Love and Suicide in the time of Cat Stevens

HAROLD AND MAUDE (1971)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Hal Ashby's "Harold and Maude" is one of the most offbeat and humane black comedies of all time. Its subject is dour but its presentation is impeccably bright in every respect, dealing with life and death in surprisingly dramatic and obscenely funny ways.

Harold (Bud Cort) is a seemingly troubled 20-year-old who loves to fake suicide attempts. He does them in front of his mother (Vivian Pickles), who is more annoyed than she is frightened by them. Harold pretends to drown, shoot himself, hang himself, slit his wrists, chop off his hand, immolate himself, etc. None of these attempts work on his mother. All his mother does is arrange computer dates with Harold, each of whom he promptly scares away. We do not learn much about Harold except that he enjoys driving a hearse and frequents funerals of people he doesn't know. One day, Harold meets his match at a funeral. She is Maude (Ruth Gordon), a seventy nine-year-old woman who steals cars and just about everything else. She even steals Harold's hearse at one point which is how they meet. Maude teaches Harold to love life, to embrace it and nurture it. She lives in a train car which is full of flowers, guitar-playing instruments, and other assorted trinkets. She shows him the beauty of sunsets and of stealing planted trees on street corners and putting them where they belong: in the forest. Thanks to her free-spirited and nonchalant manner, they almost get into trouble with a motorcycle cop.

At Harold's home, things are not any better. When Harold's mother finds out about Harold's new friend, she tries to get him in the military by way of his Uncle Victor (Charles Tyner), Douglas McCarthur's right-hand man. Harold's response to war is to mimic shooting the enemy and to enjoy it a bit too much. A priest tells Harold that marrying an older woman with sagging breasts and buttocks makes him want to "vomit." Harold's psychiatrist has the funniest line as a Freud portrait stands in back of him: "You want to sleep with your grandmother." But none of this means anything to Maude - she wants Harold to grow and stick to his dreams, his wants, his needs.

"Harold and Maude" evolves with complete assuredness, thanks to a terrific screenplay by Colin Higgins and unobtrusive direction by the late Hal Ashby. Its blend of the macabre with moments of sensibility and pathos makes for a remarkably emotional experience. It also helps that Cat Stevens' songs populate the soundtrack every once in a while, an ironic counterpoint to Harold's own posh digs. If you think about it, it is rather funny to hear a Cat Stevens song playing while Harold drives his hearse.

Bud Cort ("Brewster McCloud") became forever typecast as the elusive Harold, preoccupied with death but also with trying to get attention from his mother. His performance is minimal in terms of expression but slowly he starts to evolve from a wan looking, inexpressive young man into someone who sees there is a life to live in this cruel world.

Ruth Gordon is the real centerpiece of the film, showing a woman of such joy and fleeting sadness (notice the concentration camp number on her wrist) that it makes a film of nihilistic rebellion (Harold and Maude's) into something much deeper and optimistic. Her ironic last sequence will make you tear up.

"Harold and Maude" is the 70's answer to the classic "The Graduate" but more focused and clever at every turn. Yes, there are some stereotypes and perhaps obvious symbolism yet for a film of such black comic overtones, there is a degree of intelligence and humanity that reigns above any other film of its type (it doesn't survive on black humor alone). Love it or hate it, there haven't been many films like "Harold and Maude."

Kill or be killed - that is Rambo's motto

RAMBO (2008)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

I confess that I am no fan of the "Rambo" series. I liked "First Blood" enough to wish later entries followed its suit of a loner Vietnam vet forced into action who realized that America in the Pacific Northwest was as violent as anything in Vietnam. "Rambo: First Blood Part II" and the unforgivably awful and monotonous "Rambo III" created a superhuman Rambo who was all about blood and guts and mowing down dozens of anonymous and villainous cretins without remorse or consequence (As Rex Reed succinctly put it, Rambo became "Superman with helicopters.") Rambo was considered the ideal Reagan-era, flag-waving, jingoistic hero - the ultra-macho superman of very few words. The new "Rambo" (originally titled "John Rambo") is the same old song and, though it is riddled with flaws, it is far superior to the last two sequels. That is still faint praise.

