Think about the Future!

BATMAN (1989)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

The Caped Crusader has always been a mystery to me. What kind of person dresses up as a bat and roams the city streets of Gotham City at night? That question is an actual line of dialogue in Tim Burton's film, "Batman," but it is never answered. Batman was more fully realized in comic-book form than in any film or TV series version (until Christopher Nolan's epic vision in 2005) so, it is unfortunate that Burton's "Batman" sees him only as a one-dimensional freak with a two-dimensional wealthy playboy as the character whom we identify with, ever so slightly.

"Batman" is a strange entertainment in that it has sweep and a sonic boom to the visuals and the music (aside from the stirring orchestral score by Danny Elfman, there are songs by Prince) but little inner life and nothing ever seems at stake. Michael Keaton is Bruce Wayne, the wealthy playboy who lives at Wayne Manor which also houses an enormous Batcave. He has his lifelong servant and butler, Alfred (Michael Gough), whom he sees as his only family (Wayne's parents were killed by thugs). Beyond that, there is not much more to take away from Bruce Wayne except he can be deep in thought, and apparently loves the Batman-loving and global photojournalist, Vicki Vale (Kim Basinger, in one of her surest roles performing with wit, romance and a sense of humor). Can Bruce Wayne ever admit to Vicki that he is a giant flying rat? Added to the mix is a Mayor Koch lookalike; smooth though again underwritten Harvey Dent character (Billy Dee Williams); the comic schtick of Robert Wuhl as an ambitious reporter, and the fabulous Pat Hingle as Commissioner Gordon who is barely there there.

Jack Nicholson is the maniacal Joker, formerly maniacal Jack Napier, and he gives the role what it needs - a real shot of adrenaline that allows the charismatic actor to dance on screen for two hours. Except Nicholson is so damn good in the part (though whether he eclipses Cesar Romero's own interpretation from the Adam West TV show is one for the diehard Batman fans to digest and dissect) that he steals the movie from the inert Bruce Wayne/Batman complex. Old Jack is the star of the show, especially when mimicking a mime, joking with a fried corpse, performing in truly black-humored commercials, or destroying cultural works of art. Jack Nicholson becomes the movie - he owns it - and that is a high price to pay when you undernourish Batman's pain from having witnessed a significant tragedy in his own life. This aspect of identifying with the villains lead to the sequels that gave us less and less of our Caped Crusader.

"Batman" swooshes up and down on the screen, taking us on roller-coasters that pan Gotham City's architectural wonders and numerous buildings that we zoom in and out of. Tim Burton makes the city a grand character, thanks to the astounding production design by Anton Furst, and makes the Batmobile a threatening armadillo machine that goes beyond the TV series' own tame though no less iconic vehicle. The film looks spectacular in every respect and it is eye-filling. And when the rescue of Vicki Vale occurs, not to mention the various Batwing flying through the city moments, it is momentous and carries an electrifying, rousing charge of excitement. "Batman" is certainly entertaining but overall the film lacks urgency - Joker wants to poison everyone but to what end? Clearly he is the life of the party and his Joker feels extraneous when Michael Keaton is all gloom and doom in small doses. The "smile and smile and be a villain" is formidable, while the hero is stuck in a closet of his own mind.

WELCOME to ARCADIA!!!

HOW I GOT INTO COLLEGE (1989)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Some movies catch you for nostalgic reasons. When "How I Got Into College" was released in 1989, it reminded me of the whole dilemma of good SAT scores and choosing-the-right-college scenarios I had been through the year prior. Ostensibly a comedy, Savage Steve Holland nails all the details right regarding the college application process but comes up somewhat short of satirizing enough of the craziness. From the man who brought us "Better Off Dead" and "One Crazy Summer," "How I Got Into College" is fairly mild and laid back.

A satire can either be laid back or high-pitched yet, regardless of the subject matter, it has to be outrageous, somewhat larger-than-life and full of biting, sharp humor. There is one scene that truly embellishes the onslaught of college applications that can drive you up the wall. It involves college fair day at the high school and Curtis Armstrong (a helluva presence in the annals of comedy, starting with "Revenge of the Nerds") hollers the privileges of attending Arcadia College, a Bible school. Armstrong is spirited and practically steals the movie from everyone. More often than not we are saddled with Corey Parker as Marlon, an underachiever who desperately wants to attend Ramsey College because perky overachiever, Jessica (Lara Flynn Boyle), plans to go there as well - you see, Marlon has a crush on her. Only problem is Corey Parker, who is animated enough, is no John Cusack - he just carries a goofy grin and we can't work up much enthusiasm for his exploits. Lara Flynn Boyle is stirring on screen when she isn't having a nervous breakdown - she is at her best when telling an urban legend to her classmates about a girl's college interview that resulted in suicide.

