Thursday, February 3, 2011

Smoke Gets In Your Eyes


DYM aka SMOKE (2007)
Reviewed by Jerry Saravia



In 7 minutes, Polish director Grzegorz Cisiecki conjures a boat load of emotions and hidden, repressed, and forbidden desires in such a tantalizing manner that you'll come away overwhelmed. "Dym" aka "Smoke" is an expressive experiment in surrealist cinema, but that is its cover - it is actually a penetrating film about overcoming sexual repression.

A young man is shown sitting in his room. He has a tape recorder. He turns it on, and right away we get shock cuts, the kind that get under your skin with the musical chords underscoring them. The shock cuts are to images of a woman with frizzy hair; a car ride with a heavy-set passenger, but whom? This is followed by a plate of blood with a tape recorder on it. There is also a woman dressed as a cleric, but why? Hmm. A party with members wearing masks that echo Kubrick's "Eyes Wide Shut" and the costumed balls of many other films from the past, not excluding Kenneth Branagh's "Dead Again." A lesbian couple kiss. There is also a murder, or is it murdered innocence?

My guess is that "Dym" is actually about a young man with a girlfriend, who may or may not exist, and whose love for her has not been consummated. Sex is show in crimson red colors with smoke in the background - hazy, confusing and beyond his control. The young man might also be a priest, which would explain the lack of consummation. And the tape recorder triggers memories that he can't help but be immersed in.

"Dym" is exquisite subjective cinema, the kind I love because it centers on what a person thinks of the world around him. Surrealists, like Dali and Bunuel, always focused on the world as filtered through someone's mind. This "Dym" is fragmented, coarse, sinister, and valuable to our collective minds because it is relatable. It is about things we often think about, but refuse to discuss. Sex is as timely a subject as ever, particularly in the U.S. and our popular culture. Cisiecki has focused on sexual repression as filtered through memory and desire. Don't listen to those who call films like these pretentious or self-indulgent - this is masterful filmmaking. Cisiecki had me at surrealist.


Watch the film by clicking below:

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

The unveiling of pioneer life as it was

HEARTLAND (1979)
Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Siskel and Ebert first featured this exquisite Western on their "Buried Treasure" section of their movie review program. Unfortunately, despite winning the Golden Bear award at the Berlin International Film Festival, few have heard of or spoken of this film since. A shame because "Heartland" is the definitive film on the perils and hardships of frontier life in the early 20th century, detailing every aspect in documentary fashion.

Conchata Ferrell is Elinore, the newly employed housekeeper for the Scottish farmer, Clyde Stewart (Rip Torn), the owner of a Wyoming ranch in Burnt Fork. Elinore has her slightly bratty daughter (Megan Folsom) in tow, who is more of a helping hand on this ranch than anything else. There are plenty of cattle, pigs, horses and chickens to attend to in this vast wilderness. There is so much land that Elinore takes an interest in buying her own piece of it, an unclaimed tract of land adjacent to Clyde's, though she is reminded by Clyde that she can't afford it. Winters are brutal, for one, and there is not much she can do to make ends meet without livestock or credit. Clyde's trusty hired hand is Jack (Barry Primus), though he is ready to call it quits when the money gets tight in Clyde's farm. If Clyde has trouble, what can Elinore expect when she is expected to live in this newly acquired land for ten years?

Elinore decides that the best thing to do is marry Clyde. Their marriage is not depicted as rocky or flawed, only merely put to the test with the harsh winters, their daughter's minor frostbite, and Elinore's pregnancy. And without Clyde's hired hand, times are getting tougher and tougher.

"Heartland" is not sentimental or nostalgic about a bygone era - it suffuses the era with a harsh light, not an incandescent glow. The movie doesn't shy away from the realities and difficulties of pioneer life. Whether it is a cow giving birth, the cattle dying from the cold weather or a wandering horse that hopes to get fed, in addition to Elinore giving birth to a baby that has convulsions, every detail is given 100% authenticity. It also helps that actors Rip Torn and Conchata Ferrell lend this film immediacy, urgency and a sense of heartbreak. There are no cliches to be found here, and most of the film (astoundingly directed by Richard Pearce) is muted and restrained with little to no dialogue for long passages of time. One scene in particular is cliche-free and unexpected. Elinore is scrubbing the wooden floors while her daughter balances a book on her head. The daughter is walking on the unscrubbed floor section and she nearly and purposely steps on the scrubbed section. She knows her mother will notice it and scream at her, and the daughter decides not to step on it. A jaw-dropping moment in a film filled with them.

