Brando on the American Dream

THE FORMULA (1980)
Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

It is a shame that "The Formula" doesn't gel because it starts so promisingly and ends so satisfactorily. It is the middle of the picture that falls apart. "The Formula" is a conspiracy thriller that deals with some formula concocted by the Nazis during World War II that could convert coal into synthetic fuel or, if you like, into the most prized commodity of the 20th century - oil. The corporations have had access to this formula for some time but have never made it public, and those that tried were killed.

Marlon Brando plays the head of one of these corporations who has purposely suppressed this formula for nothing other than greed (and to keep tabs on the stock market). George C. Scott plays a Los Angeles detective who finds out that one of his law enforcement friends had been murdered. His friend is a retired police detective who once served in the military during World War II. It turns out that his friend also dealt in cocaine but may have been killed because he knew too much about the secret Nazi formula. In flashback, we see Scott's friend stopping a Nazi commandant who is holding some secret files detailing the formula ingredients. This takes Scott to Germany where he commingles with Nazi scientists, professors and some German mystery woman (Marthe Keller) who is not quite what she seems.

Based on a best-selling novel by Steve Shagan, "The Formula" is at times involving but it is so muddled and laborious that you'll wonder what the big deal is. Scott is seen parading around Germany looking for clues that only make sense to him - we are left in the cold with clinical details about scientific information and formula ingredients. Each time Scott speaks to someone directly involved with the formula, that person is killed by some unseen sniper (though I must add that Scott has no idea anyone is being shot because the killings often happen after he leaves). And throughout the film, we see some mysterious stranger following Scott, though Scott has no idea he's being followed. Is the stranger the assassin? Is the German mystery woman a member of some terrorist organization or does she simply have a thing for Scott's attention, especially when she has nightmares of the Holocaust?

The brightest element in "The Formula" is Marlon Brando's exemplary, restrained performance as the greedy, evil leader of a corporation that profits from oil, and the last thing he needs is to reveal a formula that will help bring down costs. His final scene with Scott is what great studies in acting are all about - play it straight and evoke a subtle touch of humor. Brando makes the scene his own, quoting Thomas Jefferson on how greed leads to a powerful, financially secure nation, not morality. It is such an exemplary scene, so well-shot and acted that it has almost nothing to do with the rest of the picture. The bulk of the film has to do with shadowy witnesses to the formula, and the notion of conspiracy comes to the surface. It leaves your head in the clouds with thin air since it has no sense of suspense or peril. There are too many characters, too much detailed information that leads nowhere. When you can't remember what character John Gielgud played or what his purpose was in the story, you know you are in trouble. As for George C. Scott, well, he knows how to overact and acts as if he's as bewildered about his surroundings as the audience will be. And yet with such a gripping finale, you wish the filmmakers pursued a subject worthy of some scrutiny, some level of surprise. Brando has his own formula down cold - the rest of the movie only wishes it was as good as Brando. 

Jason Voorhees' worst nightmare

FREDDY VS. JASON (2003)
Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

It was bound to happen and in 2003, it finally did. After years of countless rumors and rewrites, the pairing of the slasher horror titans had finally been unleashed. "Freddy vs. Jason" was not bad and had some creative ideas, though it is your basic gory slasher flick. On the other hand, when it comes to Freddy Krueger and Jason Voorhees, how can you expect anything less?

This time, burn-scarred Freddy Krueger (Robert Englund) explains how he persuaded goalie-masked Jason Voorhees (Ken Kirzinger, replacing Kane Hodder) to go to good old Springwood (the home of Elm Street) and start carving up teenagers so Freddy can be blamed for their deaths. Although this idea may sound convoluted, it is promising since the town has chosen to forget Freddy Krueger's existence (most of their teen population had been eliminated in past movies) - any one teen that can dredge up his name is placed in a mental institution. So if nobody fears him, nobody can dream about him. Jason merely hacks his way through the town and a rave with his machete, accruing a high body count. But now that Freddy's intended victims are being slaughtered by Mr. Voorhees, Freddy decides to have a physical match with Jason in his dreams.

