The Boogeyman is going to get yah!

THE BOOGEYMAN (1980)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

For the first half-hour, "The Boogey Man" works up a bit of a sweat. The atmosphere gives one goosebumps (helped by the melodic and screeching musical score) and the placid setting and locations give one the illusion of a hypnotic supernatural horror flick. But after that half-hour, things go bump in the screenplay and lead us into the less-than-subversive world of slasher pictures.

Right from the start, one is reminded of John Carpenter's "Halloween." A picturesque suburban house at night shows two kids out on the porch. They are looking at their mother flirting with some anonymous boyfriend who wears a stocking on his head. The boyfriend is, however, a cruel and sadistic man who ties up the young male child, Willy, while his sister, Lacey, looks on. The mother seemingly approves the boyfriend's behavior but, well in another nod to "Halloween," Willy picks up a butcher knife after being freed by Lacey and stabs the mother's boyfriend to death.

Twenty years later, trauma infects Lacey (Suzanna Love), who is now married with kids and living on a farm. Her stoic brother, Willy (Nicholas Love, Suzanna's real-life brother), doesn't speak and also lives at the farm. Lacey is asked by her husband to confront her traumatic memories that are giving her bad nightmares. And the impotent Willy is having problems of his own, especially when he nearly strangles an ingenue who comes on to him.

The movie begins intriguingly enough and I had faith when I saw sublime John Carradine as a psychiatrist. I had more faith in the almost heavenly and softly lit scenes by cinematographer Jochen Breitenstein. But then the director Ulli Lommel ("The Devonsville Terror") opts for a couple of gratuitous slasher scenes that appear to have creeped in from another movie. Apparently, the killer boyfriend's soul has escaped when Lacey thinks she sees him in a mirror and smashes it. So we have the odd point-of-view shots of shards of mirror glass that shine brightly when new human prey is nearby and, in the soundtrack, we hear the killer's heavy breathing. And then we get a couple of possession scenes that scream laughter, not scares. My question is: why does this killer boyfriend attack young women and men engaged in sexual activity or in various states of undress? Would it not have been more effective if the soul escaped and moved from mirror to mirror to get to Lacey? And why is he interested in Lacey? Would he not be seeking revenge on Willy? And how come young Willy was never arrested for his crime or placed in an institution (Michael Myers was).

I will say that director Ulli Lommel was ambitious enough to attempt his own "Halloween" tropes in the service of a sensitive character study. For a while, it works and holds our interest. Unfortunately, the premise is squandered severely by a few stabbings of anonymous characters, some hollering and screaming fits, truncated transitions, and not a whole lot else. A noble yet schizophrenic attempt. Boo!

Shoestring Bram Stoker porn

DRACULA (THE DIRTY OLD MAN) (1969)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

If you ever wondered what Dracula might be up to if he lived in a cave outside of Los Angeles, then "Dracula The Dirty Old Man" might serve as a convenient answer. Shot on the single half of a shoestring budget, this soft-core porn flick (pardon, I meant a skinflick) is so crummy and vile that not much enjoyment can be derived from it.

Count Dracula (Vince Kelly) is named Count Alucard (the name given to Lon Chaney Jr.'s Count back in "Son of Dracula" from 1943), and he lives in his coffin in a cave out in the desert with two torches on each side of the coffin. It ain't Carfax Abbey but it will do. Why he chooses not to mix in with the L.A. crowd is one of several thousand questions that pop up in this movie. For whatever reason, the Count visits suburban homes, standing outside womens' bedrooms, looking for nubile women who might look good naked. But he needs help and receives it from a local reporter (Billy Whitton) who looks like an insurance salesman. Good old Count changes him into a werewolf and calls him Irving Jackelmann. The Count sends Jackelmann off looking for women for the Count to sink his teeth into, specifically in the breast.

The movie begins with the most absurd narration this side of the Ed Wood, Jr. fence, with some nonsense about one blue mountain and then another, and another. I did not realize until the end of this 67-minute atrocity that it is the reporter's narration, not the Count (the voices seem have to be done by the same actor). None of the clearly post-dubbed lines of dialogue match anything the characters say (apparently the recorded sound was so horrendous, it needed to be redubbed). So the filmmakers change the whole tone into a comedy (though the appearance of the Count is so ludicrous, it could only pass for comedy). Unfortunately, the movie has several sex scenes and one with the Jackelmann that is so disturbing and drags on for far too long (let's say it is narcoleptic) that it uses humor to make us forget the vile act itself (it doesn't work). And watching Dracula lick his lips with eye-rolling delight becomes tedious.

