Farley-within-Farley

LOCAL LEGENDS (2013)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

I've seen so many variations on the postmodernist making of-film-within-film approach that it is hard to fathom how many I've actually seen. The best ones that come mind are: Robert Altman's "The Player," the definitive Hollywood satire, and a tie between 1994's forgotten "My Life's in Turnaround" and 1995's exceedingly funny "Living in Oblivion" for low-budget filmmaking scenarios. I'll also throw in the 1992 sleeper "Mistress" for most acute observation of the trials and tribulations of being a Hollywood screenwriter. "Local Legends" is a joke-within-a-joke comedy about the making of a low-budget film as we are watching it, with the director serving as narrator about works and what is flawed. I may have seen variations on this before but Matt Farley has made a more memorable, bouncy and humorous take on it.

Farley plays himself, the Manchester, New Hampshire film director/songwriter/stand-up comedian who is happy with his station in life. He works long shifts at an elderly retirement home, though the shot of himself in bed awakened by an elderly man needing his diaper changed was shot in someone's basement (as Farley confesses in the spot-on narration). His live acts with a keyboard attracts the attention of a female fan named Abby (Sharon Scalzo - an actress whom I hope has a lead role in a future Farley film) who is hoping for a relationship beyond being hired by Matt as a basketball statistician (You have to see it to believe it)! She also claims to be a Billy Joel fan (she only owns his greatest hits CD's)  and supposedly has boyfriend troubles that lead her to stay in the shower stall for 45 minutes in Matt's own apartment!

"Local Legends" is an amalgam of fiction and documentary with Farley providing sharp wit in his commentary on what we see (at one point, he imagines himself as a producer who argues with Matt about artistic integrity). Some of the straight-faced commentary will remind one of Matt's film heroes, Woody Allen, though Matt makes it all his own. Matt's songs sell about 2 dollars each a year on iTunes so he decides to write and sing 10,000 more a year, and provides his phone number so you can call him and have a song written about you! Meanwhile he is agitated by Abby who criticizes his films like "Freaky Farley" (which, as a side note, she appeared in along with his other films) and insists on inviting herself to his apartment. A big reunion with Matt's Moes Haven band (one of several hundred bands) falls through and instead he performs some routines at a live show in someone's basement. Sometimes Matt leaves CD's and DVD's in areas around town for people to find (something the real Matt actually does). Sometimes a curiously creepy individual drives by and asks to give Matt a ride. Sometimes a person picks up a DVD and confronts Matt at his office and offers petty criticisms. Even Matt's own family feels he should elevate his filmmaking habits and make a career out of it by submitting his work to a film festival (as if he hadn't thought of it).

"Local Legends" features the Matt Farley and Charles Roxburgh repertory of actors in various different roles (Roxburgh's directorial duties are left to Farley this time), and it is great fun to watch real, unglamorous people engaged by small-town troubles such as fractured relationships, making movies with local people and trying to stage live shows. Matt learns to take it easy, to let go of any undue pressure on himself and be free.  His life is not glamorous but it is also not stressful. All he needs to make his day is a coffee milk, walk for eight miles and accept fan requests for new songs (and there is a pretty blonde he has got his eye on played by Matt's actual wife, Elizabeth M. Peterson). These elements of innocence mark Farley's films and this "Local Legends" is a delectable, often hilarious new chapter in the annals of low-budget films about making low-budget films. An original treat.

Icy Kubrick with Slightly Warm Spielberg touch

A.I.: ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE (2001)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

(Originally reviewed on July 19th, 2001)

The safest way to approach "A.I." is to understand it is a Steven Spielberg film of a Stanley Kubrick production. Kubrick himself decided to not direct the film while he was alive, thus handing the reins to Spielberg. A noble and satisfying choice. "A.I." is Spielberg's best and most uncompromising film since "Schindler's List," deserving of any and all accolades. It is brave, risky, emotional, disturbing, complex and entrancing.

Haley Joel Osment plays a mecha named David, a child robot of the future. He is adopted by two kind, loving, troubled people, Monica and Henry Swinton (Frances O'Connor and Sam Robards). Their own real son is barely kept alive in a coma. Henry Swinton sees this as an opportunity to alleviate his and his wife's pain by having a mecha in their house as a replacement until their own son gets better (Henry happens to work for a cybertronic company that specializes in mecha technology). Monica is initially angry and hesistant but eventually gives in to the idea. She ignores David, hides from him and he only thinks it is a game - David cannot sense or reason that Monica is suffering. Eventually Monica "imprints" David by turning on his switch to learn and to love. David does learn to love but does not know how to use it - he unconditionally loves Monica whom he refers to as his "mommy." But regret begins to figure in the situation when Monica's real son starts to come out of his coma. There is a clash of sorts between David and the real son unfolding in a series of eerie scenes where David is seen as a threat, a hindrance to the Swintons' sense of serenity.

