D.O.A. Bernie and the laughs

WEEKEND AT BERNIE'S (1989)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

The problem with stiffs in a comedy is that once a character is dead and lugged around from one place to another, you can only milk the gag so far before it runs dry. Sensing the occasional chuckle in an otherwise resolutely gag-free "Weekend at Bernie's" for a second time proves that with age, some movies suck the air out of the room. Maybe in 1989, the movie seemed funny to me but it is just an elongated, one-note premise, and nothing comes of it.

Andrew McCarthy and Jonathan Silverman play two friends who work for an insurance company who discover a fraudulent account. The dashing, suave Bernie is their boss (played with unabashed charm and stiff-like grace by Terry Kiser) and applauds their efforts by inviting them to his beach house in Hampton Island, NY (a fictitious island, by the way). However, there is more than meets the eye since the fraud is Bernie's doing (a mob connection), and he wants the two ambitious kids whacked. Problem is the mob knows Bernie is sleeping with the head honcho's mistress so Bernie will be whacked instead. So we eventually arrive at Hampton Island, Bernie is whacked and the boys, once they discover this, hesitate to call the police, then they try to call, hesitate, etc. They hope that Bernie's party guests will notice he is nothing but a corpse but no - the guests on this island are all drug-addicted, alcoholic idiots who want to borrow the dead man's prized possessions and nothing more. Naturally, the mistress comes around and she and Bernie are engaged in an act together that is the most inspired note in the whole film.

I did leave out that Silverman's character has a thing for a fellow co-worker (a wasted Catherine Mary Stewart merely existing as a pawn - she is better than that) whom he profusely lies to! This subplot belongs in another movie (especially the awry romantic scene at his parents' house). Mostly, we get a dead Bernie whom the boys hoist onto boats repeatedly or shake his body in front of the guests to feign the appearance of someone alive...but very little of it is funny and comes across as crass and unbelievable. Being a stiff is not automatically funny...nor is seeing one buried in the sand twice any more comical. And using two highly unlikable and soulless idiotic chums as the protagonists makes this comedy D.O.A.

House of Diluted Horrors

THE FUNHOUSE (1981)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Out of all of the early 80's slasher flicks, "The Funhouse" is slightly above most of them but there's not much more to say. Coming from Tobe Hooper who scared the bejesus out of me with his frighteningly intense and nightmarish "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre," I expected a whole lot more. After all the Hoop made the sensational TV movie "Salem's Lot" and directed most of "Poltergeist."

Elizabeth Berridge (who some of you might know as Constance Mozart in "Amadeus") is Amy, the virgin who goes on a date with a hot guy! The guy is Buzz (Cooper Hucklebee) and they are on a double date with Amy's friend, Liz (Largo Woodruff), and her very nerdy boyfriend, Richie (Miles Chapin). They are off to the funhouse, a traveling carnival in town that has been plagued with trouble in other locations. Amy doesn't want to go since she would rather see a movie but Buzz convinces her. Once they are at the funhouse and see attractions like a two-headed cow and various goblins and skeletons and other spooky contraptions, the double daters decide to stay overnight. Big mistake when you consider the occupants of this funhouse including a foul-mouthed fortune teller (hilarious wickedness from Sylvia Miles), a possibly deformed male wearing a Frankenstein get-up, and the demented master of ceremonies (Kevin Conway, a sort of poor man's Oliver Reed). A murder ensues witnessed by the pot-smoking, sex-starved teens that leads to an inescapable dilemma.

I would almost recommend "The Funhouse" had it been more devilishly fun and made better use of its ominous sets. There are good set-ups, especially involving Amy's brother, Joey (Shawn Carson), who sneaks out of the house and checks out the funhouse. Why? Maybe because he fears for his sister's safety or because he has an affection for Karloff's Frankenstein monster (which he keeps a poster of in his house) or due to the strange Frankenstein-costumed carnival worker he sees. Hmmm. There are a few scenes where Joey gingerly tries to avoid getting seen after the carnival is closed but nothing comes of them. When one of the workers calls his parents and they pick him up, you kind of wished this whole subplot was eliminated altogether.

