rending "Someone to Love," which was set on Valentine's Day where a bunch of characters are invited by Jaglom to a run-down theatre. "Anniversary Party"
maintains a lively, kinetically comic charge for the first two-thirds of the film. It feels like we are eavesdropping on private conversations within this glass house. The film is all attitude and behavior, showing the different personalities of every character and slowly dissecting the Sally and Joe
marriage, albeit in a predictable though never less than compelling manner. It does loses some momentum when one character introduces ecstasy to all the guests, and we get myriad situations involving cheating and sexual byplay. Some of it is cute yet also feels forced, as if it was straining to keep things lively and interesting. The best moments are the reflective, humanistic touches
where revelations lead to dissent and conflicts, not to mention jealousies. There are also quick humorous asides and gags that are best appreciated on second viewing. But the highlight is a stunningly real and honest confrontation between Leigh and Cumming that is sure to be remembered by fans of these two excellent actors.

Joyous, sad, voyeuristic and funny, "The Anniversary Party" is quite a movie. All the guests are affectionately played by the huge cast but it is really Leigh and Cumming who hold the film together. It is about them, their marriage, their fears and their hopes for the future. A great party indeed.

This HMO thriller is not exactly killer

 JOHN Q. (2002)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

(Original review from 2002 screening)

"John Q." made me angry, but for all the wrong reasons. "Do the Right Thing" made me angry but that film was honest about racism and race relations in ways that few films ever are. "John Q." pretends to be interested in the corruption of HMO's and medical professionals who do not provide the medical
care that people need. It is a ripe subject for cinema, but it is told with such artificiality and dishonesty that one may think they are seeing a provocative statement on justice and nobility. Hogwash.

Nobility is John Q. Archibald's strongpoint (played by Denzel Washington). His hours at the factory have been cut because the factory is downsizing. His wife, Denise (Kimberly Elise), is getting annoyed with John's lack of money (what the heck, their car is towed away for nonpayment). The only happiness
centers on their enthusiastic son who loves to strut and plays Little League. One day, their son collapses while playing baseball, and the panicky parents rush him to the emergency room. Apparently, the kid's heart has grown three times larger than it should have and his only salvation is a heart transplant. Sounds easy enough but John Q.'s medical plan and insurance does not cover such an expensive procedure. He needs to make a down payment of $75,000 for a $250,000 dollar operation, but his HMO had been switched without his prior knowledge. To make matters worse, John's son has had the
heart problem for a long time but no doctors ever made mention of it, again due to minimal insurance for a high-risk operation.

If you have seen the previews for the film, you know that John Q. takes the law into his own hands and holds everyone at the E.R. room hostage, demanding that his son's name be put at the top of the priority list of heart transplants. In this day and age, all it takes is a gun and an attitude and you will get what you want, not to mention endless media coverage. In other words, the same old song, long preceded by Sidney Lumet's "Dog Day Afternoon" in 1975. But be advised: John Q. is not really going to use his gun or hurt anybody - he just wants his son to be saved. Does he not realize that his actions may hurt more than help his son? When the hostage negotiator (Robert Duvall) and a haughty police chief (Ray Liotta) consider the pros and cons of killing John Q., you know you have entered a simplistic movie that refuses to acknowledge its subject matter, not a full-blooded portrayal of the moral implications in taking people hostage and staging a crisis for the sake of a heart transplant.

As written by James Kearns, "John Q." doesn't make pleas or moralize as much as deliver an antipathy against all medical professionals, whether they are cardiologists or hospital head administrators. The movie says they are all scum, botching the system to make a fast buck and depriving the poor because
they lack the necessary medical coverage. There may be a lot of young kids who need heart transplants, but this movie does not seek to find alternatives. A gun and an attitude is all it takes. Fine, but why make the character so noble? Is John Q. not at fault here as well? Has he not seen enough TV shows to realize that if a hospital administrator finally gives in and puts his son's name on the list, it doesn't mean it actually is on the list?

"John Q." is manipulative, saccharine nonsense, designed to make the audience cheer for the lead character's supposedly justifiable actions because, after all, HMO is evil for not helping the poor when in need (or is it former president Bill Clinton's fault?) John should have listened to what the negotiator tells him at one point: "Nobody cares John. People will forget about you the next day." Exactly.

