No major goosebumps

INSIDIOUS (2011)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

"Insidious" amps up the haunted house genre by introducing a seemingly novel idea: a spirit haunts an individual rather than a whole house. Of course, the whole house is seemingly (there is that word again) haunted anyway. "Insidious" has a few scares but it is not nearly as much fun or horrifying as other more stellar examples in the genre, including 1963's classic "The Haunting."

The movie begins with the customary cliches. A young couple (Patrick Wilson, Rose Byrne) move into a new house with their two sons - Wilson is a teacher, Byrne is a musical composer. There is something uninviting about the house, though. When Momma Byrne places books in a shelf and later finds them on the floor, she can only blame her son. Her eldest son (Ty Simpkins) discovers the cobwebbed attic and a ladder - guess what happens. Later on, the kid doesn't wake up, staying in his bed in something of a haunted coma. What has happened? The parents are flummoxed but weird things go bump in the night and apparitions are seen. Enter the smiling, endearing psychic (Lin Shaye, in the most entertaining performance in the movie) who knows a thing or two about hauntings, especially when the kid is not really in a coma - he has entered some realm known as the Further where his soul leaves his body.

Nothing in "Insidious" is remotely fresh or invigorating - you have seen all this before and better. The personalities of the family are not fully drawn (though Rose Byrne tries to rise above a slimly written character) so it is hard to be invested in their plight. The kids, heaven help them, are merely okay but they do not stand out (everyone remembers Linda Blair in "The Exorcist" or the dearly departed Heather O'Rourke from "Poltergeist") Most of this run-of-the-mill ghost story in fact reminded me of the superior "Poltergeist," which is the kind of haunted house picture that hits you like lightning. This film, as decent and practically gore-free as it is, is more like a mild storm.

"Insidious" does its job competently (thanks to "Saw" collaborators, director James Wan and writer Leigh Whannell) but it doesn't exactly give you major goosebumps.

Human heart toilet troubles

DIRTY PRETTY THINGS (2003)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

(Originally reviewed in 2003)

American films used to surprise and enthrall us at every turn, often keeping us on the edge of our seats. Lately, British films have that spark that is missing from most recent Hollywood cinema. Look at "Sexy Beast," which basically placed a surreal spin on the crime genre post-Tarantino, or "The Crying Game," still one of the most elegant romantic crime thrillers ever made. "Dirty Pretty Things," a new noir excursion by Brit extraordinaire Stephen Frears, is one of the most surprising and thrilling films of 2003. Not quite a thriller, romance or a drama, it does manage to fit all three squarely into one solid package.

Set in modern-day London, we see the difficulty of working menial jobs in a city that is willing to pay illegal immigrants to work. One of them is a Nigerian doctor named Okwe (Chiwetel Ejiofor), who works as a taxi driver by day and as a hotel desk clerk at night. He rents a couch from Senay (Audrey Tautou), a Turkish immigrant who also works at the hotel. Trouble is Okwe shouldn't even bother renting the couch - he wants to stay awake and does so by consuming illegal herbs. One night at the hotel, he discovers a human heart in the toilet of one of the luxurious rooms. Okwe reports it to the sneaky, oily hotel manager, known as "Sneaky" (Sergi Lopez), who tells him to forget what he saw. If something dirty happens, the hotel's job is to clean it up and make it look pretty the next day. Still, Okwe can't help but inquire about that heart. He tells his tale to a doctor friend who reminds him that illegal kidney transplants do take place, particularly for illegals who want to stay in England at any cost.

At this point, any director might have turned this into a suspense thriller where Okwe's life is in danger. We might have had Sneaky turn into some psycho killer and there might be a car chase or two. Also, some screenwriter might have opted for a romantic liaision between Okwe and Senay - why not since they live together. But director Stephen Frears is too smart for simplifying the plot and forsaking interesting elements  in the interest of formula action. We learn that Okwe has more up his sleeve than he lets on, particularly about his past. We also learn that Senay may be forced to return to Turkey if she is discovered renting her apartment to anyone or if she has a job. We also learn startling revelations about Sneaky and the kind of operation he is actually running in the hotel but since this is, once again, one of those films dependent on surprises, I'll leave you with the surprise of discovery.

Another element that could have been forsaken by your average Hollywood screenwriter is the overcast atmosphere and inner workings of a city like London. We learn about the tiredness of working two jobs, supporting yourself while eluding the authorities. Those special herbs are definitely needed! We also see how illegals sometimes have to sell themselves to stay out of trouble, sometimes with sexual favors. One tough sequence to watch has Senay working at a factory run by a boss who demands sexual favors in return for keeping quiet about her illegal status. I found myself squirming in my seat watching that sequence.

"Dirty Pretty Things" is superlative in every way. It is daring, thrilling, blackly funny, energetic, romantic, suspenseful and has a touching coda. Okwe and Senay are characters I will not erase from my memory any time soon. Both Ejiofor and Tautou bring their characters a real sense of individuality and purpose - you know what they stand for and what they hope for. And you can't help but pray that they get out of the dirty pretty things they are involved and move on.

Solomon and Patsey's Roots

12 YEARS A SLAVE (2013)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Aside from TV's miniseries classic, "Roots," Hollywood has shied away from the subject of slavery, as told by a slave. "Glory" and "Amistad" had the white heroes from the narrative point-of-view. "12 Years a Slave," based on Solomon Northup's 1853 autobiography, is a gripping, completely riveting and extraordinarily rich and downright upsetting film that is fiercely alive and acutely aware. I have never seen a film of slavery with this much gravitas and I sense that, along with "Roots," it will be long remembered as a powerful film of a time that is largely and shamefully ignored in La-La Land.

