Saving Private Joey in No Man's Land

WAR HORSE (2011)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

"War Horse" as a play is probably more magnificent and emotionally draining than as a film or a novel. The play itself used advanced, life-size puppets for the horses which would make for a stirring play. But for a movie that runs nearly two and a half hours, using real horses in the face of the reality and horror of war, it makes for a curiously remote and rather unrewarding experience thanks to cardboard and underwritten characters.

The film, set before and during World War I, begins in the English county of Devon where Albert Narracott (Jeremy Irvine) is the farmboy who lives with his drunk father, Ted (Peter Mullan), and his tough mother, Rose (Emily Wat­son). Ted is to buy a horse at an auction and spends nearly thirty guineas on a colt! Rose is upset but it is Albert who sees potential in the striking mane of this new horse named Joey. Albert trains the animal to plough the land and save the farm from being bought by Lyons (David Thewlis), a greedy landowner. Before one can say that we are treading in "Babe" waters (and thank goodness the horse can't talk), World War I has begun and Ted sells the horse to the English Army, to be taken care of by a cavalry officer (Tom Hiddleston).

The story shifts from cavalry officers who use the horses to fight the Germans, to a little vignette involving two young German brothers who are officers who hide out in a farmhouse, to a young girl and her grandfather tending the horses, shifting back to the German Army who need the horses to tow their cannons, to the horse running in No Man's Land and getting injured by barbed wire, and so on. Hard to say which vignette works best but the one involving the German brothers is the shortest and most powerful. It ends with a scene that is remarkably strong and abrupt - a scene that would be more at home in "All Quiet on the Western Front" than in this film.

Director Steven Spielberg knows how to craft scenes of picturesque countrysides, soldiers fighting in the trenches and in cavalry formation as they charge to the German guns, and he knows how to direct horses! "War Horse," however, never quite establishes any real connection with its thin characters. Jeremy Irvine is as bland a farmboy as I have seen in a long time. Emily Watson occasionally elicits a smile when showing how proud she is of her son's strength. Peter Mullan merely looks angry or indifferent. The picture comes alive with Tom Hiddleston's sympathetic cavalry officer who works on drawings of the horse to send back to Albert. Aside from Hiddleston, I didn't feel any emotional attachment with any of the human characters, though certainly anyone would feel bad for the horses Joey and Tophorn, the latter a black stallion who befriends Joey.

Spielberg sentimentalizes Joey's plight - we feel his pain, his need to be close to Albert, and his exhaustion when dragged through miles and miles of mud while strapped to a cannon. But by the end of the film, with its dramatically red sunset hues and silhouettes that scream "Gone With the Wind," I didn't feel emotionally drained by the experience. I just felt emotionally empty.

Footnote: Kids, parents, veterinarians and PETA members should steer clear of this film - many horses die in battle, Tophorn dies from exhaustion, and Joey endures way too much pain.

Johnny Blaze is back! HELL, YES!

GHOST RIDER: SPIRIT OF VENGEANCE (2012)

Reviewed By Jerry Saravia

The critics despised "Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance." I didn't hate it or love it - it is what it is. What it is is merely 90 minutes of hellfire and brimstone and plenty of one-liners but no real panache. I'll say that I admired the first "Ghost Rider" more than this one but both do have their detractors, so whatevs.

"Spirit of Vengeance" has Johnny Blaze aka Ghost Rider (Nicolas Cage) getting summoned by a wine-loving French mercenary and former (?) monk (Idris Elba) to help locate a gypsy child, Danny Ketch (Fergus Riordan) and his mother, Nadya (Italian beauty Violante Placido). Both are being hunted by Satan himself (the magnetic Ciaran Hinds) and his minions headed by the cold-blooded Ray (Johnny Whitworth). Satan needs a new body vessel and who better than this little kid whom he fathered with the help of Nadya. This was a deal with the Devil to help save Nadya's life - a deal that the Ghost Rider understands all too well. It's Johnny Blaze meets "Rosemary's Baby" mixed with some lethal fiery chains and a charred black leather jacket.

Nicolas Cage is his fervent, over-the-top, theatrical self - he is always entertaining as long he yells and does his erratic double-takes. Gone are the days of Cage's restraint in films like "Leaving Las Vegas" and, to some degree, "Bringing Out the Dead" or "Peggy Sue Got Married," etc. Cage is the new anarchic cult figure of the B-movies but he seems to have cast adrift the serious work he used to do. Still, Cage rocks as a heavy-metal actor delivering his lines with as much vigor as possible. I cheered for him (gasp!) and for Idris Elba who could make a whole film where he presses vinyl albums and I would be entranced. Ditto the slightly underused Violante Placido, a more stunning woman than Eva Mendes in the original (though there is no romantic relationship between her and flaming skull, there should be for "Ghost Rider 3").  I also thoroughly enjoyed the decaying presence of Ciaran Hinds's Roarke, the Devil Incarnate, and Johnny Whitworth who is reincarnated as Blackout, an albino demon who can create a dark field which dampens all visible light in a given area. He can also burn everything to toast with his hands, though a Twinkie proves indestructible. I laughed at that scene.

