I am the King of the world

TITANIC (1997)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

"Titanic" is back in cinema screens due to the 100th anniversary of the real-life tragic event of 1912, and it is now in 3-D. Why in 3-D? I can't say except that it is almost like depicting "Schindler's List" in 3-D. Again, I said almost because "Titanic" represents both the best and the worst of Hollywood filmmaking. At its best, "Titanic" is a lavish, thrilling account of one of the biggest disasters of the 20th century. At its worst, the movie is flawed in the screenwriting department, and presents numerous cliches and particularly bad acting with a dash of silly escapist moments that should have zero association with that sinking disaster. In other words, it is nothing like "Schindler's List" but it should have been. 

"Titanic" tells its tragic tale via the only survivor of the actual sinking of the ship - a 102-year-old woman (the late Oscar-nominated Gloria Stuart) who recounts the vivid tale to a group of research scientists led by a marine scavenger (Bill Paxton). This scavenger is looking for a jewel aboard the Titanic's ruins, but instead he finds a sketch of a nude girl wearing the long-lost jewel. The nude girl is, of course, the elder woman, Rose Dewitt Bukater, who is played as a 17-year-old girl by the stellar actress Kate Winslet (who went on to roles more suited to her dramatic range).

In luminous photography and sweeping visuals, "Titanic" quickly takes us back to that fateful day in April, 1912 when the first of the Titanic's 2,207 passengers began boarding the ship in Southampton, England. We are introduced to the major characters such as the itinerant-artist Jack Dawson (Leonard DiCaprio, who has had a more varied career than expected) who wins a steerage-class ticket in a poker game, the aforementioned Rose, along with her assertive mother (Frances Fisher), and Rose's snobbish fiancee, Cal Hockley (Billy Zane). We also meet the shrewd, unsinkable Molly Brown (Kathy Bates).

Director James Cameron spares us no expense in showing us the elaborate decks of the ship, the ballrooms, the pretentious bedrooms, the tiny steerage compartments and the hot and heavy boiler room. We also see the differences in the lifestyles and treatment of the haves and the have-nots (a sort of twist on the "Upstairs, Downstairs" scenario). These differences are further exemplified by the forbidden teenage romance between the near-suicidal, potentially wealthy Rose and the clever, destitute Jack who awakens a new sensibility in her by teaching her how to spit, and sketches her in the nude. This causes problems between Rose and the violent, spiteful Cal who orders his thuggish partner (David Warner, a waste of a great actor) to keep an eye on Jack. Before you can say romantic soap opera, the ship hits a big iceberg. According to the ship's builder Thomas Andrews (Victor Garber), this will cause the ship to sink within an hour. The lower levels of the ship gradually start to sink, including the boiler room, forcing the stewards to shut off the boilers and begin evacuation. Unfortunately, there are only a limited number of lifeboats available for the thousands of panicked passengers.

"Titanic" is at its best during the last hour and a half where we see the destructive nature of the sinking of this massive ship. At this point, Cameron's main theme comes forth - man's technological advancement (and arrogance) spells death for humanity itself. Thousands of lives are lost, and we see how the stewards lead the first-class passengers into safety first. There's also a terrifying scene where one of the stewards threatens and kills a couple of eager passengers. We also see Rose trying to rescue Jack who's locked away in one of the lower levels by Cal's partner. This whole section is so stirring and emotional that you're not likely to leave the theater with dry eyes.

Cameron's weakness is in his writing. The romance between Rose and Jack certainly evokes a passion and sense of love that is not unlike most other tragic love stories. Cameron's main fault, however, lies with some of the supporting characters. Billy Zane as the cocky, snobbish Cal is laughably oafish emitting numerous cliched line readings - he seems to have drifted in from a bad Harlequin romance novel. The same can be said for the predictably cold character of Rose's mother who does not approve of Jack because she wants her daughter to marry Cal for the security he can provide. There's also too little of the boisterous Kathy Bates as Molly Brown who brightens the screen whenever she shows up, and too much of Cal's gun-toting partner who seems to have drifted in from an Indiana Jones adventure.

