Feels and tastes like life

MEAN STREETS (1973)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Martin Scorsese made a big splash in 1973 with his evocative, insanely funny and brutal "Mean Streets." He made a splash with critics, but not with audiences who stayed away. I suppose they felt that the mob scene was "The Godfather" and nobody was going to tell them different. Scorsese had always felt that "The Godfather" was not authentic and that it did not tell the ugly truths regarding the mob. After being told by director John Cassevettes to do something more personal than "Boxcar Bertha," Scorsese returned to his Little Italy roots and came up with an influential masterpiece.

"Mean Streets" stars Harvey Keitel as Charlie, a hood who works directly for the big boss in the neighborhood (Cesare Danova). Charlie mainly runs around town making sure the boss's clients are paying their protection money on time. One of these clients is a restaurant owner who wants out since his business is failing. Then there is Johnny Boy (Robert De Niro), a hapless fool who blows up mailboxes and owes everyone in town money. There are people that want to break his legs, but Charlie vouches for him. The reason may be that Charlie is seeing Johnny's cousin (Amy Robinson), who wants out of the big city and wants Charlie to follow her. Of course, Charlie just can't pack up and leave. And what will he do about Johnny Boy who has a major temper and can't pay any of his bills?

"Mean Streets" was one of the first truly personal films to evoke a sense of time and place with a small budget and with Hollywood distribution. Yes, Cassevetes and others have their low-budget roots but Scorsese came knocking to Hollywood, and arrived there with style. Never mind the box-office numbers, Scorsese got noticed. He was even optioned to direct "Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore," a high-profile Hollywood effort with Ellen Burstyn. And the gritty New York of small-time hoods, teenage kids seeking firecrackers, drunk homosexuals cracking wise, Italian food festivals, a pretend duel with garbage can lids and so on was accomplished largely by filming in California! Scorsese was showing the early stages of a dynamic style of storytelling, complete with hand-held camera movements, tracking shots, point-of-view shots, and so much more to show the life and energy of those streets. There is one stunning scene (since aped by many, including Spike Lee and Darren Aronofsky) where Charlie walks around drunk in the bar, from one room to the next, getting showered with champagne. We follow him restlessly as he finally falls flat on his face. What's amazing about this scene is that the camera was strapped to Keitel's waist so that it creates a synergetic movement that is quite dazzling and exhausting to watch.

There is nothing better in the cinema of Scorsese than to see Keitel and De Niro prancing around in the streets of New York. Every scene of theirs bursts with vitality and an anything-goes air of improvisation. But it is more than that - they are tense, charismatic personalities that clash in one horrific scene involving Johnny's cousin with an epileptic fit. Other scenes in a graveyard, rooftops, street level arguments outside tenements and so forth bring an intensity that is a real thrill to watch. They argue, bicker, slap each other, console each other. It is like watching a married couple, only they are two Italian American hoods! More than that, it is like watching a documentary, a slice-of-life of America's seamier side. We see a world where anything can happen, and where danger is right around the corner. A shooting in a bar seems to come out of nowhere. Johnny Boy shoots at the air on rooftops. A Vietnam Vet loses his cool and flips out during a party. And, just when Charlie has done everything to protect Johnny Boy, a fatalistic, grim denouement faces them and strikes abruptly. And all this is visually composed with frequent Catholic imagery (lots of shots of crucifixes and churches). The film plays like a Catholic morality play where one must adhere to the codes of a family, even if that family is the mob. There is no irony, only plenty of guilt over sex, violence and religion. Yep, this is a Scorsese film after all.

"Mean Streets" doesn't feel like a conventional, smoothly executed, polished work from a seasoned director. For one, this film is the antithesis to "The Godfather." "Mean Streets" is full of Rolling Stones tunes and old 50's sentimental songs ("Be My Baby" has more resonance in this film than in "Dirty Dancing.") It is crude, rough and jumpy, as if Godard decided to make a New Wave rendition of "Godfather" with a frenetic, juiced-up energy. The movie plays like a roller-coaster ride of thrills and jazzy sequences so astounding, you'll marvel at Scorsese's chutzpah in failing to adhere to gangster film conventions and traditional seamless editing techniques. There is also no one to root for and no real plot. "Mean Streets" merely unfolds before our eyes, and was the obvious precursor to Scorsese's masterful "GoodFellas." It feels and tastes like life, and I can't exactly call that faint praise.

