Irish Luckless Lad forgotten by history

 BARRY LYNDON (1975)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

"Barry Lyndon" is a costume drama film to watch with untethered expectations. It is too dreamlike and tragic to be compared to anything akin to "Tom Jones," and too remote in its characterizations for anyone in the audience expecting anything other than pity. That does not make Stanley Kubrick's 3 hour extravagant epic soulless or without interest, only it is more interested in showing the effects that a young fool with social mobility has on the upper class. "Barry Lyndon" is strange and unique for its opaque nature and yet it does nakedly show the restraints of the upper class society on its denizens including Barry Lyndon.

The very modern Ryan O'Neal is an odd choice to play the luckless Redmond Barry, an 18th century Irish lad from a poor farm family yet he manages to make this impudent young man come alive. His world is mostly living in a shack with his mother and plenty of animals and firewood. There is the potential of a romance with his teasing older cousin Nora (Gay Hamilton), though she only sees him as a lad. She is more smitten with the charismatic English officer Captain John Quin (Leonard Rossiter, one of two actors to bring humor to his textured role) and Barry can't take it - it is here where we learn that Barry wants to be cultured, wants wealth and to seen as a gentleman of some importance. He has no idea how he will do it but you sense from his naivete and his luckless nature of being a deserter that he just might make it. Kubrick often frames Barry on a horse or walking in fields that run for miles by isolating him, often barricaded by rock formations as if his doomed path is being laid out for him. After a duel with Captain John Quin where naive Barry believes he has killed the captain, Barry flees for Dublin only to come across highwaymen (thieves to the rest of you) and loses his guineas given to him by his mother. 

Eventually, Redmond Barry ends up back on the beautifully lit countryside and mountainous dirt roads, becoming an English military officer and fighting the Seven Years' War. Barry also becomes a Prussian officer under duress for impersonating an altogether different English officer (that's a fascinating, humorous, ironic section that is best discovered rather than explained) and then he progresses to become a spy for the Prussian police. The Ministry of Police want him to investigate a fellow Irish gambler named Chevalier de Balibari (Patrick Magee) who may or may not be a spy for the Austrians. Barry lets his guard down and protects the Chevalier as they flee Prussia and start gambling with various players, the social strata of scams clearly being those who are wealthy. Thus we get to the late introduction of the very wealthy Lady Lyndon (Marisa Berenson) whom Barry is attracted to almost immediately and courts her to eventual marriage (well, his attraction is primarily to her wealth). Lady Lyndon's son, Lord Bullingdon (Dominic Savage as the young tempestuous Lord and Leon Vitali as the adult version) hates Barry and knows he is after his mother's money and nothing more. Tragedy ensues, especially with Barry giving Lady a son of their own who loves horses and war stories. Some humor is derived from David Morley as the son, Bryan Patrick Lyndon, who in one hysterically funny scene walks with oversized shoes that create a lot of noise.

Based on William Makepeace Thackeray's serialized novel, "Barry Lyndon" is a sumptuous feast for the eyes and ears, a miraculous film that looks like it was filmed in the late 18th century (amazingly gorgeous cinematography by John Alcott). The richness of the locations in Ireland and elsewhere in the UK along with grayish, partially cloudy skies mirror  the still lives you would find in paintings, and they add immeasurably to the feeling of authenticity in addition to scenes shot by candlelight using special NASA lenses so that little to no fill light was needed (the gambling sequence with Lady Lyndon and Barry is one of many titillating, absorbing sequences in the film that is guaranteed to stop time). The story of the luckless Barry Lyndon is a case of a lad who is still a lad by nature at the end of the film. Ryan O'Neal captures Barry's insolence and his intelligence at knowing how to scam people - he learns it slowly as when he impersonates an English officer and has an affair with a German woman waiting for her husband to return from war. Slowly we see a man who becomes more than insolent - he becomes a bastard who cheats and embarrasses his wife Lyndon with little to no remorse. We don't understand what makes Barry tick other than his dreams of being someone he has no right to be - privileged and a gentleman who spends money unwisely. He has privilege but he is no gentleman and we feel sympathy for him when his own son dies, and when he refuses to fire his pistol at his stepson during a duel. Then he loses a leg thanks to his stepson who returns fire during the duel; thus Barry becomes a recluse who can live with his mother (played by a snappy and fierce Marie Kean) both of whom are financially supported by Lady Lyndon.   