"Dracula the Dirty Old Man" had been rescued from obscurity by the Something Weird video label. If it had not been for them, the movie would have been forgotten and placed in a trash disposal somewhere. As it stands, there are worse skinflicks and you might get a couple of chuckles out of it but there is superior fare that needs to be rescued from obscurity.

Footnote: according to imdb, this 1969 flick is listed as the last credit for the film director and cast.

When in Rome with Roman...

WHAT? aka DIARY OF FORBIDDEN DREAMS aka CHE? (1972)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Some have described Roman Polanski's least popular film "What?" as a sensual reworking of "Alice in Wonderland." Others have called it a soft-core porno film or a "hippie" film. What makes Polanski's film special is that it defies description altogether, and it fits into Polanski's themes of protagonists stuck in a world as deranged and as lunatic as they are.

Sydne Rome is the Girl, a hippie hitchhiking through Italy. At the start of the film, she is practically raped by three guys and manages to escape to the nearest gorgeous villa. She arrives inside the villa, is given a room for free, and is mostly harrassed and defiled by a former pimp (Marcello Mastroianni). The pimp may be a homosexual and gets turned on when he dresses like a tiger and is whipped. This classy guy crushes golfballs with his feet, hates silence, and uses and abuses the Girl at every opportunity. This Girl is one unlucky chick. Her clothes are stolen by Mosquito (Roman Polanski), a drifter or some kind of bizarre character who lives with other misfits above her bedroom - he and his buddies spend their day having sex and playing ping-pong. Another character lives in one room whose only preoccupation is to play Mozart on the piano. Two women are always seen wearing hats and little else. Another man groans in his bedroom each time the Girl passes by. To perhaps remind herself she is not dreaming all this, the Girl writes absurd entries in her diary, which is under her arm at all times."What?" is certainly an appropriate title for this nondescript film.

"What?" is a black comedy with the distinctive silences and long takes that marked Polanski's brilliant "Cul-De-Sac." "What?" is not as ingratiating as "Cul-De-Sac," but it is as inspiring and as surreal as most of Roman's other works. It is almost classifiable as soft-porno, but it pokes fun at the genre, refusing to allow the lead actress Rome to indulge in much sex at all. Of course, through most of the film, she walks around nude, and even sits nude at the breakfast table. "Get out of here while you can from all this decadence," warns one character to Rome. She could have left at anytime if she were able to get some clothes on and hitch a ride back to civilization.

Every character treats Rome as a sexual object of desire, something to be enamored of because of her figure and her bubbly personality. Still, she allows herself to succumb to the pimp's desires, or the millionaire (Hugh Griffith) who asks her to remove her panties. Even the pianist sleeps on her crotch while she is asleep and, when awaken, is shocked that she feels violated. It is questionable if Rome's character loves the pimp, but he has perhaps made her feel whole again. There is no doubt that she has been changed by her experiences at the mansion.

"What?" was shown uncut in Europe and abroad, but was given the ax in a truncated version called "Diary of Forbidden Dreams" (cut from a 112 minute length to 94 minutes). I have never seen that version but I suspect American distributors had no idea what they had. "What?" never quite falls into any feasible category, and it is in fact too wild and exaggerated for mainstream tastes. But its surreal sexual situations and voyeuristic tension invariably hit home (and perhaps led to one of Polanski's later masterpieces such as "Bitter Moon"). Comical and sensual, often mesmerizing yet off-putting at times, "What?" is clearly one of the strangest film experiences I have ever had, and it bears Polanski's visual stamp all the way.

The cruel and cruelly funny Basterds

INGLOURIOUS BASTERDS (2009)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

For the most absurd and powerful revisionist war movie in eons, you can't get any better than "Inglourious Basterds," the loopiest and most entertaining Tarantino flick since his "Kill Bill" series. To call it only riveting and exciting is to underrate it - it is a movie largely about movies. It is about dazzling the audience and thrilling them to no end with one galvanizing moment of intensity after another. It is so damn enthralling and exasperating an experience, so blackly funny and so blood-chillingly and brazenly violent with such top-notch performances that I am almost ready to say it rivals "Pulp Fiction." In fact, it does.