"Ghost Rider 2" is enjoyably fast and furious (thanks to the "Crank" filmmakers Mark Neveldine and Brian Taylor) with plenty of self-parodic gags (such as the image of Jerry Springer as the human manifestation of Satan). I also love the animated breaks in the action with Cage's voice-over. Most of all, this is also an excuse to see the incredible sight of the charred, flaming skull of Ghost Rider in action. As I mentioned, the movie falls short of the devilish charms of the first "Ghost Rider" and, considering the character is an anti-hero of the Marvel Universe and something of a monster, it will not appeal to those who love "The Avengers" or Spider-Man, comics and otherwise. Cage gets to show some real emotion at the end, but the film lacks the support of someone like Sam Elliott (and the mythology hardly follows the canon of the comics or the original film). For cult movie buffs and fans of "Highlander," you can't go wrong though with the appearance of Christopher Lambert. Cage defines anarchy, and anarchy defines this movie. Hell, yeah!

Jesus Christ's Lust For Glory, Or How We Learned that Brian was a Fake Prophet

LIFE OF BRIAN (1979)

Reviewed By Jerry Saravia

Monty Python's style of comedy doesn't hit you in the head with a ton of bricks - it is more like a delicate slap on the face. Their inarguably most famous work, "Monty Python and the Holy Grail," is uneven in spots, has many bloody gags and yet has a great many comic lines. The definition of Monty Python, for me anyway, is complete absurdity. That is probably why "Life of Brian" caused some controversy back in the day - it poked fun at the Biblical epics. Of course, that is what people may have missed - it doesn't poke fun at the Bible itself, only the Bibical epics that somehow escaped criticism of sacrilege. Not to say there isn't one or two digs at the Holy Book itself.

"Life of Brian" focuses on Brian Cohen, one who was born a few stables away from Jesus's manger. The three wise men follow the star to Brian's stable, showering the mother with gifts. Once they realize their mistake, they take their gifts back. Brian later grows up to become a vendor at those bloodthirsty games selling Wolf Nipple Chips, Dromedary Pretzels, Jaguar Ear Lobes, Tuscany Fried Bat and Otter Noses. He overhears a group called The People's Front of Judea (headed by John Cleese) as they chatter in their seats about the Roman occupation of Judea. Brian wants to make a change, joins the group and, as part of his entrance into the group, paints Latin phrases on the walls that a Roman guard corrects - I know that the correct tense of Latin phrases is very important especially when you are exclaiming that the Romans need to leave Judea.

The People's Front of Judea spend all their time chattering and plotting but not actually doing. Brian inadvertently becomes a fugitive and is seeking refuge from the Roman guards. At one point, he climbs a pillar (in true "Simon of the Desert" fashion) only to fall and land in a spaceship! Eventually Brian is back in Judea, faces Pontius Pilate (Michael Palin) who speaks with a lisp that makes the guards uncontrollably laugh, and is sentenced to a crucifixion. Prior to the eventual crucifixion, Brian mistakenly spouts some jibber jabber that listeners take as the New Gospel from the New Messiah. And where is Jesus in all this? Delivering his Sermon on the Mount that few can hear from a distance.

"Life of Brian" is pretty damn close to my favorite Monty Python film. There are many classic scenes, not the least of which is the Sermon on the Mount (which may be more accurate in theory since Jesus had no megaphone in those days). I also love the stoning sequence with female onlookers and stone throwers wearing beards - in those days, you would get stoned if you mentioned the name of God. We just can't say it here. No, seriously. Oh, Jeh---nope. Moving along, I also love the whole notion of Brian being followed by hundreds of people who give significance to every word he utters as if it was a profound message. When Brian says, "F*** Off!," the followers merely ask, "How shall we f*** off, O Lord? " And I can't leave out the "Spartacus" crucifixion climax that ends with Eric Idle singing the poignant song, "Always Look on the Bright Side of Life." A pure howler of a scene is when one man is carrying his cross and a passerby lends a hand only to have the man originally carrying it to run off!

"Life of Brian" is not for all tastes but it should be. It is really an inoffensive, hardly crude and extremely funny movie. I came away from it with a deeper respect for Monty Python's satire and their acerbic lampooning of their targets. It also chooses not to have the cliche of a character stepping on feces - the character avoids it.  Always Look on the Bright Side.

