Are minstrel shows still around?

BAMBOOZLED (2000)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Spike Lee's spectacular new film, "Bamboozled," is likely to cause heaps of protest from audience members, particularly blacks. The idea that minstrel shows can cause more laughter now than they used to, as long as blacks are shown to be buffoons and outright caricatures, shows that America may not have changed much since the days of "Amos n' Andy." And Spike Lee knows it all too well.

Pierre Delacroix (Damon Wayans) is the only black executive at a New York cable network that needs to save itself from drastically low ratings. One day, Delacroix comes up with an outrageous concept - a minstrel show called "Mantan the New Millenium Minstrel Show." Basically, the show will focus on two dimwitted, nineteenth century cotton plantation workers ("Alabama porch monkeys") who joke and dance each week in front of a live studio audience. Pierre finds his two lucky actors in the form of a homeless dancer (Savion Glover) as the main character Mantan, and the dancer's friend (Tommy Davidson) as Sleep N' Eat - these two have been auditioning for Pierre in the past in front of his office building and now they have the shot at stardom. When Pierre presents his concept to his white boss, Dunwitty (Michael Rapaport), the boss becomes overwhelmed with glee. The only one miffed at the concept is Pierre's workaholic assistant, Sloan Hopkins (Jada Pinkett Smith).

Naturally, Pierre expects this show to fail miserably (in the real world, it would not have gone further than the pitch) and, ironically, it becomes a huge controversial success. Think of Mel Brooks' "The Producers" meets "Network," with some jarring, uneven jabs at advertising, especially Tommy Hilfiger, its most pointed jab. The show becomes such a success that Pierre becomes immersed in it himself, keeping grinning, red-lipped, buffoonish statues of blacks from the heyday of a forgotten era in his office. But is such an era really far behind, or do we still, in effect, have minstrel shows today? Are white and black audiences more receptive to African-American stereotypes that we can laugh at as in "The Nutty Professor II" (the original one, ironically, starred Jada Pinkett) or Martin Lawrence in "Big Momma's House" than to films like "Beloved" or "Amistad," which focus on slavery?

When Spike Lee focuses on such issues, "Bamboozled" becomes a lacerating, powerful film - how do these black actors feel about putting on blackface? Unfortunately, as in "Jungle Fever," Lee tends to focus on characters that are less remarkable and thus, distract from its intended message. The scenes of the rappers, who contemplate on how other rappers are not getting the recognition they deserve, recalls similar scenes of the Panthers in "Network" and they do not work very well in Lee's context of racial profiling. I was more interested in Pierre and Sloan, and how they felt about their guilt in the face of success. All this ends rather crudely and abruptly with violence and hysteria that, once again, recalls "Network." The difference is that "Network" was leading to an inevitable conclusion where violence on television would result in higher ratings. Here, it is too tidy a solution, I think, whereas a grander subplot about how audiences relate to such material would have been preferred, and how these actors feel about their televised act to an audience that even wears blackface to honor the show's characters!

The performances are quixotic, as always in a Lee film. Damon Wayans is perfectly restrained as Pierre, using his hands as if they were magic wands - his reaction to the madness he has created is clearly felt in the final scenes. Jada Pinkett Smith is also alluring, smart, and energetic as Sloan, who sees far beyond the show's concept than anyone else in the film. I also enjoyed the touching performances by Glover and Davidson, two actors caught in the haelstorm of success, the latter more cognizant of the effect it has on his own well-being.

I kept thinking of one film that dealt with similar issues, and that was Robert Townshend's smartly satirical "Hollywood Shuffle." Townshend's film does it with more grace and style, whereas Lee's film is angry and bites us like a junkyard dog. The end of "Bamboozled" features a moving collage of cinematic racial stereotypes, from "High Society" to Al Jolson in "The Jazz Singer." If Lee inserted clips from the gangsta rappers of today or Eddie Murphy, his point would have been made about minstrel shows still existing today. "Bamboozled" is too fractured and blunt to really score (and has a rather muddy look due to being filmed on digital video), but it does make you reflect on how race is portrayed in the media in today's world.

if I KILLED RENEE...

