Identity crisis in Mulholland Dr. - the best film of the 2000 decade

MULHOLLAND DR. (2001)
David Lynch's bewildering masterpiece: 

By Jerry Saravia 

Originally written in November, 2001: updated

Cynthia: "It's been a strange day." 

Adam Kesher: "It's getting even stranger."

A film professor of mine at the University of the Arts in Philadelphia once said to the class after seeing David Lynch's "Lost Highway," "What was it about? What did it mean? Can anyone tell me what it was about?" Who can ever argue with such a statement when it comes to a David Lynch film. Even I had my doubts regarding some of Lynch's more obscure works like "Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me" and "Lost Highway," not to mention "Eraserhead" (an abomination as Lt. Kinderman called it in the novel of "The Exorcist III"). But my doubts centered as much on the validity of what was occurring on screen as much as the meaning of the films per se, and the doubts were, mind you, centered on the first viewing. Upon second viewing, one can see "Fire Walk With Me" as an extension of the "Twin Peaks" cult series beyond the show's setting into an otherworldly existence, or as the story of Laura Palmer's emotional descent into madness as perpetrated by her incestuous father and an ominous forest where inexplicable things occur (or are not occurring). "Eraserhead" could be seen as an anti-abortion film where we must respect the lives of our newborns even if they look like extra-terrestrials (though, again, the extraterrestrial, ugly, mutated baby may not be taken literally). "Lost Highway" seems to center on jealousy and denial in a saxophonist who may or may not have killed his wife (and the body-swapping or switch in identities may, again, not be taken literally). I also believe that "Mulholland Dr." is an extension of some of Lynch's continuing themes of guilt and denial, though that is only my interpretation as I investigate the secrets and mysteries of Lynch's latest, most befuddling and most beautifully emotional work to date. Let's say that my theory will include suspicions that his work may have as little to do with the supernatural or time-twisting trips as initially thought.

"Mulholland Dr." begins with a fifties jitterbug number that seems to come from some other movie entirely (composed by Angelo Badalamenti, by the way, not an actual number from that period). Slowly, a superimposition gradually appears of a blonde woman smiling and gazing with an elderly couple, watching a jitterbug number populated by several young couples. This is the first of many scenes that involves the 1950's as a counterpoint to the story of current Hollywood. Thus, the presentation of a clear personal identity begins to take shape. Who is this blonde woman and why are couples dancing to a jitterbug number? Is this the Hollywood of the past or is this a reminder of her own innocent background in Toronto, as we later learn that she had participated in jitterbug contests?

The smiling blonde is Betty Elms (Naomi Watts), a pretty, energetic, kind woman who is flustered with excitement as soon as she arrives by plane at LAX to the city of dreams. She is welcomed to this world of artifice by an elderly couple (the same couple we see in the pre-credit sequence) who laugh behind her back as if they were aware of something she was about to experience. Betty arrives in high spirits at her aunt's luxurious apartment (at 1612 Havenhurst) and is greeted by the owner, Coco Lenoix (Ann Miller). Coco tells Betty a hysterical story of how a former tenant once kept a prizefighting kangaroo that went wild all over the courtyard (this story is sprung after she notices dog feces on the floor of the courtyard). But I am getting ahead of myself a bit. Before Betty arrives at the apartment, a striking, anonymous brunette (Laura Harring) is unknowingly staying at Betty's apartment after getting into a bad car accident on Mulholland Drive the night before. She is supposedly an actress who was almost killed at gunpoint by her limo driver until a gang of teen youths, out for a joyride, drove by at alarming speeds and collided with the limo. The actress suffers from amnesia as a result, unaware of her personal history. Betty eventually discovers that this woman is staying at her very apartment, hiding behind a shower stall as they meet in the bathroom. The woman names herself Rita after noticing a Rita Hayworth poster for the film Gilda and Betty becomes good friends with her, though she is curious why Rita is in the apartment in the first place. Instead of calling the police, Betty decides to help Rita. The neighbors get suspicious, as does Coco and Betty's aunt whom she talks to on the phone, but she keeps everyone at arm's length. A little mystery in Hollywood yields more excitement for Betty in this strange land. It only gets stranger.

"Mulholland Dr." centers mainly on Hollywood and its inhabitants, specifically actors, directors, producers and financial backers. A hotshot young director, Adam Kesher (Justin Theroux), is ready to make what appears to be a cheesy fifties musical and has cast his female lead of choice (read: Betty Elms - read below for further info on "No Hay Banda" analysis). The backers, a group of gangsters known as the Castigliane brothers (played with devilish glee by Angelo Badalamenti and Dan Hedaya), are opting for a different actress than the one director desires. This angers Adam so much that he smashes the windows of the Castigliane brothers' limo with his golf club. Later, Adam's secretary, Cynthia (Catherine Towne), warns him that unless he meets with someone called "The Cowboy," their filmmaking future might be cut short. All this after Adam finds his wife in bed with a musclebound pool cleaner (Billy Ray Cyrus) and, consequently, spills pink paint on his wife's jewels. Adam agrees to meet with the Cowboy at night at a ranch. The Cowboy (Lafayette Montgomery) basically tells him (after much talk about how a man's attitude determines a man's way of life) that the chosen lead actress by the Castigliane brothers will remain the only choice despite the number of expected auditions. The Cowboy is like Robert Blake's Mystery Man in "Lost Highway" in that he is aware of Adam's private life and uses it as a means of getting what he wants.

The Cowboy: "You'll see me one more time if you do good. You'll see me two more times if you do bad."

Meanwhile, Betty gets the good news that she has a scheduled audition for a project by a has-been director Wally Brown (James Karen). Her audition is exceptional as she plays the role of a conniving, sensual woman who is ready to kill her new lover (Chad Everett), who may be trying to blackmail her. The scene turns from silly melodrama to pure eroticism, proving to the casting agent and director that Betty is a damn good actress indeed. Afterwards, she is told by the casting agent that she was solid but the project may never take shape. The casting agent shows Betty to a studio where Adam Kesher is directing one of several auditions for the fifties musical. Briefly, Adam and Betty's eyes meet, though nothing is said between them. Two actresses audition for the scene, the latter being Camilla Rhodes (Melissa George, resembling actress Olivia D'Abo. By the way, George has appeared in two of my favorite 90's noir tales, "Dark City," where she played a prostitute, and "The Limey" where she played Terence Stamp's daughter who dies on Mulholland Drive!) Camilla is of course the actress Adam is supposed to cast in the film. His eyes meet again with Betty, and then he turns away disappointed that he has to settle for the expected actress. Just as Camilla is performing, Adam calls Jason (Michael Fairman), a movie executive, and tells him, "She is the one."

At this point, everything in "Mulholland Drive" flows smoothly and expertly, always keeping us involved and intrigued in this city of dreams story. There are moments, though, that are deliberately askew. One scene that takes place early in the film is a scene at the Denny's-like diner called Winkies (in the original script for the pilot, it was named Denny's). Two men, Herb (Michael Cooke) and Dan (Patrick Fischler), sit at the diner eating breakfast. We do not know who they are or their relationship to each other (someone said it could be a psychiatrist and his patient). Dan tells Herb a dream he had where behind a wall, outside the diner, layed the eyes of a man he hoped to never see outside his dream. Before long, Dan shows Herb the outside wall and a monster pops out and Dan falls to the ground, possibly dead. This event is shown in the film early on and feels like a distraction until we realize the significance, sort of, in the last third of Lynch's mind-bending puzzle.

Another seeming distraction is the introduction of a clumsy killer-for-hire, Joe (Mark Pellegrino), who has a conversation about a car accident with some lanky, long-haired guy in an unnamed office (possibly the very same car accident we see at Mulholland Drive). Joe shoots him, takes some mysterious black book with him, and then accidentally shoots a woman behind the wall. This hit man reappears later in the story, asking an unhealthy-looking prostitute if she has seen any dark-haired women, presumably Rita though the name is not mentioned. And Joe also pops up in the latter third of the film planning a hit with...well, keep reading.

Everyone seems to be looking for Rita, including Mr. Roque (Michael Anderson, the little man from "Twin Peaks") who sits in a wheelchair speaking on an intercom. There are also the back of people's heads shown as they speak in phone conversations about Rita, but why she is being sought is a mystery. Yes, she escaped from a car accident alive, but who wanted to kill her in the opening sequence, and why?

"Mulholland Drive" is really about the two women, Betty and Rita. Rita is unsure of her whereabouts or who she was prior to the car accident. Betty is determined to help her recover her memory. All Rita knows is that she has a purse full of cash, recalls being on Mulholland Drive, and knows the name Diane after seeing a waitress at Winkies with the same name. In fact, Rita remembers a full name - Diane Selwyn. Could Rita be Diane? Is Diane some famous actress? Or is Rita about to open a Pandora's Box? Their investigation leads to many loose ends, including an eerily funny scene where Betty suggests that Rita call this Diane from a number they find in the phone book and thereby suggesting that Rita may be Diane and calling herself. They drive to the apartment and find the corpse of Diane Selwyn, laying in bed! And then what follows is Rita donning a blonde wig to escape the possibility of being a suspect in Diane's murder.

