Where the Excesses roam

FEAR AND LOATHING IN LAS VEGAS (1998)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

I have always wondered what it would be like to make a film about two drug addicts who do nothing more than consume drugs through an entire movie. Okay, that would be Cheech and Chong's "Up in Smoke," but that was a comedy. "The Doors" was about an unlikable, boorish addict who got high on the idea of death. You might also think of the superbly giddy "Boogie Nights," which showed more scenes of drug use than any movie ever made. That is until I saw the wildly off-balance spectacle of Terry Gilliam's "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas," a putrid, excessive assault on the senses. Excess doesn't even begin to describe this odyssey. This is more like enduring a bad road trip while stuck in New York City traffic. The scenery may be nice, but it's hell to sit through.

On the basis of Hunter S. Thompson's cult novel, the adventurous Johnny Depp plays the bald-headed journalist (known here as Raoul Duke) who goes to Las Vegas to cover a story on the Mint 400, a desert motorcycle race. Thompson brings his Samoan attorney, Lazlo, also known as Dr. Gonzo, to Vegas. Duke is less interested in the race though than in smashing up hotel rooms - an eerie reminder of Depp's own real-life tabloid tales. In the trunk of their car, they carry every drug known to man, including uppers, downers, laughers, acid, mescaline - you name it, they got it. They start seeing visions of reptiles, giant bats, faces morphing into weird shapes, raging demons and other grotesque hallucinations. And it was around this point that I started to lose interest in the movie.

Don't get me wrong. I have no problem with films showing the abuse of drugs and the effects of excessive consumption. "Trainspotting" was one film that showed the pleasure and the danger of heroin addiction yet it was instilled with a sense of purpose and a sense of humanity. "Fear and Loathing..." is basically about addiction, but it does not reveal much about the addicts. To put it another way, the depiction of drug use is all on the surface and there's no theme underneath to support it. The histrionic performances do not help the one-sided material.

Depp is a gifted, talented actor but his interpretation of Duke is reduced to a series of tics, double-takes and wild-eyed nausea. He doesn't even seem to be a journalist, and comes across more as a caricature (occasionally depicted in the Doonesbury comics) with no inner surface or humanity. He's a drug freak, nothing more. The same can be said for Benicio Del Toro as the extremely wasted Dr. Gonzo (a name more applicable to Thompson) who doesn't do much with his role except yell countless obscenities while emoting a singularly angry expression throughout. Another detriment to this actor is his constant muttering - I couldn't grasp one syllable of what he said. Clarity and nuance are not exactly in Del Toro's vocabulary.

The best moments in "Fear and Loathing..." are the comic set pieces such as Duke's inability to avoid paying for his hotel room; Gonzo's hilarious attempt to convince an underage girl (Christina Ricci) that he's being watched by the FBI; a scared blond hitchhiker (Tobey Maguire) who runs away from the duo; and the pièce de résistance: a drug enforcement conference where the Duke is ingesting LSD instead of covering the event for his paper. One of the quietest scenes in the film featuring a dour Ellen Barkin as a diner waitress who harbors a certain contempt towards customers, including the leering Dr. Gonzo. It's a terrific scene, flawlessly timed and edited, but what does it have to do with the rest of the movie?

There are some clever cameos by other actors including James Woods, Mark Harmon, Lyle Lovett and, best of all, Gary Busey as a lonely highway cop who asks Duke for a kiss. In the end, they are part of a menagerie of trivial, witless sequences with no structure or meaning. Somehow, none of this resembles Thompson's prose.

"Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas" is directed by Terry Gilliam ("Twelve Monkeys"), a former Monty Python comic who is best known for his bizarre, overrated film, "Brazil." Gilliam's main problem in past directorial efforts was his tendency to waver from one extreme visual cue to another. It worked for "Twelve Monkeys" but it was detrimental in "Time Bandits." Perhaps, he is the perfect director for Thompson's surreal novel - the film is shot with extreme wide-angle lenses that greatly distort the reality on screen. Thompson, however, didn't just emphasize distorting reality. He also wanted us to see the world through his eyes, including the "fear and loathing" of living and searching for something in the 1970's. All we really get in this film is the distortion.

