Wafer-thin neo-noir tale

PICTURE CLAIRE (2001)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

It is a shame that a pristinely photographed neo-noir picture like "Picture Claire" fails to enliven any interest. Here is a film with oodles of atmosphere and a mute performance by Juliette Lewis (herself a staple of neo-noir since the early 90's) and nothing else to offer. Ponderous pacing, cliched characters and the most remote plot thread of them all, it is the kind of film that gives neo-noir pictures a bad name.

Juliette Lewis plays a French-speaking woman named Claire who arrives in Toronto, Canada to see a photographer she met in a bar. She finds his address, breaks into his house, discovers pictures of herself and, alas, also sees that he is dating a different woman. Then we find Claire at his gallery showing where a huge black-and-white picture is framed, taken while she was asleep. Oh, but let's not forget that Claire was at a donut shop trying to find the location of the photographer's gallery. She accidentally spills her coffee all over herself, blames it on a paying customer named Eddie (Mickey Rourke), leaves in great haste until a murder takes place in the shop. It turns out that Eddie is some sort of low-level gangster/mobster/whatever who has a meeting with Lily (Gina Gershon), who has just brought a shipment of precious diamonds from abroad. Since Gershon plays a femme fatale-of-sorts, she kills Eddie in the first ten minutes of the movie. She splits until it seems that Claire could be blamed for the murder. Or so we think. The rest of the picture focuses on Claire destroying her portrait at the gallery, spying on the photographer with his new girlfriend, and desperately trying to get back to her home in Montreal (a home, which I might add, is burned to a crisp before the opening credits).

There is a good set-up for "Picture Claire" but it goes nowhere fast. Juliette Lewis is always an amazingly powerful presence on screen and, frankly, a movie where she mostly speaks French for only one-third of the picture is not a bad thing. It's just that director Bruce McDonald seems to have gotten lost in whatever story exists (reportedly the picture was taken away from his hands and extensively recut). Gina Gershon seems to be treading on the innocent bad-girl schtick she first played in films as early as 1988's "Red Heat" - she has matured since then and I am surprised by her one-note take on Lily. The photographer whom Claire has such an interest on is merely a pretty boy for young girls to ogle at - he seems to have stepped out of the latest issue of GQ. Same goes for the cardboard villains who kill anything in their path. At the very least, Mickey Rourke can be counted on for a performance of some dignity - a shame he disappears so soon.

"Picture Claire" offers plenty to see in visual terms, and the editing (involving split-screens and multi-screens) is quite an eyeful. But all this is in the service of a story that is threadbare and mediocre at best. The movie initially seems to coast on the idea that Lily and Claire are two halves of the same person (especially considering the title or maybe it is just me). At least that is what is insinuated, but I think the whole movie is an asinine insinuation.

Harrison Ford cast in Expendables 3

HARRISON FORD in EXPENDABLES 3?

By Jerry Saravia

Latest entertainment news regarding Harrison Ford is that he signed up for a role in "Expendables 3," the latest sequel in the testosteronian macho action flicks with Sylvester Stallone (Bruce Willis has optioned out of a role in the new film). Say what? Ford in a gory, blood-splattered action flick? Will he make any adjustments to the overall film not unlike Chuck Norris's request that no spoken obscenities be uttered in "Expendables 2"?  Who can say although it is an unusual and odd choice considering the old reliable action pros of the 1980's with their high body count masquerading as acts of heroism. To top it all off, Ford stated in an interview with the Telegraph about his growing need to reprise everyone's favorite archaeologist in a new Indiana Jones adventure. I am, of course, all for it but his claim that Indy will not kick as much ass may disappoint those who were already down in the dumps about the last Indy flick. Check out my video below for my insights into Harrison Ford's future roles.  