Other bland characters include Titanic luminaries such as the worrisome Captain Smith (Bernard Hill, who appeared in the "Lord of the Rings" trilogy); the Whites Star Lines executive (Jonathan Hyde) who insists that the ship travel at full speed so they can arrive in New York a day early; and a couple of other forgettable wealthy passengers. Another lesser weakness is the movie's obligatory framing device of having the elder Rose tell us her story of that fateful night - it's interesting yet unnecessary in its own way because the power of the film is the compelling story itself that we need no guidance in following.

Still, this is among Cameron's best technical work by far, and it is a tribute to him that we don't actually notice any of the special-effects. In a sense, he makes us feel we are aboard the ship, before and after it sinks. "Titanic" is an awesome spectacle and perversely entertaining, but its narrative style and characters are less than stimulating. From director James Cameron, I'd prefer his "Terminator" films and the spectacular "The Abyss" over this sinking behemoth. The notion of it being released in 3-D feels like a bad joke and it is bad taste (the movie is already visually three-dimensional with two-dimensional characters). Then again, on the night of the Academy Awards in 1998 where "Titanic" won an undeserved slew of Oscars, James Cameron told the crowd to stand in silence to remember the victims of that disaster. Then he abruptly told them, "Let's party!" Not a subtle bone in his body. 

Irwin Allen-type Disaster Flick scores a 7 on the Richter scale

EARTHQUAKE (1974)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Irwin Allen disaster-type pictures were a dime a dozen back in the 1970's. "Earthquake" is no exception - a loud, gargantuan-size disaster picture which is nothing less than about an earthquake on the 7.0 Richter scale that nearly decimates the entire Los Angeles area. Buildings collapse, a dam begins to crack open, high voltage wires snap - sheer chaos on a catastrophic level.

This is one of those movies where a group of heroic characters, including a honest-to-the-bone cop (George Kennedy) and an office worker ready for a promotion (Charlton Heston), always seem to run into each other by coincidence. You've also got Ava Gardner as Heston's manipulative wife; an early performance by Victoria Principal sporting an Afro; Richard Roundtree as an ambitious daredevil motorcyclist; Genevieve Bujold as an out-of-work actress (one of the most sensual voices in movie history, thank you "Choose Me"); Lorne Greene as a company president who has the improbable role of being Ava Gardner's father(!); Marjoe Gortner in the weirdest casting in the film as a psychotic grocery store manager who is also a National Guard rifleman, and finally Walter Matthau who brings a drunkenly clownish bit of humor to the proceedings.

"Earthquake" is insanely silly, rough around the edges (there is the occasional Jackson Pollock-edited flash of blood color that will leave you with a smile on your face), and crudely entertaining. This was the first film to have a Sensurround effect, with sounds mimicking a major rumble. I did not have the pleasure of witnessing this film in theaters then but I am sure it worked since it won an Oscar for Sound. Worth seeing on a Saturday afternoon - you could do worse.

An end to this artifice

SHADOW OF THE VAMPIRE (2000)
Reviewed by Jerry Saravia
(Originally viewed on January 27th, 2001)

 
"Shadow of the Vampire" has such an inventive, original idea that I am almost  willing to recommend it based on its premise. Unfortunately, like most great  ideas, it does not fully exploit it for all its worth, and seems to skim past  some missed opportunities resulting in a fairly emotionally void movie that may please  some movie buffs, yet will mostly annoy everyone else.

"Shadow of the Vampire" is a fictional behind-the-scenes look at the making of one of the greatest, most realistic vampire films ever made, "Nosferatu," which was released back in 1922. John Malkovich stars as F.W. Murnau, the madly eccentric, madly obsessed film director of "Nosferatu," itself based on the famed Bram Stoker novel though changes were made to avoid being sued by Stoker's widow. As the film begins, Murnau has just completed studio shots for his latest endeavor ("Thank God, an end to this artifice!"), and is ready to shoot outdoor night shots in the countryside and on an island to capture the necessary realism for the tale. All they need is a vampire and Murnau has found one, an actor named Max Schreck (Willem Dafoe) who lives in an abandoned monastery. Murnau claims the actor studied under Stanislavsky from the Max Reindhardt troupe. The crew is afraid of this gauntlike, bald creature who fits the role all too well, and needs no makeup! Gradually, we discover that Schreck is not an actor at all, he is a real vampire and has his eye on the lead actress Greta Schroeder (Catherine McCormack), who will have herself sacrificed to the vampire in the final scene of the script!