Laboriously labored Lohan

LABOR PAINS (2009)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

(Originally reviewed in 2009)

Lindsay Lohan's career is on a definite slump. Rumor had it that she was considered for a role in a remake of "Rosemary's Baby"! That was quickly abolished in favor of a different kind of baby movie called "Labor Pains." Not the worst of its kind and hardly the best and Lindsay Lohan almost saves it, but then she should not have to carry a by-the-numbers flick all by her lonesome.

Lohan is Thea, an inefficient secretary at a publishing company who almost loses her job until she claims she is pregnant! Of course, she isn't really pregnant but she lies to keep her job. I would assume her employer (Chris Parnell, Dr. Spaceman to the rest of you) would see through her fake smiles and fake sincerity (and fake bulging belly) but I guess I am wrong. Before long, Thea falls for her temporary boss, Nick (Luke Kirby), while Parnell is on leave for his sick puppy in Bethesda (that little plot point could've used more exposure). And wouldn't you know that Thea turns out to be as efficient as an associate editor with her own office as she was a lowly secretary, to the point that she helps to promote a pregnancy book that focuses on the downside of pregnancy. This is all thanks to the smitten Nick. Oh, and I did leave out Thea's sister who lives with Thea and cuts class to be with her boyfriend yet she is dismayed when she discovers Thea's lies, to the point of tearing the fake pregnancy pouch from Thea's belly! And why does Thea's sister look like a more mature Britney Spears? Just a thought.

"Labor Pains" starts off too slowly and only recovers somewhere around the three-quarter mark. Yet there is nothing here that can't be anticipated and it yields few surprises. Only Lohan manages to make you care for her character, which is fitting yet not enough. It is nice seeing Cheryl Hines as Thea's best friend but even she yields little surprise. The director Lara Shapiro doesn't engineer a fast-paced, rollicking ride of a comedy, like the 30's and 40's snappier paced "The Philadelphia Story" or any Hawksian comedy where the dialogue was delivered like a roaring engine that never let up. Even the 1980 counterparts such as "Baby Boom" and "Three Men and a Baby" had more rhythm. This movie simply takes too long to get anywhere, and drags along labored performances and a labored screenplay, no pun intended. This should have madcap written all over it.

As I mentioned before, I enjoy watching Lindsay Lohan and she has ample charm and good comic timing, when she is allowed to use it. But she needs better writers and directors or else she'll be stuck in romantic comedy mode forever. I see one of her future projects is "Machete" by Robert Rodriguez. Let's hope that breaks the spell of her most unfortunately titled picture, "Just My Luck."

Taste the blood of Lili Taylor

THE ADDICTION (1995)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

(Originally viewed in 1996)

Forget the cartoonish mentality of "From Dusk Till Dawn," "The Addiction" is the best, most original vampire film I have seen since "Near Dark." Independent queen of film Lili Taylor stars as NYU philosophy grad student Kathleen Conklin, who at the start of the film is seen watching a documentary on the My Lai Massacre. While returning home from class one night, she is assaulted and bitten by a woman dressed in a slinky outfit (Annabella Sciorra). Kathleen is nonplussed and shocked by the large bloody wound on her neck and begins to get sick. She also begins to stare at other female students, develops a craving for blood, refuses to eat food, and starts collecting blood by using syringes. Gradually Kathleen starts to bite anyone in sight, including her amorous teacher, her fellow student friend, neighborhood street kids, etc.

Director Abel Ferrara ("Bad Lieutenant") brings an eerie sense of menace to the streets of New York (mostly filmed at Bleecker Square) and to the superb Lili Taylor, who manages to make Kathleen both pitiful and sympathetic. Her "addiction" centers on drinking blood but she nearly overdoses during a climactic Orgy of the Dead sequence. Ferrara's intent is to show this addiction as a state-of-mind where one does not blame the victimizer - one actually blames the victim for allowing themselves to be victimized. "Just tell me to go," says Kathleen before she sinks her teeth into a helpless anthropology student. Ferrara also blends in footage of the Holocaust as a metaphor for vampires eating themselves away. In one of the most delirious comments ever uttered by a vampire, Kathleen says: "I am rotting inside but I am not dying."