LOST HIGHWAY (1997)
Reviewed by Jerry Saravia
(original review from 1997 screening: updated)

David Lynch's "Lost Highway" is his most imaginatively directed and most thoughtful 

film since his debut "Eraserhead." Unlike the slightly overrated yet creepily 

fascinating "Blue Velvet," it will also drive you up the wall with 

frustration (not unlike "Eraserhead") since you won't be able to 

make head or tail of what is happening.

Bill Pullman plays an impotent saxophone player, Fred Madison, who lives 

in a posh L.A. house with his beautiful wife, Renee (Patricia Arquette). 

One day, Renee finds a videocassette on her front doorstep. They both 

watch the tape. It turns out that someone is videotaping the exterior of 

their house. They ignore it ('Maybe it's a real-estate video'). They keep 

receiving more video packages until one reveals Renee's murder! 

Fred is framed, or is he? He is incarcerated and, through some 

mysterious circumstances, metamorphoses into a young mechanic 

named Peter Dayton (Balthazar Getty). What the hell is happening here? 

Is Fred dreaming he has become someone else, or is he denying and 

forgetting the evil he has wrought, namely the murder of his wife?

The second half of the film deals with the mechanic Peter who does 

automotive favors for a vicious gangster boss, Mr. Eddy (Robert Loggia). 

Then Peter becomes transfixed by Eddy's blonde moll, Alice (also played

by Arquette). In a nod to "Vertigo," Lynch makes us wonder if 

the two women are the same person or if they are different people. 

Then there's the recurring appearance of the Mystery Man (a scary 

Robert Blake) who is first introduced at a party talking to Fred - the 

scene where the Mystery Man makes a telephone call to himself is one 

of the eeriest I've ever seen. But does he really exist or is he a figment 

of Fred's imagination? 

"Lost Highway" is a spectacular film full of loose ends and inexplicable scenes of 

horror and fear. It is chilling throughout and darkly photographed by Peter Deming; 

at times you, the viewer, will be unaware of where you are in relation to the scene.

Lynch's slight weakness is when he aims for elements outside of his style. 

The Mr. Eddy character, for example, has a scene where he brutally beats 

a driver for tailgating him ('Do you know how many car lengths it takes to 

stop a car at 35 miles per hour?') - this is more Tarantino terrain than 

Lynch's and it feels unnecessary. The other problem is the sex scenes which, 

with some exceptions, are unerotic and repetitious at best (a similar problem

plagued "Wild at Heart"). The one sex scene that works is towards the end 

where we see Pete (or is it Fred?) and Alice (or is it Renee?) in a blazingly

erotic romp in the hay with fierce winds billowing in the background.

These are very minute flaws in Lynch's most enigmatic and most profound film in eons. You'll 

leave the theater in a state of disillusionment saying "what the hell was that all about?" There 

are no resolutions, no logical connections, no easy answers, and no sense of redemption in 

Lynch's world (And no real conclusion to boot). Add to that the most bizarre cast since 

"Twin Peaks": Richard Pryor, Gary Busey, Marilyn Manson (!) and the late Jack Nance (Henry

from "Eraserhead"), and you are in for one of the wildest and best films of the nineties. It is his 

darkest, weirdest, nastiest bit of business ever (Red Alert: the Mystery Man appears to be in 

two places at once, which mirrors the opening and closing shots of Fred talking to himself 

through a speaker - a surreal joke about Fred's duality). Lynch has said he likes unsolved 

puzzles. "Lost Highway" will leave you thinking for days on end as to its meaning. It is the 

viewer's interpretation that really matters.

Nolte vs. Nolte

NICK NOLTE: NO EXIT (2008)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Nick Nolte is not gregarious - he is laconic and keeps to himself. That is only fitting since in the documentary, "Nick Nolte: No Exit," the only reliable interviewer is Nolte interviewing Nolte. You get two Noltes which is great for his fans, but his life and his work are given only minimal exposure.