"Heartland" is based on the diaries of the real-life Elinore Pruitt Stewart later published in the book "Letters of a Woman Homesteader." The film itself is not likely to appeal to anyone besides those with a vested interest in the old American West, but it would be a shame to miss it since films like this barely exist now, let alone back in 1979 (Only the 1981 Canadian production of "Silence of the North" with Ellen Burstyn comes to mind). I would say if you like westerns stripped of cliches and stereotypes and like to see the hardships of a different way of life, then check out the engrossing "Heartland." It is an American masterpiece.

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Dee Snider's Stinker of a Snicker-Doodle Horror Thriller

DEE SNIDER'S STRANGELAND (1998)
Reviewed by Jerry Saravia
"Dee Snider's Strangeland" is a laugh riot, there I said it - a laugh riot. It is not scary or thrilling or remotely gut-wrenching to hardcore gore fans or those who admire torture porn (a term I loathe - it should be torture plays). Dee Snider is the former frontman of his band, Twisted Sister, but even he could do better than create such bottom-of-the-barrel junk.

Dee Snider is the Internet psycho, Captain Howdy, who lures young men and women to his house through an online chat room and subjects them to body modification and piercings. He doesn't just give a nose ring or tongue ring and call it a day - he sews up his victims' eyelids and mouths and begins piercing to inflict pain. I guess his point is that the body feels pain so you have to learn how to separate the flesh from the spirit, or so I gather. If I want body piercings, I'll go somewhere else.

Linda Cardellini, pre-"Freaks and Geeks," is one of the first victims and she spends the movie mostly naked, mute or occasionally crying or all the above (she also uses a catheter while caged like a wild animal!) There is her police detective of a father (Kevin Gage), who expresses muted rage the way an angry rabbit does. Elizabeth Pena has the thankless role as Cardellini's mother. Robert Englund brings a modicum of energy as an angry mob leader who wants to kill Captain Howdy. If Englund had played Linda's father, this might have been a better film overall. Dee Snider has an imposing presence but he is a mite more chilling when we don't see his tattooed, pierced face.

"Strangeland" segues to a story of how Captain Howdy is reformed and just needs to take his sanity pills to remain civilized in society. Such an intriguing subplot is shuffled for more body piercings and every hook, line and sinker of the "Hellraiser" variety. William Friedkin's "Rampage" had a similar subplot that gave credence to the morality of capital punishment, and had a scarier killer in the casting of Alex McArthur. This movie aims to shock but its too numbing and silly, not to mention laughably acted, to merit any value in the light of the current "Saw" crop.

Dee Snider was rightly pissed that his movie was re-edited into the mess it became. I'd be pissed too.

Monday, January 31, 2011

Roger Ebert: Our Beloved Thumbs Up Critic

Our beloved film critic Roger Ebert is gone, but his passion remains!
(1942-2013)
By Jerry Saravia

Roger Ebert and Russ Meyer

I once emailed Roger Ebert during the 1999 theatrical release of Eyes Wide Shut (which he admired) if he would give a second look to A Clockwork Orange. After all, it is a film he panned and awarded a two-star rating. His wife loved it and considered it her favorite film, and the late Gene Siskel had tried to get Ebert to re-review it (Siskel himself gave a second look to his initial pan of Apocalypse Now and gave it a positive review). Hell, if Ebert loves The Shining and 2001 so much (they are both on his Great Movies list), surely a revisit to the most controversial film ever made about the nature of violence merits a fresh perspective. Ebert emailed me back and said, “I’ll see it again someday.” I don't know if he ever got around to it.


Such is the brief correspondence I had with Roger Ebert, a film critic who I admired as much as any film critic. When I was getting into puberty during the 1980’s, I voraciously read reviews from film books at the local library in Fresh Meadows, NY. They would include the latest compilation of reviews from Pauline Kael, the Cult Movies volumes by Danny Peary, the Midnight Movies book (which opened my eyes to films like Eraserhead and Pink Flamingos), the Leonard Maltin Movie Guides and, of course, the Roger Ebert Home Movie Companion books. Ebert was also on the now defunct Sneak Previews TV show and the Siskel and Ebert show, both of which I watched religiously.

