The bigger the lie, the more people will believe it

THE INVENTION OF LYING (2009)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Ricky Gervais's comic act is abrasive and confrontational - he takes no prisoners. What he is not, whether it is in his standup, his Golden Globes hosting duties or his podcasts with Stephen Merchant and Karl Pilkington, is sweet. Along with "Ghost Town," "The Invention of Lying" is an unusual and delightful comedy that wins your heart and soul. I know, sounds like one of those tag lines from film critics trying to curry favor with the studio's pockets, but I do mean it. For originality, wit and almost, if not fully, exploiting its imaginative ideas, it scores many points with me - no lie.

Ricky Gervais is Mark Bellison, a screenwriter considered to be a loser by his co-workers and secretary. He has written a script on the Black Death that is considered a downer by his boss (Jeffrey Tambor) and Mark's handsome rival, Brad (Rob Lowe). This can only mean that he will be fired and he won't be able to afford his rent, or please his first date with the woman of his dreams, Anna (Jennifer Garner). All this is not surprising except that Mark lives in a world where everyone tells the truth. There are no lies, no attempts at facetiousness or implication or subtext - everyone tells the naked truth about everything. When Mark meets Jennifer, she tells him that she was masturbating before he came to the door. When they go on a date, she admits that she is not attracted to him and that the evening will not go well (this actually does happen in our world, but never mind that). The waiter is honest about their relationship, and he also hates his job.

The next day, Mark is informed by his landlord that he will be evicted. So what does Mark do? He goes to his bank, and asks to withdraw 800 dollars from his account when he actually has only 300. He lies! And the teller tells him that it is probably a clerical error and gives him the extra money! This makes Mark into the most powerful man in the universe! He can lie to anyone, including his buddies about how he invented the bicycle. They will believe him because nobody lies. He manages to win over Jennifer, which takes time and effort since she doesn't want her kids to look like him. Mark also convinces the world that he knows what happens when people die - they each get the most fabulous mansion in Heaven. This comes down to a moment where Mark writes down the rules about who goes to Heaven or Hell on the back of two pizza boxes!

My most nagging question of what would've been a rewarding "Twilight Zone" episode is how does Mark tap in to the idea of lying when no one else can. Interesting question since he might be termed the smartest person on the planet. The movie assumes everyone is an idiot, except for Mark. How else to explain the crazy scenario he tells his former boss that a coffee-stained script inside a chest emerged from the sea and perched itself on the sand next to him and that it will be the biggest box-office hit of all time! The boss buys it because no one lies, no matter how extreme or unbelievable the fabrication is. Mark is also the only one who tells outrageous stories and masses of people believe every word of it (this may seem prescient since quite a few people believe every word Glenn Beck utters). The words "lie" or "truth" do not exist in this world, but hate and love do seem to coexist. If the movie started to turn on its wheels a little and started to show people picking up on Mark's fabrications and thus learn to lie themselves, it would've made for a unique twist. It doesn't turn out that way.

Co-directed and co-written by Gervais and Matthew Robinson, "The Invention of Lying" has a musical montage sequence that had me squirming and I am not keen on the casting of Jennifer Garner - she was at her best in "13 Going on 30" but, here, she did not convince me she would've grow enamored of Mark. Still, despite not completely exploiting its premise as I had indicated and resorting to rom-com formula (like Gervais's previous "Ghost Town"), the movie is quite moving and spiritual and has a mockingly sentimental ending that ends with the shot of a church and the clouds above, as if we are supposed to buy the religious conceit that Mark himself doesn't believe in. Gervais himself is not a believer of God but I sense that, if he was, he would prefer to lie about it.

Fiery Jett, Glum Cherie

THE RUNAWAYS (2010)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

I have loved Joan Jett and the Blackhearts but I never listened to her first band, the Runaways. I will say that after seeing the dazzling and near-hallucinatory depiction of this underage band, I may be inclined to do so. I still clamor for the day when Joan Jett will get her own fully-rounded bio treament. As much as I like the volatile charge of the film "The Runaways," the story of Cherie Currie, the basis for the film, is less than dazzling to me. 

