DIRK DIGGLER, what a name!

BOOGIE NIGHTS (1997)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

(Original review from 1997)

Don't be put off by the title: "Boogie Nights" is one of the most vivid, tantalizing and unconventional American films of the past few years. It is intense, dazzling filmmaking by 26-year-old director Paul Thomas Anderson ("Hard Eight") and it is guaranteed to give him a major boost in the world of film and in his career. Yes, folks, he's that good.

"Boogie Nights" is an epic tale of the porno industry in the 1970's and early 1980's, and how it affected the lives of the actors, directors and everyone else involved in the making and production of what is now a billion dollar industry. Burt Reynolds, in what may be his finest role since "Deliverance," is surprisingly credible and understated as a porn director named Jack Horner who yearns to make this industry respectable. One night at a disco, he discovers a potentially hot star in the form of a waiter, Eddie Adams (the extraordinary Mark Wahlberg). Jack talks to Eddie and tries to entice him into becoming one of his actors. Eddie is reluctant but decides it may not be such a bad idea.

The naive Eddie is nineteen years old and lives at home with his domineering parents who pressure him into going to school. Every night he practices some kung-fu moves in front of his mirror and his Bruce Lee and Cheryl Tiegs posters - Eddie aspires to be one of them. He gets the chance with Jack, and shortly becomes an overnight success. He becomes Dirk Diggler, the biggest porn star in the business. "That's a catchy name," says Jack.

After a while, Eddie moves into Jack's home and becomes part of his unusual "family," which includes Jack's leading lady star Amber Waves (the always great Julianne Moore) who will gradually become Eddie's maternal co-star, and an energetic blonde named Rollergirl (Heather Graham - an actress who keeps you on the edge) who will remove all her clothing for a sex scene except for her roller skates. The house becomes a haven for excess in the numerous drug parties and the sexual dalliances in the bedrooms. Eddie is immersed in this world and loves all of the excess and addictions, particularly the addiction to cocaine that leads to his downfall. This is the heavenly dream of the 1970's party scene - to indulge in drugs and sex forever.

The world of porn filmmaking is one aspect that writer-director Anderson does not fully explore. He shows us only glimpses, such as the scenes where Eddie does his first sex scene with Amber demonstrating how the crew maintains their composure while the sex gets hot and heavy. Amber even tells Eddie to come inside her thereby ruining the close-up come shot in a hysterically funny scene. What Anderson is really interested in is the effect porn has on the crew members and the actors: there's a credible section involving one crew member (William H. Macy) who sees his wife, a porn star, continually having sex with other men at parties or on the street in plain view. She has become addicted to sex, but he has not because he doesn't allow it to become a part of his life.

Eddie's rise and fall and rise again are the most startling chain of events in the movie - he becomes so heavily addicted to cocaine that he is fired by Jack on the set due to his temper tantrums. Eddie begins to lead a life of drug deals, homosexual encounters in parking lots, and finally a nearly fatal encounter with a rich drug addict where firecrackers are exploding and the song "Jessie's Girl" by Rick Springfield plays in the background while he and his pals are getting ready to rob the guy. It's a no-win situation and it shows that if sex is no longer an addiction for Eddie, then the gratifying pleasure of his drugs is.

"Boogie Nights" has a similar structure to Scorsese's "GoodFellas" and "Casino" in the stylistic camerawork and editing, and the two-act structure where we see the eventual rise leading to the downward abyss where nothing is left except...more excess (one shot where a girl jumps into the water as the camera follows her underwater is a direct steal from the lyrical "I am Cuba"). The transition from the decadent 70's of promiscuity, endless blissful fun and halter tops to the nastier, more violent era of the 80's, where all that bliss and decadence peter out (Jack has to resort to shooting porn on video because it is cheaper), is handled flawlessly by the deftly written screenplay and the audacious, engaging narrative structure. Anderson's point is that those who survive in the 80's, including Eddie, will still succumb to their initial addictions because that is all they have.

"Boogie Nights" is a garish, violent, unsentimental, alternately funny, humanistic and intricately layered film that will stay with you. It has no particularly likable characters, easy resolutions or sentimental situations. What it does brilliantly, though, is to make us empathize with the characters and with the crucial decisions and surprising events that take place in their lives, and how they learn to cope with their emotions and move on. "Boogie Nights" is about as pure a cinematic treat as you're likely to get.