Skeptic sees a winged creature

 THE MOTHMAN PROPHECIES (2002)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

"The Mothman Prophecies" is an example of low-grade horror with high-grade talent. It could easily have been called "The Mothman" and starred actors like John Saxon, and nobody would have given it a second look. With a bigger budget, a high-class star like Richard Gere and an Oscar nominee like Laura Linney, the temptation is to treat this film as if it were serious horror that builds with imagination and mystery. Imaginative and mysterious, yes, but watching this film can be a chore.

Richard Gere is John Klein, a respected reporter for the Washington Post. He is also something of a skeptic. He is about to move into his new house with his darling wife (Debra Messing, from TV's "Will and Grace") when an unusual, brutal car accident occurs. It is so brutal that the doctors discover Klein's wife has brain cancer and has only a short time before she passes away. She leaves some obscure drawings of a moth-like creature for him after her death (a creature she had seen just prior to the accident). Two years pass as Klein finds himself on a trip to Richmond, though he mysteriously ends up in Point Pleasant, West Virginia, a four-hundred mile trek he accomplishes in less than two hours!

Naturally he has no idea how his travel plans got so screwy. His car breaks down. He asks for help from a seemingly crazed man (Will Patton) who brings out a shotgun! Nice neighbors! This man claims he has seen Klein before, knocking on his front door at 2:30 in the morning. He says he has also seen the Mothman, a figure with red eyes and sprouting wings who can see future catastrophes. One
of the Mothman's obscure phrases relates to "99 lives" and the number 37. Klein gets a phone call from this Mothman, who knows of similar catastrophes, one involving a collapsing bridge. So the question is: what did Klein's wife see the night of the car accident? Who is this mothman, and why does he taunt people, particularly young couples making out in the backseat of their cars? Why are people who make contact with the Mothman getting eye rashes that don't go away? Does the police sergeant (Laura Linney, playing what seems to be the only police officer in town) know who this Mothman is, or is she just interested in getting Mr. Klein in the sack?

Based on a 1975 novel by John Keel, the first forty minutes of "Mothman Prophecies" is gripping because we are as interested as Klein is in discovering this phenomena. Unfortunately, director Mark Pellington ("Arlington Road") seems uninterested in keeping the audience in suspense without the benefit of overcaffeinated camerawork, grainy superimpositions, lots of shots of the red eyes of the mothman, and several other stylized effects. It's not that I mind such effects - I just do not see their purpose in a horror film that keeps its mystery ambiguous throughout. Consider how Roman Polanski might have helmed this film, sparing us of all the fanciful camera moves that have become du jour in
horror since the late eighties. Some tracking shots and fast zoom-ins seem to indicate the point-of-view of the mothman, but is the mothman really circulating around Klein all the time? Who knows. The effects simply become repetitious, and whatever mystery exists is thrown out of the window when we realize that, prophecy or not, this mothman is just playing games with us.

I liked Gere's restrained performance, and I loved the scenes with Alan Bates as some sort of physics professor who knows the history of the mothman. These few scenes electrify our curiosity because they are not overplayed or heightened for any effect. Laura Linney seems completely wasted as the police sergeant - it is as if she is back playing insignificant roles prior to her great work in "You Can Count On Me." There is a creepiness to Will Patton, but most of the film is inert with loud sound effects to remind us that the mothman is near. My prophecy is that this film will be long forgotten. That is not the equivalent of a catastrophe.

We are watching you

 ENEMY OF THE STATE (1998)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

With a title as generic as the movie itself, this latest Jerry Bruckheimer production is not as headache-inducing as "Armageddon" but it may still leave you with a slight migraine. That is not to say that "Enemy of the State" isn't fun, it is, but in a crudely packaged, sensationalistic way.

Let's consider the plot for a moment. Will Smith plays a labor lawyer named Robert Clayton Dean, whose life is already in peril before the plot thickens. He's facing problems with the Mob regarding a videotape and a troubling association with an ex-girlfriend (Lisa Bonet). By chance, he abruptly meets an old college friend of his (Jason Lee from "Chasing Amy") who slips a videotape into Dean’s shopping bag. This tape contains footage of the murder of a congressman, and it is up to the high-ranking National Security Agency (NSA) officials to get their hands on it. This agency is run by Thomas Reynolds (Jon Voight, the villain du jour), and he's eager to get the tape back since he was
at the murder scene.