Nick Nolte, the interviewer, is clean shaven and is dressed as an extra from "Casablanca," complete with a white Stetson and beige colored suit. This Nolte is more suave and healthier-looking than Nolte, the actor, who looks dishelved, unshaven, and possibly drunk. Most of the time Nolte refuses to answer questions, asking to move on to the next subject. He does wax on about being uncomfortable as a teenager in the conformist atmosphere of the 1950's. But when it comes to films, he gives precious little insights. Remarkably, all he can fish out of the making of "The Thin Red Line" is that reclusive director Terence Malick loved filming nature more than actors. He also makes it clear that he never quite made it as a movie star on purpose - when they own you, it is over.

I will say that this film is not about Nolte, the actor or the man - it is about Nick Nolte as an icon of brutishness who demystified and possibly deglamorized the macho ethic. Lawlessness and guilt-ridden neurosis inform most of Nolte's best roles, from "Who'll Stop the Rain?" to "Affliction." If you enjoy watching Nolte talk with that deep, bearlike gravelly voice, you'll enjoy watching this as a guilty pleasure of sorts (there are also some pointed cameos by actors like Ben Stiller on Nolte, though they have nothing deep to say). If this is not your cup of tea, stay far away.

Life of a perfectionist

STANLEY KUBRICK: A LIFE IN PICTURES (2001)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Nobody made films like Stanley Kubrick. All his works were originals, usually based on controversial novels, and often adapted to suit Kubrick's own style and thematic concerns. He was not just a great director - he was a genius and his work was as anticipated as anyone else's. Though the first few years of his filmmaking output was steady, he would often spend about four to five years on a single project, carefully nurturing it and trying not to make mistakes like another genius, Napolean Bonaparte (a film project once considered by Kubrick). The irony is that Kubrick was often critically wounded by critics for making films about dehumanization that seemingly showed he had less concern for performances than for style. Audiences often warmed up to his work in some cases ("2001," "A Clockwork Orange") and sometimes stayed away in droves ("Barry Lyndon"). Usually films of his were reviled to only later be re-reviewed by some as great masterpieces. Only the late Pauline Kael stayed with her initial opinions.

"Stanley Kubrick: A Life in Pictures" is the first real documentary about Kubrick (aside from the biased and still fascinating "Invisible Man"), a real shock when you consider that he had made films for more than forty years. He was obsessed by film from the moment he became a "Look" magazine photographer in New York City to the time he was in his early twenties making noir pictures like "Killer's Kiss" and "The Killing" and already graduating to titanic heights with one of the finest anti-war films ever made, "Paths of Glory." The rest is history, as evidenced by cinematic miracles like "Lolita," "Dr. Strangelove," "2001: A Space Odyssey," "A Clockwork Orange." His films were unique and as Jack Nicholson explains, "Totally conscious." They were also completely assured works, often dealing with images and music and a compassionate look at the dehumanization of man rather than succumbing to a straightforward narrative. Kubrick often played with structure, such as the deliberate two halves of "Full Metal Jacket" which feel like two movies for the price of one.

This documentary has fascinating tidbits throughout, including the problems with the violence and the copycat crimes resulting from the release of "A Clockwork Orange"; the relentless taskmaster that Kubrick was on the set of "2001," according to Douglas Trumbull; the tempermental attitude Kubrick displayed to Shelley Duvall during the making of "The Shining" for a whole year; the famous Kubrick retakes for "Eyes Wide Shut"; a nice little bit from Irene Kane (star of "Killer's Kiss," now known as reporter Chris Chase) and how she was driven home by Kubrick; the films that Kubrick hoped to make in his ten year hiatus between "Full Metal Jacket" and "Eyes Wide Shut" such as "Aryan Papers" and "A.I," the latter a project directed by Steven Spielberg and so much more.