The genesis of the Runaways, an all-girl band, was formed by rhythm guitarist Joan Jett (Kristen Stewart) and drummer Sandy West (Stella Maeve) under the supervision and tutelage of an arrogant, sexed-up egocentric maniac named Kim Fowley (Michael Shannon). Kim wants the girls to perform with the abandonment and free will of young ingenues looking to be screwed and blitzed, representing a basic middle finger to society and authority. In other words, rock and roll and jailbait, all in one package. Cherie Currie (Dakota Fanning), a 15-year-old David Bowie fan, is first eyed by Joan and then discovered by Kim - he sees her as jailbait and hires her as the lead singer, regardless of whether she has talent or not. They rehearse inside a grimy trailer in the middle of the woods. The sessions would make parents of such young girls nervous nowadays, especially with the sexual phrases that come out of Kim Fowley's mouth. But this is the 1970's, not 2010 

As written and directed by Floria Sigismondi (based on Currie's autobiography, "Neon Angel"), "The Runaways" is hardly a typical or conventional rock biography. There is also no sense of the typical "rise and fall of a band." Instead the movie gets inside the druggy and sexed-up interior feel of young girls who just want to have fun, rock and party, minus the supervision from any adults. The girls are all under the age of 19 and the baroque manner of their manager and agent, Kim (who is pilfering their finances for his own pleasure), shows he is not the right person to be guiding them. Yes, he comes up with the lyrics for "Cherry Bomb," the Runaways' first hit but their major success is mostly in Japan, not the U.S. You sense Kim didn't do enough to help their success except to exploit them, particularly Currie, as pure jailbait models. 

As I stated earlier, I suppose I didn't feel a connection to Cherie Currie as I did to Joan Jett in this film (the other girls in the band, including Lita Ford, are not given much of a spotlight). Jett is the dynamo, the rock-and-roller who wants to blast through the airwaves and provoke as much as Kim does. Cherie seems reluctant and more despondent than the others, and that makes her less riveting to me. Although we get glimpses of Cherie's home life (alcoholic father, frustrated sister, a fleeting appearance of her mother), it is hard to feel anything but a fleeting sense of remorse for her situation. Cherie seems unconnected to anyone, even Joan Jett. 

Most of "The Runaways" is startling and in-your-face and serves as a glimpse into the backstage drama of an all-girl band, much like the underappreciated "Ladies and Gentleman, The Fabulous Stains" of which this film bears more than a striking resemblance. The performances in "The Runaways" are beyond stellar, especially Kristen Stewart with her firecracker of a performance along with the eccentric Michael Shannon. They embody something fundamentally deeper about rock and roll - the need to break out and expand beyond their horizons. Dakota Fanning, who is stunning to watch, delivers a merely glum Cherie. That may be the real Cherie, but I need more Jett to get fired up over Cherie. 

The rawest of documentaries

TITICUT FOLLIES (1967)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

How does one react to a documentary so honest and heartbreaking that one is compelled to turn away from its tragic outlook? Well, it is tough to watch Frederick Wiseman's cinema verite documentary, "Titicut Follies," a disturbing look at a mental institution fraught with impracticalities, but it must be seen (and it has recently made it to DVD).

Wiseman frames the opening and closing moments of this film with a song-and-dance routine performed annually by the institution's residents - the name of the show is "Titicut Follies." Gradually, in almost bleached-out black-and-white, we see the conditions at the Bridgewater Correctional Institution where the patients are awakened each morning, strip-searched, shaven, and then interviewed by the doctors about their personal histories. They are then escorted back to their empty cells naked, and locked in with an unerring sense of closure and solidity.

The patients are a mixed bag, some crazier than others. There are a few who babble on a variety of topics without interruption, a former math teacher who incoherently screams at the guards, and one patient who feels that he is sane and wants to go to prison after a nearly one-year stay. This particular patient insists that the doctors are wrong, and tries to prove his case.