Solomon Northup is no ordinary slave and he is not born into the slave trade at all. Solomon (Chiwetel Ejiofor) is a free black man with a family in Saratoga, NY, where he makes his living as an accomplished violinist. One day he receives a profitable offer to do a circus tour with two entertainers (Scoot McNairy and Tarran Killam). Of course, the circus Solomon is attending is one full of despair - he is drugged, shackled, thrown into a jail and severely beaten, sold as a slave and transported to a cotton plantation in the Deep South run by a kind slave owner, William Ford (Benedict Cumberpatch), who preaches the word of Gospel. Then there is another transfer to the nastiest plantation owner I've ever seen in a movie, Edwin Epps (Michael Fassbender), a raging psychopath and rapist who uses a whip as if it is the last thing he can ever have control of. When the cotton pickers finish their pickings, the cotton is weighed and any cotton picker whose pickings weigh under 200 pounds is whipped. The slave girl Patsey (Lupita Nyong'o) works harder than anyone and always has 500 pounds. Solomon only manages 180 or less.

"12 Years a Slave" is directed by Steve McQueen (no relation to the legendary actor) and it is exquisitely and harshly written by John Ridley. Almost every situation Solomon encounters is told from his point-of-view, especially with Patsey who encounters far too much anguish and misery for any human being to endure, until you realize she was born into this cruel trade. Another moment between Epps and a Canadian carpenter (Brad Pitt - who produced this film) seems to be a scene about them until you realize Solomon hears their every word - the carpenter proposes a world view where racism will wither, and Solomon is allowed one of a few moments to smile. No single shot seems to be told from the white slave owner's point-of-view and that is something of a cinematic godsend - all I could say is that thirty-plus-years since "Roots" and only now we get the slave's perspective in a big-screen treatment.

The performances are absolutely top-notch and first-rate (though Pitt is the only flaw - he sticks out like a sore thumb but, hey, he produced the damn movie). I have seen Chiwetel Ejiofor in films like "Dirty Pretty Things" and "Kinky Boots" but I sense this film will be the one he is remembered for - he has a haunting presence, raw pain etched in his eyes, and shows strength and vulnerability where it hurts him and the audience. Fassbender is almost too cruel to be kind - he is a lashing presence who burns up the screen with blazing energy. Even more cruel is Sarah Paulson as Epp's wife who may sense that Solomon, whose slave name is Platt, is not all he claims to be. All slaves can't read or write yet Solomon can but he has to hide it or there will be hell to pay.

Hellish, occasionally torturous to sit through, pungently acted and directed and courageously told, "12 Years a Slave" is an emotional roller-coaster ride that will take a major toll on the average viewer - this is not a good time at the movies on Friday night. The extreme punishment of being a slave should make the most hardened and jaded cynic shed a tear (the lashing of Patsey or the failed hanging of Solomon will make you squirm and upset you in extended long takes by McQueen that heighten by observation). We come away with the wrongdoing and immorality of mercilessly treating black people like chattel - taking a slave's original name away and disposing of their family just to be treated lower than dirt. Both Ejiofor and Nyong'o put a human face in an era many would like to forget yet shouldn't. This is powerful, vital cinema, folks.

The Conspirators against Kennedy

EXECUTIVE ACTION (1973)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

"Executive Action" is the first film to question the veracity of the lone wolf theory on the assassination of John F. Kennedy. There are some valid questions here, not unlike what was later shown in greater detail in Oliver
Stone's "JFK" but the mood and tone of this film is too low-key and dull to register much of an impression.

The movie right off the bat makes it clear that President Lyndon Johnson had misgivings about the Warren Commission report, the very report that posited Lee Harvey Oswald as the lone assassin. Then we see a group of businessmen (and some intelligence agents) trying to convince an old geezer, an oil mogul named Ferguson (Will Greer), that an assassination must be performed on Kennedy because President Kennedy's policies, particularly towards an endorsement of the Civil Rights Movement and the withdrawal of troops from Vietnam, could ruin the oil business! Huh? Petro-Vietnam is an oil company in that part of the country but it did not develop till 1977. Maybe these businessmen just simply hated Kennedy.

What follows are assassins hired from a Black Ops team supervised by ex-CIA operative, James Farrington (Burt Lancaster), who are trained in the middle of the desert on how to fire at a moving target. One powerful and scary sequence has Farrington meeting with one assassin (Ed Lauter) and laying out how much money each of the killers will receive for their service. Farrington doesn't mention who the target is but Lauter figures it out and is shocked. There is also the Lee Harvey Oswald double who stirs up trouble so that people remember Oswald as the one who will be fingered for the crime, "the patsy."

Unfortunately, "Executive Action" is only sparingly as nail-biting as that one scene. The assassination scene itself is startling and perfectly edited with punch and verve. Mostly, though, the film has these conspirators standing around giving lectures, pep talks, criticisms of Kennedy and so on. It is all talk and far too little action (although Lancaster and the always gruff personality of Robert Ryam give it a lift), spending an inordinate amount of time with newsreel stock footage. As directed by David Miller and scripted by Dalton Trumbo, the movie never quite dramatizes the action - it merely states it without giving us much of a narrative. Later in the film, an actor appears as Jack Ruby and we see he is allowed to enter the garage to shoot Oswald. But the film merely implies some conspiratorial connection to Ruby without actually addressing it.

There is one spectacular shot - an overhead bird's eye view of Dealey Plaza and all its little street corners, buildings, trees, grassy knolls - that gives us what "Executive Action" fails to do for most of its 93 minute running time. That one shot spells URGENCY. The rest of the movie is BORING.

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.