Murnau knows Schreck is a vampire and their unusual contract stipulates that Schreck continue his feeding habits until after the shoot (a bottle of blood and small animals are used as alternative food items). Naturally, Schreck is too hungry for blood and ends up devouring not only bats but the neck of a cinematographer. He also has a desperate need to acquire the neck of Greta. The contract is unheeded but it doesn't seem to matter - Murnau has become so obsessed with his opus that he hardly cares about anyone and appears as monstrous as the creature himself.

The pacing is off in "Shadow of the Vampire" as the transitions between scenes seem choppy at best (the opening credits take an eternity to get through). This makes the overall film rather monotonous until Dafoe shows up, and he does bring the film out of its drunken stupor with his vibrantly alive performance. It is still not enough as the visual style of the film seems unimaginative with grainy colors and several darkly lit scenes. Some of the black-and-white scenes of the actual filming of the film-within-the-film are wonderful yet brief.

As written by newcomer Steven Katz, "Shadow of the Vampire" has scant evidence of insight into Murnau's crew members and Murnau's private life - we just see that he is a morphine addict who envisions cinema as "everlasting life." Malkovich mostly yells but there is not much more to his performance (his intoxicatingly emotional final scene is exceptionally well done). It also doesn't help that the film makes a case for the similarity between vampires and filmmakers - they are out to sell their souls to bring life into their own encapsulated world, or as Murnau exclaims, "It does not exist unless it is in the lens." I just don't see the overall connection as being fully realized as it should have been.

The rest of the cast is perfunctory at best. Eddie Izzard as the Jonathan Harker character barely has much screen time and mysteriously disappears from the film. Catherine McCormack has a few breathtaking moments as Greta and we understand that her character chooses the theatre over cinema, but that is it. Cary Elwes is unmemorable as the substitute cinematographer (he also appeared in Coppola's "Dracula"), and Udo Kier (a former Warhol regular and star of the late artist's own "Dracula" and "Frankenstein" flicks) merely glides by the screen as the financially obsessed producer. Kier does have a funny scene where he describes having once seen someone pull ectoplasm out of their mouth.

That leaves Dafoe who gives a tour-de-force performance as the enigmatic Schreck. He gyrates, frowns, smiles, has arch-like eyebrows, long fingernails, and a general frailty that lends sympathy to the "rat-like bastard," as Murnau excitedly claims while shooting a scene. Dafoe projects such a chilling, eerie demeanor that you can't help but be both frightened and fascinated by him. It is such a superb performance that one must see it just to believe it. The film, though, is a mere shadowy reflection of what made "Nosferatu" the silent classic it is today.

Alex, Beethoven, murder, the Ninth

A CLOCKWORK ORANGE (1971)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia 
(In Jerry's List of Greatest Films Ever Made)

"'A Clockwork Orange' is one of the few perfect movies I have seen in my lifetime."
                                                                                                           - Rex Reed


"'A Clockwork Orange' is an ideological mess. A paranoid right-wing fantasy masquerading as an Orwellian warning." 
                                                                                                           - Roger Ebert

"A Clockwork Orange" has created more diverse reactions in audiences and critics alike than any other Stanley Kubrick film. Even Kubrick himself was outraged at how the film induced copycat incidents in Great Britain, forcing him to ban the film until his death (it has been re-released in the U.K. since Stanley's death in March of 1999). Despite how others feel about the film, in my estimation, this is the greatest film ever made about the nature of violence, and the nature of behavior and moral choice in a clockwork society. It is as relevant and awe-inspiring and as intellectually charged today as any other film since on the subject.

Alex, the punk, the Droog, remains the most ironic, complex, and sympathetic antihero in the history of the cinema. As played by Malcolm McDowell, he is vicious, murderous, but also a lover of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony. He also has nude paintings in his bedroom, and has masturbatory fantasies to the tune of Beethoven with images from the movies (and himself as Dracula). Alex loves his working-class parents, his boa constrictor, and supposedly goes to school (he is younger in the novel) - he seems like a delightful lad you would see in your neighborhood on an "azure sky of deepest summer." There is only one difference - Alex has a knack, a love, for sex and violence. He has a creative imagination but it is fueled by his violent-prone rages - he seems to take delight in killing people.