There are many bright moments in "How I Got Into College" and many bright, fresh actors who bring plenty of vigor to their roles. Tichina Arnold is an African-American student from Detroit who is just as aspiring as any of the rich, elitist students of the Ivy League variety. There is also the snappy duo of Phil Hartman and Nora Dunn as con artists masquerading as SAT teachers. I also liked Finn Carter as a Ramsey recruiter who truly believes, along with her boyfriend (Anthony Edwards), that the college should broaden their horizons in picking college students. Do not go for popcorn or you will miss Richard Jenkins and Diane Franklin as Marlon's parents who laugh at the prospect of this kid even applying for Ramsey (come to think of it, Diane should have played Lara Flynn Boyle's role). Duane Davis is fun to watch as an aspiring college football player who can't speak for himself - his girlfriend and his coach do all the talking.

"How I Got Into College" is a sweet, safe often upbeat comedy. It is not just not all I expect from the likes of Savage Steve Holland who could have brought more pungent wit to the proceedings - the satiric potential doesn't have enough bite. He passes this test, but not with flying colors.

Jack is Lame, Ron Burgundy is not

ANCHORMAN 2: THE LEGEND CONTINUES (2013)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

The original "Anchorman" was nothing more than a frenzied Warner Brothers cartoon that poked fun at late-night news with a dimmer-than-thou Ron Burgundy who was not exactly adept at his profession. "Anchorman 2: The Legend Continues" continues along the same streak and, though not as cartoonishly funny as the original, it made me smile from beginning to end despite the occasional lull.

Things get off on the wrong foot for Ron Burgundy (Will Ferrell) right from the start. New York's top news anchor, Mack (expertly played by Harrison Ford), is retiring and decides to fire Ron ("You are the worst anchor of all time") and give Ron's wife and co-anchor, Veronica Corningstone (Christina Applegate), his job! Ron is furious, leaves his family and takes a job at Sea World in San Diego (his home turf) where he drunkenly introduces dolphins to an audience. Ron also gets fired from Sea World and is miraculously asked to anchor a 24-hour news channel called GNN (the parallels with CNN and today's round-the-clock news are not subtle) where he will be announcing the news...between 2 and 5 am. Ron can't do this alone and brings back his old buddies including mentally challenged Brick (Steve Carrell), former meteorologist, who attends his own funeral; the energetic former sports announcer Champ Kind (David Koechner) who owns his own KFC-type restaurant that serves fried bats not chicken; and the kind photographer Brian Fantana (Paul Rudd) who specializes in taking cute kitten photos - he was once the field reporter.

Added to the mix of loony characters are newcomers such as Kristen Wiig as GNN's receptionist who stares at ringing phones, and Meagan Good as Linda, the temperamental overseer of GNN who is strangely attracted to Ron. A dinner scene sets the bar for Ron Burgundy's inability to communicate with Linda's family like a normal person - it is a tremendously funny and cringeworthy scene like most of "Anchorman 2." Also worth noting is a far more arrogant anchorman than Ron ever could be, Jack Lime (James Marsden) who makes a ratings bet with Ron - if Jack loses, he has to change his name to Jack Lame. Any other actor aside from Ferrell suggesting such a change would have been, well, lame. Ferrell just makes it gold.

"Anchorman 2" is not the laugh riot of the original, which was hardly one of the best comedies ever made but definitely a cut above most in recent years. An extended sequence where Ron Burgundy is blind after an accident hardly elicited as many laughs as I would hope. At nearly two hours, half hour longer than the original, the movie doesn't maintain the same degree of consistency and much more comic gold could've been mined with the talents of Marsden and Christina Applegate. But for the occasional gag that is, well, lame, there are many others that made me laugh out loud and smile. The final battle between all the networks in the middle of a park (there are some unexpected cameos) strikes the right balance between buffoonish and the equally absurd - how often do you see Harrison Ford change into a werewolf? Ferrell, his buddies and director Adam McKay have continued to make me smile with their cartoonish, anarchic view of the news world. I am all for a third go-round.