Afterwards, there is an incredibly hallucinatory sequence inside a theatre for the terminally strange, essentially a Lynchian palace called Club Silencio which Rita and Betty attend. An emcee appears and speaks in front of a mike, explaining the mystery of what is heard is not necessarily what is seen ("A band is playing and yet there is no band.") A Spanish singer is introduced (Rebekah Del Rio) who lipsynchs to Roy Orbison's "Crying," though it is sung in Spanish in what is the emotionally powerful scene in the entire film (and in Lynchland by far). Betty and Rita are overcome by the song in tears, though Betty starts shaking in her boots. The singer collapses near the end of the song but the song continues. A magical blue box appears on Rita's lap. And then Lynch pulls the rug from our very eyes and shakes us in our boots.

Just as we are pulled into the mystery of Rita's amnesiac condition, not to mention some business involving the inept hit man, espresso-drinking gangsters, a red-eyed monster who looks a bit like a noisy neighbor of Coco's (played by an unrecognizable Lee Grant) and a cowboy who is as threatening as any villain in Lynch's ouevre, there is a switch in time and space as we zoom into the blue box that Rita discovers on her lap at Club Silencio. This is where the last third of the film takes place, and where the switch in identities begin. Betty somehow becomes Diane Selwyn, lying in the same position as the corpse that is discovered by both Betty and Rita. Rita suddenly becomes Camilla Rhodes, the actress played by Melissa George, the desired choice for the female lead of Adam's new film. Now Rita's Camilla is a starlet dating Adam and also carrying an affair with Diane whom she abruptly dumps. Diane does not take this well, and begins to masturbate while she stares at the wall in agony and the camera goes out-of-focus. And let's just say that I will not reveal much more about "Mulholland Drive" except when revealing my theory in investigating the mysteries and ambiguities in the film. Suffice to say that the mystery of the film is being able to determine what exactly is happening and to whom. It is more than a whodunit or whydunit but whatdunit, if that makes sense. I suppose I will paraphrase Roger Ebert in saying that there may not be a mystery at all, which has been instrumental in developing my personal theory about the film.

"Mulholland Drive" is not meant to be easily understood but to diehard Lynch fans, this should come as no surprise. Is it all a dream or is some of it a reality? Who is Betty really, and did she ever exist? Does Rita exist, or is there some supernatural force taking over the city of dreams? Is Mulholland Drive a road not unlike the otherworldly forest in "Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me" where changes in identity occur or are reinforced, or is it manifested through the blue box? Let me explain my theory of the film as best as I can but be forewarned, there are spoilers so if you have not seen the film, do not read further.

The possible meaning of Mulholland Drive

My experience with David Lynch films has always been about the emotional, visceral, intellectual reaction to them. Ever since "Fire Walk With Me," Lynch has gone on a mind-bending, mind-expanding journey where we have to judge for ourselves the context of the films and what is imaginary, nightmarish, realistic and literal in them. But Lynch plays games and is playful so often that it is hard to decipher what is real or not. Case in point would be the opening scene of "Lost Highway," his most puzzling trip until "Mulholland," where Bill Pullman's Fred receives a call in the intercom with the ominous words, "Dick Laurent is dead." At the end of the film, before being chased by the police, Fred comes to his own house and speaks into the intercom saying the exact same words to himself. Now, one can surmise that this scene is possible and real since it is a way of Fred reminding himself that he in fact killed Dick Laurent. But we must also assume that Fred's double does not exist and is not in the house hearing this confession. If so, then Lynch is merely toying with us, insinuating a supernatural force when in fact, there may not be one. We also have to take into account that the film is subjectively told through Fred's mind, and his mind's exploration is the film we are seeing. This theory of mine concerns all of Lynch's films, with the exception of "Blue Velvet," "The Elephant Man" and "Wild at Heart." As for "Mulholland Drive," the monster behind the wall may not be real but a demon force that forces Betty to come to grips with her own reality and her own actual identity. It may be a figment of Betty's imagination or nightmare reality, or the whole film is her own nightmare. But make no mistake, Lynch doesn't just create stories and make them weird and fascinating for the hell of it - there is meaning and purpose but you need a key to open the box and find the clues.

So what is "Mulholland Drive" finally about? Well, my guess is that the story is about Betty Elms, a naive, dreamy, starry-eyed girl who came to Hollywood expecting fame and fortune, courtesy of her aunt who is a famous actress and can get her connections. Instead, Betty fails (walking away from a successful audition to help her lover, Rita), becomes Diane, loses Rita who dumps her, becomes increasingly jealous of Rita's affairs and her stardom and plans to get her killed, thanks to that inept hit man she hires (This would explain the money in Rita's purse. It may never have been Rita's but actually Betty's all along, or Diane's if you like). This theory of Betty hiring the hit man makes some sense when you consider the scene where Rita and Betty return to the apartment after crying their eyes out at the Club Silencio. Rita finds the blue box but Betty has mysteriously vanished and Rita can't find her. When the switches in identity occur, Betty wakes up as if she just had a nightmare, and is someone else, namely Diane Selwyn (if you look carefully at the pre-title sequence, you'll notice a superimposition of a woman disturbed in her sleep which could be Betty/Diane). Also consider that Rita only remembers the name Diane Selwyn, which is the name of the waitress. The waitress's name changes in the last third of the film to Betty, and it is at Winkies where Diane discusses the hit on Camilla to the hit man who holds the blue key to the mysterious blue box! Got that? One minor detail is that the key is at Diane's house, not Betty's, before Camilla visits her. But later on the hit man is holding the key, so maybe there is more than one key? I'll let you know when I see it again. (Check "No Hay Banda" analysis below - there are definitely two different keys and both have different shapes).

Another possibility is that Diane is not only jealous of Camilla for leaving her but that Camilla got the role Diane desired, or Diane never knew she was going to be cast and discovered later on she was to be cast. It is a moot point but it is possible.

The point is that it doesn't matter who is really who as much as the ideas that Lynch presents us with. Had he told this story simply and in a linear fashion, it would be clearly about the rise and fall of an actress coming from a small town in Toronto trying to make it in La-La land that ends in tragedy (a literal translation of any of the real-life stories in Kenneth Anger's "Hollywood Babylon" books). That also justifies the use of 1950's music and movies as analogous to the forgotten Hollywood of the past where overnight stardom was desired and where actresses like Betty could succeed and just as easily be spit out and thrown to the winds of obscurity. This is no doubt a reality Ann Miller endured in her own career where she had seen her share of young actresses come and go (she had worked with Mickey Rooney on "Sugar Babies," who has had his share of career setbacks). Various cowboy actors who were real-life cowboys (Tom Tyler, for one, who died nearly destitute and in poor health) also confronted similar career setbacks. This also explains the character of the Cowboy who is something of a recluse, lost in some kind of obscure, unseen ranch - a modern update of Kane's Xanadu. Yes, this is the city of dreams but dreams can also wither away when reality takes over.

But the real story may be that Betty/Diane is in denial, as we witness the first two-thirds of the movie possibly being a complete dream. Betty/Diane refuses to acknowledge her participation in Rita/Camilla's death as we see in the opening sequence, which means Rita never survived the car accident and was actually shot (she should have had more than just a slight gash after walking away from the accident). Lynch serves to confuse us further when Diane is in a limo at night where it makes a similarly unscheduled stop. The difference is she is not killed but welcomed by Camilla who takes her to a house party and further alienates her. Reminders keep popping up about Betty's real life, such as the monster witnessed by Herb and Dan - only the character of Dan is seen later at Winkie's where Diane plans the hit on Camilla. The monster is seen later behind the wall, unleashing the two elderly people from the airport in Lilliputian size from the blue box. At the conclusion of the film, the two smiling elders threaten Diane in her apartment with outstretched arms. She goes crazy, yelling and screaming until she kills herself - a gunshot wound to the head. Then we are back at the club where a blue-haired woman says the last line, "Silencio," to an empty stage where only a microphone stands.

Judging by repeated viewings of "Lost Highway" where I theorized that the impotent Fred might have denied his involvement in his wife's death by imagining himself as a virile garage mechanic, the same theory stands to reason in "Mulholland Drive." We all sometimes imagine ourselves as other people, forgetting who we really are and denying some of the unsavory truths about our own well-being. Murder is one crime a lot of us would probably deny. Therefore, Betty/Diane is not so innocent as one would believe, in direct contrast to Rita/Camilla whom we thought was involved in something seedy and mysterious.

"Mulholland Drive" holds you in a vise-like grip from the first frame to the last, always keeping one involved and enraptured by the story and the labyrinthian twists and turns. The two actresses are exceptional, probably the most full-bodied, sympathetic female characters in all of Lynch's films. Naomi Watts as Betty/Diane contrasts beguiling innocence with a hardcore realism of someone beaten down by life, as evidenced in the latter part of the film. As for innocence crossed with soothing sensuality, you need not look further than her audition with Chad Everett - one of the best audition scenes ever shown on film that is a stellar example of how to take slipshod material and transform it into art. Laura Harring is a stunning beauty to watch on screen, as glamorous, sexy, captivating and alluring on screen as any screen siren from the past (yes, including Rita Hayworth). These actresses form a loving bond and have sparkling chemistry to boot. The scene of their bedroom encounter where Rita makes a pass at Betty could have been ludicrous in the wrong hands, but it so affectionate, bittersweet and humanistic that I was shocked Lynch could direct such a tender scene.

Betty: "Have you ever done this before?"

Rita: "I don't remember."