Going nowhere fast

STRANGER THAN PARADISE (1984)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Some films only seem to be about nothing. You can say that modern post-90's action pictures try to be entertaining by having a sudden explosion and a wisecrack every few minutes - so much happens in some action films that so little is actually being said. "Stranger Than Paradise" is not an action film. In fact, it is almost inert and has no plot yet it is chock full of story and fascinating characters. It's just that you do not realize what is happening until the film is over.

Set in New York City, we are quickly introduced to Willie (John Laurie), formerly of Hungary and now living in America, doing very little. He lives in a small apartment, plays poker, sleeps, plays some more poker, goes to the racetrack with his buddy Eddie (Richard Edson), and that is it. It is an empty life until his sixteen-year-old cousin, Eva (Eszter Balint), comes into the picture. She plans to stay with Willie for one week and then stay with her aunt in Ohio. She has her suitcase full of clothes and listens constantly to Screamin' Jay Hawkins' "I Put a Spell on You" over and over again. Willie will not allow her to speak in their native language, and is obviously bothered by her presence. Still, all they do is watch TV and eat TV dinners. Eddie comes over one day and is smitten by her, perhaps because she is at least a new presence in his and Willie's lives. Willie finally accepts her one day when she swipes cigarrettes and groceries - "Hey, you are all right," says Willie. Just when he accepts her, so do we. At that precise moment, Eva has to leave for Cleveland, Ohio and slowly we sense Willie has lost a bit of his soul too (not that he had much to begin with). There is one marvelous scene where Willie and Eddie stand around in his kitchen, and WIllie looks sullen and dejected and no dialogue is exchanged between the two. We know why.

The film then flashes forward to one year later as Willie and Eddie head to Cleveland to see Eva. She had been working at a hot dog stand, and the aunt, Aunt Lottie (Cecilia Stark), is an expert at poker and wins every hand. Willie and Eddie decide to split to Florida and take Eva with them. The aunt disapproves but there is not much that can be done. When they arrive in Florida, they all stay in some fleabag motel by the beach. Eva is not impressed, particularly when Willie and Eddie leave her alone in the motel room while they go to the racetrack for more winnings. Do these people have any other ways of enjoying themselves?

Jim Jarmusch's "Stranger Than Paradise" seems to be going nowhere but it isn't. It is an examination of three characters and the lives they lead. They do not know where they are headed or where they are going. Jarmusch is also not interested in detailing who they are as much as what they are. This is a film about stagnation and anomie - no direction and no hope and possibly no meaning. The film seems to say that existence has no purpose other than to exist because every place in America looks exactly the same. Eva might have some prospects but we are still left wondering what they might be. These characters have nothing to say yet say so much with their lack of purpose. This is really a study of these characters, following them every step of the way to nowhere. But a miracle does occur at the end that proves life-changing and possibly life-affirming. It is a brilliant masterstroke but you have to be patient to get there.

In his directorial debut, Jim Jarmusch has done something quite unusual - he has observed lives without intruding. He is like a documentary filmmaker who observes and studies. The performances never feel forced and help to make the realism palatable. Musician John Lurie, the funny Richard Edson and the passive Estzer Balint are so natural that you forget you are watching actors. They have lots of terrific moments and all are shot in one take. Jarmusch shows one scene and then cuts to black, another scene and then cuts to black, and so on. This raises the momentum somewhat, and makes us curious to see where it will lead next. Let's just say that the ending brings a satisfaction that is unexpected - it brings a shread of hope to such lonely, directionless people.

"Stranger Than Paradise" has been called a masterpiece in many circles. It has also been categorized as giving independent cinema a bad name. It is not a masterpiece but it is a wonderful slice-of-life of America where everything seems to be the same in every town, as realized by Eddie in one scene. Here, the idea is that the characters are probably bored with their existence and seek to find some enjoyment in it. Eva may have discovered that change is necessary, and Willie and Eddie are still stuck in a stagnant stage without catching up.

I am a fan of films that do not reveal their purpose until the end. A film where the filmmaker trusts his audience and doesn't spell out what his intentions are. "Stranger Than Paradise" is one of those films, and it is as mesmerizing and spellbinding as anything I have seen.