Monica eventually abandons David in the woods due to his innocently destructive nature. Thus begins David's quest to become a real boy since he feels that if he becomes real, his mommy will take him back. Along the way, David lands in a decadent, sinful city called Rogue City where he meets Gigolo Joe (Jude Law), a male prostitute mecha who has the ability to conjure the appropriate romantic mood by twitching his head which automatically plays Astaire or Sinatra tunes. Gigolo and David are eventually captured by anti-mecha rebels who destroy mechas for sport in a stadium of cheering denizens. David gets away in the nick of time since he is deemed too human to be a mecha and his search continues for the Blue Fairy (a character right out of "Pinocchio") whom he feels can make him into a real boy.

"A.I." was shrouded in secrecy for years before being unveiled in theaters, a rare event in this day and age of Harry Knowles and the overhype machine. Kubrick was known for utmost secrecy, particularly for the misunderstood "Eyes Wide Shut" which was erroneously advertised as a sexual thriller. It is a pleasure for once to see a film and not have a clue as to how it will turn out. "A.I." is unpredictable in a way Spielberg has not been since "Close Encounters of the Third Kind." The mood and atmosphere do not shift as much as one expects, though it is a structure comprised of two acts and an extended epilogue. Strange structuring indeed but you only need to look back to Spielberg's "The Lost World," which had a fitting climax only to begin again with the setting changed to San Diego where the T-Rex runs rampant in the city. "A.I." has a deliberate point where it could have ended with David pleading and pleading to become a real boy. I will not give away much except to say that it ends instead with one of the most spiritually moving and saddest climaxes I've seen in a long while.

The performances are all pleasurable to watch. Osment shakes his cutesy persona for a more subtle twisting of moods and facial expressions from an impersonal mecha to a mecha with an emotional side that threatens to explode with pure love and violence. Jude Law is damn near perfection with his cockiness and sexual allure, though I would loved to learn more about him. Frances O'Connor blends sensitivity with despair flawlessly as the conflicted Monica. And William Hurt also displays curiously similar fragmented emotions as Professor Hobby who is as close to David as one can expect - only the reasons never seem clear.

"A.I." begins as a Kubrick film with a chilly air of doom throughout the first half of the film. The second half veers into Spielberg territory as does the epilogue (this explains why Kubrick chose Spielberg to make the film since its Pinocchio antecedents coincide with the latter's sensitivity). But something strange occurs - Spielberg has told a tale of sentiment without manipulating the audience's emotions. He is not overtly sentimental, as he has been in past films. It is a return to Spielberg's confidence and assuredness with the unsentimentality and harshness of "Duel," "Jaws," and "Close Encounters" - he chooses to detach somewhat from the main characters so that we can see how the emotional crescendos in the film affects them. Thankfully the musical score by John Williams is not syrupy but rather enthralling in its minimalist tone and style comprised of what sounds like variations on a slow murmur.

So what does "A.I." finally have to say about a mecha like David? Do we have a responsibility to love a robot even though it is not real? What is Monica's responsbility since her husband only bought the damn robot which could be easily disposed or discarded like an older computer model? Is David any closer to understanding a human's emotions since he has his own, or are his emotions fabricated based on an imprint in his design? If he can love, can he rationalize that love? Does he not see that his "mommy" did not love him as he thought she had? Such moral questions invite lots of answers but can mostly result in ambiguity, as it should be. Kubrick revelled in disorder, pessimism and ambiguity. Spielberg revels in order, optimism and clear resolutions. That Spielberg remained faithful to Kubrick's original plans and storyboards shows a certain maturity on his part. "A.I." is as intelligent a film as one can expect - a marvel to witness and a feast for the eyes and the ears. Bravo Spielberg!

Black and White in Color

PLEASANTVILLE (1998)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

(Originally reviewed in 1998)

The 1950's is a period of innocence (with its share of troubling events) that remains as much a memory as anyone who lived through it. The 1990's is a harmful, jaded era that does not accord to the values and customs of yesteryear. Fat chance that we'll ever adapt to such an innocence again. "Pleasantville" is one of the most ironic, original movies of the year that touches on what separates the 50's from the 90's. Is it moral decay, or is it something fundamentally deeper about ourselves?