I will not soon forget the Club Silencio sequence, which typifies Lynch's puzzles in a manner he never verbalized before. But the emotional volcano is the song "Llorando," which drew silence in the audience at the screening I attended. It is so powerful that it surpasses Roy Orbison's original model. It is this scene where we see Rita and Betty are among the spectators of this club, crying as they share the moment. Yes, Betty is noticably shaking as the previous act consists of determining the unseen and the audible. Her shaking and twitching could be a result of coming closer to her own reality, the reality of Diane Selwyn, the murderer. The sequence is so undeniably earth shattering that I could not help but shed tears...this coming from a director who is often coldly detached from the scenarios he concocts. Then I remembered the final triumphant moment of Laura Palmer smiling in tears at the angel hovering above in the Red Room from "Fire Walk With Me." And Henry hugging the Radiator Lady at the end of "Eraserhead" was a poignant moment. Here is a director who shows he can be just as sensitive to his characters and their emotional crescendos as anyone else.

Every scene in "Mulholland Drive" is murky, stylized and dreamlike, photographed by Peter Deming who also lensed "Lost Highway." The murmurs and heightening of sounds also alleviates the mood tremendously. Most of the scenes take place during the day and a handful only at night (the discovery of the monster is at breakfast time). Daylight is not the usual time of day in noir and ever since Roman Polanski's "Chinatown," it has become more commonplace.

There is always an indication that something is not quite right and that something is off in the way a character is introduced. For example, a huge mob henchman arrives at Adam's house looking for Adam, and throws Adam's wife and lover around as if they were made of paper. One of the Castigliane brothers drinks espresso at a studio meeting and spits it out on a napkin. The Cowboy is introduced by a lamp light that burns a little too brightly. The nervousness of Dan at Winkies where the camera seems to move as if it was nervous as well. Even a hotel manager who inquires about Adam's bill is slightly askew (and he reappears at the Club Silencio introducing Rebekah Del Rio!)

"Mulholland Drive" was originally a television series for ABC, but the execs balked and scrapped it when they saw the pilot. Lynch was distressed and planned to never work in television again and so the project was left in the back burner. Studio Canal Pictures (a French company, not American, which only proves that America is not interested in its own artists) gave him additional money to complete it and make it into a theatrical release. Very wise move though why television execs gave up on it is a mystery. Forget about "Twin Peaks," look at all the bizarre commercials broadcast nowadays or programs like "The X-Files," "CSI," and the numerous twisted shows about aliens. There should be room for Lynch somewhere. Nevertheless, its television origins may be evident in the casting of Robert Forster ("Jackie Brown") and Brent Briscoe ("A Simple Plan") as detectives in the opening sequence - Forster is given top billing but never appears again in the entire film. But why carp? It all fits into the frenzied world Lynch has created.

For those who loved and admired "The Straight Story" and "The Elephant Man" (count me among them) and wished Lynch would continue showing what is in his heart rather than in his head, "Mulholland Drive" will not win any new fans. Without a doubt, Lynch's newest puzzle is as intriguing, emotionally overwrought, exasperating, exhausting, entrancing, and as complexly woven as any film he, or anyone else, has ever made - it also greatly satisfies the heart and the mind. For pretentious film students and aficionados, they may dismiss Lynch as the director who makes films that pretend to be films - an egocentric director who simply wants to alienate his audience by making them undergo labyrinthian trips through lost highways and endless hallways with no obvious connections. The weirdness and bizarre nature of these stories will make most uncomfortable and unwilling to think about the overall meaning, wrongly assuming there is no meaning. There is a mystery and yet, there is no mystery. To that I say, see it again. I will soon.

No Hay Banda - It is all a recording! 

This section was written in early 2000 and has been updated

"I like to remember things my own way. Not necessarily the way they happen." 

- Fred Madison, Lost Highway (1997)

I saw "Mulholland Drive" a second time in Wayne, NJ on a cold December night. All I can say is wow all over again. The film is not so much a dream as much as it places you in a dream state. And it is still somewhat confusing, to say the least.

I confess I made a huge mistake in my analysis above. The scene of the studio meeting where Adam Kesher is told that Camilla Rhodes is to be the lead actress in his new film does not feature a publicity photograph of Betty Elms but of Camilla Rhodes (as played by Melissa George). The notion is that Adam wishes to pick his own actress for the project rather than being forced to pick one starlet admired by the financial backers. Adam never intended to cast Betty because he does not know her nor has he ever seen her. Naturally, through the progression of events in the film, Rita transforms into Camilla Rhodes and we learn that she has the lead part in Adam's new film. We also learn that Betty who becomes Diane tried to get the part that Camilla eventually landed, settling for smaller parts in Camilla's films. This develops the jealousy angle further into murder and finally suicide.

There are scenes that still irk me, notably the famous blue key. There are two blue keys in the film, one that is shaped as something that would open a box. The key to open the mysterious blue box is the first key we see in the film. Then there is a regular shaped blue key that Diane has in her apartment before her neighbor arrives to pick up her belongings. The key is seen on a coffee table and it is an objective shot meaning it is information we see but not through the character's eyes. Later on, Rita and Diane are half-naked on the couch next to the same table only this time, the key is gone. Several scenes later, Diane meets with the hit man at Winkies and he holds the very same blue key that is found on Diane's table. He says, "When you find this key in your place, you'll know the job is done" or something to that effect. The significance of the key still makes no sense to me but perhaps it has some correlation with the key used to open the strange box where Betty/Diane's true identity lies.

There is also the deal with the elderly people who are shown during the opening montage sequence prior to someone's heavy breathing while having a strange dream (supposedly Betty/Diane). They are seen smiling next to Betty in the montage, perhaps at a jitterbug contest that Betty/Diane won. They are next seen at the LAX airport to wish Betty good luck. But then they are also unveiled inside the blue box by the monster behind the wall. And in the final sequence, they are chasing Betty in her own apartment. There is the distinct possibility that they are Betty's parents or simply people she envisions as her own parents - perhaps, Betty's own parents died or they remind her of her own aunt and uncle (though Betty's own aunt, the movie star, looks nothing like the elderly woman). Lynch doesn't tell us and it is never made clear.

One particular scene that was fascinating in its depiction of Betty/Diane's internal mind state is when she first sees Camilla at her apartment during her transitional period. Betty who is now Diane smiles at something or someone after her neighbor picks up her belongings (she is seen standing by the sink.)There is a cut to Camilla smiling, looking as glamorous as ever. Diane smiles and gets teary-eyed and then there is a jump cut where she seems to be standing in the opposite side of the room, near the kitchen, looking rather glum. It is clear that Camilla was actually not present in the apartment - Diane only imagined she was there.

Finally, who is the Cowboy really? In his first appearance, the Cowboy warns Adam that he better stick with the casting choice the gangsters have decided on. Then he appears during Lynch's break in time and space where the identities of characters shift and become other characters. The Cowboy is supposedly still the Cowboy as he appears in Diane's apartment and calls her a sweetheart. We see Diane lying on her bed, then she becomes a corpse, then back to a healthy-looking Diane still lying in bed with her back to us. The Cowboy reappears and then exits her apartment. What the heck is Cowboy's relationship to Diane? And why does he appear at the pool party later in the film? The Cowboy is one of the most enigmatic villains in all of Lynch history but I cannot begin to explain his significance in the last third of the film. I will revisit "Mulholland Dr." in the future and I am sure I will find more clues and subtleties that I missed out on. As it stands now, in early 2011, having revisited the film numerous times, "Mulholland Dr." is the film of the 2000 decade.

Scooby up some Cardellini

SCOOBY-DOO (2002)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

After seeing the fantastic TV series that was criminally cancelled, "Freaks and Geeks," the one actress that stood out from the talented ensemble was Linda Cardellini. She played a math wiz/high-school student and the actress's ability to project vulnerability and emotional strength, as in slowly and sneakily showing she was a rebel, was revelatory.

Just as revelatory is her role as the frumpish Velma in the lumbering big-screen adaptation of the cult animated show from Hanna-Barbera land, "Scooby-Doo." I have seen some episodes of the cartoon and I can doubtlessly say that Linda Cardellini is the perfect Velma - she looks and speaks like her without missing a beat. And, heck, she is sexier and far more intelligent than Daphne (Sarah Michelle Gellar) - there, I said it.

The movie is a little too long and too cute with bright, occasional Day-Glo colors, some entertaining action scenes, too many special-effects that feel like distractions, and a Scooby-Doo dog who doesn't seem to occupy the same space as his human co-stars. The whole film should've been animated but then we would miss the appearance of Cardellini, not to mention the terrific Matthew Lillard as Shaggy who is as cartoonish as Scooby (the less said about Freddie Prinze, Jr., the better). It is a live-action cartoon with likable enough characters but it overstays its welcome after the first third. Time for a Scooby snack.

Everybody's Fine, but the movie is not

EVERYBODY'S FINE (2009)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Not everything European or made on foreign waters translates well to American shores. Consider the putrid 1993 remake of "The Vanishing," or don't. Remaking a Marcello Mastroianni picture like "Everybody's Fine" is not asking for trouble necessarily, not when most people might stack it up against the formidable "About Schmidt." This new version of Mastroianni's film is not bad nor remotely putrid, but hardly surprising at all. It is told too confidently in the guise of a feel-good drama with nothing new to say despite a game cast.