Brawny-as-ever Sylvester Stallone is back as the Man of Far Less Words Than Usual, Johnny Rambo, who is living in exile in Thailand catching snakes! A group of church missionaries want to bring food, water, prayer and medical attention to the Karen ethnic tribe in Burma (now known as Myanmar). The Karen people are facing a genocidal apocalypse thanks to the murderous Burmese regime who have them under their control. The Burmese soldiers rape, pillage, implode and explode these villagers one by one. The missionaries need a guide, a man who knows how to steer a riverboat, and that is none other than Rambo himself. These missionaries know they are treading into dangerous territory but they have no idea what their musclebound guide had been up to in the old days. Remember that in "Part II," Rambo's mission was to photograph any MIA's. Yeah, right! Now in this movie, Rambo has that thousand-yard stare and a toughness that screams "machine gun in cold dead hands." But no, the missionaries must think he is some sort of liberal Mr. Softy.

Rambo agrees reluctantly to help the missionaries and he must know they might get killed but he leaves them, and then comes back with a few mercenaries who are ready to kill. There is almost some one-upmanship from the mercenaries that is abandoned for the old-school level of gratuitous violence of the earlier pictures. Rambo shows his skills with bows and arrows, slices up abdomens and limbs and other body parts, and uses a machine gun on a turret while roaring in the trademark Stallone roar (he is also handy with explosives). The last half-hour of this film is chock full of graphic violence that includes everything from disembowelment to decapitation to exploding limbs but since the Burmese military are just one-dimensional savages, it is hard to work up much more than righteous applause in seeing them get their eventual just deserts. That is one thing strangely missing from this "Rambo" sequel: a new villain. Here, the villain seems to be the entire Burmese military and that is not satisfying enough for any action movie fans.

Stallone is an able writer and director in his own right but he reduces his iconic war hero to nothing more than a one-man war machine. Yes, I know, the earlier films portrayed the same kind of character but I was expecting more since it was Stallone at the reins and not director George P. Cosmatos. Stallone got more mileage out of Rocky in "Rocky Balboa" than he does out of Rambo. If nothing else, Sly knows how to frame the action with dizzying results (using the kind of frantic cutting, jittery camera and purposeful dust prints of post-"Saving Private Ryan" action pics). And to be fair, the movie doesn't feature endless explosions like most of "Rambo III." But this movie's politics are given short-shrift and we see the violence poured on us from both the good guys and the bad in such grisly detail that it proves to be nothing more than exploitation of a real-life crisis. It is not technically entertaining, just nauseating. All in all, I felt a measure of nostalgia for what is arguably an amped and revved up 80's action picture. But I got more of a kick with depth from 65-year-old Harrison Ford in the last "Indiana Jones" picture than I did from a 63-year-old brawny, taciturn hero who loves to slice and dice.

Rex Reed is the faux film critic version of Don Rickles

REX REED: A MAN OF MANY INSULTS

By Jerry Saravia

For more than forty years, film critic Rex Reed has attacked celebrities of all sizes and shapes. Usually they are pointed remarks, and some might be perceived as pointedly offensive. He referred to Robin Williams' shaved body in the stupefyingly dull "Hook" as resembling "boiled pork butt." He once referred to Madonna's armpits as smelling like "Bloody Marys" in regards to her performance in 1990's "Dick Tracy." (Yeah, they might if we had Odorama in the movie theater and that was not the case with "Dick Tracy") I cannot leave out another criticism of Madonna's features by Mr. Reed - "Her vulgar, raunchy undulation, her execrable music, her white zombie makeup all add up to the specter of an anguished and rather pitifully sexless corpse selling necrophilia wholesale." OUCH! Not even talk-show host Piers Morgan ever went that far in his criticism of Madonna - he just has a problem with her faux British accent.

And if you think that is bad, get a load of Reed's criticism of Juliette Lewis's appearance (not her performance) in Scorsese's lurid, over-the-top "Cape Fear" remake - "This pouting, oversexed, and unfocused brat is the best defense I can think of for having your tubes tied. Played by the dreadful Juliette Lewis, she's a repulsive, retarded little jerk too." DOUBLE OUCH! It is funny how much Mr. Reed used to get away with in the past. These are just some samples.

Now Rex Reed's negative review of "Identity Thief" has this little soundbite that has got everyone in a tizzy - "Melissa McCarthy (Bridesmaids) is a gimmick comedian who has devoted her short career to being obese and obnoxious with equal success." He also refers to her weight as "tractor-sized." To be fair, Reed once said that De Niro's obesity in 1980's "Raging Bull" was "bordering on the grotesque." Clearly Mr. Reed has a problem with overweight people on screen.