P.T. Anderson shoots and scores

HARD EIGHT aka SYDNEY (1996)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Paul Thomas Anderson's "Hard Eight" is not about gambling or the roll of the dice at the crap tables. It is the story of one desolate man seeking to resolve other people's problems through his own sheer influence and ability to do so, and not for purely selfish reasons. Yet this man has a history and a past that comes back to haunt him.

Philip Baker Hall plays this sour-faced man, a professional gambler known as Sydney who, at the start of the film, approaches an unlucky joe named John (John C. Reilly) at a cafe and truck stop. Sydney offers John his help, mostly fifty dollars and a cup of coffee. Apparently, John has lost his bets playing at a Vegas casino, trying to come up with enough money to pay for his mother's funeral. "I admire the intention. I can't say it is wise, though," says Sydney. The offer is to take John to Vegas and show him how to make some money, enough for a room and a meal. The process involves an old trick using a rate card, which will be enough cash to last John for a day or more.

Fade out to a couple of years later in Reno, not Vegas. Sydney is still gambling at the casino, playing his keno cards and tipping waitresses. There is one waitress he is keen on, Clementine (Gwyneth Paltrow), a flirtatious waitress who does double duty as a prostitute to pay for her rent and her car. It could cost her waitressing job but Sydney decides to keep it quiet after witnessing her leaving a motel room. He wants to help her, and knows she is enamored with John. Ultimately, Sydney brings them together, as if they were his own kids whom he is looking out for.

"Hard Eight" smoothly handles these characters with growing and knowing affection towards them, accepting them as the people they are without condescending or moralizing them. Sydney is quiet, introspective and has a deep, authoritative voice that envelops you, as it does John and Clementine. His soggy eyes and arched eyebrows give the impression of a man who has spent a lot of time inside a casino, and has seen it all. We know little about him as a character except that he has two estranged kids and was once divorced. But when a stunning revelation is unveiled, it becomes clear he is not all he is cracked up to be, or maybe there are mistaken stories about his past. One is never sure, and Paul Thomas Anderson, who wrote and directed this promising debut, never tells.

Clementine just wants to pay her bills, but is unsure of her own future. Will it be as a waitress who flirts to get tips and doubles as a hooker, or will she open a beauty salon with whatever money she can save? Could she have a future with John? John is a nobody who becomes somebody inside the casino, thanks to his connections with Sydney. John is also friends with Jimmy (Samuel L. Jackson), a two-timing, loud security manager who knows the secrets of Sydney's past. Exactly what is John's job inside the casino is not clear, or if he even has a job (he is adept at getting free cable). Nevertheless, he remains loyal to Sydney, following around him like a puppy and dressing like him to boot. None of these characters are quite what they seem initially, and gradually we realize that their aspirations are severely limited.

Paul Thomas Anderson's assured direction is never less than mesmerizing. His choice of gliding Steadicam shots inside the casino, particularly when tracking Sydney's movements, are wonderful and never call attention to themselves. Other sequences, like the diner scenes involving John and Clementine's meetings with Sydney, are beautifully composed with alarmingly appropriate close-up shots. I also admire the scene between Clementine and Sydney at his hotel room where she thinks she is there to have sex. Sydney stands in front of her as she sits on the bed, yet we only see him from below the waistline. It gives the impression that he is more paternal to her than just another client.

Anderson, who went on to the phenomenal works of pure glitz and sadness of "Boogie Nights" and "Magnolia," never falters in dialogue, direction or pacing (Barbara Tulliver did the seamless editing). If I have a complaint, it is that it ends too soon (a common factor in independent cinema). I could have sat for another hour, listening to these characters and their worries, their fears, and their losses. A couple of sequels would have been more than warranted.

Also known under the more appropriate title, "Sydney," "Hard Eight" is a gloomy, hardly joyous noir tale, more enervated in its stylistic mood and atmosphere than glittery. It shows Vegas and Reno, minus the neon and the glamour. It replaces both with sights of coffee cups, cigarettes and ashtrays, overcast skies outside diners, and dimly lit hotel rooms and casino tables. It is the place of broken dreams, and John, Clementine and Sydney are all there trying to survive and move on. But it is Philip Baker Hall as Sydney who brings the soul and pathos to the film, making it clearly his own. His cool, calm precision at handling matters, despite the fact that his past is creeping up on him at a steady rate, delineates a lost soul trying to maintain his composure. Sydney is one of the most enigmatic and unforgettable characters of the 1990's.