This is a shame considering the cast. Robert De Niro is Frank, a widower who lives alone in his house. He is a retired phone wire factory worker (he manufactured the PVC coating), and he has heart and lung problems as a result of inhaling toxic fumes. He also has problems when it comes to matters of the heart - in other words, he is a regular Dick Cheney. Just kidding. Frank hopes to reunite with his kids for a special dinner at his house and each one calls him to tell him they can't make it, for one reason or another. The reason may be that Frank was too strict, too much of a disciplinarian, too eager to make sure his kids improve their lives and make something of themselves. Frank decides to visit each of his kids across the country, from New York to Las Vegas. Of course, he better be sure to take his meds.

"Everybody's Fine" unfolds exactly as one would expect as you've seen this story a hundred times, not just in the original Mastroianni picture. What makes or breaks a picture like this is personality and colorful characters. Not so with this film. Drew Barrymore, Kate Beckinsale, and Sam Rockwell don't bring freshness or color to their roles because they have not been written as anything other than flat character types. One is a supposed Vegas starlet, the other is supposedly married and works in advertising and lives in a sterile glass house, and one is a drummer for an orchestra. Surely writer-director Kirk Jones could've mined this script for some character exploration, something that went beyond formula and trite cliches. Instead it is actually hard to picture De Niro as a disciplinarian because he acts like a father who is too soft and far too nice - not exactly like the strict father he played in "This Boy's Life." So since we can't believe De Niro as this supposed taskmaster, the rest of the cast is not believable as kids who have led lives pushed by the expectations of an overzealous and demanding father. It is as if the film is saying, damn you Frank! These kids are not living happy lives because you pushed too hard! Hogwash.

I will say De Niro is more laid-back and relaxed than usual as Frank, but it is not a nuanced portrayal (his role in "Stanley and Iris" was far more nuanced and that was hardly a good picture). Nor are Barrymore, Beckinsale or Rockwell given any opportunity to lift the script out of its doldrums either (Rockwell fares better but that is because he is the best actor of the three). The scenic shots are splendidly done but one too many shots of phone wires against a sky backdrop become monotonous. Interior shots are composed with the same tidiness that echoes Frank's life. Overall, the movie is pleasant and harmless enough but with such an intoxicating cast, it should be dynamic instead of perfectly adequate. Or maybe that is the point of Frank - everything and everyone is perfectly fine and adequate so why go against the confines of adequacy?  

God's Lonely Men

TAXI DRIVER AND BRINGING OUT THE DEAD: GOD'S LONELY MEN

By Jerry Saravia

(originally written in 2000)

1976 gave birth to Sylvester Stallone's urban pop myth of an underdog who proved he could conquer the big leagues. That fairy-tale was Rocky, a film that put Stallone on the map and garnered the coveted Best Picture Academy Award. But the film that really caused a stir and thus riveted and angered many people was Martin Scorsese's Taxi Driver, the ultimate noir tale of urban alienation in the city of New York. "Rocky" was exhilarating and uplifting. "Taxi Driver" was, pure and simply, a downer. Still, the latter was a modest box-office hit that became as influential as any Scorsese film since (it is one of Tarantino's three faves of all time). 1999 gave birth to "American Beauty," a satirical, biting and ironic look at suburbian family dysfunction. It put first-time director Sam Mendes on the map and it won the coveted Best Picture Academy Award. Like "Rocky" twenty years earlier, it was also a box-office hit. 1999 also brought Bringing Out the Dead, Martin Scorsese's return to the mean streets of "Taxi Driver" with Nicolas Cage as a New York City paramedic. Given the cast and the director, it could have been a minor hit. It wasn't. Let's not forget that "American Beauty" angered and exhilarated audiences but it was all in the service of irony with a shocking finale that echoed with a tinge of hope. But "Bringing Out the Dead" was a rampant, black-humored existential joke - it was full of repetitions that varied with nuance yet without a shred of irony. And the movie was like the main character - lethargic with its share of highs and lows. In addition, it was either funny or horrifying or both - audiences did not know how to respond so they stayed away.

So why is Martin Scorsese consistently ignored by audiences or, for that matter, writer Paul Schrader who scripted both "Taxi Driver" and "Bringing Out the Dead"? Why was Scorsese's brilliant remake of "Cape Fear" his only major box-office hit? Why did Touchstone fail to promote both "Kundun" and "Bringing Out the Dead" with the proper advertising? "Kundun" was barely promoted. Of course, a film about the Dalai Lama and spirituality in a foreign land like Tibet wasn't likely to excite audiences anyway. "Bringing Out the Dead" had more mainstream elements, but it was advertised as a "Sixth Sense" ghost story involving paramedics. Not so. It also deals with a world that no longer exists, the Dantesque world of New York City before Mayor Guiliani took over and cleaned it up. In other words, a world not unlike the one shown in "Taxi Driver" 23 years earlier. Peter Biskind, who wrote "Easy Riders and Raging Bulls," said that studios would be mad to finance something like "Taxi Driver" today. He's probably right but that doesn't make the film any less worthy.

Let's look back at "Taxi Driver," a phenomenal masterpiece that is still the best American film ever made. This opinion was once shared by Roger Ebert, and I heartily agree. It is not much an authentic look at the streets of New York, which it is, but also a picture of New York as seen by its lonely protagonist, Travis Bickle (Robert De Niro). Here is one sickly demented, perverted insomniac who is also a Vietnam Vet. He can't sleep nights so he decides to become a cabbie ("Well, there are porno theatres for that," says Joe Spinelli as a personnel officer. "I know, I tried that," says Travis with a smile.) Travis's fares include all the people of the streets he despises - prostitutes, pimps, lowlifes, blacks (referred to as "spooks"), homosexuals - in his words, the scum of society. Who is Travis to think he is any better? He despises the city yet he can't escape from it. We see frequent close-ups of his eyes as he scans all the pedestrians on the streets, observing and studying and offering his thoughts in voice-over narration. He sees himself as "God's lonely man," someone who believes in "morbid self-attention." All he needs is a place to go. Where does a lonely man go in a city full of people? Well, there is the blonde WASP, Betsy (Cybill Shepherd), who canvasses for a potential presidential candidate named Palantine (Leonard Harris). Travis sees her from his cab, observing her every move in slow-motion, and finally musters the courage to ask her out on a date. Betsy is charmed by this man, and also perplexed by his lack of music knowledge and pure, decent cinema (he takes her to see "The Swedish Marriage Manual," a porno film for couples). She is disturbed and doesn't return his calls. Travis is slowly boiling with anger. Interestingly, it is not because she has rejected him as much as Travis's own rejection of her life - he wants to sully her but she will not be sullied. He also wants to be alone, or else he might have taken her on a proper date. Betsy is the Madonna Whore - she is a representative of the scum, which may also include the pillars of society. "She was just like the others, cold and distant. Like the union." Furthermore, let's not forget what he angrily says to Betsy before being kicked out of the building by her co-worker, Tom (Albert Brooks): "You are in a hell. And you are going to die in hell like the rest of them. Like the rest of them!"

Travis's days grow more frustrating with each passing day. He writes letters to his parents about a government job he can't discuss and a girl he is steadily dating named Betsy (both are of course lies). He grows fond of guns, and purchases a few of them including a .44 Magnum from a traveling salesman (Steven Prince). He kills a black stick-up man who is then beaten by a club-bearing grocery store owner. He attends more porno theatres. Travis also starts working out, fine-tuning his body and removing all bad foods from his diet, yet he continues to eat those bad foods. The streets continue to bother him more each day. Finally, he seeks help from a veteran cabbie, The Wizard (Peter Boyle), who can't help him. In fact, no one can. How can a man with a propensity for violence be cured by people calling him "Killer"? But when Travis almost runs over a twelve-year-old prostitute, Iris (Jodie Foster), he realizes his mission in life. Iris's pimp, Sport (Harvey Keitel), is protective of Iris and pretends to love her, though he must always attend to business. Sport (also known as Matthew) is another example of the scum of the streets, and Travis feels that Palantine may not clean up the streets of all the filth if he becomes President of the U.S. Therefore, Travis's mission is to kill Palantine. Travis shaves his head leaving only a Mohawk, packs his guns and knives and prepares for battle. The Palantine assassination attempt fails, so how can Travis relieve his anger now? Well, he can kill Sport and the mobsters so he can feel justified by saving Iris (who may not want to be saved). The bloodbath takes place as the Angel of Death sprays bullets in a massacre recalling Wounded Knee, according to film critic Rex Reed. Travis is considered a media hero in New York for killing a pimp and his cohorts - one can assume that the people of New York and the media are on Travis's side since they both regard such lowlifes as scum. Iris has returned to her parents's care. All is well. Travis is seen presumably months later chuckling with his fellow cabbies (something we had not seen before in the whole film). He picks up a fare. It is Betsy who is interested in Travis again since he is mentioned in all the newspapers (all this after being told she should go to hell). He drops her off at his apartment and doesn't charge her for the fare. His last line is: "So long." Everything seems fine, and we do not expect Travis to go out with Betsy again. But then he twitches in his rearview mirror as he notices something. Another prostitute? A black stick-up man? Palantine? Who knows, but the epilogue is clear - Travis is not cured and could easily snap back into a violent mode in the future. He will not likely change his view of those mean streets and its lowlifes.