Of all of Stanley Kubrick's films, "Barry Lyndon" is his least accessible to the average audience if only because the emotions of its characters are frustratingly closed-off yet anger and violence are always on full display (for example, Barry whips Lord Bullingdon twice and fights him to the horror of family members and others during Lady Lyndon's piano recital. Then there are the duels, fencing, war and bareknuckle fights). Barry is full of lust for other women and leaves Lady Lyndon in the dust yet we start to feel that he knows he has erred in his ways. This is not an easy film to digest the first time around yet it is a spellbinding and masterful film from first shot to last. The biggest ironic shock to "Barry Lyndon" is that Redmond Barry is not just a footnote in history - he is an Irish lad who is simply and understandably forgotten by history. 

Memorable western leaves us indifferent

 THE POWER OF THE DOG (2021)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

There are so many arresting, haunting images in Jane Campion's "The Power of the Dog," a western by nature that elicits the repression in many of its characters in 1920's Montana. Many of these characters have something to uncover, some aspect about themselves they want to let loose and they can't or won't. That is at its heart what works best in "The Power of the Dog" but, as it progressively unfolds, I began to feel somewhat adrift by them. 

Phil is the rough and ready cowboy (Benedict Cumberbatch, in a fantastically sublime performance), complete with chaps, who has his fellow cowhands on his brother's ranch gathering cattle. The hides are frequently burned by Phil and he is one to get angered by the good times and cheer of local residents because he has something to prove - a manliness so that he appears to be one of the boys. Phil's brother, George (Jesse Plemons, also sublime in his restraint), is the wealthy owner of the ranch who is reticent and repressed beyond belief. Phil can't stand it and tries to push George out of his shell, relentlessly calling him "fatso." Somewhere close in the gray Montana hills is a widowed inn owner, Rose (Kirsten Dunst), who hates Phil and Phil himself isn't too fond of her either. George, however, is smitten with Rose and marries her on a whim, especially after helping her feed the locals. Their marriage doesn't make much sense and as the story develops, it makes even less sense. Rose starts drinking heavily and George is barely around. All Rose has is her son Peter (a truly hypnotic and almost emaciated-looking Kodi Smit-McPhee) who is clearly gay and all the cowboys in the area mock him by whistling at him and calling him the expected homophobic slurs. Peter walks around in white shoes and a white hat and clearly stands out from the rest and he's frequently shown in contrast to those Montana mountains, definitely out of place.

The central focus in "The Power of the Dog" (based on a very personal book by Thomas Savage) is Phil's own mixed emotions about George and his wife, and the attachment he starts to feel towards Peter. Phil berates Rose especially when she tries to play the Radetzky March on the piano while he mimics the notes on his banjo. Ultimately, whether Phil feels sorry or not about Rose's alcoholism or ability to get out of bed, he is more aware of Peter and their relationship (though never sexual though the overtones are self-evident like sharing a cigarette or firmly grabbing hold of a lasso) becomes the backbone of a time where any mutual feelings could not be expressed (unlike the more modern western about gay cowboys, the brilliant "Brokeback Mountain"). Here, everything is muted and director Campion beautifully lays out the metaphors without calling too much attention to them. 

As memorably acted and exquisitely directed as "The Power of the Dog" is, the film somehow cast an emptiness in me (the same holds true of Campion's "The Piano" though not with her best work, "An Angel at My Table"). I just didn't feel the sense of loss when one significant character dies towards the end - it just occurs without any real tangible emotion. It isn't a detriment to the film but it prevents it from making us feel fulfilled within ourselves as to how the people in this land have the power to move on and recuperate. "Power of the Dog" casts a spell for sure yet I felt adrift and indifferent by the film's finish, as if all those bottled emotions continued to be bottled up not just in the characters (as expected considering the time and place) but within our perception of them as well.  