Underrated Black-Humored Ambulance ride

BRINGING OUT THE DEAD (1999)

Re-reviewed by Jerry Saravia

It has been more than two decades since the world had witnessed the frighteningly prophetic "Taxi Driver" and its vision of a hellish New York courtesy of director Martin Scorsese and writer Paul Schrader. Scorsese and Schrader revisited those same mean streets to tell us they are just as mean and almost as hellish. "Bringing Out the Dead" was the latest in the sin, guilt, redemption and paranoia of the gritty side of Scorsese's New York and its inhabitants and it left me feeling a little empty the first time I saw it. Seeing it many times since, it is often strangely compelling and spiritual but not nearly on the same par with previous Schrader and Scorsese collaborations. It is one hell of a film though - nightmarish, hallucinatory and difficult to stay with but there are rewards for those who stick with it.

The almost gaunt-like Nicolas Cage stars as Frank Pierce, an exhausted ambulance paramedic who mostly works nights. He has not saved a life in months, and is starting to feel weary and sleepless - he cannot function in this crazed city anymore (this story is set in pre-Guiliani New York). Frank sees visions of an asthmatic girl he could not save in the past - he feels he has killed her and sees her in the faces of others walking the streets.

Frank is haunted by these visions, and resorts to drinking gin and eating junk food on the job. He works with three different medics. One is a detached, overweight slob, Larry (John Goodman), the other is a Motown-Biblical-preaching individual named Marcus (Ving Rhames) who flirts with dispatchers and is high on saving lives, and lastly there's a vicious medic, Tom Walls (Tom Sizemore) who uses a baseball bat on drug dealers and lives on "the blood spilling on the streets."

There is one life Frank almost saves, an elderly man who nearly dies of a heart attack. The grieving daughter, Mary Burke (Patricia Arquette), an ex-junkie, seeks consolation from Frank and hopes that her father will stay alive. This is the kind of news Frank wants to hear - the blood, the loss of lives (including a stillborn baby), the stench, the homeless are all reducing Frank to the level of a saint who lost his powers of healing. As Frank explains, "I was a grief mop." He can't even get fired from his job because he is needed, even in the midst of failure.

"Bringing Out the Dead" is based on an autobiographical book by Joseph Connelly (a former medic), and the film's episodic structure focuses on three hellish nights in Frank's life. As always, director Martin Scorsese knows these mean streets all too well and with cinematographer Robert Richardson, they create a New York of neon lights, red flashing sirens, sordid, shadowy environments such as unsanitized underground dwellings, punkish nightclubs, inviting drug dens, crazed, overcrowded hospital rooms, etc. In other words, this New York is not so different from the one depicted in Scorsese's finest film, "Taxi Driver." But whereas one felt that the New York of Travis Bickle's was an extension of his own paranoia, this New York feels strangely remote and listless, much like the title character who is slowly going mad. Initially, I felt Nicolas Cage turned in a mostly flat, restrained performance, bereft of any emotion or significance. Sure, his eyes gave the impression of being haunted but there is little to suggest a sense of individuality. Who is Frank Pierce anyway? Why does he cling to a job in desperation of saving lives when he needs to save his own? These are all complex questions but Cage's dignified stare in two hours running time could make the viewer wish Robert De Niro had been cast. Cage has some loopy moments and he does have moments of black humor with Rhames but the character is an endurance test. Of course, that is the point - he is tired and feels lifeless. Will he ever save one life? What Cage has are, again, those eyes that suggest a man who has seen too much death. He is haunted, pained, exasperated and exhausted. It is a performance of great anxiety and great pain. 

I liked Patricia Arquette's performance as the frail Mary and her soft-voiced, angelic presence that seems almost magical in quality. There is a moment when Scorsese and editor Thelma Schoonmaker exchange a series of dissolves between Arquette and Cage that establishes a connection between them. I also like the final image of Cage's head resting on Arquette's shoulder while a shade of white fills up the screen in a reverential manner. It is a truly moving ending and the only time that Frank feels some measure of peace.