"Bringing Out the Dead" is not a remake of "Taxi Driver" but it does revisit some of its themes. We are still dealing with the city of New York but it is no longer 1975. This is the early 1990's and New York is even more hellish and nightmarish - a world out of control in endless mayhem. The lead character is not a Vietnam Vet nor is he an unrepentant killer like Travis. Instead, he is a compassionate, frustrated, benevolent, burned-out insomniac named Frank Pierce (Nicolas Cage), an ambulance paramedic in New York's Hell Kitchen. His job is to save lives during the graveyard shift, a time when the city is howling with violence and drugs. We witness the derelicts like homeless people who smell bad, junkies with brain damage, junkies who would rather join the Army, drug dealers who love UB40, clueless, sickly homeless people who can't slit their wrists, pregnant prostitutes, clueless Goth junkies and musicians, drunks, teenage girls giving birth in ghetto tenements, several cardiac arrests (Frank hates them), and so on. This world is the ninth circle of Dante's Hell, and nobody can escape from it, not even Frank. He tries to get fired by his Captain (Arthur J. Nascarella) but only gets sarcasm ("I'll fire you tomorrow!"). His partners during these three different nights include the detached Larry (John Goodman), who gorges on food to escape from the job pressures, the Bible-preaching Marcus (Ving Rhames), who uses Jesus as his own cure to stay on the job, and the psychotic, scarily volatile Tom (Tom Sizemore), who pulverizes one frequent patient with kicks to the head and a handy baseball bat. These three different partners do not help Frank cope with his own inner demons.

Frank's problem is that he feels guilty for not saving a homeless, asthmatic girl named Rose (Cynthia Roman) - she has haunted him ever since. Frank has not saved a life in months, and his mounting frustration at a job that expects him to be a savior continues to prove daunting. He drinks gin and copious amounts of coffee, smokes a chimney, and even injects himself with amino acids, vitamin B and glucose but nothing seems to work. The man can't sleep, he can't function, and he gets more and more strung out than a desperate heroin addict would. His eyes are sunken and swollen - he has seen too much death. What can someone like Frank do?

At the start of the film, Frank does save one life - a cardiac victim named Mr. Burke (Collen Oliver Jobnson) who is mispronounced as dead. "No shit," exclaims his partner, Larry, in a deadpan manner. Burke is the reason Frank continues on with his job. And he keeps seeing this victim's daughter, Mary (Patricia Arquette), outside the hospital. She has her own ways of coping by smoking cigarettes or spending a night at the Oasis (an apartment belonging to Cy, the neighborhood drug dealer). Mary feels distraught and disheveled and is a former junkie who has overdosed a few times. Frank and Mary connect in a strange way, though she is somewhat standoffish to him at first. Most peculiar is a scene where Frank and Mary are riding in the back of the ambulance and not a single word is exchanged between them. When they finally have a talk about her father, Frank admits that he was once married but that his wife could not handle his job (he was a paramedic for five years). Interestingly, he says that in his profession, he learned to block out the blood and guts that he sees (something he currently is having a problem doing). In a nice bit of foreshadowing, Frank says that sometimes there is a moment where "everything just glows" (the last scene in the film has an ethereal moment of morning glow). Mary's own admission about her life is that she wanted to run away, whether it was at a convent or a crack den - she needed an escape. That is why both Frank and Mary connect - they feel the need to escape from everything but are not sure how.

The nights continue for Frank. He keeps seeing Rose everywhere (one stunning shot shows various women in the street with Rose's face). He also keeps running into Noel (Marc Anthony), the former junkie who we learn was shot in the head by Cy and his goons. Noel feels he has been left in the desert to die and wants water as if his life depends on it. When Frank runs into Cy (smoothly played by Cliff Curtis) and tries to rescue Mary, Cy gives Frank a relaxant that knocks him out cold. We then enter Frank's mind as we see a synergistic montage of images which range from shootings in the street, speeded-up images of ambulances and people running, an amputee walking with his elbows, a couple arguing, before seguing to Frank pulling the souls of the pavement - the very people he could not save. Then we are treated to a hallucinatory sequence where Frank is seen in a flashback trying to save Rose, the asthmatic. The scene is daylight and it is snowing, though it is shot in reverse so that the snow seems to be coming up from the ground. Rose is seen collapsing in front of a meat market where slabs of beef are seen hanging. Frank fails to save her, and her dying last words are "Rose. My name is Rose." Frank wakes up and leaves with Mary in tow.

After finally getting a good night sleep at Mary's apartment, Frank is back to work, and still not getting fired by his boss. His new partner, Tom, drives him up the wall with his bloodthirsty attitude ("Look up in the sky, it is a full moon. Blood is going to run tonight, I can feel it. Our mission: to save lives.") Nothing can keep Frank going on a particularly bad night, not even a damn cup of coffee ("Our mission is coffee, Tom.") He keeps seeing Rose. The drug dealer, Cy, has been impaled on a fence after a shootout at the Oasis. Frank saves Cy's life, yet the old man, Mr. Burke, is driving Frank closer to the edge of insanity. Frank thinks Burke is talking to him and pleading with him to take his life. Frank does Burke's bidding in a sequence so startling and disturbing that nothing in TV's "E.R." can prepare you for it. It is a complex moral act, one that could be deemed as immoral since the Angel of Mercy has become the Angel of Death. The "grief mop" has not just beared witness, he has taken action. Instead of saving a life, he takes it away. After Burke's death, Frank brings the news to Mary. For a moment, Frank sees Rose and asks for forgiveness. Rose says (in Mary's voice), "It wasn't your fault. Nobody asked you to suffer. That was your idea." Finally, Frank rests his head in Mary's arms as the morning light pours in.

Antiheroes in the Big Apple

Both Travis Bickle and Frank Pierce serve as antiheroes in Scorsese's world. Lately, we have not had many antiheroes - they are a forgotten staple of our cinematic culture. In the past, whether dealing with Watergate or the Red Scare, films often dealt with people in extraordinary situations beyond their control where their morality was put to the test. Film noir has always been correlated with existentialism, a world where God does not exist and man places more importance on his own existence, his feelings, his guilt, his emotions. There is also an acceptance of consequences as a result of said actions. In films like "Double Indemnity," "D.O.A.," "Detour," "Scarlet Street" and "Chinatown," the lead characters were involved in situations way beyond their control, and the surprise element was always seeing how they would act. 1945's "Detour" dealt with the most desperate of situations - a man assuming the identity of another while driving his car and wearing his clothes and escaping from the authorities since he could be blamed for the accidental death of another. "Chinatown" had detective Jake Gittes (Jack Nicholson) exposing an affair that resulted in murder and scandal (not to mention Gittes's reputation) in what finally ends as the most fatalistic for any detective - the loss of power to combat evil.

Lately, we have had neo-noir in the "Pulp Fiction" mode where antiheroes are hip and know everything about pop culture. The difference, as characterized by writer Paul Schrader, is that today, the antihero is not concerned with guilt or morality or consequences of his/her own actions. No, today we have the ironic antihero, the one who merely says, "Who cares?"

This is certainly not the case with Travis Bickle, a man defined by nothing except his loneliness. He wants to belong to something, he wants to be loved and love someone, but his intention is to remain isolated - a self-imposed isolation. The most unique example is when Travis is on a public phone talking to Betsy (who has not returned his calls). The camera stays on him and then slowly pans away to an empty hallway. Every shot exemplifies his loneliness, particularly when he is driving a taxi. When he picks up a psychotic cab fare (chillingly played by Martin Scorsese), Travis is photographed in a separate medium shot rather than a two-shot with the cab fare. The difference between Travis and most antiheroes is that his fatalistic path is his own doing rather than anything predestined. Or as Schrader said in the documentary, "He is reinforcing his own doomed condition, to be sure he never gets to where he is going." In the case with Frank Pierce, he wants to save lives and forget Rose - two impossibilities in a man who is growing more wearisome and enervated with each passing day. His catharsis is not bloody, only an act of supposed mercy to the very victim he had saved. After being told he did not need to suffer, we realize all this could have been prevented if Frank had chosen to. But then there would be no movie. He finds peace, but who's to say that at the end he is at peace?

State of enervation and lethargy

Film Comment critic Kent Jones had once spoken glowingly of Quentin Tarantino's "Jackie Brown." He characterized it as a film about "the enervation of having to make a living, of working as a bailbondsman or as a stewardess for a crummy Mexican airline." He further points out, "there is a difference between enervated filmmaking and precise, alert filmmaking about enervation." "Jackie Brown" certainly fit the bill since it was a slower, more character-based crime drama than "Pulp Fiction" or "Reservoir Dogs." This study of human enervation is also at the heart of "Taxi Driver" and "Bringing Out the Dead." The only way this can work is if we feel the enervation and the sense of tiredness through the point-of-view of the characters. Travis's loneliness and growing hatred of the streets is clearly felt through the subjective point-of-view and his voice-over narration. We learn what New York and the people around him mean to him. One of Travis's passengers is Palantine whom Travis bluntly opines about what really should happen to the filth in the city ("It should be flushed right down the fucking toilet.") Every shot is more or less seen from his point-of-view - as cinematographer Michael Chapman pointed out, "it is a documentary of the mind." Sometimes those streets look beautiful, often awash in neon and bright lights (Times Square certainly looks more inviting than the real thing. The sequence where the taxi seems to be floating down the streets as we see neon signs like "Fascination" and movies on a marquee like "Return of the Dragon" and "Texas Chainsaw Massacre" can serve not as just the symbols of beauty and violence but as precursors for what is to come). But one senses that Travis has had enough of the dirt, the scum, just about everything. Travis is not just becoming more and more alienated (again, a self-imposed alienation), he is becoming physically enervated by the ills of society ("Twelve hours of driving a taxi and I still can't sleep. Damn. The days go on and on.") Yet that enervation gives way to pumped-up violent fantasies made manifest by his rage, his need to kill. A catharsis where the violence is his only outlet to express something genuine. The irony is that he gets the attention he wanted by way of the media for exploiting him as a savior. And if you think the famous finale does not have the religious underpinnings of typical Scorsese, consider the shot where Travis is shot in the arm by the mafioso before blowing the guy away - scribbled on the wall behind him is the phrase: "Jesus loves you." Again, beauty, fascination, violence and then love.