At the beginning of the film, in stunning close-up, we see Alex at the Korova Milkbar with his fellow Droogs drinking some milk substance that can "sharpen you up and get you ready for a bit of the old ultraviolence." The Droogs' nightly activities consist of beating up old winos in dark alleys, attacking people in their homes, driving like madmen on the roads, having sex with women they pick up in record stores, and it is all to the tune of Beethoven's lovely Ninth. These Droogs dress in white, have ripped-out eyeball ornamentations on their cuffs, and often wear masks with phallic, Pinocchio noses. Kubrick shows us quite a bit of violence in the first half-hour but he has more up his sleeve as the film continues.

Alex is eventually caught by the police after being betrayed by his fellow Droogs (he is hit in the nose with a milk bottle). Once in prison, he gets wind of a "Ludovico technique" where a prisoner is subjected to a rehabilitative process that results in getting out of prison in no time at all. Alex wants to do good or he says, "one act of goodness." The "burly bastard" of a prison chaplain (Godfrey Quigley) tells Alex that the dangerous technique has not been tested much. As the chaplain explains, "Goodness comes from within - goodness, is chosen. When a man cannot choose, he ceases to be a man." Alex doesn't comprehend such ideas, and decides to take part in the technique at all costs. He gets his chance when the Minister of the Interior (Anthony Sharp), who is looking for criminals to participate in such a technique, chooses Alex whom he considers ruthless, smart, and enterprising.

In what remains surely the most perfectly realized scenes in the film, Alex is strapped to a chair with clamps that keeps his eyelids pried open as he is forced to watch violent film footage consisting of Droog-like killers beating a man relentless, a little bit of the old "in and out" and Holocaust footage (not to mention a few Nazi marches lifted from "Triumph of the Will"). At first, Alex enjoys it but slowly he becomes nauseous and sickly. Alex is becoming conditioned not just against violence but against everything else he enjoys, including Beethoven's Ninth. Nausea and getting sick are healthy reactions to violence, but don't tell that to the teenage audiences who just see Alex as someone rebelling against the system and yet, ironically, becoming systematically part of it.


'A Clockwork Orange' is my current favorite. I was very predisposed against the film. After seeing it, I realized it is the only movie about what the modern world really means." 
                                                                                                          - Luis Bunuel

So what is Kubrick trying to say? That in a clockwork, mechanized society, we have no rights - we must remain aligned with what is expected? All people who rebel, including leftist writers, must be put away, while Alex is to be championed for changing his evil ways. Alex does not fit into society, he is in fact a rebel, allowing himself to choose violence over nonviolence because that is what makes him tick. Removing his instinctive behavior is not human - it is the result of a dehumanizing society and Alex is as human, direct and joyous as anyone else in the film, including the victims who are show as caricatured loons.

Even in today's jaded world of ubiquitous sex and violence, "A Clockwork Orange" is still potent stuff - as disturbing now as it was in 1971. The reason is threefold: we, the audience, can't help but like Alex because he is so charming and ruthless despite his murderous ways. He enjoys kicking, punching, raping, almost anything violent gives him a kick, and he turns it into a balletic performance. He enjoys the violence. We are also asked to identify with him because we feel he is wronged by society and by the higher-ups who are abusing him and using him for political ambition. And yet Alex is not really cured since we sense he will go back to his violent self. Thus, the film is not explicitly bloody or gratuitously violent at all and that is why it stands and towers above any other film that critiques violence in society. Kubrick doesn't get off on the violence (unlike what Quentin Tarantino and the late film critic, Pauline Kael, had said), he merely shows Alex getting off on it.

The violence is both stylized and realistic. When Alex kills his victims, it is shown at a remove, an emotional distance from which we become observers particularly the attack on Frank, the Leftist writer (Patrick Magee, giving the most understandably over-the-top performance in the film), and his wife (Adrienne Corri), to the tune of "Singin' in the Rain." The Alex murders, beatings and rapes are shown in slow-motion, time-lapse motion, and sometimes "viddied with the red, red vino on tap." When Alex is attacked by his own Droogs (who ironically become policemen) or by other higher-ups, it is realistic and bloody with none of the enjoyment of performance that Alex feels when he inflicts pain or kills.