"A Life in Pictures" provides plenty of archival material from the Kubrick estate to please all fans of the late master. There is early home movie footage of Kubrick as a young kid; excerpts from his own home movies where he angrily directs his own kids; lots of never-before-seen photographs of Kubrick on the set of "Eyes Wide Shut"; extra home movie footage of the making of "The Shining"; a glimpse at "Day of the Fight" and "Fear and Desire," two early Kubrick films that are hard to find on video; and more behind-the-scenes footage from "Full Metal Jacket." There are also numerous photographs of Kubrick and his wife and daughters through the course of many years, showing his warm, genial side despite his cool view of humanity overall. Yes, Kubrick spent a lot of time in his English estate and always shot his films in England post-"Spartacus," despite seeing himself as a New Yorker. Christina Kubrick, Kubrick's third wife, states that Stanley felt New York had changed, no doubt from the jazzy feel of those Bronx streets that he had grown up with. Also, he was perhaps the object of envy from many Hollywood types in that he was always near his family and his work was never too far out of reach.

There are plenty of interviews in the film with other admired directors, cast members, friends, family, but no real rivals. Malcolm McDowell is the only interviewee who expresses some regret that Stanley never spoke to him again after "A Clockwork Orange." They had a strong relationship where McDowell was willing to do anything for the director, including scratching his cornea twice in one truly disturbing scene (a fact omitted from this film), not to mention getting pneumonia during a drowning scene. McDowell had always spoke negatively about the director, and saw his misgivings as a cry for help. Otherwise, there are glowing feats of praise for the man himself. Spielberg talks briefly about his secret relationship with Kubrick and his reluctantly accepting "A.I." as a directing assignment, a project Stanley had worked on for many years. Sydney Pollack reminisces about the constant retakes on the set of "Eyes Wide Shut." Shelley Duvall describes the making of "The Shining" as a project that exhausted and thrilled her, yet she would never want to repeat the experience. Matthew Modine mentions the difficulty of understanding Kubrick's intentions in "Full Metal Jacket." Stanley's wife, Christina Kubrick, and his brother-in-law, Jan Harlan, say he was difficult at times but never anything less than a wonderful man. Directors interviewed who admired Stanley's work include Woody Allen, Martin Scorsese, Alex Cox, Alan Parker and Paul Mazursky (who acted in "Fear and Desire"). Only Allen admits his initial dissatisfaction with one film, "2001," then later states that after repeated viewings, he discovered it was a remarkable film.

There are many aspects to Kubrick that could have merited some mention. For example, Kubrick was especially fanatical over details of his own work and assumed that his actors would always speak with nothing but raves about him. Ryan O'Neal had thought "Barry Lyndon" was a Tom Jones adventure instead of the slow-paced character study of a bastard, and had said so in an interview at the time. Stanley never spoke to him again. Peter Sellers (who starred in Kubrick's "Lolita" and "Dr. Strangelove") had expressed disgust over "A Clockwork Orange," and later recanted his statements. Stanley never spoke to him again. Of course, Stephen King, author of "The Shining," never liked Kubrick's adaptation of his novel. I assume Stanley never spoke to him again either. At least some negative comments from some people might have helped us understand that no matter how much of a perfectionist Kubrick was, he was not perfect. His sadness over "Barry Lyndon's" reception should not have come as such a surprise - no matter how much work you put into a film, it will still get some negative reviews from somewhere. Costume dramas have never been big box-office hits anyway, but "Barry Lyndon" remains one of the most astounding visual works of art ever made.

"A Life in Pictures" is quite an illuminating portrait of a man who equated filmmaking with chess and with the strategies of war, and thus tried to make sure he did not make any mistakes. Of course, he made some (such as his bad timing with the release of "Full Metal Jacket" coinciding with other notable Vietnam flicks, though the film was a modest success). He was not perfect by any means, and he may have been an overly controlling taskmaster who demanded as much from himself as he did from others. All these qualities show his humanity, and not as a one-dimensional reclusive madman as often quoted by the media. There are admirers and detractors of Kubrick, but make no mistake, his compassion for humanity in the face of inhumanity had always shone through. You just had to see his films more than once to find it.

Bloody, hellishly boring

BLOODY MAMA (1970)

Reviewed By Jerry Saravia

There is a certain fascination I have with Roger Corman. He is after all the king of B movies, all usually shot on low-budget and in less than a week. Corman has directed everything from horror films to biker movies to movies like "Bloody Mama." His interest was to capitalize on current trends and Prohibition crime dramas about bank robbers were no exception. "Bloody Mama" is nauseatingly violent, sleazy and trite - a numbingly dull action picture that aims to do everything except to gain our interest.