The best performances are by Ving Rhames, John Goodman and Tom Sizemore as the fellow medics with different takes on what a job like this entails. Goodman is credibly detached, Rhames is delightfully sweet and uplifting especially when he fakes raising a punk rocker from the dead, and Sizemore is creepy and nervously tense giving us goosebumps each time he appears. Other honorable mentions must go to real-life singer Marc Anthony as a Rastafarian drifter who drinks too much water, New Zealander Cliff Curtis as a suave, smoothly serene drug dealer (recalling Harvey Keitel's lizard-like smoothness in "Taxi Driver"), Mary Beth Hurt as a stern, honest hospital worker, Arthur J. Nascarella as Captain Barney, Frank's boss, and Aida Turturro as a nurse.

Stylistically, Scorsese also has employed new techniques in film grammar, which are more often seen in Oliver Stone's films. The fast-motion, stroboscopic, neon-lit sequences recall "Natural Born Killers," a technique Scorsese has never used before. It is no accident that the fast and loose cinematographer is Robert Richardson, who has lensed many of Stone's films.

There is a lot to admire in "Bringing Out the Dead," but it is not a fun or entertaining movie though it is illuminating (granted such subject matter doesn't lend itself to simplistic entertainment). Moments like the impaling of the drug dealer or Rhames's brief interludes with dispatchers and Cage evoke a power unprecedented in any film seen in 1999. I still feel "Bringing Out the Dead" is the kind of Scorsese film that makes you want to go and see a truly passionate Scorsese film that comes from the gut. "Raging Bull" and "Taxi Driver" felt like they came straight from the gut and were intensely personal. Scorsese puts his stamp on this unusual tale and it feels personal but not as urgent. Still, for matters of morality and guilt unadorned with irony (Scorsese and Schrader's major fortes), "Bringing Out the Dead" is powerful enough to warrant a viewing and several more for the Scorsese viewers who felt underwhelmed on the first viewing. It is a hellish experience.

'Sacha is a Holocaust denier' - 'No he is not!'

BORAT: CULTURAL LEARNINGS OF AMERICA FOR MAKE BENEFIT OF GLORIOUS NATION KAZAKHSTAN (2006)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia and his alter-ego

(Originally reviewed in 2007)

Although the decade of 2000 is not quite at a close yet, let me be one of the few to say that "Borat" may end up as the definitive film on racism and sexism in the 2000 decade. My alter-ego vehemently disagrees. The following interview took place between me and my alter- ego shortly after a screening of "Borat."

Alter-ego: "What a load of puke was that moviefilm of Borat. I prefer Ali G or even the gayest of gays, Bruno, over Borat. This man is not funny and the movie is not worthwile."

Jerry-Saravia: "Not funny? Well, humor is subjective but I laughed throughout."

Alter-ego: "Are you kidding me? Borat trying to saying hello to people in New York City? Chasing them down the street if they don't say hello? Badly singing the national anthem and turning it into an anthem for his belovedly stupid country, Kazakhstan? I am glad Simon Cowell was not in the audience."

J.S: "That sequence at the rodeo sums up perfectly the idea that some Americans feel the war in Iraq is necessary. Yeah, he goes too far and says that Premier Bush should drink the blood of every dead Iraqi - the audience is nonplussed at that statement yet they burst into applause when Borat says every terrorist should be killed. I assume they don't want any correlation between Bush and Vlad the Impaler."

A.E.: "Don't get all Michael Moore on me - the war is just, just ask Elizabeth Hasselbeck and the one or two Republican congressmen who support the war. The rodeo sequence left me in a cold, silent mood. I'd rather watch Roseanne Barr sing the national anthem again."

J.S.: "Okay, you hate the rodeo sequence. What did you think of the character Borat?"

A.E.: "Sacha Baron Cohen made this character monotonous. Borat says 'Very Nice' or 'High-Five' every five minutes. He was more tolerable on the Ali G. Show because his appearances were curtailed. What I did find reprehensible, in this age of racist pricks like Michael Richards, Mel Gibson and Joe Biden, was Borat's anti-Semitic stance. He compares Jews to shape-shifting creatures who can turn into insects, and the nation of Kazakhstan as one racist nation where they have Jews as Bulls with Giant Heads chasing people. And I will not forgive the unspeakably offensive scene where Borat asks a gun dealer what is the best gun to shoot a Jew with. It is not funny - it is offensive and neutralized. And don't get me started on his sexist attitudes - Borat needs to be neutered."