It's a Kafkaesque downfall for Dean, who can't use any of his credit cards and can't convince his wife (Regina King) that he's innocent of all these charges they've drummed up in the media, including an alleged affair with his ex-girlfriend. Worse yet, Dean's house and his entire life is bugged right
through with high-tech surveillance equipment. Dean hides out and finds a certain Mr. Brill (Gene Hackman) who used to work for the NSA and can outwit any of those officials. Still, Dean is only a lawyer and makes stupid mistakes, like calling his wife. Wake up Dean, the phones are bugged too!

This film is illogical and senseless, but it moves at a fast clip. There are enough comical surprises by Smith, though the script makes him a little too bland for my tastes. He has a hectically funny scene where he pretends to be hotel hospitality, and undresses before a hysterical Asian couple while the
NSA are trying to catch him. Some scenes are unforgivably implausible, such as seeing Dean running down a tunnel in a white robe (wouldn't any car stop?); the NSA killing everyone they question except for Dean; a laughable Tarantino-like shootout between the Mob and the NSA, and so on.

"Enemy of the State" is a high-tech conspiracy thriller with no surprises or sense of real, imminent danger. It is too dependent on loud explosions and gimmicky, electronic music to remind us that we should feel tense. The outline of the plot is very similar to Coppola's classic "The Conversation," which was a deftly handled character study relying on dialogue and a quiet, understated style to convey the madness of privacy invasion. The other connection is the frenetic performance by Gene Hackman as a bug expert, practically the same role he played in "The Conversation," but with far less subtlety this time around.

All in all, this is an overdone popcorn thriller in the fast-cut, explosive style of producer Jerry Bruckheimer and director Tony Scott ("Top Gun"). It'll keep you awake and you'll enjoy Smith's precious few quips, but you'll have forgotten about it by the next day.

Negligible Leads

 ROMANTIC COMEDY (1983)
Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

There is nothing more stale in Hollywood cinema than seeing the same old story told the same old way. Worse yet is casting two bright personalities on screen who do so little to bring it any new life. "Romantic Comedy" is as stale and generic as its title and its worst sin is casting two excellent actors as negligible romantic leads. 

So let's see Dudley Moore is Jason, a renown Broadway playwright who is about to get married to Allison (Janet Eilber, who just looks bored stiff). Jason is not the monogamist type since he has had some affairs. Mary Steenburgen is another playwright, Phoebe, who is about co-write a play with Moore. She arrives at his house, unaware he is about to get married on the day of her arrival. Everything falls apart from the start because nothing especially funny or romantic happens in the early scenes. Steenburgen looks out of place and Moore is somewhat incorrigible and arrogant. When Steenburgen steps inside his office without an invitation, he acts with an air of indifference. He proceeds to undress before her (no, no sexual proclivity here) but she is more smitten being in the same room with the well-known playwright to notice his birthday suit. Nothing here rings true, and the pacing slackens.

Oh, it only gets worse. These two bicker and fling papers across the room. Then Steenburgen falls in love with a reporter (Ron Liebman, an authentic, piercing New York presence). Moore is not exactly happily married yet falls out of it, especially after his wife is pregnant. And the movie laboriously goes on without a shred of real wit or punch or vitality. I wish I could say something nice about the film. You know a film is in trouble when you can't even remember what role Robyn Douglass played. 

I did not exactly dislike "Romantic Comedy" but I can hardly say it is worth the effort. Based on a play by Bernard Slade that originally starred Anthony Perkins and Mia Farrow, mediocre is written all over the margins of this film. Dudley Moore looks like he would rather be somewhere else. The only real spark is the winning personality of the bright angelic presence of Mary Steenburgen - she lights up the screen. I wish I could say that is enough. 

Sensitive, low-key weepie

 SIX WEEKS (1982)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

What might have been a melodramatic, sentimental weepie of a movie is handled with uncommon restraint by director Tony Bill. What might also have been an excessively melancholic disease TV movie of the week is given charm and far more of a low-key and sincere treatment. "Six Weeks" is that movie, and it also has one of the warmest and most sincere performances by Dudley Moore ever.

