David O.Russell's Chaotic Beauty

SILVER LININGS PLAYBOOK (2012)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

I have rarely seen a chaotically beautiful, emotionally satisfying, richly layered and ultimately finite romantic comedy like "Silver Linings Playbook."  It is hardly average film fare and it is not all that offbeat either. It feels real, humane and honest and positively refreshing in its embrace of seemingly kooky yet very sympathetic characters who have enormous issues. Just like life.

Bradley Cooper is a Baltimore mental patient, Pat Solinato, Jr., suffering from bipolar disorder. He returns home to his parents, Pat Sr. (Robert De Niro), an illegal bookmaker and devoted Philadelphia Eagles fan who is raising money for a restaurant, and his wife, Dolores (Jacki Weaver), after eight months of treatment. Pat refuses to take his meds, yet his mother insists he take them and attend his meetings and see his court-appointed therapist. Pat would rather reconcile with his wife, Nikki, who had an affair which caused Pat to lose his temper where a fury was unleashed that led him to be hospitalized. This led to a restraining order but he still wants to communicate with her. He finally does through Tiffany (Jennifer Lawrence), a widowed woman who recently lost her job because she slept with everyone in the office. Tiffany is not easy to like at first but slowly we see a tortured soul who has issues that Pat can only barely relate to. If Pat wants Tiffany to send a letter to Nikki, he will have to help her as her partner in a dance competition.

Bradley Cooper is not an actor I normally place on high esteem but his Pat Solinato, Jr. is something to behold. Cooper's rage is not frightening but simply misplaced and off-kilter - he is aware of what his actions are and the consequences (he also wears a black garbage bag fitted like a vest). Jennifer Lawrence brings in more of a remarkably off-kilter and shrewd attitude to her Tiffany character - there is no way of knowing what she will do next. Lawrence also displays subtle glances and body language to show her love for Pat who is of course blind to her advances (though she blatantly asks him to nail her on their first "date"). Finally, it is Robert De Niro who gives such a soulful, heartbreakingly real performance as Pat Sr. (who has OCD issues) that I will go on record, as of now, and say it is one of the finest roles De Niro has ever committed to celluloid. Damn straight.

Based on Matthew Quick's 2008 novel and adapted by director David O. Russell, "Silver Linings Playbook" is not a sweet or safe romantic comedy because it plays by its own rules - the rules of reality, not some disarming fantasy. Although to be fair there are a few rom-com cliches here, they are mercifully few and when they occur, they do not feel like cliches. "Silver Linings Playbook" is necessarily messy and swings and shifts its tone often but never at the behest of directorial indulgences. Nothing in the film feels out of place - it all fits. Not unlike director David O. Russell's tough-to-like-yet-easy-to-admire "Spanking the Monkey" or the charming, hysterical road movie "Flirting With Disaster" or the Gulf War trappings of "Three Kings" where soldiers are second to technological warfare, "Silver Linings Playbook" gives emotional weight and resonance to its characters and their heartfelt manners. Russell has already stated that he is more of a Frank Capra man than a Martin Scorsese man - he embraces these characters and their heart (and he doesn't judge them, despite that all of them practically see therapists). Pat and Tiffany simply want to move on, to get past their vices, their guilt, their selfishness, their psychological issues - they are looking for their silver linings. It is chaotic beauty.

Bad Weed

STILL SMOKIN' (1983)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Cheech and Chong have never been favorites of mine in comedies. I remember liking "Nice Dreams" and "Up in Smoke" but basically their act consisted of getting stoned and scoring some babes while certain hijinks would ensue. "Still Smokin" is nothing different except that during its entire 90 minute running time, I hardly smiled or chuckled while watching it. It is one of the unfunniest pictures I have ever seen, so desperate to make us laugh that it even includes stock footage of animals mating!

Cheech and Chong play themselves as they mistakenly arrive at a film festival in Amsterdam to promote their comedy routines. Apparently, Burt Reynolds and Loni Anderson were to attend the festival. How did Cheech and Chong end up going? Well, the film festival director gave out the wrong tickets, or something like that. Nevertheless, C & C arrive at a ritzy hotel where they are introduced as Burt and Loni and the onlookers cheer them on, believing they are Burt and Loni! This stupid joke is repeated again and again that I swear a half-hour had passed by before the next joke.

Meanwhile, Chong gets the bright idea of saving the financially troubled festival by raising a dope-a-thon and performing live for the festival attendees. So we get scenes from their own live act and a few snippets of other routines shot as movie in-jokes that would have greeted more groans than laughs on "Saturday Night Live." All of it so cheaply produced and poorly directed, not to mention rottenly written, that it leaves a sour taste in your mouth.