J.S.: "You are right in one respect - some people would probably find those scenes offensive on the surface. But Borat is trying to make us see how racist most people are: their reactions and what they say is what drives those scenes. Don't forget at the rodeo where the rodeo master says that homosexuals should be hung. Borat didn't say that - he merely leads the way for others to say such unspeakably offensive words. That is what makes this film fascinating and hysterical and unique and cringe-inducing - it is a crossbreed of a mockumentary and a documentary. Clearly, scenes between Borat and his manager, Azamat, are staged - the naked wrestling scene is a clear example. But when they enter the conference room and continue to fight in the nude, that was not staged. And as for the gun dealer, he does suggest some guns that could be used to kill a Jew."

A.E.: "I just found the rodeo sequence tasteless, and the whole etiquette scene, the bed-and-breakfast scene, none of this made me smile. Naked wrestling stuff made me cringe. But what about Borat's sexist angle? And him chasing Pamela Anderson? You've got to be kidding."

J.S.: "Again, the character is sexist but Borat is presented as such a naive man, detached from any reality, that you can't fault him for having such sexist and racist attitudes. The man doesn't know better - Michael Richards and Mel Gibson should know better. That's the difference, and the same between the fraternity jocks who feel women should be enslaved and the pastor's wife in the dining scene where she is angry by the unwelcome presence of a black prostitute. Excepting the black prostitute, they come off worse than Borat does, again, precisely the point of the movie. Everyone who reacts to Borat feels that a foreigner, or possibly all foreigners, are naive, foolish people since they are not American. Borat is awakening their racist and sexist sides to show that America has still got a long way to go. Besides, Borat is kind to the prostitute after dropping her off at home."

A.E.: "I am not sure all Americans feel that way, but I see your point. But don't you think that the Pam Anderson scene is a stunt?"

J.S.: "It must be, but it is funny and terrifying at the same time. I love this film and I can't believe that you found it so one-dimensional and unfunny."

A.E.: "I thought the growling bear in the ice-cream truck was funny, particularly when the animal growls at the kids who are expecting ice-cream. I also like the bit about the breast milk from Borat's wife. There are some funny bits and I did not hate the film, but I think the jokes were not as strong as in the Ali G. show. I think these characters work best in short skits, but the last thing I want to see is 'Bruno: Gay Men Make Benefit Glorious Nation of USA for Same Sex Marriage'. No thanks."

J.S.: "I would see that movie. Most recent comedies are stale and here comes Borat with an arsenal of laughs. Humor is subjective but I think this Sacha Baron Cohen guy is a genius."

A.E.: "I think he needs to lay off of the Jews. They've been through enough trauma. Any movie making fun of Jews is automatically unfunny. If I want humor, I watch 'The Producers' or 'The Benchwarmers.' I don't need a 'Borat: The Ultimate Solution'. Remember 'Grace Quigley'?"

J.S.: "Okay, come on now, the movie doesn't approach a Holocaust mentality with the jokes about Jews."

A.E.: "I think Borat is a Holocaust-denier, just like Sarah Silverman."

J.S.: "I think you have just shown why the film and the character work so well."

    A.E.: "How so?"

J.S.: "Borat is a fictional creation and Sacha Baron Cohen is real. They both show that the dividing line between reality and fiction, and this film is the best example of that, is precarious but nonetheless real."

Bob Crane's enormous sexual appetite

AUTO FOCUS (2002)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

(Originally reviewed in 2003)

I never watched "Hogan's Heroes" nor do I know much about the life and times of actor Bob Crane. Seeing this film, one is inclined to think that Bob Crane was a sexual carnivore who craved sex more than life itself. That may be true but there must be more to a man than what is portrayed here. "Auto Focus" is one strange film biography that places less emphasis on the inner workings of Crane's mind than it does on the life he led.