Lastly, the film suggests that Alex cannot be changed by the Ludovico technique - his survival instinct is violence, it is what makes him a person. A moral choice cannot be made, as the prison chaplain says, because you cannot change a person's behavior. I can't say if this is a liberal view or not but it is a justifiable view nonetheless.

"A Clockwork Orange" is terrifying, scary, witty, exciting, funny, satirical and exhausting. Based on Anthony Burgess's novel, it is Kubrick's most cinematic odyssey: beautifully shot and choreographed with almost monochromatic tones and the occasional burst of crimson red colors (though the most beautiful Kubrick film ever made is still "Barry Lyndon"). Malcolm McDowell gives what may be the seminal performance of any Kubrick film - exuding charm, arrogance and cleverness in the face of a callow, youthful killer. What's disturbing and provoking even today about the film is that Alex wants to retain, as Rolling Stone critic Peter Travers once indicated, his moral right to be bad. And we can't help but feel he is right.

Kubrick's Mickey Mouse War

FULL METAL JACKET (1987)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

There are Vietnam films and then there is Stanley Kubrick's "Full Metal Jacket." Imagine a war seen as a phenomenon that threatens our world, and the fear of the enemy that make us into killers to fight such a threat. That is Stanley Kubrick's film. "Full Metal Jacket" is not really about Vietnam. It is about war, purely as a strategy, as a game of violent free will where no one is safe from using such violence. This is not coming from the same world of Oliver Stone ("Platoon") or Francis Ford Coppola ("Apocalypse Now"), both of whom made great Vietnam war epics. Kubrick's has a God-like perspective on war, something akin to what the director has attempted before in his canon of great films.

"Full Metal Jacket" begins with a montage of young soldiers getting haircuts to the tune of "Hello, Vietnam." The stripping of self and individuality begins, as well as their own humanity. Their drill sergeant is Gunnery Sergeant Hartman (R. Lee Ermey), a steadfastly serious, strict, impatient man whose measure of importance is turning these young men into Marines, and also into dehumanized killers of war. This is not my interpretation, mind you, since the drill instructor clearly states that these young men are not human beings. What we are in for is a 40-minute look at the arduous, physical demands of basic training on Parris Island. We are talking pull-ups, push-ups, rope-climbing, combat with arms and with sticks, unifying the rifle with sex (since the men won't get any on this course), and spotlessly cleaning latrines so that the Virgin Mary would be proud to take a dump in one. Most of these soldiers are quite adept at what they do, except for the fat, smiling Leonard (Vincent D'Onofrio), nicknamed Private Gomer Pyle, as he endures the most abuse for being so clumsy and inept. Hartman pushes him to the limits but Pyle is unable to do one pull-up or to climb a wooden fence or to run without exhaustion. Whenever Pyle screws up, he is either punished by being forced to thumb-suck or his Corps trainees have to suffer by doing push-ups (particularly when Pyle is found with a donut in his locker!)

If there is one thing Pyle can do, it is to shoot a rifle with the proficiency of a real marksman. When Hartman lectures his soldiers about great marksmen of the past, like Charles Whitman or Lee Harvey Oswald, we feel a chill in our spines - he may as well include Pyle in the same list. All hell eventually turns loose as Pyle loses his smile and jocose nature slowly but surely. He gets extra help from Private Joker (Matthew Modine), but it doesn't help Pyle in the least - he talks to his rifle, his new best friend. The violence in him is ready to explode.