I am going to see Hotpants College 2

LOVE AND DEATH ON LONG ISLAND (1998)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

John Hurt is one of our most underrated actors, partly because some of the

films he's appeared in. "Frankenstein Unbound" and "Even Cowgirls Get the 
Blues" have not enhanced his career in the same way as other British actors 
have such as Anthony Hopkins. Now comes one of his best leading roles since 
"The Elephant Man" as Giles De'Ath in the unusual, independent comedy-drama 
"Love and Death on Long Island."                                                

Hurt plays Giles De'Ath, an academic, isolated writer living in London who has no interest in the modern conventions of society, particularly televisions. One day, he's locked out of his house and wanders into a movie theater where they are showing the latest film adaptation of an E.M. Forster novel. He winds up in the wrong cinema screen where they are showing the Porky's-style comedy "Hotpants College 2." Instead of being mortified, however, Giles becomes transfixed and smitten by a particular actor named Ronnie Bostock (Jason Priestley from "Beverly Hills 90210"). He is so smitten and obsessed that he decides to fly out to the fictional Chesterton on Long Island, and locate the handsome actor.

While checking out the sights in Chesterton (actually Halifax, Nova Scotia), he stumbles upon Bostock's supermodel girlfriend, Audrey (Fiona Loewi) at the supermarket. They become friends and he convinces her that he's the kind of cultured intellectual who can offer Ronnie sound career advice. Eventually Giles gets to meet his young idol Ronnie, and he tells him that Ronnie's future as an actor is limited unless he makes more adventurous choices and plays more complex characters, like Laurence Olivier. "I'll devote myself to your career," says Giles. By this point, Ronnie has become transfixed and smitten as well.

"Love and Death on Long Island" may remind some viewers as a kind of low-note riff on "The King of Comedy" but its tone is closer to Thomas Mann's similar "Death in Venice." This film is not about the dangers of obsessive behavior, but about an obsessive search for beauty and finding it in the strangest of places. Giles finds that obsessive beauty in Ronnie, and his whole world suddenly brightens with his interest in American pop culture, teen magazines featuring pictures of Ronnie, VCR's and TV's, abysmal Ronnie videos such as "Tex Mex" and "Skid Marks," and so on.

If we didn't believe the relationship between Giles and Ronnie, then the film wouldn't work. Thus, it was an auspicious casting decision to have John Hurt and Jason Priestley cast as the unlikely twosome, and they have great chemistry together. Hurt is particularly understated and dryly humorous as the lovestruck author; his incredible performance embodies wit, naivete, reserve, great comic timing, pathos and humor. Hurt is already on my list of the best performances of 1998, and this is a performance that he handles with great relish. Priestley has come a long way from the soap opera origins of "Beverly Hills 90210," and he has a tricky role here: he's essentially playing himself as the actor with the pretty boy looks, and he has to convey that a hint of talent may be in his future ventures, even if he's set to appear in "Hotpants College 3." In a sense, Priestley may venture onto a real career himself after appearing in this film, and in the independent black comedy "Cold Blooded."

There are also some nicely underplayed supporting characters such as Maury Chaykin, from "The Sweet Hereafter," as a restaurant owner who describes everything as attractive, and Sheila Hancock, one of Britain's best-known actresses, as Giles's maid, Mrs. Barker. The one character that doesn't work as cohesively as the others is Audrey's, as played by Fiona Loewi: she's Ronnie's girlfriend, but her character is practically left on the sidelines when we could have seen what kind of effect Ronnie's career has on her life.

"Love and Death on Long Island" is fluidly written and directed by Richard Kwietniowski, his first full-length feature after having directed a slew of short films. The film is based on Gilbert Adair's cult novel of the same name which is composed entirely of Gile's first person narration, with no dialogue. He does a fine job of adapting the book by taking the subjective approach from Giles's point-of-view. I also liked Kwietniowski's accurate approach to the look of those 80's-style comedies Bostock is famous for - it is a far more evocative homage than the awfully uneven "The Wedding Singer."

At a breezy 93 minutes, "Love and Death on Long Island" is a smart, extremely funny and touching treatise on obsession, pop culture v.s. art, and the nature of celebrity. Its most telling and universal theme, though, is that love and beauty can be found in places you never thought of looking or least expected to find, like "Hotpants College 2."