Dudley Moore is Patrick Dalton, a California politician currently running for a Congressional seat who believes "using humor is a disarming mechanism." He is trying to find the address of a fundraising event and gets help from a young, charming 12-year-old girl named Nicole (Katharine Healy). Dalton is so taken with her that he invites her to the fundraiser. Eventually Dalton runs in to Nicole's mother, Charlotte (Mary Tyler Moore), a rich cosmetics tycoon who is skeptical of politicians. Naturally Dalton hopes Charlotte will contribute to his campaign and she concedes, as long as he spends time with Nicole. Never mind the fact that Dalton has his own family to take care - Nicole has leukemia and only six weeks to live.

Most of "Six Weeks" is centered on Nicole's sweet demeanor and healthy optimism - she knows she will pass on soon enough but it doesn't mean she still can't fulfill a dream of dancing on the stage at the current Lincoln Center revival of "The Nutcracker." Nor does it mean she can't canvass calls at Dalton's campaign office. Nicole also senses the love developing between Dalton and Charlotte, which largely remains unconsummated. It is all those character details that brim to the surface of "Six Weeks" and makes us care for these people. Never once did I feel manipulated by the material because director Tony Bill ("My Bodyguard") establishes sensitivity without sensationalizing - it is the opposite approach that some lesser director and writer might have taken. 

If there is an issue with "Six Weeks," well, it is a very glaring issue - it has to do with Dalton's family life. Dalton has his own family and his wife (thankless role by Shannon Wilcox) is unsure of the time he has taken to care for this other family. I think I would have liked a little more depth in that area because the wife feels neglected and Dalton's response is to lie to her about his feelings for Charlotte. Either change Dalton's marital status to single and abandon this subplot or give it more weight. 

Still, "Six Weeks" will stay with me. I might have caught it on cable back in the 1980's and I do recall Katharine Healy's performance. She has that savory smile that could melt anyone's heart. Even a mock wedding for Dalton and Charlotte by Nicole felt more emotionally true than schmaltzy. Dudley Moore has charm in all the right places, and Mary Tyler Moore does her best to keep her emotions somewhat reserved until the inevitable, tear-inducing climax. My heart melted with this movie, that is all I can say. 

Fistful of Emotions

CRY MACHO (2021)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Clint Eastwood's "Cry Macho" is not a despairing or nostalgic film about looking back at the good old days. It is not as reflective of a past life as other Eastwood pictures like "Gran Torino" or, more appropriately, his last great western "Unforgiven." Eastwood's character in this film, Mike Milo, is more of a simple man - a codger who is not looking forward or backward as much as looking at the present, the here and now. He loves tending to and riding horses and the ranch life. It is this very simplicity that makes Eastwood's Mike one of the more sympathetic characters he has played in years.

Mike does have flaws - a Texas ex-rodeo star who drinks too much and is always late for his work as a ranch hand. When he loses his job to his employer, Harold Polk (Dwight Yoakam), a full year passes before they speak again. Harold has a 13-year-old son named Rafael (Eduardo Minett), who is presumably living in Mexico with his unfit mother, Leta (Fernanda Urrejola), who lets him participate in cockfighting. Mike is asked to do a favor for Harold - bring his son back to the Lone Star state. Mike is reluctant yet goes ahead with the plan, crossing into a small Mexican town where he finds Rafael. Of course Rafael is hesitant to go back to Texas for a father he has not seen in ages. Along the way, the federales and Leta's bodyguards are pursuing them from town to town - as it turns out, Leta is more concerned over business matters than her son.

Mike's trip with Rafael gets rough when he decides he's not taking the risk with the federales on his tail - they argue since Rafa decides he wants to go to Texas along with his rooster named Macho (regardless of what some other critics said, this is hardly cringe-inducing even if it sounds like it on paper). Eventually things calm down and their long trip back includes campfires, frequenting cafes where Amarillo is served (Mexican kids can apparently get away with drinking tequila) and stopping at one lonely pueblo with a restaurant/cafe owned by the widowed Marta (Natalia Traven). Marta knows the pair is in trouble with the federales and lets them stay in a casita. It is no surprise that Marta melts Mike's heart and this is one of the few instances I can remember since Eastwood's "Bridges of Madison County" where we see a more benevolent Eastwood - his smile at Marta and the grandchildren makes for one of the more pleasurably romantic moments I've seen in a movie this year. 

