WILD Shining theories

ROOM 237 (2012)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Back in 2000, I wrote a detailed, frame-by-frame deconstruction of Stanley Kubrick's "Eyes Wide Shut." I singled out the use of colors in the film, the repeated phrases of dialogue, how every encounter that Tom Cruise's good doctor had was sexual, etc. I wish I hadn't written it because it read too much like a scripted version of the film though I may or may not have had good points. Watching the documentary "Room 237" reminded me of that, looking for meanings where none may not necessarily exist, at least not as intended in the viewer's mind, and some that may exist because they relate to the storyline.

"Room 237" features mostly clips from "The Shining" and other Kubrick films as we hear voiceovers from a group of obsessed fans (a history professor named Jay Weidner, a music blogger for starters, people whom we never see) discuss subliminal messages and or background elements by pausing individual scenes or moments from "The Shining," possibly alluding to one meaning or another. One fan feels the film is an examination of the Nazi Holocaust due to a German typewriter that Jack Torrance uses in the film, and the number 42 (meaning the year 1942 when the Final Solution took shape) as emblazoned in one of Danny Lloyd's sport shirts; It goes further by alluding to suitcases that dissolve to people and vice versa. Another fan sees the film as an examination of the genocide of Native Americans - this theory has credence since the Overlook Hotel in the film has Native American tapestries, framed artistic renderings of Native Americans, the iconic shot in the film of blood gushing from an elevator, and the single line of dialogue in the film that mentions how the hotel was built on a Native American burial site. Also consider how the film opens with a spectacular aerial view of the Colorado woods while we hear chanting and other ritualistic noises in the soundtrack that could come from a Native American tribe. Oh, yes, I must not forget the Calumet Baking Powder cans, though I am skeptical that they deal with broken American Indian treaties. My theory is that they evoke the ridicule of making Native Americans into an advertising icon (not unlike Land O' Lakes butter). We see...what we want to see.

Then there are theories that run into the extreme and ridiculous. One fan posits that the film proves the Moon landing was a hoax thanks to Danny Lloyd's sweater that reads: "Apollo 11." Interesting but hogwash - I am not sure when these rumors started that Kubrick directed the Moon landing in the middle of Death Valley but if that rumor existed while he shot "The Shining," he might have been tickled pink by it and purposely had Danny wearing the sweater as a joke (Mr. Kubrick did have a wry sense of humor). Then there's the supposed erection from the hotel manager Stuart in the opening interview scene, or the fact that Barry Dennen's character as Stuart's assistant is somehow indicative of a Native American-type. Or the supposed Minotaur from a poster of a skier. Or making silly allusions to the Three Little Pigs combined with Nazi Germany propaganda films based on a dialogue bit improvised by Jack Nicholson during the famous scene where he tears down the bathroom door with an ax (I don't dispute the Three Little Pigs reference since Jack improvised the lines, but a Nazi Germany allusion? I think not.) Then there's the climactic moment when someone figures out a way to watch "The Shining" backwards and forwards at the same time!

No matter how ridiculous some of the claims are (did you catch Kubrick's face in the clouds?), "Room 237" can be a tad tedious but it is often fascinating and will lead many to look at "The Shining" again, a film that not unlike other Kubrick films continues to change each time one views it.  Missing from this documentary is an exploration of what is definitively in the film, and not just wild theories (though, as I mentioned, there are some theories I agree with). I would have liked someone to mention the tiny ax in a cup during the Interview scene, or how there is the repeated line, "I want to be here, forever, and ever." We see...what we want to see and hear what we want to hear. I see "The Shining" as the breaking down of marriage, family and civilization through violence that repeats itself every generation. Others will see something different.

History of Lycans vs. Vampires

UNDERWORLD: RISE OF THE LYCANS (2009)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

I tried to stay awake during most of "Underworld: Rise of the Lycans," and inevitably I grew tired by the movie's monochromatic look and its cheesy special-effects. This is the kind of woeful horror movie that thinks moonlit action scenes can be exciting as long as there are quick cuts so you don't notice how bad the special effects are. Though the third film in the series is not as boring as the first two, it is easy to dismiss and forget.

"Rise of the Lycans" is the prequel of the series, focusing on the long-gestating war between the Lycans (the werewolves) and the Death Dealers, an elite group of vampires who use the Lycans as slaves. The Lycans find a leader in their group, Lucian (Michael Sheen), who gathers his werewolf compadres to stand up and fight against the Death Dealers. This may be because the lead Death Dealer, Viktor (Bill Nighy), wants his daughter, Sonja (Rhona Mitra), to dance the political game with the other vampire higher-ups in the council instead of fighting the Lycans. Sonja is also, unbeknownst to Viktor, in love with Lucian. Lucian can't have her because he is a Lycan so we technically have a "West Side Story" revamp minus the musical numbers (though a musical might be a good idea) and loaded with racism against Lycans.