The idea of two comic stoners coming to Amsterdam where marijuana is legal seems like a good idea but the film never follows suit. It is so boring and insipid to sit through that I began to wonder if I ever really liked Cheech and Chong in the first place. Maybe I was too young when I saw "Nice Dreams." To be fair, there are some moments of acceptable humor during the last ten minutes such as watching the twosome bark like dogs. Otherwise, you may as well keep smoking that joint than watch such a painful movie experience.

A 'respectable' John Waters flick

SERIAL MOM (1994)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

(Original review from 1994)

Of all of John Waters' films, the one that will stand the test of time is the obscene "Pink Flamingos." His later work has not surpassed the original's most indecent acts of nature but Waters has shown he cares to explore family units, albeit in the most outrageous manner. 1988's "Hairspray" was a delightfully funny musical whereas 1990's "Cry Baby" remained the most obscenely awful piece of cinema in many moons. 1994's "Serial Mom" is far better in every respect and it supplies Kathleen Turner's best performance since "The War of the Roses."

Turner plays the title role as a dutiful housewife with two hormonal teenagers (Ricki Lake and Matthew Lillard) and a nerdy, naive husband played by Sam Waterston. It turns out that Mom has a fixation on serial killers and even kills neighbors who get on her nerves! Surely nobody that makes obscene calls deserves to live! When Mom is finally caught by the police, she becomes a celebrity and has a field day in court acting as her own attorney. Her celebrity status is so high that Suzanne Somers considers playing her in a made-for-TV movie!

"Serial Mom" is fitfully funny but not really outrageous. Martin Scorsese's "The King of Comedy" beat it to the punch back in 1983, and what made that film work was that it took itself seriously despite an outrageous concept of a would-be comedian making it big by kidnapping another comedian. There are some big howlers in "Serial Mom" as expected from Waters, especially the sight of Serial Mom skewering a kid with a fireplace poker and removing his dripping liver (a nod to 1963's "Blood Feast"). There are also precious moments where Serial Mom is greeted by fans at a rock concert and great cameos by Patty Hearst (who wears white on Labor Day) and Traci Lords.

"Serial Mom" is not shocking, profane or in bad taste, and this is due partly to John Waters who is no longer interested in ridiculing our tastes in decency and respectability by going through extremes. Society has caught up with Waters and his shock value is gone - how can you compete with the media saturation of attention on such sensational subjects as the Menendez brothers or Nancy Kerrigan.

On the plus side, Kathleen Turner is effectively hilarious as Serial Mom, Ricki Lake is delightful particularly when posing in front of cameramen, and Sam Waterston shows calm in the face of chaos from the media circulating around the strange, murderous behavior of his wife. But the film is far too subdued and toned down and, frankly, rather blah. I guess one just expects Waters to get outrageous and down and dirty. He should be as far from respectability as possible.

Heaven Help YOU!

RELIGULOUS (2008)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Bill Maher is a radical leftist comedian who has taken his radical political views quite far on his vastly entertaining show, "Real Time with Bill Maher." Religion is a hot-button issue for him, mainly because he thinks it is silly for people to believe in a space god. I am not sure if religion is a concept he is willing to invest more highly in - he treats it as a joke and thinks people are stupid if they believe. He is an aggressive atheist but maybe not aggressive enough. I have a feeling that is why he made "Religulous," a funny, observant and very uneven documentary. Uneven because Bill Maher has a habit of not listening closely enough and interrupting those whom he interviews.

Bill Maher begins the global journey in an effort to understand religion and why many believe in God. He travels to a North Carolina truck stop chapel where one of the truckers walks out in disgust at Maher's comments. Another trucker comments on being a former Satanist priest (!) who found God. We also get a Puerto Rican named Jose Luis de Jesus Miranda, who believes he is the Second Coming of Christ largely due to a bloodline of descendants from Jesus Christ. In addition, we get an actor playing Jesus at a Florida Biblical amusement park, which includes a whipping of a bloodied Christ carrying the cross accompanied by applause from the audience; ex-Mormons questioning Joseph Smith as a leader; an Amsterdam club where marijuana is smoked but not as a sacrament (this segment confused me but who knows, they were all probably high); a gay Muslim bar; a far too short segment on the late film director Theo Van Gogh who made a film that offended Muslims and was killed for it; a rabbi who denies the Holocaust, and so much more. Interspersed throughout the film are clips from old Jesus flicks and George C. Scott as Abraham in the hysterical John Huston film, "The Bible" (there is also a funny clip from "Superbad.")

Most of "Religulous" is very funny but I can't say it is all sharply observed or on-target. The truck stop chapel footage could've been better served had it been towards the end. Some segments deserve more focus, particularly the ex-Mormon bit, the comparison between Abraham sacrificing his son for God to a recent murder of five children by their mother ("God told me to do it"), more scenes of Bill Maher's late mother and her sharing in her son's concept of doubt, and the concept of original sin and why Jesus Miranda believes sinning no longer exists (that was a howler).