Blane? That's not a name, it is an appliance!

PRETTY IN PINK (1986)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Before I write my opinion of this film, let me make one thing sparklingly clear. In 1986, I was a huge fan of Molly Ringwald! A real big fan, I mean, I had the Time magazine and the Life magazine issues where this smiling redhead appeared on the front covers. I had seen "Sixteen Candles" (a fairly crude comedy) and "The Breakfast Club" (John Hughes's best picture ever), both of which starred Ringwald at her finest. I went to the theater to see America's sweetheart in "Pretty in Pink" and was blown away, like any real fan might be. Okay, so I am aware I was only 15 at the time. And yes, the film is dated and has an unsatisfying conclusion. Still, seeing it again recently, I found it to be a completely disarming, heartfelt and affecting portrait of teenage life in the 1980's, back when the haircuts were atrocious and the clothes were no better.

The movie opens with close-ups of Ringwald dressing and getting ready for school. Oh, my the close-up of those lips! Her earring! Yes, we young boys did ogle at Ringwald in those days. Then we see her trying to wake up her father (Harry Dean Stanton), something of a deadbeat who works part-time only. She insists that her father look for a full-time job, acting more like his mother than his daughter. Ringwald's character name is Andie, a straight-A student whose best friend is Duckie (Jon Cryer), who is not quite a nerd and not quite the most studious. They are poor and are both lucky to be at this high school, mostly attended by "richies." Everything seems right with this world, including Andie's own part-time job at the "Trax," a record store owned by Iona (Annie Potts) whose wardrobe changes more often than her record collection. And Duckie is in love with Andie, though she doesn't know it.

Like any teenage movie post-"West Side Story," something has to threaten this world. There is the rich Blane (Andrew McCarthy), another senior student who wants to go out with Andie. He goes to the record store, pretends to be interested in Steve Lawrence, and, hesitating for what seems like an eternity, finally says to Andie, "How are you doing?" Eventually, they go out, much to the dismay of Duckie. There is more trouble ahead when Blane's stiff, arrogant best friend, Stef (James Spader) tells Blane to give up Andie, the girl from the wrong side of the tracks (literally). If not, Blane will not only lose a friend, he'll lose his clique of rich classmates. And since the high-school prom is coming up, will Blane give up his friends for Andie or will he give up Andie?

The plot is not a surprise but one wishes writer John Hughes and director Howard Deutch injected a few twists. The final prom climax seems a little phony and ends with a forced happy ending - one thing I can't stand is a forced resolution for such wonderful, spontaneous characters who seem follow their own paths. Andie and Duckie, who have so many scenes of truth, undergo an unlikely change that seems to have been handled by a committee, not by writers. My other nitpicking aspect is the character of Stef. Most of the high-school seniors in this movie are played by actors far too old to be in high-school - they appear more like senior college students. James Spader was well into his 20's when he played Stef - he looks like a listless man who parades the halls and makes observations and gives advice while smoking a cigarette. Yet Spader is so watchable and his line delivery is so impeccable ("Do you think I would treat my parents' house like this if money meant nothing to me?") that he brings a sense of credibility to the role, despite the age difference. Still, does this senior ever attend class?

Speaking of age differences, there is the gum-smacking, chain-smoking Jena (the late Alexa Klein who was murdered in NYC), one of Andie's friends, who hopes that Andie will not date a richie. Her primary concern is for Andie's studious mentality ("Do you want to be a doctor?"), feeling that it is better to sit out gym class than to participate. The actress could easily be Andie's older sister than a high-school student. Now as for Andrew McCarthy, his Blane character is not always convincing. He is at his best when verbally sparring with Spader. There is some hint of chemistry with Ringwald but we are never sure if he really loves Andie or if he is just clueless. I would have amped up on the cluelessness because McCarthy can play that type of character better than anybody.