Second Joshua Tree leads to soulless world

 HIGHWAY TO HELL (1991)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

There is a creative, original concept at work here. A young kid and his girlfriend (Chad Lowe, Kristy Swanson) are going to Vegas to get hitched. An older, lonely gas station owner (Richard Farnsworth) warns the couple about one of the Joshua trees on the highway to Vegas. Somehow the couple drives too fast, alerts someone named Hellcop, a scarred cop with facial tattoos from literally Hell, who wants the kid's girlfriend (she's virginal, aren't they always in these movies). A portal opens up which can only be opened by driving fast from one Joshua tree to the other. So far, there is much potential here for a hell-on-wheels demonic ride of a movie that aims to be a horror comedy version of the Orpheus legend. Maybe we should all read Orpheus instead.

Once we arrive in Hell, it looks like a dusty ride through John Ford country. Or maybe more like a Mad Max variation complete with biker gangs. There is also a diner frequented by lost souls (some of whom are played by the Stiller family, including Ben himself who fries meat on the volcanically hot cement). The Lowe kid chases Hellcop who has his girlfriend handcuffed by actual hands! Car chases ensue, one after another, though they are barely exciting or staged well.  

So what else happens in this movie? Not much I am afraid. Lowe's car can't get started and he calls for help at an emergency phone! I am glad to know Hell comes equipped with emergency phones. Patrick Bergin shows up as a mechanic named Beezel (need I say more?) There are some funny sight gags like the image of a giant restaurant mascot of a man holding a rifle. I also like the Good Intentions Road Paver company, essentially a conveyor belt which chops up the bodies of people who did immoral things on Earth. After a while, those bits stand out more than the characters who are colorless at best (Patrick Bergin is fantastic, though, in easily the only noteworthy performance in the movie).

"Highway to Hell" bares the slightest resemblance to the Greek tragedy of Orpheus on the surface level. Most of the movie is meant to be a horror comedy but there isn't much horror (other than the Devil, and a succubus with sagging breasts) and the humor only works sporadically. Hellcop and the couple are a bore to watch and the movie becomes increasingly intolerable to sit through. The hell with this stinky movie.

Racism as a contact sport

 CRASH (2005)
Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Racism in America is prevalent. Racism in L.A. is just as prevalent. "Crash" is a movie that attempts to explore the racial attitudes and stereotypes of L.A., though it is a credit to writer-director Paul Haggis that he assumes the race card is played in every city.

"Crash" has a mosaic, Altmanesque narrative, which means it is only fitting to describe the characters and their actions since the movie defines them that way. Matt Dillon is a racist veteran cop, Ryan, who pulls over a light-skinned black couple (played by Terrence Howard and Thandiwe Newton) for performing fellatio. It leads to a cringe-inducing scene where Jack humiliates the wife while the husband stands there, powerless and just as humiliated. This couple's relationship is now fraught with tension and fruitless arguments - one assuming they know more about being black in America than

the other. Howard is a TV director who faces subtle racism from a white producer (Tony Danza in what may be the best performance he's ever given). Lo and behold, Newton's character has a confrontation with Ryan that is truly incendiary.

In addition, we have a Hispanic locksmith (Michael Pena) who is accused of being a thief by an Iranian store owner (Shaun Toub) and by an acrid woman, Jean (Sandra Bullock), who happens to be the wife of the D.A. (Brendan Fraser). Of course, the locksmith is a family man who is only doing his job and

Jean has just been carjacked, the latter being the least congenial person in the world. There is also a police detective, Graham (Don Cheadle), who has a drug user for a mom and a troublesome brother loose in the streets. Graham is romantically involved with his partner, Ria (Jennifer Esposito), a Latina, though he remarks that she represents a mix of Latino and Hispanic cultures who always park their cars on the lawn. Hip-hop artist Ludacris plays one of the carjackers who teaches his partner in crime (Larenz Tate) about the state of black people in this country, and how whites are in fear of blacks (they put this theory to the test).