"Cry Macho" defies the conventional aspects of what could have been a violent neo-Western thriller with Eastwood firing a few rounds at the federales. Rather the film is more of an examination of an older man who found out far too late in the game about making amends in life - he thought he had it all figured it out and he didn't. The most Eastwood does is punch Leta's bodyguard in the face and threaten him with a gun. Mike is not a killer - despite his occasional lapses in grunting and cursing, he is as innocent as his title character in "Bronco Billy." The movie is more lyrical to a degree, observing the wide open spaces of New Mexico (doubling for Mexico) and the small details of that Mexican pueblo with its inviting shrine to the Virgin Mary. Mike occasionally is asked by the townspeople to examine their wounded pet animals - something you don't normally see Clint Eastwood doing. He's almost seen as a savior to this pueblo but not quite, and thank goodness it did not go down that road. 

Written with affection and empathy by Nick Schenk (based on a N. Richard Nash 1975 novel), "Cry Macho" never bores and never pushes for extreme emotions or extreme action. It is decidedly the most unusual modern Western I've ever seen, at least since Wim Wenders' "Don't Come Knocking" with the late Sam Shepard. It is a relaxed, confident and low-key movie and from legendary director and star Clint Eastwood, I wouldn't expect less. 

This Town Isn't Big Enough For this Band

 THE SPARKS BROTHERS (2021)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

The Sparks Brothers as the name of a band? Heck, no, just call them the Sparks.

Director Edgar Wright asks them: "Are you guys brothers?"

Russell Mael: "Yes."

Edgar Wright: "How did you first meet?"

Ron Mael: "We are brothers."

"The Sparks Brothers" could've been one of those youtube GQ career discussions where a celebrity breaks down their hits and follies. Thankfully, it is more than that though I would've been just as entertained by listening to their career assessment. The wacky, highly theatrical American duo rock band from the late 1960's, who have been performing with no end in sight as of this review, are so exultant in their performances that you can't help but want to play along. Despite criticisms that they were a comedy band or performance artists more akin to Gilbert and Sullivan, or that they did not fit in to the mainstream in any way, it is arguably what made them stand out. The Sparks stood their ground and their creativity took them wherever they needed to go. The last thing you can ever say about them is that they sold out.

Their 1980's hit "Music That You Can Dance To" might qualify as their sell-out to the industry (and what better way to sell out than to have your song appear in an abominable BMX movie like 1986's "RAD") yet listening to the lyrics, the irony may fall on deaf ears since you can dance to it. Sparks (originally named Urban Renewal Project and later HalfNelson before changing it altogether to their current name) were heavily influenced by British bands like the Kinks and the Who and their desire, despite being true-blooded Americans, was to become a British band! That English vibe did not work for them yet their on-stage presence and their music had such vitality that you could easily groove and dance to it. There is a joy in their performance and their on-stage presence shows not just their infectiousness but also that they were in on the joke as well. Russell Mael was the fiery singer with a falsetto voice, and Ron Mael was the keyboardist with a Hitler-like (or Chaplin-like depending on who you ask) mustache and he often stares unblinkingly at the audience and the camera. 

The Sparks secured a cult following and after a few years they had a stunning Number 2 single called "This Town Ain't Big Enough for Both of Us" from their breakthrough album "Kimono My House." Interestingly some of their album covers told their own stories and the band's name was not even in the front of their Propaganda album from 1974! Once they returned to America and felt they had to reinvent themselves, mostly their sound and their look, they transitioned into an early synthesizer pop sound thanks to their collaboration with Giorgio Moroder, the father of euro disco and electronic dance music. As aforementioned, the Sparks had an 80's hit yet their pop music was more of an affront to the standard pop. That had become their standard - to go beyond what was traditionally accepted in rock music form. A key to their strengths is that they went with their gut; they did not follow what was popular and in the ether in any decade. They were always reinventing themselves.   