When we first meet Bob Crane (Greg Kinnear), he is first working as a DJ for a local radio station in Los Angeles. He has a family to support including his trusting wife, Anne (Rita Wilson), and two children. Crane is offered a job as the lead in a series called "Hogan's Heroes." This is his surefire shot to fame and stardom and Crane accepts the job with delight (though at first he thinks of it as a career killer). The show gets high ratings and women come up to him and ask for his autograph, even when he meets a priest at a diner. The problem with Crane is that he is too easily seduced into a highly sexual lifestyle. One day, an audio/video salesman, John Carpenter (Willen Dafoe), literally becomes friends overnight when he takes Crane to seedy, topless bars and brings women back to his pad. Crane immediately begins his foray into nocturnal sexual activities, and starts filming them with a video camera. Carpenter and Crane begin watching their own sexual escapades on video, examining them and getting off on them. But as soon as we settle into the era of the 70's, we sense that the fun is gone, the colors are more muted and less cheerful (thanks to outstanding set design and art direction) and Crane, who still enjoys sex, is beginning to feel used by Carpenter. After all, if it hadn't been for Crane, Carpenter may not be getting laid at all. The resentment settles. Crane gets a divorce from his first wife, and after "Hogan's Heroes" is over, he is cast as the lead in a dismal Disney film called "Superdad." To make matters worse, Crane does dinner theatre to make ends meet.

"Auto Focus" is not an entertaining or an enlightening film, but it is fascinating in its restrained look at sleaziness in the 1970's after the sexual revolution took over. What is more fascinating is Bob Crane's likability factor and his big smile. Here is a man content with himself and with his sexual prowess (to the point that he gets a penile enhancement) yet we never sense anything other than sexual addiction. The man loves sex, but does he truly love his family? His second wife accepts his sexual appetite, but is there anything about this man that she truly loves? When Crane talks to his kids, he discusses how much he loves the color orange. Not one single conversation is ever carried by this man beyond the subject of sex. Either he is talking about it or he is doing it. And when his career suffers a number of setbacks, only his agent proves to be helpful. Crane never realizes that as healthy as his sexual appetite may be, it is also scandalous and immoral to others.

Greg Kinnear has Crane's likability factor down pat (though the real Crane looked far sleazier) and Willem Dafoe is as creepy and sympathetic as only Dafoe can be as John Carpenter. The problem is that director Paul Schrader and writer Michael Gerbosi never invest in these characters' souls. Crane's murder may have been caused by Carpenter (it is still an unsolved murder) but we never learn much about Crane. There just had to be much more to this man than being a likable sex addict.

Preachy yet fun high-school pranks

MEAN GIRLS (2004)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

(Originally reviewed in 2005)

"Mean Girls" wants to have it both ways. It aspires to be a wicked satire on high school cliques. It also wants to be a benevolent movie with a message, a message frankly we have seen in countless teen comedies dating back to John Hughes and beyond. You can't have gobs of satirical puns and then dump some preachiness about teen identity - that's some form of cheating.

Lindsay Lohan is Cady Heron, a high school junior who has just migrated from the open African plains of home-schooling to an Illinois high school. Illinois is nothing like Africa, and Cady may as well be a fish out of water. She hasn't a shred of sarcasm and knows next to nothing about how American teenagers act or how they party. Yep, she is indeed a virgin to American pop culture. Cady makes friends rather quickly with a couple of outsiders, namely Janis (Lizzy Caplan), a lesbian goth chick, and the "too gay to function" Damian (Daniel Franzese). They tell Cady the ins and outs of high school and to stay far away from the Plastics, a shallow bunch of rich girls whose sole preoccupation in life is partying and playing mean tricks on people outside their clique. The leader of the Plastics is Regina (Rachel McAdams) who tries vainly to stay thin and maintain her status as the most popular girl in school. Her friends in this clique are none too bright.

Janis sees an opportunity for Cady to be welcomed by the Plastics and become a spy, reporting on their antics and mean, manipulative ways. Naturally, through the progression of the story, the insecure Cady falls victim to the Plastics' modus operandi. Yep, you know exactly what you are in for.

The first hour of "Mean Girls" is a fairly approximate look at today's high schools (or so I am told since I have not been in high school for almost 20 years). We see the attention paid to details such as attitude, looks, clothes, musical tastes, etc. All this is expertly and smartly written by Saturday Night Live scribe Tina Fey (who has a small, hilarious role as a math teacher). And Cady stoops to the level of these plastic girls by giving Regina a "Swedish" chocolate bar with supposedly no carbs, thus ensuring that Regina will lose rather than gain weight. Of course we know it will have the opposite effect.