"Freddy vs. Jason" has all the basic ingredients of your average slasher flick - there are gallons of blood, a high body count, gratuitous female nudity, a shower scene, a number of incendiary, zitless, horny teens and a delectably witty stoner sequence. Since this is not only a sequel to "Nightmare on Elm Street" but also "Friday the 13th," you can count on some outlandish dream sequences and the cliched "Who's there?" scenes, not to mention a number of false alarms. Only until the final half-hour are we treated to what we have been clamoring for - an intensely violent match between Freddy and Jason in the boiler room that exceeds expectations. Let's just say that it is crudely funny and inventive (including a clever flashback to Jason's early days as a bullied, deformed kid) - who could ever win such a match? Suffice to say that both get their just desserts (a comic-book sequel called "Freddy vs. Jason vs. Ash" followed).

I have never been a fan of "Friday the 13th," seeing only the first two sequels and the interminable "Jason Goes to Manhattan." I have always enjoyed "A Nightmare on Elm Street" and its numerous sequels and found that Freddy Krueger always had more charisma and personality than the robotic Jason. Still, for Elm Street fans, there are only a handful of the creative dream sequences that have become a hallmark of the series, and Freddy's repartee is kept to a minimum. Jason seems to have more screen time, slashing and pummeling his victims with his machete. The intended teen victims all seem older than they should be and only exist to be carved up by either of the horror icons (though it is pleasing enough to see Jason Ritter and Monica Keena together). The one slasher victim that bears a little more interest and soul is Katharine Isabelle (the slutty werewolf in the cultish "Ginger Snaps") if only because she possesses a vitality the others can't match - too bad her screen time is limited. One stoner character, an obvious model of Jay from Kevin Smith's View Askew universe, has a great line after witnessing the rave massacre: "That goalie must have been pissed about something."

So if you like gory slasher flicks and would enjoy seeing Freddy kicking Jason's butt and likewise, then "Freddy vs. Jason" may be the movie for you (it is directed by Ronny Yu, who helmed the fiendishly funny "Bride of Chucky"). If you find the slasher genre disreputable and responsible for the decline of the western civilization, then stay far, far away.

A synthetic 99 minutes

DARKMAN II: THE RETURN OF DURANT

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Sam Raimi's "Darkman" was a wicked, demonic ride of a movie - a relentless superhero movie engineered by a shot of humanity and a tinge of madness from Liam Neeson as the Shadow-like Darkman. It was so supercharged and it left you with such sadness about the main character that I felt there was nothing left to say - the scarred scientist would roam the streets forever, never to reunite with his lost love (played by Frances McDormand). "Darkman II: The Return of Durant" is the typical sequel - it sacrifices everything that made the original so unique. Rather than create a new story, it practically replicates the original film.

Arnold Vosloo (replacing Liam Neeson) is the scarred Darkman, still looking for that synthetic skin that will last longer than 99 minutes when exposed to sunlight. He finds a bright, young scientist named Dr. Brinkman (Jesse Collins) who is working on a revolutionary synthetic skin. Unfortunately, Dr. Brinkman is working in a spacious lab that Durant (Larry Drake) wants to use for manufacturing a deadly, particle beam weapon with plutonium batteries. An ambitious reporter (played by Kim Delaney) from the show Street Copy finds out from Darkman that Durant, the resident crime boss, is back. And there is a nutty, wild-haired scientist (Lawrence Dane) who knows a thing or two about deadly weapons. In a nod to "Silence of the Lambs," the scientist is in a prison cell that is identical to the one Hannibal Lecter was kept in. Before I go further, I must point out that Durant, who clearly died in a helicopter explosion in the first "Darkman" film, is back with only a minor scar and bad headaches. This is not just contrived and stupid, but also in the tradition of Shamelessly Inane Resurrections with examples like Dr. Sam Loomis in "Halloween 4: The Return of Michael Myers" for one. If Durant had come back from the explosion scarred and mad as a bulldog and seeking a synthetic skin to make him look like the man he was, I might have accepted it.