"The Sparks Brothers" has the traditional talking heads of admirers and rock musicians alike, some of which don't get enough screen time (Flea, Steve Jones, Beck, Depeche Mode, Duran Duran) and others I could live without (Do we need a reminder that actor Jason Schwartzman's mother is Talia Shire who was in that abysmal "Rad"). The movie, directed with unbridled enthusiasm by fanboy Edgar Wright, employs more than ample footage of the band from the 70's onward and has the art pop duo (and all talking head interviews) in black-and-white while reminiscing about their past which is shown in color. At two hours plus and an overview of their 25 albums (they hope to make many more), we get a real sense of the camaraderie between the brothers and their upbeat attitude, the demise of their film projects with Jacques Tati and Tim Burton, and their inability to somehow crossover into the mainstream. There are no real insights into their private lives whatsoever, only the heady look at their discography and concert performances. It may be the way they want it and that is fine - this gloriously pleasing film is big enough for them.  

Do the next thing

MICHAEL DES BARRES: WHO DO YOU WANT ME TO BE? (2015)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Many rock and roll legends had lives mired in drugs, some tragically. Too much hedonism may not be a good thing when you try to forge a path of responsibility towards a normal family life. That is the case of Michael Des Barres in the stunningly vivid, fast-paced and strictly focused documentary, "Michael Des Barres: Who Do You Want Me to Be?" It is focused on Michael Des Barres through the five decades of being a movie actor and a formerly glam rock musician and all the hedonism he could handle until one day he said, enough was enough. Forget those R.A.D PSA's from the 1980's - this documentary should do the trick in how to survive the hurdles of rock and roll. 

Many friends and acquaintances are interviewed here discussing Des Barres' life, including Des Barres himself. I'd almost say that Des Barres is sufficient enough in telling his own story because he is a completely watchable, freakin' amazing presence (Don't believe me? Check him out in one shot of David Lynch's  "Mulholland Dr." for proof - he looks like a rock star dressed with a leather jacket and has no lines). Still it does help to hear validation for Des Barres' wild tales from an odd assortment of celebrities of all walks of life including Steve Jones (The Sex Pistols); actors Gabriel Byrne and Don Johnson (who let Michael stay in his home during financially strapped times); John Taylor (Duran Duran); film director Allison Anders (who directed him in "Sugar Town"); Ed Begley Jr.; Michael's first wife, actress Wendy Hamilton, and lastly Michael's second wife (ex-rock and roll groupie, actress, musician and author) Pamela Des Barres.

Michael's life ranges from being an actor in films like "To Sir, With Love" and hundreds of TV shows such as "Miami Vice," to his actual goal of being a famous rock and roll star as a lead vocalist. He fronted bands such as Silverhead (his first band), Detective, the Power Station and opened for many acts including KISS, Deep Purple, Uriah Heep, Nazareth, among others. He was relentless in his pursuit of sexual conquests, even while married (gee, not many rock stars sexually restrained themselves in the 60's and 70s.) Eventually he literally set his sights on the rock and roll groupie Pamela Des Barres (one of the direct influences for the character Penny Lane in Cameron Crowe's film "Almost Famous"). Despite settling down with Pamela, he still pursued his sexual and drug addiction until he finally went cold turkey in 1981. Though the marriage did not last forever, they sired a son named Nick and, in one touching memory, the son had touched the screen when Michael performed at Live Aid (replacing Robert Palmer). 

I have seen quite a few rock documentaries over the years but none have hooked me into the power of rock itself, the indulgence of performing with an unremitting fiery passion, like seeing Michael Des Barres. Unintentionally or not, his hedonism seems to include the very act of performing as an undying love - an artist's need to create and share it with the world. That in itself is gratifying to witness and it is self -evident in his performance of "Sixteen and Savaged" which he sang for Silverhead. Director J. Elvis Weinstein lets Michael Des Barres be as honest as he wishes with his life, various anecdotes and some tidbits of backroom shenanigans (one involves the Rolling Stones, but many more deal with his cocaine addiction and alcohol). Also fascinating are his nobility roots - Michael is the 26th Marquis Des Barres! How often do you hear such info in a rock and roll doco about anyone?  

"Who Do You Want Me to Be?" is a captivating, thrilling biography of a man who came very close to mainstream success. From his grueling boarding school days and absent parents (father was in jail, the mother was "bonkers") to the several chances at fame and fortune he somehow missed, to the several TV and movie credits he amassed, the film never fails to keep our interest in this charismatic man (I am sure there are plenty other stories he hasn't told). A few of his friends feel Michael Des Barres missed his chance to match the glam rock power of David Bowie, or the suaveness of a Brit actor like Terence Stamp. Nope, Michael was just moving on to the next thing.