"The Addiction" is a decadently frightening companion to Ferrara's masterful "Bad Lieutenant." It is also subtle, complex, horrifying, scary, and flawlessly performed by everyone. And check out the sinister vampire played by the equally ominous Christopher Walken, who teaches Kathleen a few tips about her condition and how "The Naked Lunch" applies to vampires, in addition to claiming she is in fact...nothing. Of course, Walken bites her offscreen. This is not just any vampire film - this is a provocative commentary on the nature of addiction.

Howard Hughes sits on top of the world

THE AVIATOR (2004)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

(Originally reviewed in 2004)

It is difficult to surmise the weaknesses in Martin Scorsese's latest endeavor, "The Aviator," because there are so many things right with the film. And yet, something keeps biting away at me, something I can't quite grasp a hold of. I figured it out after a few hours. Scorsese gets us so close inside the mind of Howard Hughes that you can't quite breathe, wondering what else the real-life billionaire will cook up next. It is the mind of a megalomaniac that you rather not visit, but it is quite an adventurous journey for Scorsese and for the audience. This is not a dismissal of the film, just my own perception of the diseased mind we are asked to enter.

That mind is Howard Hughes (Leonardo DiCaprio), the eccentric, thoroughly capricious Texan billionaire who inherited his wealth from oil drill bits. At the beginning of the film, after a brief flashback where he is bathed by his mother, Hughes is already up in arms in Hollywood in the late 20's filming his World War I picture, "Hell's Angels." He is equipped with 24 cameras and needs two more, though he fails to obtain them from rival studio MGM. He spends three years making the film, finally reshooting the whole damn thing so he can have sound. How daring a filmmaker was Hughes? He would stand in the cockpit of a flying plane and hand-hold the camera to get the best shot (I bet you Mr. Scorsese never tried that). He also has a fascination with clouds that can form the appearance of breasts, and goes so far as to hire a meteorologist (Ian Holm) to find out when such clouds may form in a cloudless sky! After so much effort and so much money (a 2 million-plus budget!), Hughes has a success and enters the glamor and the glitz of Hollywood. He also builds airplanes, including the largest plane ever, the Hercules aka the Spruce Goose (a name Hughes hated). He also picks up many women along the way, including actress Katharine Hepburn (Cate Blanchett) who slowly catches on to his eccentricities despite admiring his love of flying planes, Ava Gardner (Kate Beckinsale), whom he later places under surveillance, and Faith Domergue (Kelli Garner), a 15-year-old wanna-be starlet. Never mind that Hughes had an affair with Carole Lombard or Cary Grant - his bisexuality is kept closed in this PG-13 flick.

It isn't so much that things go downhill for Hughes in this film, because they don't. He is the same person he was at the beginning - a rich man who could do anything he wanted, buy anything he wanted, bed any woman he wanted, build as many planes as he wanted, buy airlines like TWA, make movies for periods longer than a Stanley Kubrick production, talk his way out of Senate and MPAA hearings and so on. He could do all this because he could, and he could get away with it. The film starts in 1927 and ends in 1947. No mention is made of the Hughes of the 60's and 70's, the period where a fake biography was written by Clifford Irving, or the Las Vegas bungalow Hughes stayed in as a recluse from the world, the very world he knew was changing. It is these latter aspects of Hughes's life that I thought would interest Scorsese so much more. Recall how Scorsese dealt with Jake LaMotta's earlier boxing days with the pathetic later years where Jake was nothing more than a sadly unfunny comedian working at low-rent joints for pennies in "Raging Bull." Also recall the coke-fueled paranoia of Henry Hill's last days as a Mafia drug abuser and dealer in "GoodFellas." In each of those films, as well as "Casino," we sensed the undergoing changes of the main characters as they reached a high point and then descended lower than one would ever hope. In "The Aviator," Hughes is on a power trip and we never sense that he is losing control, even when he starts repeating phrases or becomes more and more finicky about germs, etc. His friends try to protect him but we know things will only get worse in the wave of the future.