Unfortunately, the movie gets bogged down by formula despite an initial resistance to clichés. Cady changes through the course of the film, even failing her math tests so she can be tutored by the cute guy she likes. But when she gets even meaner than the Plastics, the movie treats her transformation as just cause for a preachy lesson. It isn't enough that Cady changes - she has to be redeemed by her actions. To top it off, we also need a lesson in how one must be true to themselves. Excuse me, what about the Plastics?

"Mean Girls" has an appealing presence in Lindsay Lohan, though I am convinced her true potential has yet to be tapped. She is appealing and funny but not 100% convincing in showing her character's changes. Still, you can't take your eyes off her - she has a sunny star quality. I liked Rachel McAdams as Regina, the shallowest girl in school, though I think more could have been done with her character. Tina Fey generates some good laughs as the math teacher. There's also able support from Tim Meadows as the principal who can't relate to the female classmates, and Amy Poehler as Regina's mother with a boob fetish.

But something is still off in "Mean Girls" and that may be partly the director's fault. The director is Mark S. Waters, who almost made something lively and fun with the recent "Freaky Friday" remake until it also got bogged down by sentimentality. "Mean Girls," a far better film than "Freaky Friday," has spots of wickedness and a satirical, sharp spirit but it all gets shattered by an ending that negates most of the film. A little more meanness would've helped.

Pizza sauces and helicopters

GOODFELLAS (1990)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia
(Originally viewed in 1990)

BEST FILM OF 1990

Martin Scorsese's "GoodFellas" is not just the best film of 1990, it is also the best American film I've seen since 1990 (and in 2022, this still stands). Scorsese has done several films since "GoodFellas," many of which are fantastic, some great and some quite good. How can a gruesomely violent, offputting portrait of the American mob be far superior to respected films of the 90's like "Schindler's List," "Dances With Wolves," "Unforgiven," "The Silence of the Lambs," "American Beauty," and, well, what is the point of belaboring the obvious? The film has its share of detractors as well as admirers, but in retrospect, there is simply nothing as influential or as alive and kicking as "GoodFellas." Aside from "Pulp Fiction," it is actually the most influential film we've had since 1990.

The story is well known. It is all told from the point-of-view of an Irish kid, Henry Hill (the perfectly cast Ray Liotta) who joined the mob in his youth, skipping school to work in their places of business. Henry became fascinated by the way of life, not so much the heavy-duty violence and gangland hits that are often not the subject of crime films. By the time he is 21, he is married to the feisty Karen Hill (Lorraine Bracco), is able to waltz into the Copacabana club without waiting in line, makes money in restaurant deals, steals money from airports, trucks, etc. Henry is at one point told by his mother that he looks like a gangster. He has the looks, the snazzy suits, the connections, the power and, just as easily, the ability to abuse it and lose it all. Yes, as indicated by the Tony Bennett song in the opening credits, it is a rags to riches story in the most ironic sense of the word. Scorsese has called this tale (based on a true crime book by the excellent writer/reporter Nicholas Pileggi "Wiseguy"), as well as the subsequent "Casino," a story of the American Dream. Perhaps, but since when is it a dream of any kid to become a gangster? "It was better than becoming President of the United States," says Henry Hill during his narrative voice-over for the entire film. Maybe but the razzle-dazzle lifestyle of money, Cadillacs, drugs and scores of women also has its limits.

In "Casino," there were no limits to what powerful men could have and consume. In "GoodFellas," there are limits, mostly because we are dealing with lower-level gangsters, at least a little higher on the scale than the ones depicted in Scorsese's "Mean Streets." To categorize in more facile terms, "Mean Streets" was about racketeering in the streets, "GoodFellas" is about the abuse of having access to anything in the Mob and, finally, "Casino" is about how the Mob's involvement in casino operations can become a sickness.