The Scorpio jacket is cool

DRIVE (2011)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Neo noir has little to no bearing on the black-and-white film noir of post-WW II. Even when films got cooler and maintained a cooler distance as well, such as Lee Marvin in "Point Blank," noir carried that edge of existentialism - a world where there were no heroes and morality was skewed. Neo noir has a cool distance but little of the skewed morality. It is barely existential anymore - more of an ironic distance than even Tarantino's pop culture noir tableaux. "Drive" has cool written all over it and initially shares some of the existential trappings that makes noir what it is. Then it goes off the deep end into shallow, cliched waters that pretty much demolish what precedes it.

Ryan Gosling is the unnamed Driver of the film, a Hollywood stunt car driver and garage mechanic who also lends his talents to being the top getaway driver for criminal activities. In the astoundingly tense and electrifying opening sequence, he helps two robbers escape from the police and a searching helicopter and maneuvers his Chevy vehicle with the ease of an elusive professional. The Driver doesn't have much else going on in his isolated existence, but he does take a liking to a neighbor, Irene (Carey Mulligan) who has a son and a husband in prison. The Driver helps her when she has car trouble and, for a while, writer-director  Nicolas Winding Refn rivets our attention with strikingly silent poses and body language that speaks volumes. The suspense builds when Irene's husband is out of prison and asks the Driver to help in a pawn shop robbery. Naturally, things go haywire and out-of-control.

"Drive" starts off as such an absorbing tone poem, even more breathtaking than a Michael Mann flick, that I was completely swept away by Gosling and Mulligan. Then we get to some cliched mob business involving Albert Brooks in an atypical and largely miscast role as a mob boss and Ron Perlman with glaringly big white teeth as a henchman, and I suddenly felt I was in some other movie. All manner of restraint and "coolness" erodes in favor of brutal, graphically violent setpieces that pretty much clam up the narrative. Gosling plays a loner, a nobody, but all that remains is a cipher, an automaton. When he starts walking around the last third of the film with a very cool Scorpion jacket full of blood stains, I lost patience. When the Driver stomps on one guy's head repeatedly (bordering on Rob Zombie's hideous violence from his "Halloween" remake) and Irene stands there dumbfounded, I was angry. I am no prude when it comes to violence (Scorsese, Tarantino on occasion, Mann and many others know how to make violence sting and linger without overstating) but this movie goes overboard and is too nasty to resonate with the firm, compelling, restrained tone that sets up the film. Uneven doesn't come close to describing it.

There are many things to admire in "Drive." A couple of the car chase sequences are splendidly made and very kinetic - they astonish and bring back the element of surprise that has dissipated from years of mediocre car-chase flicks. The mood and atmosphere of the film is strikingly photographed, especially the scenes of the city at night. Other pluses include Carey Mulligan as a very delicate wallflower who is hypnotic to watch, Bryan Cranston as a garage mechanic who is in way over his head with the mob boss, and Oscar Issac as Irene's husband who shares a glimmer of wanting to change his life. But the movie and Ryan Gosling (who can do much more than make a zombie stare) are a vaccum blowing us postmodernist shards of better movies (including a lost classic from the 1970's "Dirty Mary, Crazy Larry" which has stronger personalities in it than anything in this movie) minus any real moral complexity. "Drive" starts off as a crisply flavored Vodka Martini and ends up as one too many spilled Bloody Marys.

Monster on the loose in Antarctica

THE THING (1982)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

It always amazes me how times change. Back in 1982, John Carpenter's "The Thing" was a box-office failure. The critics excoriated the filmmaker for making a vomit-inducing picture with too many icky special-effects and too little character development, not to mention the gall of remaking a classic 1951 movie. The truth is that Carpenter went back to the original source, "Who Goes There?" a novella by John W. Campbell, and made a captivating, if slightly less invested in its human characters, monster movie that thrives on suspense and not relentless gore.