Jon Cryer and Annie Potts nearly steal the movie with their witticisms and gobs of humorous asides. Cryer's Duckie is a forlorn love puppy who mocks the richies as often as he can, and can lip-synch Otis Redding with sexual urgency. He adores Andie but he can't have her. Andie will have lunch with him, go on car rides around rich neighborhoods, help him with homework and be as good a friend as anyone has any right to be, especially with Duckie. Cryer conveys all these traits so well that it became his best-known character (anything is better than the doltish nephew of Lex Luthor's he played in the unfortunate "Superman IV"). Potts' Iona is the one who already went to high school, dealt with the prom, and has dated far too many guys. She wants the best for Andie and gives good motherly advice ("When you see the Duckman, be kind. He's nursing a lot of wounds.")

Finally, it is Molly Ringwald who brings Andie to the surface with brains, spunk, charm and appeal, and she looks pretty in pink. Ringwald is the star of the movie and both are as appealing as any teenage movie can get.

Sweet, sweet badass dynamite

BLACK DYNAMITE (2009)

Reviewed By Jerry Saravia

Not too long ago I saw an early 1970's blaxploitation parody called "Darktown Strutters," a slight but occasionally catoonish film that had some lulls yet scored just as many laughs. "Black Dynamite," however, goes much further - it is uproarious and captures the grit and underexposed lighting (and some snazzy bright colors) of those 70's pictures perfectly, complete with awful acting and technical malfunctions that will please film buffs more than anyone else.

Michael Jai White (best known for "Spawn") is the superhero ex-CIA agent and Vietnam Vet with the big afro known as Black Dynamite, who has the ability to smile without smiling. After Dynamite's brother is killed by some possible crime syndicate, he seeks full vengeance. After discovering his brother's actual role before being gunned down and learning how the crime syndicate is giving street kids heroin, Dynamite promises to clean up the streets in his community and get rid of the drug dealers. "But Black Dynamite, *I* sell drugs in the community," says one drug dealer.

Along with the help of a Pam Grier lookalike (Salli Richardson), the heroes discover that it all comes down to a plan involving malt liquor emasculating black men. There are also crooked cops, crooked politicians like our former President Nixon, a visit to Kung Fu Island, and lots of violence and sexual escapades, including threesomes. If you are easily offended by racial epithets, the N-word is said aplenty here (Spike Lee is hopefully taking notes). An added plus is a nifty and splendidly funny scene where Dynamite deciphers a top secret operation called "Code Kansas" inside of a diner. It is mostly a play on words and codes and it is cheerfully outrageous.

"Black Dynamite" loses a little momentum about halfway through and grows a little tiresome yet, when the energy level comes front and center in the exciting climax where Dynamite kicks ass and we see Tommy Davidson as a ridiculous character named Cream Corn, not to mention a hilarious cameo by Arsenio Hall as Tasty Freeze, I rolled with laughter. Pure deconstruction and mimickry of a long expired genre, "Black Dynamite" is a little uneven yet Michael Jai White (who should be a shoo-in for Luke Cage, if anyone's interested in making that comic-book come alive) captures the spirit and pizazz of a genre and decade that looks positively tame compared to today's ultraviolent action pictures. After it is over, you might happily sing the repetitive choral chord of "DYNO-MITE!!!" That is part of its charm.

Pizza, beer, bullets - Sway with me

THE THIRD SOCIETY (2002)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

When even the main actor (who's also the director) refuses to be given top billing in the credits, you know you are watching movie badness at its zenith. Perhaps "The Third Society" is not as bad as any standard revenge tale with a female lead as the pistol-packing action hero but it certainly qualifies as the newest addition to the good/bad movie leagues of extraordinarily unintentionally humorous badness. And yet this is one of the most enjoyable of all the B and Z-grade pictures I have seen in recent years, so read further.

We have J.A. Steel as Cassandra Alexandra Reynolds, a low-profile LAPD detective and terrorist specialist who is also a martial-arts expert (specifically a Muay Thai kickboxer). She is after the Asian Mafia who (for unexplained reasons) had shot her mother to death (Cassandra had witnessed her murder as a child). Thus, Cassandra and her sister were put on the Witness Protection Program. Presently, Cassandra is known simply as Jones, a detective who hates paperwork and kills a dozen drug dealers in two weeks, while her sister works for some anonymous firm. Unfortunately, Jones's sister has been kidnapped by the Asian Mafia and the top leader wants Jones dead. So Jones dresses in a flashy bike uniform and rides that bike throughout the rest of the movie, kicking and firing weapons left and right.