Raising Killer Kane

NEW YORK DOLL (2005)

Reviewed By Jerry Saravia

If you were caught unawares by the New York Dolls in their prime, you could be forgiven after seeing the morose, tragic and highly illuminating documentary, "New York Doll." This film is really the story of a genuine talent who lost what he had and is aiming and hoping to get it back.

Arthur "Killer" Kane was the New York Dolls' bass player and shortly after the group broke up, his career went downhill. Kane played in one band after another but never got the attention he deserved and desired. The film alludes to the fact that the New York Dolls singer, David Johansen, was partly responsible. Johansen's career track was far different as he chose an alias, Buster Poindexter (heaven help us and the song "Hot, Hot, Hot"), and had some supporting roles in films like "Scrooged" and "Car 54, Where Are You?" By contrast, Kane only managed to be an extra in "Innerspace." When Kane saw Johansen on his television screen in a scene from "Scrooged," he became a raving maniac and nearly committed suicide.

In later years and through the 2000's, Kane became a Mormon and worked at the church's Family History Center in L.A. In a truly riveting and touching scene, Kane reveals that he discovered his father's death by checking his name at the Center. But this film does not purport to sentimentalize Kane's suffering - it is the story of his determination to play, at least once, as the bassist for the New York Dolls (never mind that there are only two other survivors of the former band). And when Kane actually manages to rehearse with the band, thanks to singer Morrissey, we wait in anticipation for the arrival of David Johansen. Will Johansen and Kane continue their bitter feud, or was it really ever a feud in the first place?

"New York Doll" is only 75 minutes long yet it is an engrossing documentary, fully embodying Kane's trials and tribulations with the essence of a tragedy, thanks to some priceless interviews with the surviving Dolls; Morrissey; Blondie drummer Clem Burke, and even some affiliates of the Mormon church (including a funny scene with Kane's new "groupies"). Despite Kane's mental disorders and failures with relationships, this is nevertheless that rare optimistic documentary of a man whose passion and steadfast determination to communicate with music far outweighed everything else. It is nothing less than inspiring.

This hotel has no vacancies

NEW ROSE HOTEL (1998)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Although I am a big fan of labyrinthian, inconclusive puzzles, I was completely confounded by Abel Ferrara's barely released bore "New Rose Hotel," a silly, brainless, counterproductive film that barely makes a lick of sense. A thrilling start is undone by an artless camouflage over its thin premise.

Based on a short story by William Gibson ("Necromancer") that was published in Omni magazine a few years back, the film stars Christopher Walken as Fox and Willem Dafoe as X, two industrial spies who specialize in industrial espionage. Their newest target is a millionaire geneticist named Hiroshi whose research has yielded some outstanding breakthroughs in the field. This new groundbreaking project, known as AMAAS, has something to do with the defection of research scientists from one Japanese mega corporation to another, and I am assuming that Fox and X are trying to prevent this defection from happening. So they hire a prostitute named Sandii (Asia Argento) to seduce Hiroshi and, in short, deviate his attention from his work and his family. The only problem is that X is in love with Sandii, especially when they play act their roles where X pretends to be Hiroshi. X teaches Sandii how to make love to Hiroshi, and so on. Naturally, X threatens the whole operation and Fox, for one reason or another, feels compelled to make Hiroshi's life insufferable, even after the seduction works.

In another director's hands, such as Peter Greenaway or David Lynch, this might have been at least an extraordinarily visual film, showing parallels between digital video technology and alternate realities where one can't decipher what is real and what is not (hence, there are numerous grainy video shots of Hiroshi's activities, though we never actually see the central seduction). But under the gritty ruling hand of Abel Ferrara, this is dreary filmmaking, often badly photographed to the point where we can't fathom what is happening on screen (especially the noirish club scenes). Ferrara is at his best showing the streets of New York where he deals with soulful, spiritual protagonists questioning their spiritual existence as in "Bad Lieutenant" (his finest film) and "The Addiction." Here, he is left languishing with nary a script or a theme - it is all style with no substance. And to make matters worse, the final half-hour is a virtual recap of the first forty minutes, thereby reinforcing the preceding events from Dafoe's recollection. But it tells us...nothing, and there are simply no revelations or clues.

To be fair, I enjoyed Walken's performance as always, walking with a cane and ruminating on his thoughts regarding Hiroshi and his research. I even like his brief tap dances and flirtations with Sandii. There are also some choice cameos by Gretchen Mol and Annabella Sciorra. But these minute virtues hardly make for a suitable recommendation to this endlessly repetitive film. It is a trip to nowheresville, where nothing of consequence or significance occurs. Do not visit this hotel.

Hazy sequel with no Wolfman Jack

MORE AMERICAN GRAFFITI (1979)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

 Making a sequel to "American Graffiti" may be a ballsy move, but it doesn't mean it is a necessary move. George Lucas served as executive producer for the 1979 sequel, titled "More American Graffiti," and a largely unknown director, B.W.L. Norton, took over as writer and director. Ballsy, indeed.