Melissa McCarthy in 1999's "Go"

Reed has defended his remarks claiming the following: “I have too many friends who’ve died [from obesity-related issues],” and “I object to using health issues like obesity as comedy talking points.” Well, excuse me but that is hardly what I think of Melissa McCarthy in general. Her TV show "Mike and Molly" does not exploit her weight for laughs - in fact, her weight is never an issue on the show nor should it be. McCarthy is charming, attractive, sensible and simply a joy to watch on screen. I loved "Bridesmaids" which is one of the funniest comedies I've seen in the 2010 era and her guest-hosting on "Saturday Night Live" was an absolute blast of laughs. Neither of these shows or films exploited her weight for laughs (perhaps SNL ever so slightly in a skit where she kept falling down the staircase). I cannot comment on "Identity Thief" but I doubt the film exploits her weight much, if at all (I read one comment from someone who did see the movie and claimed that there are more fat jokes in the review than the movie). And I seriously have not seen McCarthy ever be anything close to obnoxious - when and what character and what movie? Rex probably doesn't recall McCarthy's brief performance as a giggling soap-opera fan in 1999's "Go" - a movie Rex put on his ten best list of that year.

That is what is odd about Rex Reed. He may hate certain actors based on their appearance but he sometimes praises them for certain films. Reed inexplicably loved "The Evening Star," a dreadful sequel to "Terms of Endearment" that starred Juliette Lewis. I am not sure what he said about her appearance or her performance in the review but I doubt it was as insensitive as what he said about her in his "Cape Fear" review. Reed also liked "Evita" which had Madonna in the title role (my favorite role of hers is actually in the little-seen "Dangerous Game" by director Abel Ferrara). So maybe Melissa McCarthy will one day be mentioned in a review of his without regards to her weight, that is if it is a positive review. A negative review? Forget it, all bets are off.  

"It's fair to comment on any actor's appearance if it's relevant to the character the actor is playing, the performance, and how that actor's physical traits add to or detract from the performance," he tells Us. "But this just smacks of mean-spirited name-calling in lieu of genuine criticism." - Film critic Richard Roeper

Rex Reed has made a career out of personal insults. This is nothing new and, though it is insulting to Mrs. McCarthy, I can't say I am surprised by anything Rex Reed says anymore. McCarthy is a huge movie and TV star. If she had been an unknown, nobody would care.

Rated D for Dumb

ALPHABET CITY (1984)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

"Alphabet City" is a great-looking failure. It is an ostensibly gritty crime picture with flashy neon, bright street lamps, and bright and shiny ambulances - even the cavernous drug-dealing dwellings look inviting. It is a glossy crime movie and if only it were made with someone who had a tenth of Michael Mann or Mike Figgis's talent. The director here is Amos Poe, who can't write convincing dialogue or have much ability to direct actors.

Johnny (Vincent Spano) is the resident drug dealer of Alphabet City, a section of New York City that is divided up by Avenues A, B, C and so on. His drug-dealing begins early evening and presumably lasts the whole night. Johnny wears a whole leather get-up that looked cheesy even in the 1980's. His wife (Kate Vernon, her film debut) works on her paintings all night and raises their baby in a gigantic loft.

Bad news has arrived in Johnny's life when his boss tells him to torch an apartment building. The problem is that Johnny's little sister (Jami Gertz), an escort in the making, and his oblivious mother (Zohra Lampert) are living in that building! Meanwhile, Johnny spends the rest of the night collecting money from lowlifes and has to contend with a young kid who wants Johnny's way of life. Worthwhile mention is Michael Winslow (the motormouth sound-effects man from the "Police Academy" series) as a drug dealer who mimics the sound of police sirens!

There is one scene that works in "Alphabet City." Johnny speeds down the New York streets without looking at the road ahead to intimidate a hotshot kid who idolizes his lifestyle. Beyond that, "Alphabet City" is wayward and laughable, and the limited screenplay leaves out a lot of potential with Johnny's family, especially his sister. It is a shallow independent film with not one honest bone in its narrative body.

Sweet Horror Musings by Donald Pleasance

TERROR IN THE AISLES (1984)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

 "Terror in the Aisles" is one of my favorite horror documentaries from the 1980's, a movie I watched religiously when it was televised on weekday afternoons. It has Donald Pleasance and Nancy Allen inside a movie theater, along with scared audience members, giving commentary on everything from horror films to slashers to thrillers. Some of it might be a little uneven when it shows clips from 1981's thrilling "Nighthawks" and only a brief clip from "The Silent Partner," not to mention "The Exorcist" and odd clips from "Alone in the Dark" that eventually segue to "The Food of the Gods" (why?) to "Marathon Man", etc. You will still have a grand time savoring over everything horror and beyond - a chill will travel through your spine.