"Crash" is an expose of multi-racial attitudes in a city where everything is based on race, color and creed. Not a single conversation in this film ever revolves around anything but race. Some critics have labeled this film as liberal propaganda, others have deemed it unrealistic. I understand the latter's

criticism because in real life, people probably don't spend half as much time discussing racism as they do discussing what's for dinner. But Paul Haggis's film is not about reality but about a reality probably taking place in our heads. Racism does exist and there are white racist cops out there, not to mention carjackings every day of the week. We should not be quick to forget that racism abounds and affects all. I would add that I think racism is often not discussed or blatantly used, but it is more often implied.

I admire Paul Haggis's attempt to define a growing and relevant issue. I especially like the theme summed up by Graham that people want to crash into each other to get some human contact. The reservation I have is that the film is often overwrought with epiphanies every few minutes. A character is often shown to be the reverse of what they really are, thus enduring a karmic kick in the cojones that amplifies an emotional/behavioral renaissance. Sometimes it is believable, other times it stretches

even the credibility of this film's reality. When Bullock's Jean finally shows some level of remorse despite her bitterness towards everyone, we sense that this shift in behavior is abrupt because the moment is too brief to stick. When it happens to Dillon's Ryan during a freeway car accident, it is emotionally wrenching. More often than not, "Crash" needed a little tweaking in the subtlety department - not every emotion has to resonate with exclamation points.

In terms of casting, this ensemble is about as good as it gets. Matt Dillon shows more flair than he has in years. Ditto Sandra Bullock - one too many fluffy comedies can give people amnesia as to what a crackling actress she once was. Ludacris is every bit as electrifying as he was in "Hustle and Flow," plus he possesses a good knack for humor. Terrence Howard and Thandiwe Newton make a believable couple, as does Don Cheadle and Jennifer Esposito. Ryan Phillippe is astoundingly good as a cop who is not at all what he seems. And for the icing in the cake, there's a dynamic cameo by Keith

David as a police lieutenant who sums up racism in the police department with a single blow to the gulliver. In short, you can't ask for a better cast.

"Crash" is a heedless melodrama that could've been longer than its 105 minute running time - there are too many characters with not enough meat and potatoes. It is more of a sentimental sermon than a movie with moments that scream bluntness at every level (Imagine what Spike Lee could've done with this). Still, it has an accommodating cast and enough rich irony to warrant much discussion after it is over.

Love and compassion to keep the brain alive

 THE FATHER (2020)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Whenever I hear of someone suffering from what is curiously known as dementia or memory loss, I am at a loss for words. How can anyone understand or fathom such a cruel thing where the mind loses focus on memory to the point that you do not recognize your own family, or mistake them for other people. "The Father" focuses squarely on memory loss from the point-of-a-view of an older, 80-year-old man named Anthony (Anthony Hopkins) who cannot understand what is happening to him. Is he really losing his memory or are his family members playing a prank on him? You will wonder too, at first.

Something seems off with Anthony's memory from the beginning, or at least his understanding of a given reality. He lives in an expansive flat in London and seemingly has a daughter, Anne (Olivia Colman), who is moving to France since she found a new man in her life. This means Anthony will be alone. Or will he? Is there a caregiver that has been hired to watch after him? And why is Anthony's daughter suddenly a completely different woman (played by Olivia Williams)? Is this Anne his actual daughter? And what of the man named Paul (Mark Gatiss) reading the newspaper in the living room - he claims to live there. Is he Anna's husband? And there is yet another switcheroo when the husband is a whole different person (this time played by Rufus Sewell). These switcheroos reminded me of Luis Bunuel's "That Obscure Object of Desire" where two actresses play the same role, though it became a necessity for Bunuel rather than a narrative function.