Like most of Scorsese's films, we feel the way Howard Hughes does at any moment. When he refuses to touch a bathroom doorknob until someone enters, we sense his fear of collecting germs. When he notices a food particle on someone's shoulder, he asks for it be removed with a cloth and have the cloth deposited in a wastebasket. When he goes off the deep end by having his urine collected in glass bottles while standing naked in a movie theatre basking in the glory of his film "Hell's Angels," we sense the growing alienation from friends and from himself. Nobody knows better how to get inside someone's head than Scorsese - we are talking about the man who brought us inside Travis Bickle's ticking time bomb in "Taxi Driver." These factors weigh in heavily, hitting like you ton of bricks and either you go along with it, or you don't. There is something to be said about DiCaprio's own forehead in this film - something about it burned a hole through my own head! This is not a weakness of his performance, just that DiCaprio's forehead started to bother me shortly after that horrifying plane crash sequence. I suppose I just wanted Hughes to calm down and not be so relentless. The man never sat down for a second, always cooking up his next dream, his next ambition or enterprise. When Ava Gardner can't even calm him down, then you know you are witnessing a dreamer with no limits because he has the wealth to do anything.

"The Aviator" details the Hollywood of the 30's with complete adoration, including some delightful sequences in the Cocoanut Grove club where we catch a glimpse of Errol Flynn (Jude Law). Still, for a director who made us feel the allure of the Copacabana in "GoodFellas," these earlier sections of the film lack much bravado or headlong excitement (and the two-toned Technicolor process can be tough on the eyes. Relax, peas are green, not aquamarine). I felt somewhat disconnected from these earlier scenes, though they are a remarkable recreation of a time America forgot. Using Benny Goodman's version of "Moonglow" has a becalming effect, especially during the scene where Howard takes Kate for a flight above L.A.

The movie, however, picks up tremendous pace when Katharine Hepburn is introduced and starts a love affair with Hughes (even meeting her family in Connecticut in the only humorous section of the movie). Blanchett conveys Hepburn's mannerisms and high-pitched guffaws flawlessly. Her best moment is a quiet one when she tells Hughes that everyone else sees them as freaks. Kate Beckinsale's Ava Gardner is not as impressive and the bulk of her performance seems to have been left on the cutting room floor. Why she stuck around with Hughes and put up with his wildly off-balance nature when they presumably never had sex is questionable. And the character of Faith is so short-changed that if you blink, you'll forget she was ever there.

"The Aviator" is occasionally entertaining, has terrifically authentic period flavor and one frighteningly realistic plane crash that will make you squeamish about ever flying with an experienced pilot (don't forget this is Scorsese directing). The actors are generally superb, including Alan Alda as the confrontational Senator Brewster and Alec Baldwin as Juan Trippe, a smooth Hughes nemesis from Pan Am who tries to uncover Hughes's plans. Of course, I cannot leave out DiCaprio who bears an uncanny resemblance to Hughes, especially during the Senate hearings. DiCaprio shows the man's drive effortlessly and keeps you on edge wondering what he will do next to wow the public. But we never sense much more than Hughes's own growing mental illness and what it is like to have the fear of touching a doorknob. The movie is told in fragments of Hughes's life, but perhaps the scope of this man is too ambitious for any one film (a sequel may not be such a bad idea). The mystery and the complex nature of Hughes continues to baffle many, and I suppose this film will only fuel that enigma. Scorsese understands all too well the enigma surrounding Hughes the perfectionist, and his obsessive compulsive behavior (shades of this exists in De Niro's Ace Rothstein character in "Casino").

"The Aviator" is quite good but it is not at the top of the game of what Scorsese can really deliver - at least, it is more focused than his Dalai Lama biography, "Kundun." The mammoth territory of this tragic man is too overwhelming and yet too truncated, even for Scorsese. Others might be too disturbed by the man and his drive, as I was. You be the judge.