This Massachusetts institute is like a journey through hell - one patient is forced fed with a tube through his nose while the doctor performs the procedure and smokes! Another patient is carried out in a coffin - the only one to get out of this hellhole. There is an effective scene where a group of doctors decide that increasing the dosage for one patient, who complains of sickness from the medicine, is the best solution. There is a lot more taking place, most of it disquieting in its immediacy and the atmosphere of such an environment. It is no wonder that a Massachusetts judge banned the film from being shown for many years because it invaded the privacy of the patients, housed in what looks like a prison facility. What the film really does is to show how the patients are treated - like slabs of meat, not people.

"Titicut Follies" is virtually unwatchable and all too realistic - a document of sad times when mental illness was synonymous with animal behavior. With Wiseman's hand-held camera, we feel we are there witnessing one grueling event after another, unable to help except to bear witness to the patients' behavior. And it is to the director's credit that we see the glint of humanity within these patients - they are people like anyone else. Misunderstood, and possibly quite insane, but still human. "Titicut Follies" is a tough film to put out of your mind, and it will linger longer in your mind than any fictional film dealing with similar subject matter would. Although Wiseman hates the French term, cinema verite, "Titicut Follies" is a haunting masterpiece that heralded the standard for all documentaries to come. 

Ann-Margret intermittently swings and sparkles

THE SWINGER (1966)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Ann-Margret remains one of the most vivacious, electric screen presences of the 60's and beyond. Her star turn in "Bye-Bye Birdie" lead to more serious acting roles in films such as "Carnal Knowledge." What I can't quite fathom is her role in this forgotten 1966 picture called "The Swinger," which is as pointless and boring as one can imagine. It is essentially a promo for Ann-Margret as a physical, sexy presence, nothing more.

Ann plays an ambitious writer named Kelly Ollson who is seeking to publish a profile on swingers in a Playboy-type magazine headed by the handsomely rich Ric Colby (Tony Franciosa). Of course, she is rejected by Ric since she is too innocent to be a swinger herself. At this point, I found it silly to believe that Ann-Margret would be considered remotely innocent by anyone but never mind. Kelly decides to prove she is a swinger to get the job, or so I figured. She has her body painted in an outrageous pseudo orgy and does a photo montage in various styles of dress, though there is barely any nudity to be found. She also proves to be an amoral drunk just to convince him she is a swinger! Ric is mesmerized by her and falls in love, seeing that she is sweetly innocent after all.

"The Swinger" is purpotedly a romantic sex farce but we mostly get older men chasing women in offices, endless and unfunny sexist jokes, and Ann posing lovingly before the camera not to mention acting like a complete fool when the screenplay requires her to. Oh, and there is a teaser ending that is as stupidly unconvicing as they come, and some fast-motion shots of Ann riding a motorcycle sans a helmet.

"The Swinger" is excruciating to watch from beginning to end, serving as neither entertainment nor as a pop culture curio. Directed by George Sidney, who helmed the similarly awful "Viva Las Vegas," this is as empty-headed and clueless as they come bearing little charisma and zero laughs. At least, the stunning opening sequence is a keeper in the pop culture time capsule as we see Ann singing the title song in a tight black jumpsuit while sitting on a trampoline. The brief title sequence offers more pizazz and sexual energy than the rest of this lifeless film.

A cache of priceless Egyptian treasures

VALLEY OF THE KINGS (1954)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

For stunning Egyptian locations and sheer beauty, "Valley of the Kings" is a luscious visual treat. For action and spirited adventure in a style that foreshadows Steven Spielberg's Indiana Jones pictures, it comes up short but it is still minor fun for pulpy action-adventure completists and closer in spirit to "King Solomon's Mines."

Set in the 1900's, Robert Taylor is Mark Brandon (not the most memorable name), a two-fisted, macho archaeologist who is as good in a fight as he is in excavating Egyptian tombs. Eleanor Parker is Ann Mercedes, a dedicated Egyptologist and daughter of a deceased archaeologist who believed that there was proof of the Biblical Joseph's travels in Egypt, specifically regarding the tomb of the Pharaoh, King Ra-hotep. The story goes that King Ra-hotep may have been acquainted with the Israelite Joseph in the dusty Valley of the Kings. This possible historic union faces more complication in the modern era with black market antiquities dealers; greedy, pistol-packing and sword-carrying looters; Egyptian belly-dancers; tribal duels; out-of-control carriages and secret doors and compartments inside vast rooms of unimagined treasures and relics. As my readers are aware, I love this sort of stuff and "Valley of the Kings" is essentially a gallery of Egyptian treasures and artifacts. I don't think there is any other pulp adventure movie of the 50's that has the same authenticity in Egyptian period detail as this one does.