Yet "The Father" is not a supernatural, dreamlike stunt by way of David Lynch. These people in Anthony's mind exist alright yet he has no control of how he perceives them. His mind is not playing a prank on him - it is the unfortunate fact that his mind is simply losing memory. His facts become nebulous and sometimes an incident replays itself, as when Sewell's Paul talks to Anna about placing Anthony in an institution while preparing dinner. Anthony overhears this conversation and, in some truly skillful editing, the scene replays itself from his point-of-view after Anthony just had dinner - well, except it seems dinner wasn't served yet. Deja vu, not exactly, but it plays that way and, again, he has no control on how it plays out.  

The forceful, dazzlingly alive performances of Oscar winner Anthony Hopkins as Anthony and Olivia Colman as Anna expose such raw emotions that you can't help but weep for both of them. Hopkins' final scene as Anthony, who fleetingly becomes aware of how unaware he really is, is one of the most moving scenes this actor has ever performed - a scene that will stay in my heart and soul for years to come. Hopkins has given forceful, powerful performances before but "The Father" shows him at his most shatteringly human. Same with Olivia Colman who is torn and heartbroken by her father's inability to remember days let alone memories of the past, including her sister's fateful accident. Despite one odd moment where Anne imagines strangling her father, both characters define the raw intensity of a horribly unforgiving medical condition. Anthony might forget but there is a wisp of hope at the end, comparing himself to branches on trees where too many leaves have been shed. You'll shed tears. 

Weed like to welcome you

FROM THE QUARTERS TO LINCOLN HEIGHTS (2011)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Forgotten historical footnotes always add immeasurably to the understanding of a subject's history. "From the Quarters to Lincoln Heights" has footnotes regarding a California town few outside of it knew of or remembered except for those who lived it. Several are interviewed reminiscing about the town of Weed in California and how African-Americans survived in a town that was once segregationist and where the only job you could if you were African-American was in a lumber mill.

The town of Weed had its own segregated communities whether you were black, Italian or Mexican or white. (The blacks lived in a section named the Quarters, now known as Lincoln Heights) Weed's growth came about during the 1920's when workers were sought for the town's lumber mill. Blacks came from down South to work in northern California - good jobs, good income and enough to live a decent life. The town of Weed is not the only one covered in a historical context - the towns of Mc Cloud, Mt. Shasta and Dunsmuir are also explored. But even in such towns, racism was prevalent and segregation was practiced, though apparently it was worse in the South. Interracial relationships were a definite no-no and Weed's own local shops and eateries were largely for the white people in the area - blacks could frequent the shops but the cafes were off limits as far as sitting at a table and having a meal. Segregation also extended to cemeteries, some of which had no gravestones!

The more dangerous jobs were given to the blacks, particularly operating the machines (one was known as the Titanic) with cables that lifted heavy logs (many died operating them). The whites who owned the mill found themselves moving up the ladder to the foreman positions while the blacks were employed solely for hard labor. It wasn't until the Civil Rights era, specifically through Congress of Racial Equality (CORE), that opportunities were presented to the blacks who could finally move up in the mill company, or work any jobs in Weed including a Safeway supermarket. A slow progressiveness occurred with the development of a baseball team known as the Weed Sons where blacks could play ball. 

"From the Quarters to Lincoln Heights" is a captivating history lesson complete with interviews of descendants and former workers of Weed, charting the town's unique history of the late 1800's up through the Great Migration of the 1920's and beyond to modern day. With skillful use of archival photos and reenactments plus some riveting, often troubling insights into the town's history regarding race from locals, "From the Quarters to Lincoln Heights" makes the case for learning from our history in its complexity regarding the treatment of people who deserved to be treated equally. A rare, provocative glimpse into such forgotten quarters . 

With Great Movie Titles Comes a Greater Responsibility

 HOBO WITH A SHOTGUN (2011)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Watching "Hobo With a Shotgun" is like having your toenails pulled with a pair of pliers. It sure feels painful and not much fun at all. That almost says everything you need to know about this movie but let me go a little further.