No to anemic slasher

HAPPY HELL NIGHT (1992)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

What can one say about a slasher flick when the demonic killer's only level of communication is to spout one-liners! They are not even clever one-liners - they are insidious one-liners. Example: After killing a female nurse watching TV, the killer says, "No TV." When the killer hacks away at a video peeping tom who happens to run a cable show from his campus called "STV," the killer responds, "No STV."

This brilliant work of art is from a writer-director named Brian Owens whose only other credit is devising the story for "Brainscan" (a far better horror pic). "Happy Hell Night" is his only film, rottenly directed and acted though some level of atmosphere is maintained. Owen knows how to frame dark corridors and dark, cavernous rooms, especially in a mental ward. The college campus, however, looks like it is occupied by only a handful of students. There are so many silhouettes that it is difficult to discern whom we should be looking at or caring about.

The story centers on a demented priest who killed several students from the college fraternity. The priest (who was hopefully defrocked) was kept in a mental ward for 25 years, never moving a muscle. The nurse at the ward checks on the guy twice a month - if the killer is evil incarnate, why keep him in a room resembling a cell block kept shut by a silver cross? Nevertheless, the killer is waiting to be set free, and dammit if some frat brothers aren't the ones to do just that. Of course, some other priest was expecting this to happen. Let me ask this logical question: how about removing all the mental patients except for the wacky priest and burn down the ward? Why keep this silent to the community if the killer can't break free anyway?

So we get mercifully short and gory impalings where the killer uses a hook-of-sorts and drills it through his intended college student victims. We are never given any insight into the killer's motives - why would a demonic priest kill a bunch of fraternity and sorority students? Because they drink and like to have sex? Should this killer be welcomed as a member of the Moral Majority? And I can see why "CSI's" Jorja Fox is not listed in the credits - I don't think she wants to be remembered as a slutty tease of a sorority girl who is pierced through her skull with that damn bloody hook.

"Happy Hell Night" is never scary or even genuinely creepy. The killer is creepy at first - think of him as a member of the Cenobites - but since he possesses the most elementary humor skills and an electronic voice, we can't take him too seriously. As a monstrous figure of pain, there is no pathos and no humanity. Darren McGavin shows up but don't get your hopes up, he is not doing a reprise of Kolchak. He gives a short synopsis of what happened 25 years earlier, but it is muffled and delivered as a voice-over while the video peeping tom tries to listen in. You see every bedroom in this campus has a video camera unit and a mike. I was reminded, when this movie was over, how much better Linda Blair's "Hell Night" was (which isn't saying much). Do yourself a favor and check out the blackly comical and scary sorority flick "Black Christmas." Last I heard, Margot Kidder didn't mind including it in her resume.

The cat's out of the bag: Chevy Chase can sometimes SUCK!

COPS AND ROBBERSONS (1994)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

I gather the filmmakers of "Cops and Robbersons" had every intention to make a funny picture. Chevy Chase, to be fair a stranger to the occasional decent comedy, was the lead and he can usually make me laugh. Dianne Wiest played his wife. Jack Palance played a crusty old cop. Robert Davi played the mean hit man for the mob. The late Michael Ritchie, famous for "Smile" among other great comedies, was the director. What could go wrong? It looked like a hopeful variation on "City Slickers." As they say, hope springs eternal.

Chevy Chase plays the man of the house who is addicted to cop shows. Unfortunately, the hit man has just moved next door. Guess whose house will be used for a stakeout. Guess who will be the real cop whom Chase admires and gives tips to. And so we have the obligatory scene where Chase visits Davi's house (though it leads to the only laugh in the film involving Chase rolling up a cigarette). There is also Chase's red-haired daughter (Fay Masterson) who loves Palance's young partner; Chase's son who thinks he's Eddie Munster; an incident involving throwing a cat in the closet; and so many more joyful, oh I mean joyless moments. And no points for guessing who the savior of the day will be. Nobody took a moment to consider saving Chevy Chase's career.

If you are one of the two or three people who have seen this film, I pity you. I feel your pity since I am one of the two or three.

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.