Sexualized, hilarious and unsettling Scorsese tale of excess

THE WOLF OF WALL STREET (2013)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

I recall attending a "GoodFellas" screening where a couple stormed out of the movie after a guy's head is blown apart, almost 2/3 of the way into the film. Within the first fifteen minutes, a few people in their mid-60's I gather, stormed out of Martin Scorsese's "The Wolf of Wall Street." Why? Because when Leo DiCaprio is snorting coke from a woman's netheregions, well, it is not quite like watching like someone getting killed but it may be offputting to some all the same. Such is the case with "The Wolf of Wall Street," the snappiest, funniest, sharpest and most outrageous black comedy in years. It will offend just about anybody who feels a movie needs to be Clearplayed in order to be accessible. Rampant nudity (and we also mean the male organ), coke-snorting parties that would put Charlie Sheen to shame, flagrant sex scenes, ingestion of goldfish, and sometimes drugs and sex mixed like a fine cocktail litter the screen. That is just the beginning - I have not discussed the F-word which might easily exceed its usage in Scorsese's "Casino." But this is a tale of a lifestyle that befitted its main protagonist - an excessive man with excess money and excess drugs who takes a nirvana state of Roman Epicureanism to a whole other level.

Who is this protagonist? He is Jordan Belfort (Leonardo DiCaprio), an ambitious Wall Street broker who finds the world of stock exchange far more glamorous than anything shown in Oliver Stone's "Wall Street" (Gordon Gekko does get a mention). He gets firsthand knowledge from a martini-loving, chest-thumping, coke-sniffing smooth handler (Matthew McConaughey) who makes it clear that stocks mean nothing  - "You move the money from your client's pocket into your pocket." Words that Jordan lives by until the market crashes in 1986 and Jordan has to find a way of playing the stocks. He will not work for the Wiz (a chain of stores that is sadly gone). Jordan finds penny stocks at a firm that none of the richest 1% would ever purchase and turns everything in his favor - he's got a persuasive charm about him and he can coax anybody into doing anything. That is his attractive quality and it soaks up everybody, including Donnie Azoff (Jonah Hill), his devoted sidekick and friend who helps sell the penny stocks to clueless investors and gain a 50% commission. Eventually, Jordan starts his own brokerage firm, Stratton Oakmont, and the lavish parties begin before we even learn that Jordan and associates are skimming millions of dollars to fester on prostitutes, marching bands, "little people" tossed at targets, helicopters on top of luxurious yachts, copious amounts of cocaine and Quaaludes, stacks of money strapped to Swiss women and much more. The critics who have already stomped on this hubris tale have mistakenly associated morality with drug-taking - not so, the lack of morality are the victims who were duped to support Jordan Belfort's lifestyle and are never mentioned once.

"Wolf of Wall Street" is Scorsese's "The Aviator" turned up to 1,111. It is gleefully and comically over-the-top and you will be laughing at all the debauchery and wasteful spending in spite of yourself - this is because the guys really do have fun. Whereas "The Aviator" dealt with Howard Hughes' own dilemma to buy out businesses and think big, this Jordan just wants to party and is not looking for respect. "This is America, the land of opportunity," he says, without missing a beat. Scorsese's and writer Terence Winter's strengths lay in not judging its characters, adding comedy instead to the mix so that we don' t think too hard about how Jordan and company are screwing up to the wealthiest 1% and every other investor they cold call. Everything is a game to them, and everything is sexualized (including the cold calling). If there is no sex, there is time for multiple Quaaludes. If there are no Quaaludes, there is time for cocaine. If nothing else is available, then it is time to quit but, hey, being sober is boring.