There is a town called Hope Town that is infested with sickeningly ugly crimes; violence to the point of cameramen shooting video of people getting stomped on; a TV producer named Drake (Brian Downey) who owns the whole town and stages violent bloodbaths as if was a TV show for terrified bystanders; and there are Drake's two psychopathic sons who wear sunglasses and beat and kill people inside a club for fun! One of them wields a bat embedded with hundreds of razor blades (imagine if we saw that in "The Walking Dead"). Neither son cares about anyone, not even themselves. These guys also torch a school bus and the young tots on board! 

Enter the Hobo (Rutger Hauer) who enters the town after hopping off of a freight train. He sees the violence rampant on the streets and does his best to ignore it and collect soda cans in a shopping cart. Eventually he arms himself with a shotgun after he's unable to stomach anymore violence and blows away everyone who commits a crime. A pimp is shot in the face. A pedophile dressed as Santa Claus is also shot in the face. Meanwhile the hobo is protective of a young prostitute (Molly Dunsworth) who lets him stay in her apartment. The hobo endures a lot of physical torture himself, including getting stomped on the back with ice skates worn by one of Drake's sadistic sons. He also gets carved on his chest with a knife by the other son, Slick (who is anything but). 

More scenes of bloodbath delirium are exposed. A woman's fingers are cut off by a rotating fan until we see nothing but a bloody stump. One character is shot in the genital area with his you know what exposed and torn apart. Hobo is forced to eat glass for twenty bucks for a video cameraman. I simply cannot go on. 

I have enjoyed some of Rutger Hauer's other movies in the past, particularly his underrated "Blind Fury" which was a fun and kooky take on the blind swordsman Zatoichi movies. This movie is not fun, not even grisly fun, not even at the level of bloody-intestines-pulled-by-the-hero fun as it was in "Machete" which is a Merchant Ivory production compared to this (both Hobo and Machete originated as faux trailers in "Grindhouse.") When a man's head is decapitated while wearing a manhole cover (do not ask) and blood sprays like a fountain while a nearly naked woman bathes in it, I am lost in seeing how any of this is remotely entertaining (Sadists might get a kick out of it). "Hobo With a Shotgun" is numbing and repetitive in scenes of allegedly shocking violence - there is no shock value in it because wetting the screen with blood and viscera is not enough for a movie, not even for an exploitation movie. Director Jason Eisener can disguise it all with solarized colors and high contrast yet with no rooting interest in any character, not even B movie king Rutger Hauer (who at least has one good scene where he talks to newborn babies about their future), then you have nothing, zilch. The movie says that this world is nihilistic and we are all prone to excessive violence and heavy ingestion of cocaine. All I can say is that with great movie titles comes a greater responsibility.  

Where were you?

 THE EMPTY MAN (2020)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

I don't think I have figured out "The Empty Man" but I wouldn't say it left me feeling "empty" either. I also believe that like many of David Lynch's own labyrinthian puzzle pieces (his "Inland Empire" is still somewhat inexplicable to me), "The Empty Man" requires attention and patience and yet once we discover some of its hidden truths, we are still at a bit of a loss to understand what the film is saying.   

The opening scenes, which last a good 25 minutes, didn't exactly strike a chord with me. Four hiking partners are walking through the cold and desolate Ura Valley in Bhutan. They are at a high elevation in the Himalays and one of the hikers, Paul, falls through a crevice on the mountainous rock (after all successfully walk through a dangerous bridge). Paul initially heard a distant noise, as if someone was communicating with him, and is found by his friends in a cave kneeling before a Lovecraftian skeleton with tentacles -  it looks like a demigod to be worshipped. Paul is catatonic and is whisked away by his friends to some remote log cabin during a snowstorm. A tragedy results in two of the hikers getting slashed with a knife by Paul's girlfriend and then she purposefully plunges herself to the bottom of the mountain. Suicide or was she forced to do it?