What does work is when Bill Maher asks truly valid questions. Why does the Old Testament not talk about the virgin birth? Why no written text exists on Jesus's teenage years? Why a certain preacher believes that Jesus was a rich man and why he can't get that old camel and the needle quote correct? I also liked Maher's observations on miracles and when rain is simply rain. Also interesting is seeing the area of Meggido and how it seems an unlikely location for the end of days.

As I said, "Religulous" is damn funny stuff and invigorating and illuminating but it needed sharper questions from Maher about the validity of religion and how and why it shapes people's lives, particularly when the concept of sin is often omitted. Maybe it scares Bill to get too deep or maybe he had already made up his mind about religion before he even made the film.

Wipe out any memory of this movie

THE FORGOTTEN (2004)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

The electrifying Julianne Moore and director Joseph Ruben should have been able to make a terrifically suspenseful psychological thriller. Moore, one of the most charismatic and honest of all major league actresses, can make your jaw drop with her acute sensitivity and ball-of-fire emotions. Director Ruben may not have a great track record since his underrated "The Stepfather" but he's probably just in search of a good story to tell. "The Forgotten" is not it but, boy, does it have a solid beginning.

Julianne Moore plays Telly Paretta, a married book editor who longs for her dead son. Her son apparently died in a plane accident and Telly, day after day, touches her son's belongings such as a baseball glove. One day she notices that her son has disappeared from her framed family photos, including photo albums. She suspects her husband (thanklessly played by Anthony Edwards) has removed the pictures but he denies ever having a son with her - he was apparently stillborn (and so is Edwards). Even Telly's good-natured, understanding psychiatrist (an even more thankless role played by Gary Sinise) denies that she ever had a son - he's been waiting for her moment of realization. Is there a conspiracy or is Telly suffering from a mental illness where she invents people in her life who don't exist? The idea that someone can imagine or invent a person or persons is an idea worthy for a film. Instead, the filmmakers opt for a series of deux ex machinas that trivialize the story and aim for maximum stupidity and unrealistic coincidences and occurrences that only happen in the movies. How the story changes its tune I won't say except that you'll feel cheated that the screenwriters didn't trust their own source material.

Julianne Moore does the best she can, looking as glamorous and beautiful as in those Revlon ads. She is not, however, given the freedom to really engage her emotions - by the end, she is more disenchanted and detached than the character should be. The rest of the cast is an embarrassment, including Alfre Woodard as a cop who distrusts the NSA (National Security Agency) who is after Telly. Woodard, who gave memorable performances in "Passion Fish" and "Grand Canyon," simply exists to utter mediocre dialogue and then drift away. Like all the other actors, they are wooden logs that are flung about without any rhyme or reason.

Director Joseph Ruben does know how to shock and move an audience, and it happens in one fleeting instance. There is a car crash scene that is unsettling and will make you rock back and forth in your theater seat. But such a moment means nothing other than to keep the audience awake. Such car crashes were more effective in films like "Adaptation" and "Punch Drunk Love." Here, it is nothing more than an attempt to make the audience believe they are seeing something new. I can't say much more about "The Forgotten" without giving away crucial details. The preview makes this look like the latest endeavor by M. Night Shyamalan. You will not just forget "The Forgotten," you just won't care to remember.

A Blasted Heath of a movie

THE CURSE (1987)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

According to H.P. Lovecraft scholars, "The Curse," which is adapted from Lovecraft's own creepy and menacing short story "The Colour of Space," is more faithful to the author's literary source than the 1965 version "Die, Monster, Die!" Not sure if Lovecraft was thinking of Bible-thumping farm owners, marital infidelity, worms that eat the innards of cattle and apples, a lascivious real-estate agent, a poop joke, shades of "The Exorcist" and lots of bile spewing phenomenon. Then again, I am not a Lovecraft devotee but, then again, I have read the story and this movie bears little resemblance to its literary source.

As directed by David Keith, "The Curse" left me feeling nauseated. The movie is exceedingly gross, featuring too many shots of worms and maggots eating away the inside of fruits and far too many shots of unhealthy-looking face sores. The story is set on a Tennessee farm run by the Biblical and righteous Nathan Hayes (Claude Akins) who has a new family to support. There is the wandering eye of his new and very horny wife, Frances (Kathleen Jordon Gregory - her sole film credit), who has to learn to make better bread rolls; a zombiefied-looking Wil Wheaton as the stepson Zack; Nathan's giddy and maniacally irritating elder son (Malcolm Danare) who teases Wil incessantly, and Amy Wheaton as Zack's younger sister. A glowing meteorite crashes a few yards from the Hayes farm and it spews liquids and unknown elements into the property and the water supply. Most of the family members drink the water that transforms them into mean killing machines with contorted faces and a few ugly sores. Then there are the worms that fester on the livestock and the fruits. Yuck. See how you react to the sight of chickens pecking away at Amy Wheaton's face. Only the Wheatons are smart enough not to drink the water.