In 2 1/2 hours, Scorsese does an incredible job of detailing the inside life of organized crime, how it works and operates, how they behave, and manages to tell the story of one man whose desires outweigh his priorities and has to contend with having a family and working 24 hours a day. We see what it is like to be a gangster and how sudden bursts of violence can come out of nowhere and be totally unprovoked. A classic example is Joe Pesci's famous speech as Tommy, the itchy trigger-happy gangster, when he asks, "Do you think I am funny?" In the tension-filled scene, Tommy asks Henry why he thinks he is funny. Henry can't provide a straight answer, and Tommy's scary glare takes over. We are sure violence is about to erupt and it is amazing how Scorsese makes the audience nervous as well (the theater I saw it in back in 1990 was filled with audience members who were silent, unsure what was going to happen next). Scorsese plays the audience like a piano, and the whole movie has that same tension running at its core. Part of the tightly controlled tension comes from the notion that gangsters only care about money and if you screw with them, they can kill you. As written by Scorsese and Pileggi, the film never moralizes - it simply observes and shows us what these guys are made of. For the first time in cinema history (once illustrated by the late film critic Gene Siskel), "GoodFellas" asserts that gangsters are nothing but scum - they are rotten criminals with little in the way of sympathy for anyone else except their boss. In this case, the boss is Paul Cicero (Paul Sorvino), a man of some integrity who wishes to get involved in any business except drugs - the reason is because drugs can make rats out of gangsters and he certainly doesn't want to end up in prison for being ratted out. But these men are generally not men of principle or morals - they have codes of conduct and their own morals within their circle. They have codes that must be heeded, namely "never rat on your friends and always keep your mouth shut." Wise advice given to Henry Hill as a young kid by celebrated thief and killer James Conway (Robert De Niro), but will Henry keep his word or will he violate the code?

"GoodFellas" segues from one sequence to another flawlessly and so seamlessly that we feel we are watching life unfold before our very eyes. It helps that the film is narrated by Henry Hill since he is knowledgeable of the inner workings and anthropology of the mob. At times, "GoodFellas" is like a remarkable fusion of a documentary-like narrative mixed with the personal story of one man who sought to make more money than God. But things start to tumble. James Conway gets greedy when he initiates the famous Lufthansa heist. Tommy loses his cool and kills anyone who gets his temper rising (he even kills a made-man, normally an untouchable in the mob circuit). Henry becomes involved with drugs like cocaine and gets addicted himself, not to mention his wife, Karen. Everything falls apart and consequences begin to escalate. It is a world so dangerous and yet so alluring that we can't help but feel both sorry and angered by Henry's own lust for the life.

In terms of editing and sheer cinematographic skill and peerless performances, "GoodFellas" is sheer perfection. Its influence is clearly felt in all of the crime pictures of today, particularly Quentin Tarantino. It is a serious crime picture with offputting, realistic violence, independent of the postmodernist irony that has taken the edge off of crime pictures ever since "Pulp Fiction." In "GoodFellas," it is all about edge and a certain immorality in Henry Hill that becomes clearer in subsequent viewings. Scorsese's direction and Thelma Schoonmaker's faultless editing create a world so rich and explosive that it rivals any crime picture before or after it. There are endless tracking shots, freeze frames, zooms, but never anything to detract from the story Scorsese is telling - it all perfectly coincides with each scene. Consider the 2 1/2 minute unbroken take inside the Copacabana. We see Henry and Karen on their first real date entering the club from a back entrance and watch as they scour from one room to the next, through hallways and corridors and finally entering the kitchen before getting to the restaurant where an extra table is brought just for them. It is essential to see it as one long take because it is primal in showing the allure and thrill of the life.

I've seen "GoodFellas" again and again and marvel at that fantastic sequence inside the Copacabana; the moment where Henry Hill feels he has gone too far but can't seem to get enough when snorting coke; Karen's crying fit when she feels her life is in danger; Henry beaten by his father with a belt; Jimmy Conway's quiet, understated scene where it is implied that he wants Henry killed; the situation with Henry's girl helper who has a thing for her hat; watching Henry make pasta sauce while watching the helicopters that may be watching him, and I could go on.

It is as perfect as any movie I've seen, and it is clearly Scorsese at the top of his game pulling one trick out of his hat after another. Sure, it is tough to watch, could be considered morally repugnant, and some of it is not meant for all tastes (like the grisly stabbing at the beginning of the picture). But it is about mob life, how easily that life can be taken away in the blink of an eye, and notably how alluring the life of a mobster can be. The allure is all that Henry Hill wanted, and it is a shame he did not see it any other way.