The film starts off with a bang when we hear Martha Reeves and the Vandellas belting the song "Love is Like a 'Heatwave'" as we see helicopters hovering over the countryside in Vietnam. Then we are treated to individual vignettes, all set on New Year's Eve from 1964 to 1967. We see John Milner (Paul LeMat) as a professional dragstrip racer who is trying to date a Swedish girl, yet she barely speaks any English. Then we see an older, more mature Steve (Ron Howard), now an insurance agent, and Laurie (Cindy Williams), the unhappy housewife who just wants to work. There is also Teddy (Charles Martin Smith), the nerd from back home who is now fighting the Vietcong in good old Vietnam. He is haplessly trying to injure himself so he can go back home to his girlfriend, Debbie (Candy Clark). Some of these scenes are funny and recall moments from "M.A.S.H." Speaking of Debbie, she is seen cavorting with the hippies in another vignette where she bails out her stoned boyfriend who only thinks of getting his next hit of acid. And did I see Mackenzie Philips playing two different roles?

As I said, the film starts out with a bang, showing situations with humor and pungent wit to spare. But after a while, the whole film becomes rather repetitive. You can only watch so many scenes of John Milner trying to woo a girl or fix his car before a race. Candy Clark is hardly believable as a hippie, and her scenes with Scott Glenn as a musician from a band called "Electric Haze" reek of complete embarrassment. Even sometimes reliable Cindy Williams is saddled with a tired bit about her revolutionary brother burning his draft card and getting arrested by cops in what looks like a re-enactment of the tragic Kent State University incident in 1971! The staging of this event is flat with no emotion whatsoever. Only scenes involving Teddy's plight in Vietnam are stirring and involving, if only because Charles Martin Smith is the only actor who seems alive and kicking. Though the film has an inventive method of showing different film stocks and aspect ratios of each vignette (a technique unusual in 1979 whereas today, it has become du jour), it only serves to distance us from the characters. Only Robert Altman can sway from one vignette to another with the ease and flow of a real magician, and still show he cares about his characters. B.W.L. Norton is no Altman.

"American Graffiti" is a rock and roll pop classic that evoked a time and place in history with warmth, genial humor and understated emotions - it is one of George Lucas's finest achievements. "More American Graffiti" is not exactly more of the same.

Footnote: Look quickly for Harrison Ford as Bob Falfa, a patrolman, and Delroy Lindo as an Army Sergeant.

Spielberg's Napoleon?

SPIELBERG'S NAPOLEON?

By Jerry Saravia

Steven Spielberg is one of the most phenomenally entertaining and wondrous directors of our time. His films speaks for themselves: he did extraordinary popcorn pictures like the "Indiana Jones" series and "Minority Report", and historical pictures like "Lincoln" and "Saving Private Ryan." He also managed to sneak in a delicious caper comedy-drama like "Catch Me If You Can" and the hilarious and sweet comedy "The Terminal." Spielberg also made something truly unnerving in his career - he picked up the pieces left over by Stanley Kubrick and made the film, "A.I." "A.I" was Kubrick's long-planned adaptation of Brian Aldiss's short story "Supertoys Last All Summer Long," a project Kubrick put behind for many years so as to catch up with the revolutionary CGI effects that were just being put on the map (cue Spielberg's own revolutionary dinosaur effects in 1993's "Jurassic Park"). According to Spielberg, Kubrick decided to produce "A.I." only and have Spielberg direct it since Kube felt Spielman's sensibility matched the sad story of a robot who thinks he is Pinocchio. I admire "A.I." - it is a terrific film - and it has Kubrick's icy physical presence (which generally was not as emotionally distancing as critics might lead you to believe). It is a towering achievement in Spielberg's career and one of the best films of the 2000 decade.

But would Kubrick want Spielberg to direct his long-abandoned "Napoleon" script? I think not and I am not sure Kube would give his blessing on the matter either. Spielberg has just announced he is considering developing the 1961 script that had gone through revision after revision for more than a decade. In the early 1970's, Kube was ready to make the film with Jack Nicholson as Napoleon but historical battle epics were financial losers at the box-office (cue "Waterloo" with Rod Steiger). I have a feeling that if Kubrick had lived past 1999, he would have made it his next directorial effort after "Eyes Wide Shut." Spielberg said it would develop into a TV miniseries (it is not clear yet if Spielberg will direct). Television, however, can be a great disservice to a grand tale like Napoleon - this screams for a big-screen treatment (cue Abel Gance's incredible 1927 film of "Napoleon").

I'll just pose the question - should Spielberg helm this "Napoleon" tale or should he leave Kubrick's script alone? I won't say no because at least it is a more worthwhile endeavor than producing yet another "Transformers" or "Jurassic Park" sequel.