Scorsese brings us into the world of stockbrokers who do nothing less than utter profanities, crack jokes and party. It is all a fulgazi, a fake, a tempestuous world of complete avarice with no regard for the Dow Jones stock market index or any brand of ethics. That is why Jordan Belfort loves it - money is all he needs. Jordan does have his flaws - he divorces his first wife and marries another woman ,Naomi (Margot Robbie) because she looks sexy (the yacht is named after her). Is there anything more to Jordan? Apparently not, and after three hours, you will be exasperated and exhausted by his schemes yet you still can't wait to see what he cooks up next. Leonard DiCaprio gives Jordan a likability that proves to be engrossing and captivating - I have never seen DiCaprio be this animated or potent on screen before. Same with Jonah Hill, who is funnier and more depraved than he's ever been before. These two can give you a heart attack each time they appear together on screen - it is likely the Academy voters will admire their work but may choose not to honor such depravity with a nomination.

The rest of the cast is excellent. Rob Reiner is deliriously manic as Jordan's "Mad Max" of a father who is confounded when anyone spends $28,000  on one dinner (Occupy Wall Street protesters will find plenty to protest about from this movie). Margot Robbie ("Pan Am") is stunning in more ways than one as Jordan's second wife - she feels cut out of movie until the last third when we realize she has something up her sleeve. There are also some rich turns by Joanna Lumley as Naomi's English aunt who tells Jordan to slow down, Jean Dujardin as a smooth Swiss banker, Fran Leibowitz as a judge, Kyle Chandler as an FBI agent who wants to nail Jordan, and even Spike Jonze who introduces Jordan to the penny stocks.

"Wolf of Wall Street" is loud, rambunctious, hilarious and pulsatingly alive. It is not for all tastes and the sexualized atmosphere will give some pause (though we still live in a world where graphic violence is tolerated but not graphic sexuality). The film is dense with details and packed with information, like an abrasive, supercharged, jazzy documentary with an antihero who breaks the fourth wall (Ray Liotta's first-person narrator also broke the fourth wall briefly in "GoodFellas") with his foul-mouthed narration and behind-the-scenes spectacle of Wall Street and brokerage firms as money-grubbing institutions. Though Scorsese's "Wolf" resembles the director's own "GoodFellas" and Casino" in its excess and excessive narration, it also has its own identity. Jordan Belfort may have regrets about his hedonistic lifestyle and having bilked his investors in hindsight, but he might wish he could pop one more Quaalude or have sex with one more prostitute. I kind of wished he could, and I hate myself for thinking that. He has that kind of effect on you.

Wolf of Wall Street is not porn!

WOLF OF WALL STREET REVIEW AND CONTROVERSY

Elusive commercial success make the Fleshtones even stronger

PARDON US FOR LIVING BUT THE GRAVEYARD IS FULL (2009)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

How is it possible that an electrifyingly rockin', energetic, purely adrenalized garage rock band like The Fleshtones still can't get the attention they are so warranted? For 30 years plus, they have played venues of all sizes and shapes, they even played at the now defunct CBGBs, and they still struggle to make ends meet just to perform at some local venue in some American city where they hope there is a huge turnout. Such are the complications and hexbreaking anxieties exemplified in the documentary, "Pardon Us for Living But the Graveyard is Full," which details the band's roots in Whitestone, NY to their success in the 1980's that eventually dissipated leading to a new bass player and a new record label. Life was never easy for the Fleshtones, nor would they have wanted it any other way.

Charting a 35-year history of a band in a little over an hour running time is no easy task. In "Pardon Us...", we are introduced to the members of the Fleshtones which includes Peter Zaremba (harmonica, keyboards, and vocals), Keith Streng (guitar), Bill Mihizer (drummer) and Ken Fox (bassist, replacing Jan-Marek Pakulski who had quit the band in the mid-80's and was one of the founding members of the band). They are possibly the only band to stay together for such an inordinate amount of time while recording new songs and touring all over the world (no surprise for an American band with a distinctive American Beat, but they are more popular in Europe than in America). The early 80's is the decade where the Fleshtones enjoyed a little success with some of their songs featured in films like 1984's raunchy "Bachelor Party" (Keith tells a funny story about passing out while seated in front of actor Tom Hanks during a screening). We learn a little about their gigs at CGBGs and their lack of respect among the punk crowd (closing night of the iconic club, according to Zaremba, did not include an invite of the band). There is also a stunning, virtually avante-garde clip of a music video for "Soul City," which was edited together with photo cutouts of the band in motion and splashes of color added in each frame - quixotic stuff to say the least.