The Basterds are comprised of some Army soldiers during World War II whose job is to hunt and kill Nazis. The way to prove you killed a Nazi is to scalp them, and if you find a Nazi and let them go, you carve their foreheads with the forbidden swastika - a Scarlet Letter of shame. Tennessee-born Lt. Aldo Raine (Brad Pitt) is the leader of the pack of Basterds. One member of the Basterds includes a nearly psychotic baseball bat-wielding Donny Donowitz, known as "The Bear Jew" (Eli Roth, surprisingly charismatic). The rest are the archetypes of most 20th century WWII movies including a startlingly beautiful French Jew, Shosanna Dreyfuss (Melanie Laurent), who owns a Parisian cinema where she is forced to show German propaganda films; a British film critic and expert on German cinema no less, Lt. Archie Hicox (Michael Fassebender), who is also a spy; and a glorious German movie starlet, Bridget von Hammersmark (Diane Kruger), also a spy.

The plot involves the Basterds' ultimate mission: to kill Hitler, Goebbels and the whole Third Reich in the very movie theatre owned by Shosanna by setting fire to a few dozen nitrate movie reels. If this mission, known as Operation Kino, succeeds then World War II is over. Yes, I know, we never heard such nonsense when we learned about World War II in school but Tarantino isn't so much making a historical film about war - he is brave enough to rewrite it to fit his own universe. Back to the mission: a certain dashing, charming, suave and cunning Nazi may serve as an obstruction to the Basterds' plans. He is Hans Landa (the amazing Christoph Waltz), who has a calm demeanor and is extraordinarily intelligent in obtaining information. He can find a Jewish family hiding out in the French countryside, ascertain the proprietor of a high heeled shoe in the aftermath of a massacre, and can speak English, German and Italian with ease. He is the most delectably frightening villain in all of Tarantino's ouevre - an officer who can make anyone quiver and spill the truth without the need of a lie detector test. Can the Basterds stop this nasty Nazi and finish the war with Jewish-American suicide bombers and dozens of nitrate film reels?

"Inglourious Basterds" is the work of a master director who combines and mixes his love of all war movies into a socko and comical epic punch of a movie. As I stressed before, he is not making a traditional war movie nor is he making a serious treatise on war - he is making a war movie about war movies. But even more interestingly, he adds touches of humanity even in the face of such homage - the movie is in quotes and full of irony but there is something deeper here that touches on war in a way that perhaps war movies have not touched upon, post-"Saving Private Ryan." For example, there is the Sergio Leone opening (complete with a score that is reminiscent of Leone's spaghetti westerns) with the dairy farmer harboring Jews underneath the floorboards of his home. Landa pays a visit and eventually discovers that there are Jews hidden under the kitchen. When the dairy farmer tries to fight back tears, knowing that he had to give away their presence (and Landa knows it too), it becomes unbearably tense and it is tinged with regret - this war makes everyone quiver and shake in their boots. Also consider the Bear Jew who beats a Nazi to death with a baseball bat - the other Nazis have surrendered and see this horrific display of brutality with tears in their eyes. Such scenes show that Quentin Tarantino may be a demonic hell-raiser of a filmmaker, but he is also in touch with the humanity in horror from both the good guys and the bad.

And then there is the French tavern sequence which rivals even Hitchcock for building suspense and tension. It is so uniquely unsettling this sequence that I would say it is among the greatest suspense sequences of all time. I won't give much away except that it involves a German actress, a few drinks, a name-guessing game and some spies masquerading as Nazis. It is all in the telling details (like how a German is supposed to order a drink) that give away the spies' true identities. "Reservoir Dogs" also dealt with identity but, here, it is almost phantasmagoric in its unnerving atmosphere and tension.

But there is so much more to enjoy. I would give a laundry list of fantastic, tantalizing scenes but there is one that is etched in my memory. The vision of Shosanna Dreyfus in her precious movie theatre where her projected laugh on the silver screen in the face of Nazi deaths will linger (not to mention an aural accompaniment preceding the climax with David Bowie singing the musical theme from "Cat People") is haunting and poetic, more so than anything else I can recall from Tarantino. It is as if Tarantino was recalling the imagery of Fritz Lang's own striking noir tales, or even aping to some degree the climax of Lang's own "Metropolis."