Clearly terror is the name of the game and there are choice clips from David Cronenberg's "Scanners," and there are unsavory clips from the largely forgotten 1982's "Vice Squad" with a killer pimp played by Wings Hauser (king of B movie during the 1980's). I rather forget "Vice Squad" and 1982's atrociously unwatchable "The Seduction" with Morgan Fairchild, which have little purpose beyond having their voyeuristic clips shown next to the truly scary "When a Stranger Calls," where Carol Kane is informed that the stalker on the phone is calling from inside her house. There are, however, various clips that come together with the right kind of selections. For example, clips from 1941's "The Wolf Man" are juxtaposed with "An American Werewolf in London" and "The Howling," showing how werewolf transformation scenes have changed substantially in thirty years.

Donald Pleasance has one of those distinct voices that makes you want to listen to his every word. It is fascinating in retrospect that Pleasance discusses real violence versus movie violence, showing a couple of so-called degenerates or undesirables in the audience and how real-life violence doesn't intrude upon the communal viewing experience (who could have anticipated the Aurora, Colorado movie theater shooting in 1984?) Then Nancy Allen shows her dismay for showing clips of women in peril - pardon, Ms. Allen? One of her own movies is shown, the fantastically suspenseful "Dressed to Kill" where she plays a vulnerable prostitute.

Interestingly, Ms. Allen also discusses how a filmmaker like Alfred Hitchcock would show more style and finesse in his own classic thrillers such as "Psycho" and "Strangers on a Train." There are clips lifted from the terrific Hitchcock documentary by Richard Schickel (as part of the "Men Who made the Movies" series), "Inside Hitchcock," where the Master of Suspense himself speaks on what makes a thriller work. In retrospect, Hitch never had use for gore and seeing how he terrified audiences versus the 80's slashers is a cinema lesson everyone needs to hear. Incidentally, I would've loved to have heard some comments from other directors such as John Carpenter but that is just pure nitpicking.

"Terror in the Aisles" is occasionally haphazard with selection of film clips overall and its annoying use of a mediocre re-recording of the Halloween theme played during clips from "Halloween II," but the movie is still spine-tingling fun.  It is probably the last documentary on horror films released theatrically and it is a bit of a shame that the rest that have been made since (such as the hair-raising "The American Nightmare") have been given a direct-to-DVD life.

George Clooney comfortably ascends

THE DESCENDANTS (2011)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

 

It is a bit disheartening to read ill-conceived comments from the average viewer on the Internet about "The Descendants." George Clooney acts badly! The kid actors use foul language! Why did so and so cry over someone she barely knew! How dare they use the word "retard"! I gather from such statements that the average viewer is not meant to soak in the nuances and complications of a film like "The Descendants" but that is life. Alexander Payne's latest film shows the director on surer ground than ever before with a lead actor who continues to surprise us with complicated, unpredictable characters. That is life.

Clooney plays Matt King, a Honolulu attorney who is facing numerous complications. His wife was in a boating accident and is now in a coma. In addition, there is a rhapsodic piece of real estate in Kauai (25,000 acres worth) that can be sold to the highest corporate bidder which would please his cousins, or he can keep it preserved which wouldn't please them. Matt also has two daughters to deal with; Scottie (Amara Miller) who is the precocious younger daughter, and the other is troublesome Alexandra (Shailene Woodley) who is staying at a boarding school on another island. Matt also has a father-in-law (Robert Forster) who has his own way of handling his daughter's coma state. And there is a revelation about Matt's wife that I will leave for viewers to discover since it informs the rest of the film.

"The Descendants" is based on a novel by Kaui Hart Hemmings, and it has been adapted with utmost care and simplicity by director Alexander Payne and co-writers Nat Faxon and Jim Rash. They have taken token made-for-TV material (or what could have been in the wrong hands) and enhanced it with deeply rooted emotions in its characters. What makes the film sing is that it refuses to bow down to sentimentality or facile feelings that could come off as forced. Director Payne knows how to wield this material with the cocksure mentality of a director who understands the human heart all too well (his previous films "Sideways" and "About Schmidt" proved it).