Supercriminals vs. a giant Starfish

 THE SUICIDE SQUAD (2021)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Director James Gunn has a surefooted sense of humor, albeit humor that is completely bonkers and hitting-over-the-head-with-Harley-Quinn's-javelin type of humor but humorous nonetheless. I am no lover of Gunn's blood-soaked, inane and confused cult film "Super" though I do like his witty and upbeat "Guardians of the Galaxy." (Not seen "Movie 43" so don't ask). Blood-soaked with a hard, coarse R-rating is the name of the game with "The Suicide Squad" which is infinitely better than the by-the-numbers "Suicide Squad" from 2016. One of the saving graces of that film was Margot Robbie as the devious, devilish, hell-on-wheels Harley Quinn. This new sequel is funnier and insanely over-the-top with special-effects that are more than a little loopity loop and other colorful characters that are thankfully on an equal wavelength with Harley. A major plus.

Two Task Force X teams are sent to the fictional South American island known as Corto Maltese. Within this dangerous island that has military commandos is housed a lab known as Jötunheim, which looks like a straighter version of the Tower of Pisa. Within this lab are computer drives that contain information relevant to Project Starfish, a secret government plan involving an extraterrestrial starfish that decimated an astronaut crew. This starfish grows exponentially in size as it spawns smaller starfish that attach themselves to humans. More human hosts, bigger starfish that could be weaponized by some bad Corto Maltese heads of military against the U.S. and possibly the world. 

One Task Force X team fails to approach the island beyond its initial perimeter and they all die except for Harley Quinn (Robbie). Captain Boomerang (returnee Jai Courtney from the first "Suicide" film) is killed in addition to a creature named Weasel (less said, the better which adds to the wicked humor). The other Task Force X team is far more reliable which includes Bloodsport (Idris Elba), who is adapted with a metal suit that can adapt and shape shift weapons; a hilarious John Cena as the ironically named Peacemaker who is deadly with his guns and explosive bullets and is often mocked for wearing what appears to be a toilet on his head; the always hungry-for-humans-as-snacks King Shark (Sylvester Stallone) who has no friends and is literally an anthropomorphic shark; creepy David Dastmalchian as Polka-Dot Man who tosses colorful polka dots as weapons (not sure I can explain that power), and finally  Daniela Melchior as Ratcatcher 2, a millennial who sleeps too much and can summon rats from everywhere with a wand of sorts. These supervillains are joined by Colonel Flag (returnee Joe Kinnaman) who actually has more fun with the role this time than in the previous entry - he tries to keep these super criminals in line. Also on board from the original film is Viola Davis as Amanda Waller, the unforgiving head of the task force. 

What is a little amazing is how writer-director James Gunn keeps all these characters in balance without ever sacrificing anyone for limited screen time. Unlike the jumbled 2016 "Suicide Squad," this one focuses squarely and expands on its characters with enough background tidbits to make us root for them (there was no one to root for in the original film). Robbie holds her own as the maniacal Harley who is a fierce killer yet she also wants to be friends with the group's members, notably the reluctant Bloodsport. Bloodsport has a fear of rats and also has little hope for these misguided criminals on his team, not to mention friction with his expletive-laden daughter whom Waller might kill if he does not comply with the mission. We learn how Polka Dot Man acquired his condition through a viral exposure and how he sees his dead mother everywhere. Most thrillingly with some emotional heft is the backstory of Ratcatcher 2, who learned from her dad how to summon rats and how not to fear them.  

"The Suicide Squad" runs a bit long and is probably far too gratuitously violent yet it has chunks of profane and abrasive humor, inventive visual gags (the formation of intertitles within certain backgrounds is clever), stirring moments of escapism especially involving Idris Elba's Bloodsport and his literal cliffhanging moments, terrifically splashy music (Jim Carroll Band's "People Who Died" is the title opening song choice) and a very moving finish involving Ratcatcher 2 and Harley's sense of compassion over a dead character. The huge starfish that wrecks a Mexican town is so funny and so striking that you are not likely to forget it. An enjoyable romp that surprised even me.