Naturally, when I think back to "The Thing," I recall the head with spider legs, the alien cadavers composed of other bodies, the freezing cold temperatures of the Antarctic, the Dog-Thing that drives other dogs nuts, etc. The one image that stands out, that narrowly focuses on the dread and bleak tone that drives Carpenter's film, is the opening sequence. It shows a dog running in the snow as it evades a Norwegian helicopter in the horizon. Why is the helicopter chasing the dog? We don't know but we know things are rotten in the deep freeze of this winterland when the Norwegian steps out of the helicopter and threatens to kill the dog. Madness ensues as our American motley crew of scientists and soldiers kill the pilot and another Norwegian accidentally blows himself up with a grenade. The terror has begun but our crew has no idea what they got in store.

My only disappointment with "The Thing" is that the characters are merely archetypal. There are exceptions - Kurt Russell's MacReady is one we can semi-root for who knows that this thing will not easily be contained. Keith David also stands out as another soldier, Childs, who is ready for a fight especially with his trusty flamethrower. Also worth a mention is Wilford Brimley (in possibly the strangest role of his career) as a biologist who goes insane (and who wouldn't when there is a deadly alien and an endless blizzard in the middle of it all?). Brimley's character is eventually held in a separate housing unit to shield him from causing more harm to others. There is also the warm-hearted and canine-loving Clark (Richard Masur) who is in charge of the kennel where things get out of control. The movie becomes a whodunit, as clearly evidenced from the novella's "Ten Little Indians" scenario, and it is a guessing game as to who is more dangerous than the other and who is human, and who isn't. Most of these militant, rough-edged, macho characters are tough to like and it is difficult to root for most of them. Even MacReady kills one person without hesitation - maybe the point is that the solitary environment can induce cabin fever and make killers out of all us. I buy that but I am not sure it makes any difference to me who dies and who lives, which is probably why the ending is left open-ended with two surviving characters.

I would not prefer this remake over the stunning original but both movies are not exactly peas in the same pod. The Howard Hawks-produced and Christian Nyby-directed The Thing focused on a patriotic crew trying to kill a menace (though I hardly think of it is a Red Menace as some viewers allege) - the menace in the shape of a Frankenstein Monster-type. John Carpenter's version goes back to the original source, having a creature that mimics its crew and eventually forms a monstrous, bloody and oozing-various-liquids-out-of-its-pores "thing" that would not have appeared in any 1950's cinematic interpretation. The atmosphere is startlingly realized by cinematographer Dean Cundey, the music by Ennio Morricone grows on you, and the special-effects are amazing and chilling to witness. But Carpenter's "Thing" has very little humanity overall, despite a great deal of suspense, and we just want to see more of the distorted alien than the human crew members who elicit precious little sympathy. A fascinating, icky, watchable and repulsive film to watch but I can't say I hated it or loved it. - it is middle-of-the-road John Carpenter that far exceeds "The Fog" but is not on the same level as "Halloween" or "Escape From New York." 

All I know is people say I am influential

EVERY EVERYTHING: THE MUSIC, LIFE AND TIMES OF GRANT HART (2013)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

If you have zero knowledge of Grant Hart or the band Husker Du, it will not affect your viewing of the riveting new documentary by director Gorman Bechard, "Every Everything: The Music, Life and Times of Grant Hart." I have heard of both but in small increments, thanks to my wife who is a hardcore fan. This documentary takes the quasi-similar approach of Errol Morris's equally riveting, "The Fog of War," and gets as intimate with the subject as possible.

For the uninitiated, Grant Hart was the drummer and co-songwriter for the influential punk rock band from Minneapolis - Husker Du (how the band got their name is one of many surprises, for me anyway). The band itself was seen by Nirvana bassist Krist Noveselic as the inspiration for Nirvana. Husker Du began in 1979 and lasted till their demise in 1988 due to creative differences and intensified disagreements. Bob Mould was the guitarist/vocalist and Greg Norton was the bassist.

Director Bechard ("Color Me Obsessed") focuses on Grant Hart who occupies every minute of this documentary. Grant talks about his talent for making abstract collages (he also designed every one of the Husker Du album covers); his remembrance of where every object was in his old house that burned; his recollection of the band being discovered by Black Flag - the same night there was a bizarre splashing blue paint incident; the song "Diane" from the "Metal Circus" EP that focused on the murder of a 16-year-old waitress; his frank discussion on his heroin use; his close personal relationship with William S. Burroughs; how he plays drums and where the cymbals should be placed, etc. If you are a diehard fan of Grant Hart and the band Husker Du, there is plenty here to divulge from the man. Just listening to his every word is breathtaking - he is a skilled storyteller.