Director Robert Pirosh certainly stages many of the expected action scenes with aplomb and finesse. A brutal sandstorm is handled with a horrific beauty, especially when you consider they really filmed all this in Egypt. Fistfights and carriage chases are all expertly directed, and the hypnotic musical score by Miklos Rozsa adds inmeasurably to the overall stylishness of it.

The story is, unfortunately, a bit lacking in scope and the ending is a bit anticlimactic (the prize discovery at the end is not as glorious as I would have liked and leads to a plugged-in happy ending). And Robert Taylor is not the most memorable hero on screen nor does he have much to do with the role except express some passion and magnetism when he kisses Eleanor Parker's Mercedes, or throws a few punches on the edge of an enormous pharaoh statue. However, Carlos Thompson as Mercedes' husband, Philip, is extraordinary in displaying malice and a suave nature, and Kurt Kaznar is a joy as Philip's sinister ally (he later appeared in "Legend of the Lost" and "The Perils of Pauline").

"Valley of the Kings" is a Technicolor 1950's treat that is fun and luxurious in its beauty. I wouldn't say it is close to Charlton Heston's own exciting and equally machoistic adventure yarns of the same era, such as "Secret of the Incas" or "The Naked Jungle" (the latter starred Eleanor Parker and is set in the same time frame), but it can stand on its own as a legitimate yarn in the genre nonetheless. A more charismatic hero would've been nice.

Lugosi's strained eyes

THE DEVIL BAT (1940)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Of all of Bela Lugosi's films, one of his oddest and least interesting is 1940's "The Devil Bat," a movie that coasts on singular ambitions such as Lugosi as the typical mad doctor and an experiment involving mutated mammals. Nothing new to chew on, nothing remotely fun about this film either, even with a low-budget and hammy actors. 

Lugosi is always at his snarling best as a mad doctor, and here he eschews close-ups of his penetrating eyes for more restraint. But he is not chilling to watch and the singular idea of a mad doctor who uses a bat to attack people with a distinctive aftershave scent is nothing more than silly and laughable. The bat chases people clearly during the day, even though it is supposed to be nighttime (a little Ed Wood-ism there though many films of this period and earlier were shot day for night); Lugosi's character, Dr. Paul Carruthers, is short-shrifted in favor of a bumbling photographer and a very straight reporter, both of whom sit on a bench waiting for an eternity for the mutated bat, and that is it folks. 

Outside of Lugosi's delicious delivery of the line "Goood...bye" and the various secret rooms of his house, there is not much more to say about "The Devil Bat" except it is something most Bela Lugosi pictures are not: dull.  

Sheen on Me

CHARLIE SHEEN: A WARLOCK AMONG MANY

By Jerry Saravia

We have seen celebrities in career meltdowns but never have I witnessed a mental breakdown that has made an actor a superstar of the first order. Britney Spears, Robert Downey, Jr., to name a couple, had fallen precipitously in the media's eyes only to be slowly careened back into some measure of glory (this may not happen for Mel Gibson, who may have finally exhausted any fans he once had). Charlie Sheen has been a bad boy, a cocaine-addled troublemaker since his 20's when he emerged as the movie star of films like "Platoon" and "Wall Street." But after making such great films, I can't say Sheen had exactly matched the talent he so eloquently displayed in those Oliver Stone films. I enjoyed his spoofy "Hot Shots!" pictures, "Major League" and others but too few matched Sheen's dramatic range. The less said about "Young Guns, "The Rookie" and the execrable "Navy SEALS," the better. Despite his talent, it seems he has become the media's first rock-and-roller/ubersuper party-boy who has never been in a rock band, and has received applause for his arrogance and honesty in equal doses, including from Piers Morgan who interviewed Charlie on his show.