And then, after a horrific climax, Kubrick's "Full Metal Jacket" becomes a different movie. It is noticeably a two-act structure that typically climaxes with a brief third act and epilogue. No mention is ever made again of Pyle or Hartman or the rigors of basic training. We begin to see the Vietnam Movie develop. There are conference room chats with journalists (Joker among them) about the state of war and Ann-Margret; brief attacks from the enemy including the Tet Offensive; corpses covered with lime; prostitutes looking for the Vietnam in the American soldiers; generals delivering war jargon ad infinitum; and soldiers keeping their dead "gooks" looking good for the camera while other soldiers emit catchphrases and slogans from John Wayne movies (also one of Joker's tactics). We may have seen all this before, but Kubrick maintains his cool distance as an observer of war where everyone remains passive while the world goes mad. There is a very disturbing sequence, rarely discussed, where a soldier kills several Vietnamese farmers from inside a helicopter while Joker's partner is ready to vomit. This could be construed as an anti-war moment, unlike anything to be seen in Kubrick's "Paths of Glory," but it is more than that - it fits in with the director's associations of the state of dehumanized beings in our world. These soldiers are robot-killing machines - shoot first, ask questions later.

"Full Metal Jacket" climaxes in a setting unlike any Vietnam War movie prior - in the ruins of civilization. It is as if the soldiers have entered Ancient Greece where bullets rip them apart like flypaper. A sniper is hidden in one of the defaced buildings, and Kubrick shows us the sniper's point-of-view by zooming in quickly as if the sniper is zeroing on the intended target. The soldiers die one by one, blown apart to bloody shreds in slow-motion (one is caught in a rabbit boobytrap). The sniper kills quickly without much provocation, while the American soldiers decide to get the sniper. And when Joker confronts the sniper, he is forced to do something he hasn't quite done - to get his first confirmed kill, as he says earlier in a faux interview.

Of all the characters in "Full Metal Jacket," the most humane and the most sympathetic is actually Matthew Modine's tantalizing portrayal of Joker. He is the one we care the most by the end of this War Odyssey, though at first, viewers may be more taken in by the undesirable Pyle (a nice indirect throwback to Timothy Carey's sobbing character in "Paths of Glory"). Modine, a frequently pallid actor, gives his best performance ever as Joker, and shows an acute sense of comic timing as well. When he is joking with Gunnery Sergeant Hartman, his humor gets him in trouble, and we scoff at it at first. But when he is mimicking Bruce Lee, making financial arrangements with a prostitute, joking with his "Stars and Stripes" boss or letting a colonel know he is making a Jungian statement with his peace symbol, Modine embodies the weak kid in Joker, the one who can "talk the talk" but who doesn't have the "thousand-yard stare." He can beat up the helpless Pyle, but he also comforts him and takes care of him, teaching him to handle a rifle and to climb a fence - his sympathy and patience is what Hartman has no time for.

When "Full Metal Jacket" was released, most critics found it was too little and too late, especially after following the coattails of Oliver Stone's powerful "Platoon." But Kubrick's film is not a typical war film - it is an apolitical war film. It shows war in all its guts and glory, a flag-waving debacle where catchphrases, movie quotations, sexual metaphors and dead enemies littering the countryside are all that counts. It is despairing, pathetic and senseless - as long as you have sex and kill the bad guys, you get ahead. It is as sad a commentary on war as I have seen. "Full Metal Jacket" is not better than "Platoon," it is simply more chaotic and jumpy (and, no doubt, one of Spielberg's inspirations for "Saving Private Ryan"). And it is in all the chaos of dehumanized men fighting men that Kubrick finds the roots of why we fight wars, and why we sometimes lose.

Man or Muppet?

THE MUPPETS (2011)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

I was a huge fan of the Muppets in the 70's through the early 80's. 1979's "The Muppet Movie" was a breezy, fun romp that made me smile. I was not a big fan of "The Great Muppet Caper" nor "The Muppets Take Manhattan" and, as a result, chose to ignore the other installments. Now comes Jason Segel and company revitalizing the Muppets, and they have done a bravura job. Not only is the new film a fun ride for kids, it is also very funny and full of some memorable songs for kids and adults.