Greg Norton (mustache), Grant Hart (center), Bob Mould

Despite such frankness, Husker Du fans might be miffed that we do not hear Mould's or Norton's side of the story regarding the breakup of Husker Du (Hart suggests that all should be forgiven - "let's get over 1987"). Nevertheless, Hart also discusses another band he started called Nova Mob, a name he derived from the Burroughs novel "Nova Express," and his solo work in the intervening years that includes his latest, a reworking of Milton's "Paradise Lost" as a concept album called "The Argument." Bob Mould went on to be part of other bands, whereas Norton tried and failed and switched to the restaurant business.

Grant Hart is basically himself - he does not want to be anyone else (Husker Du was pressured to be more mainstream and "normal"). Mostly seen wearing a Columbo raincoat, pink shirt and red shoes, he might be confused for anyone other than a musician. And watching him parading around a field of grass where his house once stood can be sad to watch, but he is not too sad about it. Grant Hart refuses to sentimentalize anything or anyone.

Director Bechard doesn't exactly mimic the style of "The Fog of War"  where Errol Morris had his subject look directly at the camera and see Morris on a small monitor. Bechard uses the camera to reflect the man intently and his surroundings (the scene where Grant keeps the stuff he almost lost in a fire shows a man looking ahead rather than giving his belongings a new home. It is also interesting watching Grant in a closet surrounded by mikes and cables while darkness surrounds him). Darkness may follow Grant but he is too busy looking forward.

I am nobody's old man

BULLET TO THE HEAD (2012)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Like fine vintage wine, Sylvester Stallone has aged and has added a few nuances to his abilities - he has also become a better actor. His gravelly voice and his amazing physique complement his world weariness - a man who has seen and heard it all. Except Stallone, pushing past his mid-60's, is not weaker nor weak-minded - he is just as physically imposing as he ever was. He has also developed a wicked edge, something which none of his past roles ever elucidated. Stallone is not just the best thing in "Bullet to Head" - he is the movie.

Stallone is an impulsive hit man and long-term criminal named Jimmy Bobo who loses his partner in crime to a vicious stabbing by another vicious killer (Jason Momoa, from the unfortunate "Conan the Barbarian" remake). Jimmy is now in hot water, especially after he and his partner killed a corrupt cop who was working for the devious businessman Robert Morel (Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje). Morel is handicapped, walking around with two canes, and he is plotting to demolish some low-income housing development and build condos instead (considering this violent tale takes place in New Orleans, I am sure there is an element of truth there).  An investigation is spearheaded by a Washington, D.C. detective, Taylor Kwan (Sung Hang), into the death of that corrupt cop whom he deduces that Bobo had a hand in. Guess what happens next? Bobo becomes an unlikely partner to Kwan and they both become embroiled in digging deeper into Morel's network of corrupt cops, masked balls, bathhouses and, lastly, an abandoned factory.

Director Walter Hill ("48 HRS.," "The Warriors") does an expert job of making the action fast and furious for its near-90-minute running time. I could have lived without the shots of solarized freeze-frames that interrupt the flow and rhythm of Hill's jazzy nighttime city streets (most of the film takes place at night) and his exemplary use of blues and bayou music riffs - the latter add to the atmosphere and overall mood but solarized images in frequent bursts diminish the impact.

I have lost interest in Christian Slater, an actor who back in the "Heathers" heyday seemed to be headed in the direction that Jack Nicholson went. Here, he plays Morel's lawyer and it doesn't give Slater much to do except play a one-dimensional weasel. Also lacking much charisma is Sung Hang, far too inanimate to be Stallone's partner. Faring much better is Adewale Akinnuoye-Agjabe as the always smiling villain whose toxic charms get under your skin. And despite a small role, Sarah Sashi as Bobo's daughter, a tattoo artist, gives the film a little lift as well - she has intoxicating charms that can only lead to better roles.

"Bullet to the Head" is nothing new in the action film world (though I can't recall the last time that a cop and a hit man were paired in the buddy-buddy genre) yet Stallone and director Hill make it far more tolerable than the cartoonish whiz-bang explosions of "The Expendables." The movie is sleek, crisp, lean and doesn't waste time. And Stallone proves that, in remarkable close-ups, he is nobody's old man even when wielding an axe.