He also shows segments of Hawaii that rarely get shown on film or television - more arid suburban areas that do not look like the blitzed out, sunlit, heavenly, picture postcard look of "Hawaii-Five-O." The houses and the streets look lived-in and virtually anonymous from any other street in the USA (excepting the other islands that have resorts though they are always overcast).

George Clooney is something of a miracle in movies - an actor whom I did not care for on television has risen to give some extraordinary performances on film. Whether appearing in escapist fare ("Ocean's" flicks, "Out of Sight") or weighty dramas ("Syriana" or the underwhelming "Up in the Air"), he excels at making us believe in his characters. I would call it invisible acting because it is hard to catch Clooney acting - he inhabits his characters fully. You can tell in one of many scenes when he runs to a neighbor's house for a confrontation - it is his wobbly way of running that defines the character.

Another miracle is Amara Miller and especially Shailene Woodley as Matt's daughters - two girls who can see Matt's pain and know the truth about their mother. Woodley stands out as a no-nonsense, confrontational and rebellious daughter who takes a liking to likable doofus, Sid (Nick Krause). Eventually parent and daughter learn to help each other through a difficult time in ways that prove to be unpredictable and heartwrenching. Added to the range of emotions are stellar and full-bodied characters in supporting roles played by Matthew Lillard, Judy Greer and the fabulous Beau Bridges. They add layers to this offbeat Hawaiian family drama.

What is really invigorating and brilliant about "The Descendants" is that it treats a family breakdown with complete honesty and never judges its characters. That is Alexander Payne's strength - letting us care about people who are fallible and who acknowledge their mistakes. I can't imagine a richer, juicier, sophisticated and more complex American family portrait in the 2010 era than "The Descendants."

Flashy noir tale precipitously falls

MULHOLLAND FALLS (1996)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

 

Readers of my reviews know I have a fondness for stories set in the 1950's that circulate around flashy cars, atomic tests, suburbia, police detectives, venetian blinds, luscious women with bright red lips, etc. All these elements make up most of film noir (excepting atomic tests to some degree, though there is that explosive ending from "Kiss Me, Deadly"). "Mulholland Falls" is a strikingly photographed neo-noir tale with flashiness being the operative word here to define the movie as a whole. Flashy, yes, but story and plot, as thin as a cigarette.

The movie shows promise from its first few galvanizing scenes. The Hat Squad, a group of police detectives led by burly Nick Nolte, get rid of a mobster (William Petersen) by dragging him from a restaurant and proceeding to throw his body out of a Mulholland Drive cliff. The mobster survives with a few broken bones but the message is clear: the Hat Squad will not tolerate undesirables coming in to their L.A. turf.

Such a powerful sequence with energetic direction by Lee Tamahori ("Once Were Warriors") leads to the investigation of a female corpse in the middle of the desert (played by Jennifer Connelly). Nolte knows who she is - he had an affair with her but it ended - but his involvement has become personal. It leads to porn films made by a "fruitcake" (Andrew McCarthy) and some footage of an atomic testing site and bandaged hospital patients that raises questions. One sequence stands out - the four men of the Hat Squad illegally enter a federally restricted site where they witness an enormous crater. Great scene, but it has nothing to do with the movie.

"Mulholland Falls" shines occasionally thanks to Nick Nolte, a vicious cop who believes in keeping personal issues to himself, such as deceiving his own wife (Melanie Griffith). But the movie never builds to much and contains few surprises or twists. It also contains little personality or colorful characters. Michael Madsen and Chris Penn are tremendous presences on screen but no weight is given to their characters - they are simply two members of the Hat Squad. Chazz Palminteri jazzes things up as the other Hat Squad member who is seeing a therapist. I also like the brief role of the sick General, astutely played by John Malkovich. And there is Ed Lauter in a role that is so juicy for merely less than a minute before he is (spoiler alert) blown away that you wonder what director Tamahori had in mind when casting such terrific actors.

"Mulholland Falls" could've been an expose of the real-life Hat Squad and their notorious and unorthodox methods of eliminating the criminal element. Instead Tamahori and writer Pete Dexter (who base this tale on a story concocted by Mr. Dexter and Floyd Mutrux) infuse noir staples that we have seen a million times before (excepting, once again, the atomic testing angle). Connelly looks the part of a 1950's gal and Nolte smokes a chimney throughout and gets to beat up a few FBI men and the cars, oh those stylish cars, just make the atmosphere very tactile (special thanks to the gifted cinematographer Haskell Wexler who can make a cemetery also look beautiful). If only the plot and characters were given such major scrutiny. The movie is a criminal waste of time.