Kate "Ma" Barker (Shelley Winters) is the gun-toting mama who adores her sons. She adores them so much that she bathes them and beds them. One can surmise that Ma Barker is making the most of her sons since she was raped by her parents - she obviously doesn't reciprocate any hateful emotions and wants to do right. She takes her sons from their home, leaves behind her husband who can't take care of them with his meager funds, insists she will someday have a palace and decides to go on the road. The question is: where? Her sons, including Sam (Don Stroud), kill and rob and torture people arbitrarily for money and eventually decide to rob banks to support themselves. Ma takes part in their schemes, willing to do anything for her sons. One of the sons is homosexual (Robert Walden) and the other is a heroin addict (Robert De Niro). Before you know it, there is a major shootout that tries to outdo the violent climax of "Bonnie and Clyde." Well, it sure is violent but it lacks any real sting or purpose other than to shock.

Speaking of "Bonnie and Clyde," the latter was infused with real characters whom you could care more than a whim about. There was nostalgia and ample style but the triumph was watching full-bodied characters who at least possessed more than one dimension beyond perversion and murderous tactics. "Bloody Mama" is a cartoonish, vapid mess that wants to see these monstrosities as nothing more than monstrosities. It is a pleasure to see the black-and-white newsreels that show how turbulent the Prohibition era was - particularly noteworthy is the notion that the police were too busy controlling the poor rather than catching criminals. Besides that, Shelley Winters gives a performance worthy of shameful eye-rolling and of over-emoting every single facial expression, something the late director George Stevens might have fired her for. Stroud has presence to spare as the main son who misses his father greatly. De Niro shows none of the evident talent he later became famous for, and Pat Hingle, one of the most astute of all character actors, is not even permitted to show his eyes! This movie is just bloody hell to sit through.

16 Blocks of Die Hardishness

LIVE FREE OR DIE HARD (2007)

Reviewed By Jerry Saravia

"Live Free or Die Hard" is a hackneyed, preposterous and thoroughly entertaining techno thriller. It is a fun ride but it does not carry some of the hallmarks of the first two films in the "Die Hard" franchise, and it has a "been there, done that" quality. But what sequel doesn't? Suffice to say, if you enjoyed the earlier films, you'll find enough to enjoy here.

Bruce Willis is a bald, older John McClane, ordered to bring in a computer hacker, Matt (Justin Long), to the feds because some nut who formerly worked for the government, Thomas Gabriel (Timothy Olyphant), wants to bring "America to its knees." Before long, there are elongated shootouts, glass breakage, various car chases, de rigueur explosions and some truly improbable stunts (my favorite is using a car as a weapon against a helicopter!) In other words, this is a high- octane techno thriller in every sense of the word. The exceptions to the usual pyrotechnics on display here is that this is the first "Die Hard" sequel set in a post-9/11 world. But there are no Arabs nor anyone vaguely resembling Al-Qaida or the Taliban as the villains here. No, we just get an old-fashioned angry and unemployed white government worker. The rule of thumb in movies post-9/11 is that the terrorists are either savvy computer geniuses or cold-blooded British types or both, so as to not offend anyone.

This is interesting because some may recall that Willis dismissed doing a fourth "Die Hard" flick shortly after 9/11. In recent years, his best work has been as a weary, downtrodden cop in the underrated "16 Blocks," which coincidentally has a similar plot involving taking a prisoner to a courthouse rather than the feds. But anything vaguely terroristic has been left out of Willis's action milieu for quite some time. In this "Die Hard" sequel, a few keystrokes are all that is needed to bring America to its knees by controlling traffic lights, air traffic, breaking in to the Pentagon and military computer systems, and perpetrating a simulation of the Capitol in ruins just to get everyone rattled! These cyber terrorists are so sophisticated that they apparently have cameras everywhere recording everything Mr. McClane and company are doing.