"Rise of the Lycans" starts off well enough, and I thought maybe the series was finally realizing its intended goal since devising an origin for these creatures carries a certain original horrific spin. Bill Nighy has always been the exception in these movies, and I loved how he tries to convince his Sonja to stay with the council. I also like Michael Sheen's Lucian (previously seen in the first two films) as the Jesus Christ of the Lycans, who suffers horrendous whippings yet still has the strength to have sex. But all goes south when the movie leaves its premise dangling and there is nothing to latch it on to. Special-effects take over and the werewolf transformations are added ad nauseam (think how "The Howling" managed such scenes in the past with the less is more tactic). Blood and gore fills the screen with one too many werewolf and vampire decapitations and impalings, and the movie's key setup of its characters is completely abandoned. It is a humorless, horror-less and colorless movie with no real sense of purpose. It should've stayed underground.

Band of Lycans still on the run

UNDERWORLD: EVOLUTION (2006)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

What an unfortunate waste. "Underworld: Evolution" is the kind of sequel that forsakes imagination and style for the sake of ultraviolent set pieces and nothing more. In terms of gore and blood running thicker than water, "Underworld: Evolution" has that in spades. A story and interesting characters - not so much as a stake driven through the narrative.

Leather-clad Kate Beckinsale returns as Selene, a vampire who is partnered with a half-werewolf (or lycan) and half-vampire breed, Michael (Scott Speedman). The two have been on the run since they eliminated a vampire of the highest order in the last film, Viktor (Bill Nighy, seen mostly in flashbacks). They are being chased by a resurrected giant bat/vampire mutation (Tony Curran), though why he's after them is not really made clear. Eventually, Selene and Michael need to find a half-lycan and half-vampire breed (Derek Jacobi) who has some sort of command center in Eastern Europe. His plans are never made clear, and Selene and Michael's own plans are not clear either. All Selene and Michael have to do is shoot to kill the vampire villain.

So we get plenty of action and gore. We get severed heads, lots of arterial spray, plenty of piercing flesh shots, lots of fangwork, some shoot-em up action, lots of jumps and flips done in slow-motion, and that is it folks. I didn't like the original monochromatic "Underworld" and this sequel is not any better - maybe I am old-fashioned but I don't think highly of vampires using guns. Kate Beckinsale looks good in a leather suit, but she may as well just do a nice spread for "Vanity Fair." Scott Speedman is agile yet non- charismatic. Derek Jacobi has some authority and presence, but his character feels fruitless.

Except for an exciting truck chase, "Underworld: Evolution" is a hackneyed, listless, humorless affair that will make your eyes strain, your blood curdle (and not in a good way) and will leave you with a bitter taste in your mouth. All you will remember is that monochromatic glow that will give you a migraine.

Band of Lycans on the run

UNDERWORLD (2003)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

I am a sucker for rain-drenched cities with a monochromatic glow where people stand on medieval statues looking below at city life. The problem is that such a visual has become a cliche and rarely becomes anything more than that. We have seen dozens of films featuring rain-drenched cities where people wear black leather, dating back to 1982's "Blade Runner" up until the most recent "Matrix" film. Monochromatic hues and tones have become so basic to movies that I am surprised they haven't gone back to the days of black-and-white yet. "Underworld" is another one of those loud heavy-metal, MTV-razor-cut spectacles where something happens every few seconds, even when nothing is really happening.

We are in some anonymous city where the rain never stops and the sun never sets. This is "Blade Runner" country where Kate Beckinsale (in the film's first shot) is perched on some architectural crevice overlooking the city. She is like a hawk waiting for her prey. It turns out she is Selene, a sour, pouty vampire who is on the hunt for werewolves. Her mission is to hunt them down and kill them all, and if I understood correctly, the hairy beasts are headed for extinction. The paper-thin plot involves a 1000-year war between vampires and werewolves. But vampires do not waste their time by fighting it mano-a-mano with the werewolves (referred to here as "lycans"). Instead, like Selene, they pack some firepower with silver bullets meant to implode on impact. Werewolves also use guns meant to cause harm to vampires and so we are treated to an interminable opening shootout at a subway station that looks like deleted footage lifted from "The Matrix." The war continues. Then we learn that a descendant, who is a werewolf, has the unique blood type where he can be bitten by a vampire and not die; rather, a gradual merging of wolf and vampire can create a new race. Good idea, but that is all it ever becomes.

"Underworld" is an interminable, numbing exercise in nothingness. All style and no substance is a cliche as well, but I can't imagine calling this film anything but. If Selene had been given more depth (particularly her infatuation with a werewolf) and if the backstory involving this war had more bite, then we might have had a visually enticing new entry in the horror genre. What we get is every single stylistic trick that can be made with a camera, not to mention yet another one of those "Matrix" slow-motion flips and leaps in the air. But the vampires are nothing more than black-leather-jacketed-spandexed misfits who occasionally bare some fangs - they are amazingly skillful with guns and cell phones (and driving) but you wouldn't know they are vampires unless they bit you. And since the film is set at night, the werewolves are barely visible, though there are some split-second transformation sequences. Kate Beckinsale is beautiful to look at and the concept is somewhat of interest. Alas, it's all bark and no bite.

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.