Granted, director J.A. Steel had limited budgetary constraints and limited time to make her action flick really fly. But consider what happens in the film. There is a gratuitous sequence in a bar that simply marks time (though it allows for some brief fighting with the Asian fighters until Jones simply mows them down). Another sequence is set at an airport field where Jones rides her bike at ferocious speeds while three cars driven by the bad guys head in her direction unaware it is the lead character. Huh? That outfit and bike certainly stand out, unless the point is that the bad guys can't see through tinted windows? So while Jones unloads her gun and the bad guys get away, she kidnaps a helicopter while her boss and the air-traffic controllers tell her to land. Double huh? Then we have not one but two shower scenes where an FBI agent makes a rather rude entrance and surprises the naked lead actress. Apparently, she is not too upset by this but she also never kisses the guy once (maybe the agent was just trying to be buddies but then he later insinuates he wants more). And there are the flashbacks to Jones's mother's murder, shown one too many times.

J.A. Steel is seemingly uncomfortable in the lead role, and we never sense her inner rage at her mother's murder. She also seems to enjoy killing the bad guys, specifically anyone who uses the martial-arts. Curiously, on the DVD's behind-the-scenes special, she shows more charisma and humor than in the movie. But Steel obviously draws on humor to make this whole flick as silly as possible. Her character actually sways every time a bullet is fired at her and misses her (Rambo never swayed!) And there are at least two occasions where she plays dead after being shot. Still, she looks fetching when her hair is wet.

Shannon Clay as the blonde sister, Erica, who is an expert at transferring a billion dollars to different accounts, shows more finesse and presence than Steel (one wonders why they didn't switch roles). She is terrifically funny in a kitchen scene where she wants to be hospitable to the assassins by making coffee. It is a Tarantinoesque moment and delivers the biggest laugh in the film.

"The Third Society" is unintelligible trash and often hokey and haphazard in the editing and acting departments. The photography is gorgeous (particularly the presumably Asian waterfalls in one shot) but the slow-motion shots of guns being fired could have been staged better. Well, heck, the whole movie could have been staged better. And yet, I found myself laughing all the way through it. I had a good time but like most good bad movies, it is difficult to say if this was intended as a parody of those 80's action thrillers or as a very humorous postmodernist take on them (either way, I'll say that there is no way anyone could take it seriously). For a slow Saturday night where you have pizza and beer handy, "The Third Society" will long be remembered by me as the greatest movie ever made to watch with pizza and beer.

Make perfect love, write perfect letters

THE PILLOW BOOK (1997)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

(Original review from 1997 theatrical screening)

 Peter Greenaway is the supreme film stylist of the 20th century. He creates tales, not stories in the conventional narrative sense, of our erotic desires and murderous impulses within the context of literature and art history. He said recently that films are more concerned with pop culture than with art. I couldn't agree more with the current schlock in cinemas nowadays. Arguably, his most profound work was the controversial "The Cook, The Thief, His Wife and Her Lover," a savagely funny tale of revenge and sex in a decadent restaurant. It was not for all tastes, but then who says art is? "The Pillow Book" is his latest film, and it is enticing, sexy and alluring though Greenaway often shies away from his basic premise.

"The Pillow Book" stars Vivian Wu as Nagiko, a flamboyant fashion model who is obsessed with calligraphy. Her first husband had no interest in her obsession and, as a result, their house was burnt down. Several years later, she develops a certain sexual obsession: she wants to find the perfect lover who can also paint calligraphy all over her body. Her obsession emanates from her childhood when her father painted words on her face. Her latest lover is a bisexual translator, Jerome (Ewan McGregor from "Trainspotting"), and she insists that he write all over her body. If man can make perfect love to her, then he also must be able to write perfect letters.