"Bringing Out the Dead" focuses on subjective feelings as well, and envelops the audience in Frank Pierce's weakened, lethargic states far more excessively. When Scorsese does not show his trademark whirlwind camera moves inside ambulances and in the streets, he keeps it stabilized in scenes between Frank and Mary. The static shots inside hospital rooms or outside the ER bring out the lethargic state of Frank so vividly that audiences will feel the urge to exit the theatre (the film could have been called "No Exit"). One friend of mine had a similar reaction when she saw the film - after it was over, she said, "I could not wait for it to finish." She hated the film but I think she hated what she had to endure for Frank's sake, merely forgetting that we are suffering along with Frank. Like the German Expressionists and the late director Robert Bresson, the subjective feelings and emotional states are preferred over an objective reality. The paradox is that most of "Bringing Out the Dead," and certainly "Taxi Driver," is almost too realistic for its own good, causing us to reflect on our own reality world inside the cinema instead of escaping from it. "Bringing Out the Dead" is almost more surreal than real, and it becomes more obvious towards the end when Frank's emotional states grow more frenzied and druggy. We see lots of canted angles inside ambulances and plenty of stroboscopic flashes of neon and light, sometimes in time-lapse motion, sometimes in slow-motion. Scorsese is not trying to be flashy for the sake of style - the style fits with Frank's endless disorientation. This is not entertainment nor is either film fun to sit through. The notion is to expose pain and suffering in people who feel shut out or isolated from others, especially in big cities. When Frank grows weary of hearing about yet another cardiac arrest, he shouts his thoughts with a fine line between humor and desperation: "Why does everything have to be a cardiac arrest? Whatever happened to chest pains, difficulty breathing, fractured hands. Come on, people!"

Music underscoring action

Music is also integral to the emotional lives of these characters. In the case with "Taxi Driver," we hear the late Bernard Herrmann's last musical score that combines some jazz with the staccato, piercing violin rhythms that Herrmann is best known for. This gives the impression that something horrible and corrupt is about to happen in the Big Apple, a foreshadowing of violent events to come. There is also the only song used in the film, Jackson Browne's "Late For the Sky," as we see Travis Bickle watching "American Bandstand" on television. The lyrics go something like this: "How long have I been sleeping? How long have I have been drifting?" But look at the scene carefully: Travis is withdrawn but he also hates the show yet he can't stop watching it, possibly even be fascinated by it. He is also holding a gun. Beauty, love, fascination that give way to violence. Same thing with Betsy - someone he could love and is fascinated by but is compelled to sully her and be verbally violent with her. How long can Travis drift into his subjective reality before being objective about it?

In "Bringing Out the Dead," Scorsese chooses pop and rock and roll songs to underscore his character's private hell. Scorsese has said that when he rode in ambulances, he noticed the paramedics played a lot of rock songs, perhaps to ease the tension of whatever ghastly horror they may come up against. In the film, there is not one song that does not seem out of context. Consider the Martha Reeves song "Nowhere to Run," played during Frank's ambulance ride with Marcus. Listen carefully to the lyrics as you hear them: "She becomes a part of me. Everywhere I go, your face I see. Every step I take, you take with me." These lyrics coincide with Frank's obsession over Rose whom he sees everywhere. The other lyrics help to capture the existential nature of the subject as in the following: "Nowhere to run to, baby. Nowhere to hide." Also noteworthy is "You Can't Put Your Arms Around a Memory," a song rather fitting since Frank shouldn't have to wrestle with the memory of Rose's death. The main song, Van Morrison's "T.B. Sheets" (a song Scorsese was initially going to use in "Taxi Driver"), also captures Frank's inner life as if he is suffocating from all the noise, all the anguish, both on the streets and in the crowded E.R ("Let me breathe. Don't worry about it, don't worry about it.") "I want, I want, I want a drink of water" are lyrics that fit with Noel's own desperation for a drink of water, and there are many other examples. "T.B. Sheets" is spread throughout the film and its purpose is to suffocate the viewer with its endless guitar strings and riffs.

Humor amidst the horror

There is some understated humor in Frank's comments towards Mary's need for a cigarette: "It's okay, they are prescription." He also makes comments like, "Do you want to go somewhere? Get a falafel?" Other nice bits of humor that could be lost in most viewers the first time out include the constant reference to the hospital as Our Lady of Misery (rather than Our Lady of Perpetual Mercy). There is also a cop named Gris who threatens people with his sunglasses; the running gag of Noel constantly running away from the hospital; Frank telling Noel he will promise death to him using anything from nerve gas to lethal injections; a horrifyingly funny sequence where Frank and Tom persuade a homeless person not to slit his wrists; Larry's inability to deal with the smell of the "Duke of Stink"; the conversations between Marcus and the dispatcher named Love (Queen Latifah); the fake resurrection of a Red Death goth victim; and I could go on and on. The problem is twofold - most Scorsese films teeter between comedy and violence in such a quick snap that it makes it hard to know how to react. Like Steven Spielberg once said of Scorsese, "he plays the audience like a piano. Sometimes, you don't know whether to laugh or to be scared." Spielberg may as well be describing "GoodFellas," which is full of what I may call "screeching halt" emotions. But "Bringing Out the Dead' is so heavy on the dark aspects that the humor is easy to miss. At one point, a nurse (played by Aida Turturro) says that she has kicked a patient out to make room for Mr. Burke. A doctor makes the comment that Mr. Burke's eyes are fixed and dilated and considers him plant food. Even Frank makes a snide comment that Burke prefers the nurses at Misery - "He says they are the best."

"Taxi Driver" has its moments though the humor quotient is at a minimum. Some humorous bits take place inside the Belmore Cafeteria where Travis's cabbie pals talk about homosexual partners and alimony, police chasing suspects on crutches, cab fares slicing cabbies's ears off and women changing their pantyhose in the middle of the Triborough Bridge. The humor is in the details. For example, one cabbie describes a one-legged suspect on crutches and is asked if the suspect was chasing the policeman or the other way around. The Wizard (Peter Boyle) has one famous speech which fits as pure existentialism as he tries to talk to Bickle. He talks about a person becoming the job, and that everyone becomes something since he has seen it all in his fifteen years as a cabbie. The Wizard also states that he chooses to do what he does, namely driving a cab at night for ten years.

Travis: "I don't know. I don't know. I really, you know I really. I got some bad ideas in my head."

The Wizard: "Got out and get laid. Do anything. Because you got no choice anyhow. I mean we are all fucked. More or less."

Travis (chuckles): "That is the dumbest thing I have ever heard."

The Wizard's statement is evidently the thoughts of anyone living in New York who feels life is only about work and nothing else. There is nothing to look forward to, nothing to take away from the city life - in one word, hopelessness. Even Frank Pierce evoked a more hopeful response, advice he could have given to Travis: "The city does not discriminate. It gets to everybody."

There is also some choice bits of office comedy with Albert Brooks as another canvasser, Tom, Betsy's co-worker. He tells a story of a thief who had his fingers blown off (a foreshadowing of the violent finale) by a mobster. There is also a comment about the political phrase, "We are the people " as opposed to "We are the people." Betsy mocks the job they are doing as the equivalent of selling mouthwash.

The urgency of Taxi Driver and Bringing Out the Dead 

The reason "Taxi Driver" remains as eerily prophetic today as it was in 1976 is because its character study of loneliness and self-imposed alienation remains timeless. Most of us might understand what Travis Bickle is going through because he chooses to remain in that alienated state. It can be argued that people today are as lonely and unhappy as ever before. For Travis, the seeds of violence and frustration may be a result of the Vietnam War, a veteran who fought for his country and was then forgotten. How does one act after returning from the bloody warfare of the jungles in another country? The answer is simple: He becomes a soldier in the streets. The city has become a jungle, only the Vietcong are not his targets. The targets are the ordinary folk who represent the scum that Travis despises so much. It is doubtful that Travis would have used one of the most famous lines in movie history in Vietnam. "Are you talkin' to me?," asks Travis in front of a mirror as he prepares for the mean streets. As Ebert once correctly indicated, it is not that line but the one that follows ("Well, I am the only one here") that proves far more resonant. It encapsulates Travis Bickle to a tee.