"Darkman II" has too many characters, too many contrivances, too many car explosions and no real build-up. Vosloo lacks the madness tinged with regret that Neeson brought to the original film. And even worse, the movie has no fun with the idea that Darkman can use various skins to look like anyone! One scene at a board meeting is so shabby and poorly conceived that you wish Sam Raimi was back on board to shape this mess. There was some potential here for a decent sequel but it is made to look like any of those synthetic skins that Darkman wears - a carbon copy that you will forget 99 minutes after it is over.

Music is the glue that holds everything

EMPIRE RECORDS (1995)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

I don't recall seeing a headphone-wearing dog

"Empire Records" is hardly the "Clerks" of record stores. I only have to ask my wife, who used to work in a record store, about the movie's credibility. She never recalled employees dancing in the aisles to loud music, a flashing bulb at a register, or a mock funeral of a suicidal employee. If those elements had worked or were confined to a screenplay of wit and situational chaos, I might have appreciated the film more. As it is, the movie is not really about anything yet it is wired to be explosive and chaotic.

The movie begins with the ironic Lucas (Rory Cochrane) closing shop at the music store. He finds out that his boss (Anthony LaPaglia) is planning to sell out to a franchise, so what does Lucas do? He takes the record store's sales, all 9,000 dollars worth, bets at an Atlantic City casino and loses it all. The next day, rather than skipping town altogether, Lucas shows up at work. LaPaglia is ready to call the cops, but you know he won't. Why not? Dunno.

Meanwhile, a host of employees come in to work. Some come in early to work on their calculus homework, such as Miss Perfect Corey (Liv Tyler). Others simply never seem to do much of anything, such as Mark (Ethan Embry) who sweeps the aisles and the backroom and sings and dances around the whole store. One employee is simply a slut (Renee Zellweger, pre-"Jerry Maguire"). Another shaves her head and wears a bandage on her wrist (Robin Tunney, who appears to have drifted in from a Gus Van Sant flick). And to make matters worse, in light of the corporate takeover, a smug, self-important singer named Rex Manning (Maxwell Caulfield, absolutely pitch-perfect) will be signing autographs. Ah, let us not forget that lovable shoplifter who calls himself Warren Beatty (Brendan Sexton III, injecting much-needed grit as he did in "Welcome to the Dollhouse").

This is the kind of movie where there isn't just a mock funeral but an employee who passes the time by gluing quarters to the floor. This is also the kind of movie where Rex gives in to Corey's sexual fantasy (she takes her clothes off to reveal nothing more than a red bikini) and she walks away in disgust when he concedes by aiming for some oral activity. These employees should all be fired.

In 2000, "High Fidelity" was released and it possessed what much of this film is missing - soul and a sense of purpose (the record store in that film looked like an independent record store). Still, I've got to hand it to director Allan Moyle (who made the poignant "Times Square" and the angst-ridden "Pump Up the Volume") for making this watchable. I don't know how he does it because the acting is nil, the situations are contrived and unrealistic, but the music is terrific. The music is propulsive (sampling the likes of Gwar and Better than Ezra), and maybe that is the point. These kids are so disillusioned that only the music matters - it gives them a voice. I guess I am just tone deaf as to what that voice is. 

Footnote: Brendan Sexton III actually owns a New York City-based independent record label "Big Bit Of Beauty".

Crimson Bolt wins, ugh, again

SUPER (2011)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

I always give credit where credit is due. Independent films always aim to tell their stories in ways that would never pass muster in a Hollywood movie. So I knew that "Super" was not going to be an average superhero comic-book movie, but I did not expect a sadistic, mean-spirited film with a conversely odd stance on violence. That is not to say that there are not things I did enjoy but, as with some presumably anti-violence pictures, it wants to have its cake and eat it too.