Roger Ebert and Pauline Kael

In many ways, Ebert informed my viewing of cinema (and still does). Yes, the late Pauline Kael’s witticisms were unquestionably literary and poetic – you knew that she loved the cinema and expressed it. Danny Peary, Peter Travers, Leonard Maltin, David Edelstein, Janet Maslin and many others were invaluable in their passionate insights – I spent many nights analyzing their words. But it is Ebert who made me see past what I was seeing – how a personal statement by a director could make a critic angry and volatile. Ebert has experienced this phenomenon with films that obviously got to him on a gut level, as witnessed by his pans of Clockwork Orange and Blue Velvet. Then there were films that made him angry because of their putridness. He made me rethink the unnecessary cruelty of Jennifer Jason Leigh’s demise in the unwatchable The Hitcher, though I believe it is not a film as cruelly illogical as he claimed. He and Siskel famously derided I Spit On Your Grave and Friday the 13th, thus enabling a disreputable stain on the slasher film genre through most of the 1980’s. In hindsight, those films were not nearly as severe in their unbridled brutality as Wes Craven's Last House on the Left, which Ebert admired a lot more than I did.  

There were times where Ebert left me incredulous in retrospect. I wondered why neither he nor Siskel made any mention of the graphic violence in “Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom” or in “Gremlins” when they both later admonished the far less grimmer display of tricks in the rousing “Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves.” I love “Temple of Doom” and “Gremlins” but the violence in both PG films was far more severe than in Costner's “Robin Hood.” I agreed with certain aspects of Ebert’s review of “Dead Poet’s Society,” though I think it is a fine film overall and especially uplifting towards the end. But that is what makes Ebert so wonderful – you feel like you are watching a film right beside him and arguing with him at the same time. No other critic does this.

I also love that Ebert didn't play with the current critical taste as often as people think. He awarded three stars to She’s the Man, The Longest Day remake, Necessary Roughness and Tomb Raider when most critics panned them outright. Of course, he did dismiss one of my favorite films of the 1990’s, the misunderstood and critically maligned Lost Highway by David Lynch, with a two star rating (which was used in the print ads). And how he could pan The Tenant, The Fearless Vampire Killers and What?, three truly magnificent Roman Polanski films, I’ll never know. But then I suppose he would've disagreed with my raving insights on all three.

Roger Ebert made me want to be a film critic. The fact that he is the first critic to win the Pulitzer Prize is astounding. The fact that he cared enough about films to save certain ones from extinction (“One False Move” is a good example) and promote them through his annual Overlooked Film Festival is an amazing feat. I also admire that he stood up to the MPAA and its former late president, Jack Valenti, about instilling a reasonable “A” rating for films with artistic merit that showed graphic violence or sexuality (all we got is an NC-17 rating that gets little to no advertising). Plus, if for no other reason, Ebert also co-wrote some Russ Meyer flicks – that is enough reason to make him a hero in my book.

Oddly, every few years or so, I am hesitant to write film reviews. I do it because I love film but I still feel I do not know enough about films or film history. Sometimes I feel I am reading a film the wrong way. Maybe I am not seeing a film correctly, or maybe I am misjudging something. Sometimes I feel that I love a film that no one else seems to like. I also try my damnedest to separate myself from just any other critic with a blog in the internet. What always set me in the right mood was reading Roger Ebert's reviews. To me, he is the man of the movies. He inspired me, and still does. Every time I read a review of his, I felt connected to someone who spent their life watching films. A critic by design is meant to be someone you often disagree with more than agree, and that is what makes him rise above any other film critics in general.


I had said back in 2006 that Ebert should take my word for it and come back to work as soon he could. Even former President Bush had hoped for his speedy recovery. Since 2006, Ebert had been quite prolific in writing film reviews and a blog on political issues. His show had come back on PBS with the title, "Ebert Presents At the Movies," where he reviewed one film a week and had respectable movie critics chosen to fill the aisle seats (namely Christy Lemire and Ignatiy Vishnevetsky). That show had been cancelled over a year ago. Now Ebert is gone from our world due to his long battle with cancer. I can safely say that no other critic has filled me with the animated presence or passion of reviewing films than Roger Ebert. R.I.P Roger.

Sunday, January 30, 2011

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.

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

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?