The characters have no more than two dimensions, especially Claude Akins who appears to be a rigid, strict disciplinarian (he laughs at a "poop" joke from his son and that is about as animated as Akins gets in the entire movie). Danare's Cyrus is every brother's nightmare - a loud, obnoxious, bullying brat who you know will get his just deserts.  Kathleen Gregory's Frances is convincingly dour but she only comes alive in horror makeup. We also get "Dukes of Hazzard's" own John Schneider as a surveyor from the Tennessee Valley Authority (the short story was told from his perspective).

"The Curse" is a generic and frenetic "alleged" horror flick that is mediocre in all departments - a largely revolting movie I will always remember for the worms. A vomit-inducer of a movie, if that is your idea of a good time. A better vomit-inducer is John Carpenter's "The Thing." Better yet, read the original short story by H.P. Lovecraft - it is riveting.

Media makes monsters

NO SUCH THING (2001)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

I have only seen two Hal Hartley films, "The Unbelievable Truth" and "Henry Fool." Both are existential dramas, mostly dealing with pain and repressed emotions. The main thrust in those films was the existence of the individual, and the individual's recognition of his or her own futile existence. "No Such Thing" now focuses on the existential nature of a monster, not a human being. A radical idea indeed, and I am not sure it is a major success at all but, at the very least, it gives it a whirl.

Beatrice (Sarah Polley) is the assistant to the "Boss" (Helen Mirren), the chain-smoking producer of a trashy, tabloid TV show. The latest news are the problems in New York City, including terrorist organizations infiltrating subway systems and bridges (this film was released last March though it was initially set to be released in the fall of 2001. In these troubled times, the terrorism angle is sure to be a reason). The Boss is sick of the latest news and wants something catastrophic and unusual - something to send shock waves across the country. Lo and behold, one of their TV news crews had disappeared somewhere off the coast of Iceland. One of the crew members was Beatrice's fiance. Beatrice decides to follow the story and find out what happened to her fiance and everyone else. A jet plane carrying Beatrice crashes though, and she miraculously survives. She then has to face a spinal operation and intense physical therapy for six months. Beatrice recuperates and proceeds to go to Iceland. She finds that a horned, fire-breathing monster (Robert Burke) has killed the crew. This monster is isolated, immortal, a drunk and obscene. Beatrice knows he will not hurt her, and he trusts her enough to accompany her to find a reclusive doctor named Dr. Artaud, the only known man who can kill the monster. Make no mistake, the monster wishes to be killed so he can end his suffering.

After reading this far, you might be saying, "How ridiculous!" Of course it is but Hartley never aims for satire or for laughs. He has not crafted a horror film either. This is more of an expose of how the media turns freaks into fodder for the masses - oh, the exploitation! The horror! But it is also a love story of sorts between the beauty and the beast, and how the beauty manages to forget the beast while he's being exploited. It is also how a monster views himself in an existential world where pain and suffering will go on and on. He can't stop himself from killing people, but he does make a promise to Beatrice not to kill after leaving his island for America. But I can't say that all of "No Such Thing" is really that coherent. It is a mess, straining and working to be one kind of film before changing and shaping itself to be something else.

The first thirty minutes of "No Such Thing" are as beautiful and mysterious as most films can be. We follow Beatrice on her journey to Iceland, and Polley makes her character strong and compassionate. I even liked the scenes of her and the monster. However, when the film shifts its setting to America, it becomes a self-conscious jumble of how the media is morally corrupt. How often have we seen this cliche played over and over again? How cardboard can Helen Mirren and any of the stock news characters get? Why even bring the monster to America? Why not let the story stay in the Iceland setting since, in such a remote land, anything can happen? Why is the monster such an obnoxious, indefensible creature with no apparent remorse for anyone or anything? If he had existed since the dawn of man, would four-letters be the extent of his language and understanding?

"No Such Thing" could have been so much more, but the last half of the film fails mainly because it forgoes its initial ideas for mediocre ones. Burke's monster can be repetitious, as is Mirren's shtick, but Polley shines brightly in her role. Her best scenes are the quiet ones, such as the moments prior to her operation or when she gets drunk with other Icelanders. I also liked a priceless scene where she practically gets mugged by a heroin chick in New York (though I am not quite sure of the significance of that scene). But Beatrice's shift from compassionate to merely hogging the media spotlight when bringing the monster to America is curiously unsatisfying and inconsistent. I can't say that I recommend "No Such Thing" because it does fall apart and never recovers. But I will say that Hartley's failure is infinitely more satisfying than failures from hack directors. At least he has something to say.