Most of "Pardon Us..." focuses on the trials and tribulations of being out on the road. One club can feature over a hundred people in the audience, and another can feature one person who comes up to the band and tells them they suck. No matter how grand or miniscule a turnout there is, the Fleshtones play to the hilt without losing their passion for the music. There are also tidbits about Keith's heroin addiction, the loss of Gordon Spaeth, the saxophonist who committed suicide in 2005, the graduating loss of interest when they couldn't find a good bassist prior to the induction of Ken Fox, and how they re-energized themselves when Yep Roc Records (fans of the band, which always helps) landed them a new record label. I also love hearing Zaremba stating that professionalism and a polished sound is not what they seek when recording an album - they like to keep it real and a little rough.

This highly entertaining documentary is based on a terrific and densely-packed-with-information book by author Joe Bonomo (who lends his informative thoughts in the film) entitled "Sweat: Story of the Fleshtones, America's Garage Band" which is the definitive, in-depth account of this undervalued American band. No matter how the Fleshtones have to cut expenses on the road or stay at friends' homes to save money from hotels or to find a good cup of coffee for less than a dollar, they manage to persevere and continue to rock. Nothing will stop them until, as most of the members admit, one of them dies. Keep up the American Beat! Long live the Hexbreaker!

Flying gags high and low

AIRPLANE! (1980)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

The comedy fools who brought slapstick and movie spoofs to a new level were the Zucker Brothers. They were responsible for some of the funniest movies of the 1980's, namely "Top Secret" and "The Naked Gun." "Airplane" followed the purely ingenious "Kentucky Fried Movie," their first film, with several in-jokes and references throughout, poking fun at just about everything. It is a no-holds-barred approach and they could care less if anyone was offended or grossed out - the gags just keep coming at full speed.

"Airplane!" spoofs the "Airport" movies and an old movie from the 50's called "Zero Hour." The pilots are played by Peter Graves and Kareem Abdul-Jabbar (!), the doctor on board is played by Leslie Nielsen, and one of the main stewardesses, Eileen, is played by Julie Hagerty. On board the plane is Ted Striker (Robert Hays), a war veteran who is in love with Eileen and wants her back (he is also a cab driver who left his fare at the airport). Also on board is a girl in need of a heart-transplant, some jive-talking dudes, a jive-talking lady (Barbara Billingsley, formerly June Cleaver on "Leave it to Beaver"), a nun who reads "Boy's Life," a young kid who idolizes Kareem and who reads "Nun's Life," a Japanese General, David Leisure as a Hare Krishna and so on. The plot deals with the fish menu on board that is tainted and is making all the passengers sick, including the pilots. It is up to Striker to land the plane and for the doctor to cure the passengers.

The jokes in this type of movie are easily hit and miss, and there are lots of hits and a few misses. Watching feces splattered across a fan is not especially funny. A woman running and bumping into every object while saying goodbye to her love aboard the plane was just plain silly. I also found one of the air traffic controllers (the late Stephen Stucker) to be the equivalent of fingernails being run across a chalkboard.

As for the jokes that hit, I like the dueling voices at the airport for red zone and white zone parking, especially when they argue. I like that the autopilot is actually an inflatable doll who needs air every once in a while, and darling Eileen helps breathe some air into an area that...well, just a moment you have to see to believe. Robert Stack as the solidly calm and determined Captain Kramer who beats the hell out of every passing Jehovah's Witness, Krishna and religious zealot is hilarious. And the nods to "Jaws," "Saturday Night Fever" and "From Here to Eternity" bring quite a few smiles. But when Ethel Merman appears as an officer in drag singing "Everything's Coming Up Roses," you know you are in for a treat.

"Airplane!" is not a great movie but it is undeniably clever and grossly funny enough to keep you occupied for 88 minutes. It was the beginning of the Zucker Brothers' successful comedy spoofs that lead to "The Naked Gun" and other similar spoofs. But pay close attention to the visual puns in the foreground as well as the background, and you can just as easily miss a joke or a reference on first viewing. They are clever that way.