"The Empty Man" is far more interesting and scary after that opening prologue when we are introduced to an ex-cop named Lasombra (James Badge Dale) who is investigating a series of murder-suicides where a cryptic phrase is written on a wall that reads "The Empty Man Made Me Do It." Of course, he is not a cop anymore but it doesn't stop him from checking out these strange cases, especially the disappearance of his next-door neighbor's daughter (Sasha Frolova, her cherubic face exists on some other plane of  existence - good casting) who has that phrase written in blood on the bathroom window! Who is the Empty Man? Slender Man's Cousin? Who knows though he can be summoned by blowing onto a glass bottle on a bridge - that is part of the legend and sure enough, in one of the movie's two scariest sequences, someone is kicking bottles and making noise on the other side of the bridge. When Lasombra finds four kids that have hanged themselves at the bottom of the bridge, we know this entity or phantasm is not playing around. But what does the Empty Man want? Great question.

"The Empty Man" borrows or perhaps patterns itself after films like "The Babadook" and "The Ring" - both of which are more straightforward than this movie. But I do love ambiguity and debuting director David Prior has a lot of ideas about the metaphysical world and what is real and fundamentally true versus what is often punctuated through repetition that could just be a "refrigerator magnet" (some of this philosophy is provided by the leader of a terminally strange institute played by Stephen Root, a great character actor who is just as creepy as the guy he played in "Get Out"). Those moments of philosophical discussion really piqued my interest. On a narrative level with the main characters, I was far more invested in Lasombra and his pill-popping, heavy drinking stretches (he lost his wife and child in a horrible car accident), especially the fractured friendship between him and his neighbor Nora (Marin Ireland) - she also lost her significant other. Both James Badge Dale and Marin Ireland are so damn good, so honest in their portrayals of lost souls who try to repair their damaged psyches that a whole film just about them would've been grand. That is usually the mark of a good horror flick.

But by the time we reach the frenetic, heavy clicking sounds and deep-bass-tremors-in-the-soundtrack climax (I had some idea about Lasombra's possible true identity halfway through the film), I felt a little underwhelmed. That is not to say that the film's supernatural climax isn't stirring - it definitely is - but it negates the soul dimensions provided by Dale for his ex-cop Lasombra and the stunning Frolova for Nora's daughter. Despite the uninvolving prologue, there is much to admire in "The Empty Man" which has its share of scares and spooky atmosphere and it leaves you with a lot of questions (its philosophies will stay with me).  After it ended, I just felt more hoodwinked than enlightened but definitely not disinterested.

Comedic Management Prescription

 ANGER MANAGEMENT (2003)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

What can you say about a movie when Adam Sandler shows more restraint than loose cannon Jack Nicholson? Not very much, I'm afraid. Though I'd hardly call "Anger Management" Adam Sandler's worst comedy, it is definitely one of his weakest. With a dependable premise and a promising cast, the film sinks without ever adhering to its own ideas.

I hate to use the same old phrase that most critics use but this film does have a great premise. Adam Sandler plays Dave Buznik, an employee for some conglomerate who has just received a promotion. His girlfriend (Marisa Tomei?) is excited by his job success but is dismayed that he can hardly reciprocate the love they share. Then on an airplane flight, Dave asks for a headset so he can watch the in-flight movie. He keeps asking until finally he ends up in a scuffle with the airline stewardess. This scene is funny because Sandler uses whatever expert timing he has to deliver the right facial reaction and, his slow burn segueing to slowly mumbling his words with quiet ease before erupting, is stimulating to watch. This is, of course, what audiences expect from Mr. Sandler, his anger resulting in beating the heck out of everyone around him. But then we are left with arched-eyebrowed, goateed Jack Nicholson as a doctor with anger management experience who wants to cure Dave's boiling temper-tantrums. We are also introduced to peripheral characters who do nothing except induce severe groans (at least they do to me). John Turturro, Heather Graham (mouthing chocolate cake and mumbling) and Luiz Guzman play such arcane stereotypes that I was amazed not one of them could make me crack a smirk. Even reliable John C. Reilly, as a reformed Buddhist monk, literally kicks some butt but to no end. Like most of the movie, the idea is funny but the execution is wanting.