In the town of Smalltown, Gary (Jason Segel) lives with his Muppet brother, Walter. Gary and Walter are inseparable and Walter has always hoped for a chance to be on "The Muppet Show." A chance arrives when Gary is travelling to L.A. with his girlfriend, a schoolteacher (Amy Adams), to celebrate their tenth anniversary - Walter tags along so he can visit the Muppet Theater. Unfortunately, the Muppet Theater is a cobwebbed, dusty old building with very little interior lighting. What's worse is that it is about to be demolished so that greedy Tex Richman (Chris Cooper) with the "maniacal laugh" can drill for oil! This is an odd place to drill since so many other buildings surround the Muppet Theater on what looks like a busy L.A. street, but we are not searching for logic here. The old geezer Muppets Statler and Waldorf are selling the theatre to Tex. Walter decides to recruit the old Muppets including Kermit the Frog, Fozzie Bear, Miss Piggy (who lives in France), Gonzo and others to perform a telethon show on TV and hope they can raise the money to save the theater. Only problem is that most TV execs feel the Muppets are has-beens.

There are lot of big laughs and a few sunny nostalgic smiles. Jason Segel is as animated as any Muppet - he looks like a giant human Muppet who can happily sing away to his heart's content. Amy Adams has ample time to sing a song in a restaurant and study the Thesaurus (though she not as engaging as she was in "Enchanted"). The most important element is the Muppets themselves, and they don't disappoint. Fozzie still tells bad jokes; Kermit the Frog tries to hold the group together and reunite with his long-time love, Miss Piggy (who is as sassy as ever); Rowlf the Dog is also along, perturbed he was not included in an early montage; Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem cue up their cool tunes, and the hardly contained Animal on drums is also back, and he is attending anger-management classes with Jack Black (makes perfect sense). Since this is mostly a musical comedy, I should mention that my favorite song is the one that won the Academy Award - "Man or Muppet." It is so inspired and so hilarious that I'd call it an absolute classic (it also helps that "Big Bang Theory's" Jim Parsons appears).

"The Muppets" is a pure and breezy entertainment, not to be taken as anything other than a colorful fantasy with our dear old friends back for more genuine laughs and hearfelt moments. We all know how it is all going to turn out for the Muppets but we can't help but root for them anyway. This time, you really do feel the felt. 

Oh, now do you care! No, we don't.

THE FAN (1996)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

(Originally viewed on video in 1997)

I thought I have seen Robert De Niro take the role of the psychopathic killer far enough already. He has played them convincingly in the past, especially 1991's "Cape Fear." Throughout his career, De Niro has played all sorts of loner characters with distinguished characteristics. One in a great while, he will let his commanding presence shine through as he underplays beautifully in films like "Stanley and Iris," "Mad Dog and Glory," or "Guilty By Suspicion." But "The Fan" is not a film that will be remembered (as of 2012, few ever mention it in the De Niro canon of mildly decent performances). "The Fan" is an overwrought, headache-inducing, ill-written and purely sickening trashy wannabe thriller by one of our worst directors, Mr. Tony Scott ("Top Gun"), the director of using every conceivable angle to cut to in ten seconds of film time (and you thought Michael Bay was bad).

Let's consider the plot for a moment. De Niro is an EXTREMELY strange knife salesman who is fired from his job and makes the grave error of leaving his son stranded at a baseball game. He also berates and violently attacks his ex-wife and her boyfriend, and frequently calls a radio talk-show host (played by Ellen Barkin) who one day interviews a popular baseball player (Wesley Snipes). De Niro's character is Snipes' player's number-one fan and will do anything for him, as long as Snipes hits some home-runs. If Snipes doesn't unwittingly comply to this psycho, De Niro will kill a rival baseball player (played by a goateed Benicio Del Toro) and kidnap Snipes' son. Did I miss something? Where is the transition of De Niro going mad to becoming a psychopathic madman? Maybe it is his obsessiveness over his brand of knives.

Robert De Niro gives his character no depth, no humanity and not a shred of decency - he's about as animated as Michael Myers and his frequent mugging doesn't help matters. Wesley Snipes is mostly there for reaction shots and extreme close-ups, nothing more. The screenplay is littered with obscenities and mean-spiritedness; could it have been written by the former king of bad language, Mr. Joe Esterzhas of "Basic Instinct" fame? The frantic cutting, De Niro's Dolby-ized yelling and the ear-shattering, overcrowded music montages (including a bizarre use of the Stones' "Can't You Hear Me Knocking?") will give you a migraine the size of Niagara Falls. Let's put it his way - the film's raison d'etre is Mr. De Niro and it is a shameful use of his name and prestige for sickeningly blood-soaked, exploitative garbage like "The Fan."