And there is the cast, which is as wonderful an ensemble as one can imagine. Brad Pitt does his Southern twang perfectly, and most notable is the memorable scene where he rounds up the troops and explains what he expects from them. I would not count this as his best role (that honor would go to "Fight Club") but it is a colorful, hilarious role for the Pitt Man (tell me you simultaneously won't laugh and cringe when he pretends to be an Italian at a German movie premiere). Also worth mentioning is Eli Roth who is suitably effective and mean enough as the notorious Bear Jew; the almost unrecognizable Mike Myers as a British officer; Rod Taylor who came out of retirement to play Winston Churchill; Daniel Brohl (who really seems to come out of that 40's era) as Frederick Zoller, a Nazi war hero and movie star who can't bear to watch his own life story in the film within the film, "Nation's Pride"; the aforementioned Michael Fassbender as the classy British spy who also seems to have dropped in from that era as well, and Diane Kruger as the sophisticated German movie star in undoubtedly the best role she's played by far (you'll quickly forget she was in "Troy" and "National Treasure").

But there is the piece of de resistance, the man whose glowering eyes and piercing charms will resonate long after the movie is over. He is Christoph Waltz, an actor who makes all other Nazis in the history of cinema look pale by comparison. This is an actor who epitomizes the phrase "devilish charm." He is so evil, so cunning, so humorous, so subtle and so damn charming that I am surprised that the Hitler of this movie didn't quake in his boots at the mere mention of his name, Hans Landa. Shudder, shudder, shudder. Waltz should win the Oscar (and did) for playing the most devious Nazi ever, one who so relishes a Nantucket Bay home after the war is over. Playing one of the great villains of all time, Waltz waltzes away with this movie, hands down.

Quentin Tarantino's "Inglourious Basterds" is a complete masterpiece of pop cinema, with Tarantino at his absolute peak and in full control of his own vision of war as a playful and violent diversion. I don't think he can top it, but then I didn't think he could top "Pulp Fiction." Well, he did. After the cartoonish carnival of the "Kill Bill" volumes, the grindhouse spin of "Death Proof," and the mature love story of "Jackie Brown," he has delivered his finest achievement to date. It is more than a movie - it is a reminder of the art of the cinema in all its lush glory and vivid entertainment.

FOOD FIGHT!

ANIMAL HOUSE (1978)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

"National Lampoon's Animal House" is a messy, occasionally laborious and sometimes uproarious comedy. It is director John Landis at his best and worst. When he goes for the big laughs, he stages the scenes with mammoth, roaringly manic timing. When he tries anything for a laugh, it comes across flat and dumber than a horse dying from a heart attack (complete with a confounding freeze frame).

I know "Animal House" is a considered a classic in the gross-out genre - in fact, it pretty much invented that genre. It is certainly not as gross as its reputation might suggest (its innumerable gross and tasteless imitators make it look tame by comparison) but it is also not nearly as funny as it could have been. Most of you know the story - two fraternities duke it out. One is a straight-laced "Hitler Youth" frat party with a militant strategy all its own called the Omega Theta Pi. The other are the "Deltas," the fun crowd who sing "Louie, Louie" to their hearts' content and have the lowest academic scores on campus. Bluto (John Belushi) is practically the ringleader, the voracious party animal who famously yells, "Food Fight!" You also got Tim Matheson as the smooth, suave Otter, the Delta chairman; Donald Sutherland as a pot-smoking professor who is not a fan of Milton's "Paradise Lost"; sweet Karen Allen in her first role as Katy, the smart girlfriend of Donald "Boon" Schoenstein (Peter Riegert); Bruce McGill as "D-Day," a biker with incomplete grades; John Vernon as Dean Wormer who wants to get rid of the Deltas; Thomas Hulce as "Pinto," one of the virgins of the group, and Stephen Furst as "Flounder," the clumsy pledge to the Deltas. I'd mention the Omega pledges but I found them instantly one-dimensional and forgettable.