Unfortunately, life imitated art. John Hinckley, an admirer of "Taxi Driver" and an obsessive over Jodie Foster, attempted to assassinate President Reagan back in 1981. His reasons were that "Taxi Driver" inspired him and that he needed to protect Jodie herself, assuming that he thought she was Iris and not an actress playing the part. Obviously "Taxi Driver" caused a maelstrom of controversy over the responsibility of the artist when it comes to violence. Scorsese rightly said he could not take responsibility for every person that enters a movie theatre. Although I believe that art, or something as vivid as cinema, cannot be used as a scapegoat for real-life crimes (I myself never felt a need to kill somebody after seeing a movie), I do firmly believe that had the film's colors not been desaturated during its violent climax, it might not have inspired anybody to do anything. The initial footage had colors that were so incredibly violent that the MPAA balked and asked for it to be trimmed or desaturated. Somehow, the very violence that Travis perpetrated against the criminal element should have been seen as the actions of a mentally ill man. The reports from screenings of the film were that the audience was cheering Travis on, seeing it as a "Death Wish" fantasy. This is a shame because Travis's actions are nothing to cheer about - he is Iris's dubious savior but he is nothing less than a killer (or did the audience forget he killed a stick-up man at point blank range?) In that sense, the irony would have been more fully realized if the audience understood that Travis's media hero status was also erroneous. I understood it, but I am sure most people will misinterpret it.

It is possible that "Bringing Out the Dead" will long be forgotten in the Scorsese canon since it does not measure up to the greatness of such solidly intense films like "GoodFellas" or "Raging Bull," or especially "Taxi Driver." "Dead" is the equivalent of say Elia Kazan's "The Last Tycoon," a film that people know of its existence but rarely discuss in the same light with "On the Waterfront" or "A Streetcar Named Desire." Nor is it fair to compare "Dead" to "Taxi Driver," though there are obvious similarities. Calling the film "Ambulance Driver" is to forget its existing virtues. There is none of the grisly, scary violence of "Taxi Driver" or "GoodFellas" or "Casino." The focus is on the aftermath of violence, as in the agonizing bullet wounds of a nearly dead drug dealer or the impalement of Cy on a fence. The latter is the best example of what "Bringing Out the Dead" ultimately accomplishes which is to show horror mixed with humor and a spirituality in death or near-death - to see its purity and how strangely beautiful it all is. Consider the beginning of the extraordinary scene of Cy's impalement, which starts with the discovery of a pool of blood in an apartment flowing with the remains of an exploded fish tank, as we hear the strains of UB40's song "Red, Red Wine." This leads to Frank's discovery of Cy impaled on a fence after jumping out the window. The spiritual essence and purity is evoked when Cy points out the beauty of the sparks from the blowtorches in the night sky, as we see the Empire State Building in the distance. "Taxi Driver" has been associated with this same purity but the purification is mostly Travis's. "Taxi Driver" is a realistic, ghastly horror film. "Bringing Out the Dead" is a spiritual drama etched with horror on the margins.

Ultimately, Scorsese's films almost always close with an image of loneliness. Travis Bickle isolated in his cab as he drives off into the night. Ace Rothstein alone in a room wearing oversized glasses as he makes sporting bets in "Casino." The Dalai Lama looking through a telescope in his new home in "Kundun." Jesus Christ dying on the cross in "The Last Temptation of Christ." At least Frank Pierce rests in a woman's arms at the end of "Bringing Out the Dead." That is about as close to an optimistic ending as you will get from Martin Scorsese.

Sources: 

Sight and Sound. Dec. 1999, Review by David Thomson. 

Film Comment. May-June 1998. 

Film Comment. January 1998. Review by Kent Jones. 

Taxi Driver Documentary. Video/DVD. 1997. Columbia Pictures. 

New York magazine. Interview by James Kaplan. March 4th, 1996. 

(An interview with Jill Schoelen) The Strength, Vitality and Allure of Jill Schoelen

The Strength, Vitality and Allure of Jill Schoelen
(an interview with the underrated actress)

By Jerry Saravia

A few months ago I read a blog entitled, "Whatever Happened to Jill Schoelen?" I always wondered but the truth is she chose to raise a family over continuing her acting career (A more telling question would be whatever happened to Kitty Winn, known for "Panic in Needle Park" and "The Exorcist," but that is a subject for another time). If some of you are still wondering who this underrated sparkling brunette actress with the sensual voice is (as well as the personal crush of many fans), she made a name for herself with some cult horror movies of the 1980's, including the original and highly suspenseful "The Stepfather"; "The Phantom of the Opera" with Robert Englund; "Cutting Class" (featuring the film debut of Brad Pitt); the clever in-jokes of "Popcorn," which interestingly features a scarred villain not unlike the Phantom; in addition to an in-name only sequel to "The Curse" called "Curse II: The Bite." She has also appeared in a handful of TV movies like Wes Craven's "Chiller"; a low-rent though occasionally diverting production of "Babes in Toyland" with Keanu Reeves; a spectacular role as a blind girl in "Little House on the Prairie: A New Beginning" (for some "Little House" fans, it is their favorite episode); a Showtime sequel to "When a Stranger Calls" entitled "When a Stranger Calls Back" (one of the best and most absorbing thrillers ever made); and "Billionaire Boys Club," which also starred Judd Nelson. She also snagged a small part in non-horror films like the down and dirty comedy "D.C. Cab" as Adam Baldwin's love interest, and has, in my mind, given the best and most dynamic performance of her career in Floyd Mutrux's forgotten "There Goes My Baby," a 60's counterculture picture that also starred Noah Wyle and Ricky Schroder. There's also the less-than-stellar drama "Rich Girl" and the cutesiness of "Adventures in Spying," the latter of which stars G. Gordon Liddy!

The truth is Jill Schoelen stood apart from most young actresses of her day because of her strength, her credibility, her vulnerability, her vitality and her maturity (and her flowing black hair, particularly in a time where blonde and bimbo were synonymous and the norm). As Gene Siskel once remarked about actresses in general, we have a lot of "girls" in movies but few and far in between behave like women. Jill did, one hundred and ten percent. Whether it was as Brad Pitt's clueless girlfriend in "Cutting Class" or the Nancy Drew-like Stephanie Maine in "The Stepfather," she seemed wiser beyond her years and had a degree of intelligence. In "Phantom of the Opera," she stood her own against Robert Englund in period garb in a deliberate period piece (seeing her in "Opera" is a reminder that she would've been fantastic as May Welland in "Age of Innocence" or been a real firecracker as Annie Oakley, if Hollywood ever decides to revisit the famous sharpshooter's life). So it is my profound pleasure to have interviewed Jill Schoelen, a warm, gracious and patient woman who has given her time to one of her most ardent fans and has some choice nuggets of information about her roles in film, stage and beyond that she shares with refreshing honesty.

Jill and Roger Wilson in Thunder Alley

Jerry Saravia: "Was Terry O'Quinn just as scary in person when doing your scenes with him in The Stepfather as the film itself? Also, any improvisation you had with Terry in any scenes, or Shelley Hack?"

Jill Schoelen: "I don't remember any specific improvisation in a large way during filming, but spontaneous moments, unexpected things, are always or should be a part of any performance I think, while on stage or screen, and there were definitely those moments with Terry, but I can't remember anything specific - just a regular part of performing with someone.

And no, Terry is by no means scary in any way as a person.  He was just a very nice man!"

Jerry: "With regards to 'There Goes My Baby', what was it like working with director Floyd Mutrux (who also helmed 'Dusty and Sweets McGee', 'American Hot Wax')? Did he allow any improvisation? Also, did you think the film would be shelved indefinitely when Orion went bankrupt - and when it was released five years later (if I am correct in my research), did you consider it a bitter disappointment that audiences did not respond to it? I think the advertising didn't help."

Jill: "Clearly the problems with Orion did not set up a scenario for 'There Goes My Baby' to have any real success.  No one heard of it as it was not advertised, and to my eye, it doesn't have the look or feel of a film that had a cohesive and thorough postproduction life.  Don't get me wrong - considering all that is stack up against it - the movie is quite good and stands on its own as it is!

Floyd is a trip (in a wonderful way).  He is very talented and has a GREAT eye for talent - that's a talent in itself.  I have worked with him again in a different capacity over the last years on a show, a rock and roll biography (a musical) that opens on Broadway in late April of this year called 'Baby It's You'.  It's fantastic show and Floyd is a master of this type of material.  He wrote it and is directing it I believe.  I haven't really been involved in a hands on way for a while, but I did spend some time working with Floyd on this show's journey and he is really very talented!  Go see the show in NY when it opens!!!!!  You'll love it!  I'll be there opening night!!!"

Jill in When a Stranger Calls Back

Jerry: "Who considered you for 'When a Stranger Calls Back', as I am sure it must have been a dream master class in acting of working with such pros like Charles Durning and Carol Kane. Also, was the mullet your idea or written in the script?"

Jill: "Well, I WASN'T the director’s idea for 'When a Stranger Calls Back'.  The casting director was bringing me in to read for it, and as Fred (the director) told me back while we were making the film, when he found out I was coming in to read, he asked them to cancel my appointment.  He didn't think I was right and had NO interest in seeing me, but the casting director told him, they could not cancel the appointment with that kind of late notice.  Not knowing any of this, I showed up for my appointment and read for Fred and the producers and as he told me later, I WON the part, strictly by the job I did with the audition.  I've always felt very proud of that, because he did not want me and I had to win him over, and did, and I am very happy I did, as I love this film.  And I love when fans write and acknowledge it and appreciate it the way they do.  If it is seen, it is usually well loved and gets great response.