The film begins with a television ad for the 50's show, "Pleasantville," with a spirit reminiscent of the nostalgic sitcoms shown on Nick at Nite. A smiling David (Tobey Maguire) is watching the show - he's a huge fan of the show and knows all the episodes by heart. He lives in the real world of the 90's complete with a divorced working mother and an oversexed sister, Jennifer (Reese Witherspoon). The girls at school pay him no mind, and how can they if his normal topic of conversation is about the minutiae in "Pleasantville."

One evening while his mother is away on a trip, he watches the show and fights with his sister over the remote control. As they are fighting, they are zapped away into their TV to the placid existence of Pleasantville! David and Jennifer are now Bud and Mary Sue Parker! Their parents are the goody-good Parkers (flawlessly played by William H. Macy and Joan Allen) who offer a high-calorie breakfast, including a plate full of fat pancakes and lots of syrup. The world of Pleasantville is a sight unlike anything in the 90's mainly because it is not a real place. The local fireman only saves cats. The high-school boys never miss the rim shot when playing basketball. The high-school kids say "swell," as opposed to "cool." There is no existence beyond this town and, worse yet, they are all in black-and-white! "We're supposed to be in color," says Jennifer, assured that they are in Nerdville.

David doesn't react with any hostility to the town he knows so well. He works at the local soda shop along with the bland Mr. Johnson (Jeff Daniels), who doesn't know what to do when David switches chores at closing time. Of course, the one who starts trouble in this harmless town is Jennifer. She tells her pseudo mother, Betty Parker, that masturbation, and sex at Lover's Lane (where couples mostly hold hands), is worth trying. Betty goes to take a bath, excites herself, and the tree next their house goes up in colored flames - something this town has never seen.

It wouldn't be fair to give away any of the other surprises that "Pleasantville" has in store because the surprises are not the main thrill - the movie is a rich, human drama with touches of humor. The combination of black-and-white and color cinematography within the same shot is astoundingly good, yet the movie isn't just decorated with effects. The effects are used only as part of fundamental thematic concerns. In essence, the deeper message in "Pleasantville" isn't that we should let go of our inhibitions about sex, but that we shouldn't resist taking that step to wherever our destiny leads us.

The performances are right on target and make the themes resonate long after the film is over. Not enough can be raved about William H. Macy as the straight-arrow George Parker - an actor who surprises me in every film he's appeared in. He's perfectly cast and his ironic tone, when shouting 'Honey, I'm home!', is poignant and regaling. Joan Allen, one of the best actresses working right now, delivers another nuanced, heartbreaking performance as the always-smiling Betty Parker, whose own life is awakened by sexual possibilities like having an affair with Mr. Johnson. What's most refreshing is that these two amazing actors slowly strip away any shred of stereotyping and reveal genuine human characters.

Tobey Maguire is one of those rare pleasures in the movies, a grown-up version of Kevin Kline (both appeared in "The Ice Storm" along with Allen). He has an ability to make us aware of what he's thinking all the time. His best scenes are when he applies black-and-white makeup to Betty's colored face, and when he tells stories to an avid crowd about places existing beyond their quaint little town while the music from Dave Brubeck's "Take Five" slips in quietly in the soundtrack. Reese Witherspoon is also a rare delight (even in slipshod material like "Freeway"), and she nicely conveys a human soul in the very nineties, soulless Jennifer. It is also gratifying to witness her gradual transformation from vixen to intellectual.

"Pleasantville" is purely a pop extravaganza written and directed by Gary Ross ("Big"). The movie does not have the thrust or the verve of "Back to the Future," a similar 50's fantasy parable that depended more on irony through humor. It also ends on an unsatisfying note whereas some real imagination would have given it the necessary thematic conclusion. The merits supersede the flaws, however, and a super script and an excellent ensemble cast make "Pleasantville" as joyous and human a film as we're likely to see from Hollywood this year. Its morals about thinking for yourself and appreciating beauty through love and knowledge may be simplistic, but they are thought-provoking and pleasant, indeed.

Prehistoric Internet has a field day

JOY RIDE (2001)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

(Originally reviewed on Oct. 10th, 2001)

I walked out of "Joyride" a little dazed and unsure of what I had just seen. My uncertainty was because I thought I had seen a great film but in reality, upon closer inspection, "Joyride" is not great but it is a damn good scary ride.