"Anger Management" has maybe two scenes that offer a chuckle or two - one is Sandler's response when he discovers Nicholson wants to date his girlfriend. The other is Sandler and Nicholson's duet to a song from "West Side Story." A few unusual cameos by John McEnroe and Rudolph Guiliani simply mark time - nothing comes of them. The movie has as little to do with anger management as it does with surrounding Sandler with guest star cameos and over-the-top mugging. And to show how the movie eradicates its original concept, it ends as yet another mediocre romantic comedy! What the film needs is strictly narrative and comedic management.

Pancake brought his girl to the Waffle House!

 THE LADYKILLERS (2004)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Viewed on April 10th, 2004

The Coens have done it again. In 2003, they made one of the unfunniest comedies ever made, "Intolerable Cruelty." In 2004, they have crafted one of their funniest works by far, "The Ladykillers." Though the concept and ideas behind this dark comedy are not new, the Coens's wit and sharp edges enhance this caper comedy to the max. Like I said, the Coens have fooled me again.

The opening shot is vintage Coens. It is a high-angle view of a bridge separated by two gargoyles while a barge passes underneath. It may not mean much to most but it establishes the tone immediately - death looms in the horizon. Then the Coens continue their playful digressions by introducing Marva
(Irma P. Hall), a churchgoing no-nonsense woman who despises hip-hop music (especially the recurring use of the N-word). She complains about such music to the police, who pay her no mind. One sunny day, a genteel, goateed professor known as Professor G.H. Dorr (Tom Hanks) inquires about renting the room in her house. This professor is not the quiet type - he talks incessantly and speaks in the florid tones of his favorite authors. In other words, like some real-life professors, he speaks nothing but gibberish. Marva is not easily misled but she does allow him to rent the room when he mentions his classical music band and the necessary rehearsals for an upcoming concert.

Of course, the Professor is not what he seems - he is a robber who plans to steal money from the Bandit Queen casino. The idea is to crack through Marva's cellar door walls and make a tunnel to the casino. He gets help from Pancake (J.K. Simmons), an explosives expert, who has a girlfriend named Mountain; Lump (Ryan Hurst), a dumb football player, who can tear down the walls; Gawain
(Marlon Wayans), a Bandit Queen janitor who has access to the money; and the General (Tzi-Ma), a Vietnamese chain-smoker who knows a thing or two about tunnels. The good Professor must find ways of evading the police (who turn up at Marva's house) and pretend they are in a band while tunneling their way through her cellar (they keep a cassette player handy to play classical music).

"The Ladykillers" is one of those rare delights in movies where the characters, as cliched as they may be, keep the movie running at a lively pace (though the plot turns may be predicted by most). Part of the charm are the actors who do their damnedest not to go over the hill for laughs. Tom Hanks gives one of his most playful, energetic performances in a long while, focusing on the character's brand of peculiar, intellectual speech patterns that I never thought he could muster with such finesse. Marlon Wayans gives us the pizazz of a real live-wire, and his facial reactions are sidesplittingly funny (including
an encounter with Pancake and his girlfriend at the Waffle House). J.K. Simmons gives us a mustachioed explosives expert who would be right at home in a Warner Brothers cartoon - his Irritable Bowel Syndrome symptoms during moments of crisis are extreme yet done with the right touch of sly humor. And Tzi-Ma's Vietnamese General is a masterful performance of silent comedy - he handles
cigarettes with a magician's ease. But the highlight of the film is Irma P. Hall's Marva, delivering some of the best one-liners in the film. Her own speeches to the portrait of her late husband are also a major tickle to the funny bone - she has the energy and confidence of a woman who will not back down from her own decisions.

"The Ladykillers" is the remake of the Alec Guinness picture of the same name, and though it is not nearly as sublime as its original counterpart, it is in a class all its own. The Coens have many tricks up their sleeves and aim to deliver with the spit and polish that is lacking in many of their outrageous
comedies. It is a cartoon alright, and damned if I wasn't laughing through the end credits.