"Live Free or Die Hard" is highly implausible featuring more implausibly elaborate action sequences than ever before, including a fighter jet tearing down an entire freeway while McClane slides up and down ramps. Still, a chillingly suspenseful scene where McClane is hanging on to a SUV inside an elevator shaft while fighting Mai (Maggie Cheung), a martial-artist, is one for the action history books.

This new "Die Hard" gets the job done and is far more entertaining than the third limp entry, "Die Hard: With a Vengeance." However, the emotional, humanistic core of John McClane that we have seen before, the troubled, vulnerable married man, is virtually gone. Mostly McClane fights with his estranged daughter, Lucy (Mary Elizabeth Winstead), and that is hardly on the same wavelength as Willis's rapport with Bonnie Bedelia from the first film. I even miss scenes like McClane taking a bottle full of aspirin after a full night of getting soused in the third film, or the key relationship between McClane and the cop communicating by walkie-talkie in the original. And yet, I like the rapport between Willis and Justin Long, the latter who hates 20th century music like CCR (how dare he!). It drives the film and serves as an anchor for the wall-to-wall action.

So here it is: Willis is in fine form and has a few canny one-liners, Long is occasionally funny in a nervous, chatty kind of way, Maggie Cheung should've been the real villain of the film (not the somewhat anemic Olyphant), and it is a real pleasure to see Kevin Smith as a geeky, Star Wars-loving computer hacker with his own command center. A fun time at the movies overall yet it lacks some of the action hero's vulnerability that gave added spark to the earlier films. Or maybe McClane's bitterness is his vulnerability.

Short Jarmusch skits

COFFEE AND CIGARETTES (2003)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

I've seen skits like Jim Jarmusch's "Coffee and Cigarettes" before but never as messily funny or as abrasive. Granted, "Coffee and Cigarettes" is a mess but it is often as engaging in its tomfoolery as almost any comedy from the Hollywood gates.

The film is divided into skits or, more appropriately, sketches and each sketch is a rumination on coffee and cigarettes. Most of the sketches take place in coffeehouses or outside cafes. The participants include real-life celebrities and as varied as one can imagine. We have Joie Lee, Iggy Pop, Tom Waits, Cate Blanchett, Roberto Benigni, Steven Wright, Jack White, and so on. You get the idea. In a Jarmusch film, almost anything can happen. And you guessed it: each segment deals with coffee and cigarettes and assorted subjects.

My favorites include Jack White's ruminations to Meg White on the Nikolas Tesla coil (which he keeps handy), Cate Blanchett as herself and as her envious cousin as their differences become readily apparent, Alfred Molina's discussion on how Steve Coogan is related to him thanks to some genealogical research, and Iggy Pop and Tom Waits who convince themselves to smoke again since they both quit (the Pop-Waits skit was originally a short film that won the Palme D'Or at Cannes in 1993).

Least favorites are Steve Buscemi's wisecracks about Elvis's twin brother to Joie and Cinque Lee, and an annoyingly cumbersome segment with Wu-Tang-Clan stars RZA and GZA and a spectacularly unfunny Bill Murray (seen drinking straight from a pot of coffee). The sketches that fall somewhere in the middle include one about African-American friends getting together for coffee for the sake of it, not because there are personal problems to justify such a meeting, an existentially beautiful Mahler bit with Taylor Mead that is a bit too short for its own good and, well, Roberto Benigni is always good for a laugh or two as he nervously handles one espresso cup after another.

"Coffee and Cigarettes" is a film that Jim Jarmusch has been working on for almost twenty years. There is no plot and no real story, but what do you expect from the filmmaker who dealt brilliantly with anomie in American society as in "Stranger Than Paradise"? "Coffee and Cigarettes" is a healthy reminder of how movies don't always have to revolve around extensive plots or complicated storylines - hence, the narrative-based medium we are all used to. Nope, this is a movie about talk, about people talking over coffee and cigarettes (or in some cases, not talking at all as in the Renee French sketch). And yet, there are moments of surprising heft and drama, as in the truthful denouement between Molina and Coogan. This is the kind of film that one can enjoy on its own merits - it is slight but it is entertaining with the occasional truism.