Peter Greenaway's gift as a director is his visual flamboyance - an ability to layer several images together to convey the erotic feeling of where mind and body integrate. He beautifully executes scenes of passion from the lovingly choreographed close-up shots of men painting on Nagiko's skin to lighting effects of Chinese symbols flashing and dissolving on the walls - the effect is grandiose yet thrilling. The technique of rectangular frames subdividing the screen and changing from black-and-white to color is marvelous to behold - this style of editing originated in Greenaway's "Prospero's Books." No other director can match the love and care that he puts into every shot of his films (except for Scorsese, Lynch and Kubrick). In the end, though, it is really more about Greenaway's own obsession of literature and art than it is about Nagiko's personal odyssey.

"The Pillow Book" becomes somewhat melodramatic in the last half when it erroneously stays away from the character of Nagiko. Greenaway (who wrote the film) devises a revenge plot involving Nagiko's father's employer - a homosexual whom Nagiko feels had destroyed her family. After Jerome begins to get involved with this character, a spooky and, literally, revealing thing happens to Jerome's skin. But instead of focusing on Nagiko's obsessive behavior, the movie opts for elements that negate the first half of the film - the sexual connection of flesh and writing. The revenge plot is typical of Greenaway but here, he loses the themes he explored beforehand and so the film becomes distracting and laborious. There are several scenes of naked bodies covered in writing confronting the evil homosexual, but they become repetitious and meaningless. However, when Nagiko plans to keep her lover, the idea of flesh and text is restored.

"The Pillow Book" is better seen than described. It is purely a filmic exercise in exploring themes rather than placing them in a narrative structure or plot. Greenaway should be commended for trying to push the boundaries of film structure in an age of homogenized hogwash. Nagiko is wonderfully performed with genuine emotion by the sensual actress Vivian Wu (her lovemaking sessions with Jerome are truly sexy). If only Greenaway chose a more internal frame of mind when exploring Nagiko instead of coldly pulling her out towards the end. "The Pillow Book" is a masterpiece of filmmaking but it is not as intricate or as intimate as Greenaway's other works.

Sexual pleasure by any means necessary

8 1/2 WOMEN (1999)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Nope, this is not lost footage from Federico Fellini's own masterpiece, "8 1/2." This is Peter Greenaway's thoroughly underimagined, papier-mache account of old age and sexual pleasures called "8 1/2 Women." I have found most of Greenaway's films to be risky, shocking yet always mesmerizing and unforgettable. This film is sheerly dumb and valueless - an attempt to be comical and daring and succeeding only in being wanting in every sense of the word.

Fitting in with today's standards that sex matters more than anything, we are introduced to Philip Emmenthal (John Standing), a rich man living in his Geneva estate where his wife has just died. Joining him in his grieving process is his son, Storey (Sacha Vierny), who attempts to relieve his father's depression through sexual pleasure. The first attempt is through incest. Though it is implied, it is always clear that incest is an attempt (lest you think that fathers and sons do sleep together naked). After father and son watch Fellini's "8 1/2," they both decide that bringing eight women to the estate to have sex with and be ogled by is a far more successful venture. Some of the women they choose are gambling addicts, nuns, females as female impersonators (!), housekeepers, nymphos, and so on. One woman always gets pregnant and another one, representing the half, is in a wheelchair with no arms or legs. Oh, yes, and how can I forget the woman who rides horses naked (played by none other than Amanda Plummer). The most interesting woman is the nymphomaniac (Polly Walker) who claims to have slept with Philip long ago.

The idea for the film, sexual adventures in an estate with different women who have their own reasons for participating, is a novel one that could build with an erotic, comical charge. But Greenaway is the wrong director for a dark comedy of this type - at times, I felt like I was watching a weird Merchant Ivory production minus the wit. There are some shocking scenes of sexual byplay (like what happens when Phlip has sex with a woman who just had her period) but none of it is likely to seem the least bit erotic or playful to anyone. Greenaway is just interested in shocking the audience and places great emphasis on that prized male reproductive organ, but for what purpose exactly? Every major chapter is introduced by descriptions from the screenplay, but for what reason exactly?

Peter Greenaway is a fascinatingly complex director and sheerly audacious, but this "8 1/2 Women" is just marking time in being outrageous and touching on taboo subjects. There is plenty of nudity to spare but since the story is nonexistent and the acting borders on the extremely mannered, there is nothing left to look at. A major disappointment for Greenaway fans.