As far as my hair, my real hair was short at the time, and as there is a time jump of like 5 years or something, the 'look' of Julia needed to be different, but different in a way reflective of a person who had had her experiences and wanted to hide and not bring attention to herself.  I think most women try and make the most how they look.  I think in Julia's case, she made the most of underplaying her looks and perhaps other parts of herself.  I think the look of her was perfect and realistic for her character."

Jill in A Little House on the Prairie: A New Beginning

Jerry: "I'd love to know your personal favorite film or TV role(s)."

Jill: "So here's my definitive list of my favorite movies and/or characters whether it be film or television.

'Little House in the Prairie' - I played a young blind woman, who was once one of Laura’s (Melissa Gilbert) best friends from when she was at the blind school.  In this episode she comes back as a young woman and falls in love with Victor French, who played the older gentleman 'Isaiah' on the show.  Because she was blind, age - all of that had no weight in her decision of love, but in reality it often can or should when the years are decades of difference.  Anyway, she was a beautiful character and to work on a show like that was a dream!  The episode was on the last season and called 'Love'.

How can I not mention 'DC Cab'?  It was my first movie, a studio film (Universal) with an outrageous cast (mostly comedians), a wonderful, artistic director, Joel Schumacher, and for me, the movie is not up there, but the experience of making the movie has great sentimental value to me.

I did a little film called 'Thunder Alley' and that film too has a big place in my heart, and I think is a very watchable movie.  More than that really - I say it that way because it might not be everyone's taste, but I think it's a very good film.  It's hard to make a good film without the means and this movie is good.  It has a lot of heart.  I think it's funny (as in strange in a good way) that the writer and director of 'Thunder Alley' is the writer of 'The Stepfather' remake.

From an experiential point of view, 'That Was Then...This Is Now', is a film I am very proud to have been a part of.  There is one scene in particular that I was in, that I am so glad to have on film.  SE Hinton, of course, wrote the novel this film is based on, and it's really cool to be part of something that has such value.  I mean both my children have had to read 'That Was Then...' in school.  She's a very important part of adolescent literary culture.  Regardless of adolescence, her books stand on their own and are quite brilliant.

As far as film, 'The Stepfather' is way up there as a favorite.  Every element of the film was very special to be a part of - the character, Stephanie, the script, the DP, John Lindely, the director, Joe Ruben, the entire cast, the producer, Jay Benson, the location - Vancouver, Canada, a fantastic production company, really everything was great!  And the film turned out great.  It's a very special film - unique and haunting and strangely funny - thanks to the writing and Terry's outstanding portrayal of 'Jerry'.

I loved making 'Babes In Toyland'. The final product I wish was better, in all honesty, but this is a HARD movie to be really good because the very premise of movie creates a hit or miss scenario for the filmmaking.  We had SO much FUN though.  There was a scene were Drew (Barrymore) and I laughed so hard, we couldn't get the scene down on film because we kept busting up and could only laugh.  You know that kind of laughter?  And the thing was, it was really quite dumb what we were laughing over, but it was hilarious in the moment!  I remember the director, Clive Donner, getting annoyed with us and our laughter and eventually being stern and after that, he got his take.  But we had so much fun - great experiences and trivia came out of that little movie.

Jill and Keanu Reeves in Babes in Toyland

For many of the same reasons as 'The Stepfather', 'When a Stranger Calls Back' is way up there as a favorite on film.  It was a deep experience playing Julia.  Some characters, like people, are deeper and more complex, and to portray her, required a vulnerability that makes one very sensitive, and that's difficult but extraordinarily rewarding.  When the work is solid, you don't really care, I mean you hope the movie is well received, but you really do the work for yourself - that's the rewarding part, and this film was that for me.

Loved making and being a part of 'There Goes My Baby'.  I got to sing 'Leader of the Pack' and that was really great!  And it's wonderful doing something period - from the '60's.

Jill in There Goes My Baby

Being a part of 'Billionaire Boys Club' meant a lot to me.  Same production company as 'The Stepfather', and it was a unique experience.  It was true story, not far from being out of headlines, and a mini-series, a successful one, and I was pretty much the only female in the movie.

My first real job was a pilot called 'Best of Times' and that too has a place in my heart.  It was not very good at all, but it was my first real job and I worked with Crispin Glover and Nicholas Cage (who was Coppola then), and we had fun. I think it might have been all of ours first job.  But that would be something to track down - just to us so young and singing and dancing - yes, it was a musical type show!!!

I can’t believe I forgot 'Phantom of the Opera' but I almost did.  I have such mixed thoughts and emotions about this movie.  It should have and could have been very, very good, but it simply had too much gore and was not a match with the beautiful music, cinematography, costuming – every other element was in place and all the blood and gore were gratuitous and discredited the film.  Robert Englund is a wonderful actor and really deserved this movie getting more attention, but as I’ve said, it lost its audience with the elements not syncing up – in my opinion.  But I loved making the film, and I think my favorite part was the beautiful costuming by John Bloomfield.  On a personal note, spending time with Robert and his wife Nancy was a wonderful time too.  They are lovely people!"

Jerry: "And what are your future plans? Broadway? Did I read that right? Keep singing? Whatever you feel comfortable sharing, of course."

Jill: "I think I like most to work on stage – at least the stage I’ve done.  'Pepper Street' was a musical I did for 5 years in Burbank, CA, and I played the main character, 'Spirit'.  She was a remarkable girl.  I got to sing and cry my heart out a couple times a week for years playing her.

Another great stage experience was playing Donna in 'HurlyBurly' with its playwright, David Rabe, directing, and working with fellow actors Sean Penn, Danny Aiello, Mare Winningham, Michael Lerner, and the late Scott Plank.    I feel most at home on stage.

I also did another show with Sean Penn that he wrote and directed called, 'The Kindness of Women'. This was special because this was his first public showing of his writing and directing and I was so flattered that he asked me to be a part of it, and I LOVED him as a director.  He is tops with working with actors. It’s special to be a part of something like that, and the whole experience was very dear!

The music I sing is the vocal jazz stuff.  I am passionate about the American Songbook, and about all the songs that need to be added into the historical side of the American songbook.  I plan to keep singing.  On the next CD I am going to record songs that I believe will become a historical part of the American Songbook!   Really looking forward in a crazy way to that recording!!!!  Hopefully, it will be sometime later this year."

Reviews of choice Jill Schoelen flicks  

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Ignore self-esteem, full speed ahead

PUBLIC SPEAKING (2010)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

In less than 90 minutes, without missing a beat, "Public Speaking" is as enveloping, entertaining, bitingly funny and insightful as any American or European comedy I've seen in years. It is a documentary version of "My Dinner With Andre," and just as quixotic and absorbing. The fact that this is a Martin Scorsese documentary is already a major plus for Scorsese fans alike.

From the first frame to the last, we are introduced into a world of a most unconventional woman, a writer and public speaker who is inspired and provocative. She is not a comedian or comedienne but she is as funny as any one of them, exchanging ideas and insights into our culture that are more surefooted and more of a bitter pill for us to swallow than, say, anything coming out of loudmouthed Joy Behar. The unconventional woman is Fran Lebowitz, an author of two books and a children's book and that is the level of her accomplishments in the past thirty years. Before you can say Harper Lee plus two, Fran proves she can be just as witty and sardonic in her commentary when she speaks than when she writes. Her topics include having "writer's blockade"; the dumbing down of America thanks to the AIDS virus that spread through the gay population, particularly in New York's artistic community; her first job as a writer for Andy Warhol's "Interview" magazine; her admiration for the late author James Baldwin; the tourist attraction of a Disneyfied Times Square where all the porn shops disappeared; the lack of investigative journalism and how one's opinion is not nearly as important as reporting the news; fighting for smoker's rights, and a host of other topics. Most illuminating is her topic on the lack of progression in solving racism, which is exemplified through old footage of James Baldwin denouncing America's treatment of blacks while the late William F. Buckley's only retort is that Baldwin is speaking with a British accent.

There is so much more that it is almost a cheat to list everything Fran discusses. She is a dynamic marvel to watch and listen to - someone who speaks her mind and declares she is "always right." I wouldn't disagree, especially when she mentions that it took too long to have a black President. Yes, indeed, far too long and it is a sorry state of affairs that America has been backwards in progressive politics. Most of this film is simply Fran at the Waverly Inn in Greenwich Village talking to an unnamed male and Martin Scorsese. Some might consider this a dull way of presenting a subject but she is too invigorating a presence and too rapid-fire and too passionate a speaker, not unlike Scorsese himself, to assume that simple stable camera set-ups aren't the best way to present her. There is also a deliberate nod to Scorsese's own "Taxi Driver" as Fran drives around the city at night. Mostly, she prefers to walk everywhere, which is why she is often late to her public appearances. She is a real New Yorker, one who likes looking at people and hates strollers! She has no cell phone and thus no ability to text, but she keeps looking and observing. At times, the whole film resembles a Woody Allen picture with Fran's pungent commentary proving to be as controlled as Woody Allen's. Both come from an ancient New York, one that doesn't exist anymore.

I think the point of "Public Speaking" is that cell phones take away from observing minutiae and human behavior, thus maybe contributing in some way to dumbing down our ability to speak and write without abbreviation. Fran Lebowitz pays attention and has written about our culture and our people, and has educated herself in her own way (reading the books that interested her in school rather than the required reading list). I hate to live in a world where Fran Lebowitz doesn't exist.