Now let's backtrack a bit. In 2003, Charlie Sheen showed his quicksilver charm and bad-boy behavior by basically mocking it and making it somewhat safe for the PG-13 crowd as the hedonistic jingle writer Charlie Harper with the occasionally uproarious "Two and a Half Men," CBS's most popular sitcom. Not only did it gain the highest ratings but Charlie was also the highest paid sitcom actor on television, no small feat by any stretch of the imagination. I like the show, which had grown progressively raunchier and far more sexualized than it was at conception (!), but I could only take so much of it after awhile. The show is like a drug but its near-sleaziness can be offputting when it isn't funny. Still, Sheen and Jon Cryer (playing Charlie's sexually frustrated brother), Angus T. Jones (Charlie's slightly dim nephew), Holland Taylor (Charlie's honest mother, to say the least) and Conchata Ferrell (Charlie's witty housekeeper) made the show what it was. Or so we thought.

Charlie Sheen is integral to the success of the show, but so is the rest of the cast yet he seems to think that he is the star and should be treated accordingly. Sheen was abruptly, or so we think, told that the show had been cancelled until presumably September. That meant that everyone was out of work until then, including Charlie Sheen (the crew has been paid by CBS for the four months they will not be filming). However, Sheen railed hard against the CBS bosses by mocking the show's creator, Chuck Lorre, and claiming that he, not Chuck Lorre, made "gold out of a tin can." Then Sheen scheduled a television interview where we saw his home, his two "goddesses," his children, and he made statements that have already become catchphrases, namely "winning," "bring it," "warlock" and, my favorite, "rock star from Mars." This and numerous interviews he has given where he seemingly rambles incoherently are definite signs of a career meltdown, or are they? In fact, Sheen proved he was drug-free by submitting to drug tests, including one for Radar Online, and he also proved he was coherence-free (or his comments could be the result of a manic episode, possibly bipolar, but I am not Dr. Drew so don't ask me).

I've nothing against Charlie Sheen's indulgences that include endless partying and sexual escapades (rock stars, to be fair, have partied harder than Sheen and, for lack of a better example, Keith Richards is still miraculously living). Still, Sheen's cocaine binges and two girlfriends (one is a porn star and the other, a former nanny) may have affected any chances he had in regaining custody of his two youngest kids, both of whom were recently taken away from him by his ex-wife Brooke Mueller. His ranting and raving has also affected the CBS sitcom that made him an A-lister to the point that CBS decided to pull the plug due to Sheen's arrogant comments and askew behavior and lifestyle (though there is no morality clause for the latter). With most of the nonsense he has been spewing lately, Sheen never once mentioned the actors that round out the cast in his show. Where is all the love for Jon Cryer, Angus T. Jones, Melanie Lynskey or Conchata? My feeling is that Sheen probably thinks the show can't have a future without him. CBS could easily replace Sheen, but with John Stamos? No, thanks. It can't be "Two and a Half Men" without Charlie, can it? Heck, it can't be the same show without Jon Cryer either. At least, Charlie didn't shoot anybody in the arm this time out, unlike his former girlfriend Kelly Preston back in 1990.

I am hoping Charlie Sheen returns to the show that put him in the major television leagues but it is hard to say what the future holds for him (he is already mulling over other offers, though "Major League 4" may not be one of them). Sheen's most fervent followers (an incredible 2 million-plus in Sheen's twitter account, as of this writing) are excusing the party boy's ways and it seems that Sheen's interviews have already bounced him back and made him more popular than ever (you know you are too popular when you eclipse world news and Lindsay Lohan!)  But you can't be the life of the party and "radical" forever. Soon, his most ardent followers and fans will get tired and search for someone else to grab a hold of. Maybe his supporters (and enablers) may embrace him again if he can stay reasonably clean and sober for more than six months, at least to the point that it doesn't affect his life. Just ask Robert Downey, Jr.  

NOTE: Charlie Sheen was fired from "Two and a Half Men" on the very minute that I had posted this.