I had a good time with "Animal House" overall - it is unapologetic about its crassness and it has an upbeat quality. The late John Belushi is an uncontrollable frat house animal and food junkie (hard to forget Sam Cooke's "What a Wonderful World" when we watch Belushi helping himself to every food item in the cafeteria). Matheson is also wonderful to watch, and I love the little bickering between Katy and Boon. But the ending is all chaos and disastrously unfunny, complete with a "Where Are They Now?" segment that ironically shows Bluto becoming a U.S. Senator. Bottom line: I laughed out loud for the first forty-five minutes (the toga party and the demon/angel decision for Pinto are the biggest highlights), and laughed periodically afterwards and then laughed less and less as the film reached its finish. I just wish the Deltas really found more imaginative ways of dealing with the Omegas than utilizing a parade float to literally crash the parade. When it is over, I thought, this is a bit of a "soft" finish for a comedy.

The Belgian Hero gets the Spielberg treatment

ADVENTURES OF TINTIN (2011)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Steven Spielberg's "Adventures of Tintin" is a white-knuckle ride of an adventure movie. It's got glorious car chases, a rambunctious and clever dog, a hero who is quick on his feet, pirates, two industrial cranes used as weapons, and superbly vivid colorful locales. It is long on spirit and adventure yet short on story. Still, for Spielberg fans who have longed for the pop filmmaker to return to whizbang popcorn filmmaking, "Tintin" will do just fine for action junkies.

Tintin, the journalist with the same orange curlicue haircut as Conan O'Brien, is the titular Belgian WWII comic-book hero created by the late Herge. Tintin gets into one scrape after another whether he is fighting Bolsheviks or finding the Secret of the Unicorn, the story Spielberg decided to film first (actually, a hybrid of three Tintin tales). A model sailing ship named the Unicorn has been bought by Tintin (voiced by Jamie Bell) at a marketplace. Right away there is trouble when Tintin gets offers from suspicious persons to buy it from him. Before one can hit the brake pedal, Tintin has to contend with multiple thieves who want the ship which contains one of the scrolls leading to the Secret of the Unicorn, a cache of golden treasures. Clue after clue leads Tintin and his dog, Snowy, to the soused Captain Haddock (voiced by Andy Serkis) who is the last of his generation tied to the history of the Unicorn. Two more scrolls are needed to divulge the coordinates of said ship. Mr. Ivan Ivanovitch Sakharine (voiced by Daniel Craig) is the wicked villain who wants those scrolls for himself.

Spielberg engages his action-adventure style perfectly in "Tintin" and has found the right medium for this hero - photo-realistic animation using motion capture. The results are stunning and better than expected (especially after the deadly bore "Final Fantasy" from ten years ago where the characters spoke and emoted with zombie-like precision). The characters in "Tintin" have subtle expressions and emote - they feel real enough (though I still have a soft spot for old Disney animation). The movie also moves at a fast clip with enough last-minute escapist ordeals and harrowing danger for two more "Tintin" movies. Most notable is an amazing sequence done in one take where Tintin rides in a motorcycle while evading his evil captors and tries to capture a hawk that has the scrolls in its beak, while Captain Haddock accidentally blows up a dam! It is a stunning achievement this one sequence, utilizing Spielberg's gift for not frantically cutting away from the action but rather embracing it in detail.

Despite all the pyrotechnics and the sheer visual spectacle of it, "Tintin" doesn't have a whole lot of story. We have Tintin's and Captain Haddock's unquenchable thirst for adventure, but their Unicorn search is not that stirring and there are a couple of lulls that threaten our interest. The movie hints at depth with Captain Haddock's own retelling of the Unicorn and his past ancestors but it is muted at best. Even Tintin is an odd duck of a character - he has a dog and gets into adventures but there isn't a shred of the charm or personality of Indiana Jones (we hear about Tintin's past exploits but we never see this kid at work as a journalist).

Despite the movie's thin storyline, I was engaged by it overall. When there is a moment or a break in the action, the boisterous Captain Haddock keeps us lively and amused, and you can't help but laugh at Snowy especially when he runs under a few hundred cows. The Thompson twins, who are clumsy Interpol detectives, bring in the slapstick. There is enough happening to almost forget how undernourished Tintin's character is (perhaps later sequels will expand his character beyond searching for clues). "Tintin" is an enjoyable enough romp for all ages. But from Spielberg, I expected something more epic and amazing. Do watch out for those industrial cranes!