Rainn Wilson is Frank, a short-order cook who has been humiliated for most of his life by bullies. He is an odd duck right from the start, and you might think he is a virginal nerd with no prospects. Frank is actually married to Sarah (Liv Tyler), a recovering drug-addict who Frank thinks has been kidnapped by a drug dealer and dangerous criminal (Kevin Bacon, who is priceless). What will Frank do? He dons a badly stitched-together red costume and a wrench and becomes, wait for it, the Crimson Bolt. What does the Crimson Bolt do? He waits for crime by hiding behind dumpsters. When he catches a drug deal or witnesses sexual abuse of minors, the Bolt hits the "evil" perpetrators on the head with a wrench. And God forbid you should butt in on a long line to the movie theater - he will grab that wrench and hit you on the head. This joke is repeated far too many times, to the point that you think Frank is enjoying bashing peoples' heads in. 

That is part of the sneaking problem with "Super" - it is really not about a humiliated and neurotic man. He is actually a psychopath! Just when you think that his motives are to hurt people he deems as evil rather than kill them, enter Libby (Ellen Page), a comic-book store employee who knows and admires Frank for what he does. She decides to become his sidekick named Boltie. Libby dons a costume as well, and she believes she is supposed to kill the bad guys, or the guy who keyed her friend's car, and she enjoys it too! So we got two psychopaths! One would be enough.

"Super" could be taken as a dark fantasy masquerading as a black comedy. But the movie's extremes, especially in the last half of the film, are too vicious and hardly comical. There is a movie in here somewhere about how Frank is inspired by a Biblical superhero to do away with evil, and how having sex makes him throw up as opposed to committing acts of violence that he justifies as a "chosen" righteous avenger. He does it to save Sarah but the elements of cruelty and his savagery (including the use of pipe bombs and sharp knives, a la Wolverine, when he decides to start killing people) made me want to gag. It seems that writers today feel graphic, bloody violence can solve everything, even an underdeveloped screenplay. The violence perpetrated by Frank (which is meant to be taken seriously, unlike most comic-book movies) has to stem from the character and not feel perfunctory.

Rainn Wilson shows sympathy and gentleness as Frank in the movie's bookends but in between, the guy belongs in a mental hospital. What motivation is there for bashing a guy's head in for butting in line? And Ellen Page as Libby/Boltie laughs so maniacally and kills with such glee that she makes Mallory from "Natural Born Killers" look relatively sane. At least with Oliver Stone's film, we understood where Mallory was coming from. Libby's motivations lack clarity - who is this girl who gets positively horny when wearing her costume and practically rapes Frank? Or does she? It is hard to tell for sure.

"Super" is never boring, has some decent performances (though Michael Rooker is severely wasted as a henchman) but it is never clear what it wants to be. Director James Gunn (who had his roots in Tromaville) starts off with an ingenious, satirical idea - deconstructing and conveying reality in the world of comic-book movies - that plays for laughs, but then he segues into cruel violence that is not played for laughs. And we come away thinking that we are supposed to empathize with a nutcase who thinks God speaks to him (and the irony of this is never played out) and justifies any violent action he performs. Then the movie tries to trick me into sympathizing with him because he is trying to rescue his wife. At the same time, we are asked to excuse his violent temper, no matter how heinous. You just can't have it all three ways.    

The grass is always greener in St. Issacs

SAVING GRACE (2000)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Wistful, cheery and eccentric are three words that come to mind while watching director Nigel Cole's "Saving Grace." This was the latest in the "eccentric villagers" comedy staple, set forth by in the riotous "The Full Monty" and culminating in the endearing if uneven "Waking Ned Devine." The difference in "Saving Grace" is that the villagers are even more wistful, cheery and eccentric, thanks to a particular type of plant.