"Joyride" begins with Lewis Thomas (Paul Walker) at college talking to his best friend Venna (Leelee Sobieski) on the phone. He plans to pick her up at Colorado and take her to back on a trip to New Jersey. On the way, Louis hears that his brother, Fuller (Steve Zahn), has been arrested for being drunk and disorderly in Utah. Louis picks him up on his detour and then proceeds to pick up Venna. Before you can say "Road Trip," Fuller decides to buy a CB radio for forty dollars ("a prehistoric Internet"). Before arriving in Colorado, they play around with the CB and find one trucker on their frequency by the name of Rusty Nail. Fuller convinces Louis to play a prank and pretend to be a woman named "Candy Cane" and to meet Rusty Nail at a motel. Big mistakes are always made but that is one mistake that should not have been made. Let's say all hell breaks loose once they get to the motel as this truck driver turns out to be a raging psychopath with a road rage complex.

There is nothing astounding or inspring about "Joyride" but it does have great intensity. As directed by John Dahl ("Red Rock West"), it is so intense that you will often be left gasping for air. It also helps that three terrific actors have been cast who are likable enough to keep us scared for them. Paul Walker ("Pleasantville") is both sympathetic and innocuous as Lewis, a kid that looks like a jock who wishes he were somewhere else. Steve Zahn is simply a great comic live wire as Lewis's jailbird brother, completely funny and convincingly scared throughout. He has one great moment where he saves Venna from some rednecks in a bar by pretending to be as manly as possible. Kudos must also go to Leelee Sobieski's thankless role as Venna where she has enough serene beauty to keep her watchable in all the chaos. She has one great line when she discovers who is chasing them: "I am not going to be scared of a radio."

As for the killer Rusty Nail, well, we never actually see him - only hear his menacing, malicious voice. Someone said that it reminded them too much of the killer's phone voice from "Scream." But this is not a clever pun on slasher flicks - "Joyride" puts "Scream" and most other thrillers of late to shame. It is a latter-day update on "Duel" and it keeps you on edge and makes you bounce and scream. In other words, a real thriller that thrills and intensifies the nerves. Don't say I didn't warn you.

The Jolly Red Giant is back

THE SANTA CLAUSE 2 (2002)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Movies like "Santa Clause 2" either fall flat on their faces and reek of thick layers of sentimentality, or are simply jolly good entertainments with ample sentiment that isn't delivered with a cute music cue every two seconds. "Santa Clause 2" falls in the latter category and retains some if not all of the edgy comic surface of the original.

Tim Allen is once again Scott Calvin, the divorced dad who inadvertently killed Santa Claus and became the new Santa once he wore the magic red coat. As the sequel opens, Santa is in the North Pole, cheerier than ever as he supervises all the elves while they make new toys with interesting contraptions and technological devices (let's just say that wooden blocks and nails are in scant supply). Unfortunately, there is a problem with Scott, something that probably should have been revealed in the original film. According to the clause he endorsed once he put on the Santa suit, he has to marry a woman who will become Mrs. Claus within 28 days or else, no more Santa and no more toys. This begs the question - why wasn't this loophole noticed sooner so he could have more than 28 days to find a bride who would be willing to live in arctic temperatures around all these pesky elves? Well, then we wouldn't have a movie.

Logic takes a leap along with the reindeer in this sequel and that is fine - this movie has plenty of compensatory laughs. One of my favorite lines is from an old yet just as pesky elf (Spencer Breslin) who tells Santa he is undergoing "deSantafication!" Calvin aka Santa loses his beard and his girth, goes back to his previous residence in Anywheresville, America and tries to find a bride (the movie could've had more fun with Calvin going through a string of first-dates rather than just one). Of course, some potentially bawdy humor is levied by Calvin trying to counsel his troubled son who only wants his father, not the current dopey stepdad he has (played by a far too dopey Judge Reinhold). Some of this is layed on a bit thick, not to mention the introduction of a mean principal (Elizabeth Mitchell). I guess you can surmise fairly accurately what happens next.

For what its worth, "Santa Clause 2" is a pleasant, warm, jovial film with a likable performance by Tim Allen, handling a role probably better than expected (look out for the evil Santa double and his enormous toy soldiers!) And to beef up the humor quotient, there is a conference where the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, the Sandman and even Mother Nature attend! There is one scene, however, that is as magical a moment as anything I've seen since, well, any Christmas movie I can recall. Calvin takes his date (won't say whom) for a sleigh ride down a snow-covered street at night. It is so simple, so graceful, so tender that I'd say it is one of the most romantic scenes I've seen in movies.