Jack Stanfield and the Kingdom of Clear and Present Cliches

FIREWALL (2006)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia (Originally written in 2006)

When our beleaguered and intrepid computer security specialist, Jack Stanfield (Harrison Ford), finds a way to trap the villains, he growls a cliched response to their demands that doesn't feel like a cliche. Ford growls, "You don't get a dime!" Any other actor saying it would've felt like the cliche it is. Harrison Ford mines it for the direct threat it is.

As "Firewall" begins, Jack is conversing with a new client, Bill Cox (Paul Bettany), who will help foresee a merger thanks to Jack's associate (Robert Forster, who has a slightly smaller role than in "Mulholland Dr."). But before Jack can leave his business appointment, Bill gets in Jack's car and holds him at gunpoint, forcing Jack to drive to his own house. Two-thirds of the movie practically takes place in Jack's house, as Bill confronts Jack's family who's already hostage to some of Bill's minions and comes up with a new proposal. Bill wants Jack to electronically rob his own bank - a round figure of about 100 million from several customer accounts. If Jack doesn't comply, his family will be killed. Of course, one can surmise that if Jack does comply, his family will be killed anyway.

Yes, my dear moviegoers, we have seen this scenario countless times before. The new additions to the plot are the modern technological devices such as iPods used as hard drives, the duplication of cell phones (at least in 2006), using laptops in bathrooms (I rather enjoyed that moment) and so on. Everything else that occurs can be legitimately guessed by the average moviegoer (though who would have guessed that these robbers enjoy Hungry Man dinners and watching Fred Flinstone. Makes them seem almost human).

So why on earth am I recommending "Firewall"? One simple reason: Harrison Ford makes the movie entertaining and that is what counts. I must confess that I have not been kind to Ford in the last ten years. Everything he appeared in since 1995, from the insufferable "Sabrina" remake to the truly preposterous "Air Force One," to the astoundingly awful "What Lies Beneath" and "The Devil's Own," gave me the impression that Ford was not in his element (don't get me harping on "Hollywood Homicide"). But as Jack Stanfield, Ford is more cocksure and focused than ever. His steadfast determination to set everything right is felt from one frame to the next. Even the obligatory fistfight feels urgent because it is Ford in a vulnerable mode, and he's one of a select few that can make the most jaded viewer care about his plight.

There are even slight, perhaps unintended homages to other Ford films. When Jack is on a roof and descends to someone's apartment on a rainy night, you can't help but think of "Blade Runner." A suspenseful sequence where Ford madly types away at a computer terminal and evades being caught by his boss (Robert Patrick) bring up memories of "Clear and Present Danger." Ford asleep at his secretary's house while trying to find his family reminds one of "Frantic."

As for the supporting cast, it is a mixed bag at best. Paul Bettany is a strange kind of villain - he threatens but never truly means any harm to Jack's family (though to be fair, he does try to kill their son by taking advantage of his allergy to nuts). Bettany's Bill is far more threatening whenever his minions screw up - he just shoots them in the head point blank. And I never quite understood what Bill's motives were beyond robbing the bank - villains and terrorists in these thrillers never seem to think beyond financial matters. Still, Bettany has strong rapport with Ford and sparkles every time they share a scene together.

Virginia Madsen could certainly have used more leverage for her role as the domesticated wife (a stay-at-home architect to be sure). Robert Forster and Alan Arkin seem to exist in a vacuum - blink, and you'll forget they ever appeared in the film. Robert Patrick could've have had an extra scene or two since he is a powerful presence (unless Ford was afraid of being upstaged). The one actor that truly shines is Mary Lynn Rajskub ("Punch Drunk Love") as Jack's secretary. She is a quirky actress with enough wit and spunk to make one wish she was cast as Jack's wife - hell, why the hell not? If Calista Flockhart can be Ford's real-life squeeze...get the picture?

"Firewall" is a walking cliche where you can anticipate its every move, but it has Harrison Ford doing what he does best - delivering the fearless action hero who has to do everything he can to protect his family. For some of us, that is about as satisfying a time at the movies as one has come to expect.