Grace (Brenda Blethyn) is one of those villagers, living in the overcast, affable fishing village of St. Issacs in Cornwall. Grace is a recent widow who gets a lot of emotional support from her fellow neighbors. The problem is that she is liable to lose her home and all her possessions, including a rented lawnmower, thanks to her husband's financially risky ventures and ploys. What can Grace do? She has no money and no job skills, but she is fairly adept at maintaining her garden.

This springs an idea in her charming gardener, Matthew (Craig Ferguson, who co-wrote the film, and is now the regular talk show for you-know-what), who is something of a marijuana specialist. He grows his own pot plants at the vicarage, and decides to start a joint business venture with Grace by growing several plants in her greenhouse. This leads to the film's funniest surprise where the greenhouse is lit with dozens of bright lamps each night, leaving an ethereal glow in the sky that keeps the villagers entertained in anticipation. One of them mistakenly sees it as a sign from God.

Still, since marijuana is illegal, how does one escape notice from the local police chief? And what about the agency that is ready to buy out her precious house? And what about the shady drug dealers in London who are skeptical of Grace's economical enterprise, including the dangerous yet suave Jacques (Tcheky Karyo, memorable as the icy agent in "La Femme Nikita")?

"Saving Grace" is mostly a one-joke comedy, and the ending is false and unnecessary. Still, there are enough bright moments, a generous dose of laughs, and some perfectly-timed one-liners to compensate for what is essentially a wittier toke, er, take on Cheech and Chong. It is also a pleasure to see Brenda Blethyn more restrained than usual (considering her over-the-top turn in "Little Voice"), and always an undeniable pleasure to see Phyllidia Law (Emma Thompson's mother) as a giddy shopkeeper. The characters are all as wistful, cheery and eccentric as you can imagine, but they do deliver a smile on your face after it is all over. I suspect for most viewers who loved "Waking Ned Devine," a smile may be enough.

WHAM! BAM! HOLY SCHUMACHER!

BATMAN FOREVER (1995)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Tim Burton created nihilistic, nightmarish versions of "Batman." Joel Schumacher added neon and garish bright colors that give one the impression of an update of the Batman TV show, amped up with superfluous and unwatchable color schemes. "Batman Forever" is not awful, and when I first saw it, I enjoyed it well enough but it is an empty, synthetic carnival ride of a movie.

Part of the problem is the horrendous casting of Val Kilmer as Batman/Bruce Wayne. As Bruce Wayne, he looks like a nerd with glasses who looks too fragile to survive in Wayne Manor or the Batcave. As Batman, he isn't bad but somehow not as suited to the Batsuit or the Bat nipples as Michael Keaton was.
Tommy Lee Jones gives the same performance he did in "Natural Born Killers" as Two-Face, a former district attorney who becomes a freak after acid burns half his face - he decides on a violent action by flipping a coin. Jim Carrey is at his zingiest and rubbery best here as the Riddler. And it is a welcome sight to see Nicole Kidman as Dr. Chase Meridian, a psychologist who becomes Bruce Wayne's love interest and has a keen interest in Batman's duality.

The movie drives at full-throttle overload with various action-scenes and overdone special-effects, especially the absurd climax involving a brainwave-collecting device. The villains steal the show while Batman's prowess and Bruce Wayne's past is kept to a minimum. And even more distracting is the appearance of Robin, the Boy Wonder (Chris O'Donnell), the former trapeze artist who becomes Batman's ally.

"Batman Forever" is too loud, too silly, too much-ness, as if Joel Schumacher is worried about his audience falling asleep. The movie is watchable and fast-paced enough but it is not as stimulating as the original 1989 film or as dark and subterranean as "Batman Returns" (though one can be thankful that this entry is not as unappetizing either). I suppose it will do for fans of the 1960's TV show, but not for fans of the Dark Knight graphic novels.