Santa's Wonderful Life

THE SANTA CLAUSE 3: THE ESCAPE CLAUSE (2006)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

My only expectation with "The Santa Clause" movies is to laugh and to have a jolly good time watching Tim Allen dress up as Santa Claus (if you think about it, he is the only actor that can wear that costume and not look ridiculous). "The Santa Clause 3" is more of the same and, despite a shortened, unfunny third act, it works and it has a genial tone that is more pleasing in this day and age than you might think.

Tim Allen is back as Scott Calvin aka Santa, more jolly than ever and perhaps a little ego-driven (a fireplace is molded to resemble Santa's mouth). Carol aka Mrs. Claus (Elizabeth Mitchell) is none too happy because she is pregnant at the worst time of the year, Christmas, which is when Santa and his elves work hard to make toys. So, not unlike Scott's problems from the original where he was a divorced dad, he is in danger of getting a second divorce because he works too hard (he has to - he's Santa!) Since Carol is homesick and wants to see her family, Scott brings her parents (Alan Arkin, Ann-Margret) along with his ex-wife, Laura (Wendy Crewson), her yoga-worshipping, spiritually composed husband, Neil (Judge Reinhold) and their daughter, Lucy (Liliana Mumy). Scott's ex-wife's family already know he is the jolly red-suited guy yet Carol's parents are clueless, and a little perturbed that Scott's ex-wife is invited. Scott convinces his in-laws that they are in Canada and that all Canadians look like elves (the miniature hospital room and the elvish doctor should be signs that Scott is lying).

In the midst of all this, there is the wild, wily, frosty Jack Frost (Martin Short) who, to no one's surprise, wants to be jolly old Santa. Apparently his idea of Santa is to change the North Pole into a commercial theme park where his elves work as retail employees sans creating toys, and he gets to perform songs with the kind of gusto straight out of Broadway! Ironically, he gets his wish in the Hall of Snowglobes and the less said about that, the better.

"Santa Clause 3" has some chuckles and laughs strewn throughout, but the "It's a Wonderful Life" nightmare at the 3/4 mark turns into some sort of anticlimax and is given short-shrift (not that the alternate time line wouldn't end happily with the jolly red giant but it feels extraneous). I just wish the filmmakers had more faith in their Jack Frost premise and stretched it out, giving Martin Short the opportunity to really let loose with some inspired chaos. Plus, the most entertaining performance in the movie is from Alan Arkin, and one wishes the filmmakers had more faith in his character's doubts and concerns over hard-working Scott.

Still, for fans of the other "Santa Clause" movies, "Santa Clause 3" will do just fine. There are some nifty cameos by Mother Nature, Sandman, and the late Peter Boyle as Father Time. And for some good laughs, there is the funny tyke Curtis, the Experimental Elf (Spencer Breslin) who tries to coax Santa for some solidarity with the "help me, help you" speech. The movie is harmless family entertainment but it feels a little too short and precious for its own good.

De Palma's empty hand at the table

SNAKE EYES (1998)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

(Originally reviewed in 1998)

Director Brian De Palma has finally done it - he's made the first empty stylistic exercise of his career. Sure, there are bravura camera moves, superbly edited climaxes and an astounding opening sequence that can stand on its own as a classic, but what else is there?

"Snake Eyes" stars Nicolas Cage as an unctuous, loud, obnoxious cop named Rick Santoro (wearing what appears to be the same snakeskin leather jacket from "Wild at Heart") who always accepts bribes from cops and crooks, and strolls through his Atlantic City casino turf as if he owned it. During a championship bowling match, the U.S. Secretary of Defense is assassinated and all chaos ensues. Santoro takes charge of the investigation. But who killed the Secretary of Defense? And who was the blonde sitting next to him? Was the boxing champ who went down behind it? Or was it Santoro's best friend (Gary Sinise)? If you've seen one conspiracy film, you've seen them all.

"Snake Eyes" is an often visually inventive film - the extraordinary opening sequence is one seemingly 20-minute long take (there is one match cut that I caught) that introduces us to the main characters and everything leading up to the assassination. And yet for all the tricks "Snake Eyes" has up its sleeve, there is nothing for us to chew on afterwards. The unusually simple plot (lazily written by David Koepp) relies on various implausibilities - e.g., how could 14,000 eyewitnesses and various police and security officers not notice a blonde woman with a blood-covered white dress? And I guessed who the perpetrator of this assassination was before it took place.

"Snake Eyes" is the type of film that is nice to look at, but you can anticipate its every preconceived move.