Little hints of something more foreboding are sprinkled throughout the misguided screenplay. The scene where the carnival worker wipes Joey's face while his parents look on is far more tense and scary than anything else in the movie. I also like Berridge's scene in the car with Buzz before they go to the funhouse where Buzz merely tries to manipulate her and she sees through it, though she retains her naivete (she also finds his jokes unfunny). It is such a good damn scene, so perfectly written and acted, that it deserves better than what follows. And whatever hope there is, and it is suggested, of seeing the glint of sadness in Kevin Conway's character is immediately eradicated by the usual shocks and "who goes there?" cliches.

I am not totally dismissive of Tobe Hooper's "The Funhouse" and I do see that he might have been trying for a more character-oriented slasher film, dependent more on mood and atmosphere than bloody mayhem. Unfortunately, there are one too many missed opportunities, not to mention a silly looking monster, homages to "Halloween" and "Psycho" and not much else. Elizabeth Berridge and the film's sense of atmosphere almost make up for it, but this carnival could've had more fright value.

What's Happening in this Day of the Stiffs?

THE HAPPENING (2008)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

M. Night Shyamalan is a master at setting the audience up - he knows how to fuel the buildup so we sit there wondering what will happen next. "Lady in the Water" was a stranger, ambitious film in his oeuvre, a convoluted mermaid fairy-tale that never quite found its pulse. "The Happening," however, is an eager attempt to re-establish what he does best: a slow, uneasy uncovering of something mysterious that will keep you guessing. His best films ("The Sixth Sense," "The Village") kept the mystery alive because he showed compassion for his characters until the inevitable surprise ending. "The Happening" contains a remarkable sense of dread and foreboding in the first fifteen minutes, and it goes severely downhill afterwards with perfunctory characters.

Something is happening in the city of Philadelphia. Pedestrians on the streets stop dead in their tracks, look as stone faced as Medusa, and suddenly kill themselves. Constructions workers fall to their deaths, some stab themselves on the neck, cops shoot themselves and there is general hysteria here. Mark Walhberg is a high-school science teacher who runs for the hills along with his nearly listless wife (Zooey Deschanel), his fellow teacher friend (John Leguizamo) and his own daughter (Ashlyn Sanchez), heading to a presumably safe haven, unaware of what is causing all this mass suicide. They take the trusted SEPTA train only to be stuck in some small town, outside of Philadelphia, and they cavort in the countryside hoping that what seems like a terrorist attack will end soon. Well, it is not terrorists spreading deadly nerve gases but rather plants and trees. If the weather gets overcast and the wind starts to rustle the foliage, watch out, run, and don't stay in groups of more than four!

Unfortunately, there is not a heck of a lot more to say about "The Happening." There are some unintended laughs along the high mortality rate but nothing to latch onto - no real basic story other than a dangling premise that would be hardly meaty enough for a "Twilight Zone" episode. Even the rules established by Wahlberg are not followed since a small group of people can still invoke suicidal tendencies, although how do the trees and bushes know or care how many people to attack and instill with such violence is beyond my understanding. This not exactly "Day of the Triffids" - it is more like "Day of the Stiffs." The actors, including a very wasted Zooey Deschanel (in more ways than one), seem forced in their reactions to this madness and clearly misdirected. My favorite scene, full of unintended laughs, has Wahlberg trying to convince a house plant that he just wants to use the bathroom. It turns out the plant is plastic. Do yourself a favor: watch TV's classic "What's Happening" instead.

Can't turn away from sadism

QUILLS (2000)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

(Originally reviewed in 2000)

When I think of the Marquis De Sade, I think of sadism, pure and simple (heck, the word comes from his name). Others may see him as a pornographer, a brutally harsh man, bestial, etc. It is a surprise therefore to see that director Philip Kaufman ("The Unbearable Lightness of Being") has sanitized the grand old Marquis somewhat, making him less the dangerously lecherous man and more the swooning, almost sympathetic writer dying to write his devilishly seductive prose with his needful quills.

Geoffrey Rush is De Sade, shown living in a dank stone cell in a mental institution known as Charenton. De Sade delights in writing and in speaking in gentle, arousing tones, embellishing and enunciating each and every syllable as if the English language were his own. Though he is imprisoned, he continues to write his novels, particularly the controversial "Justine," with the help of a chambermaid (Kate Winslet), a secret courier who delivers his work to the nearest town to be published anonymously. Of course, most of the townspeople know it is De Sade's work, only he could publish such scandalous writings.

Naturally such published works cause controversy and so the institution sends Dr. Royer-Collard (Michael Caine), a brutish, callous man to cure De Sade of his fiendish talent by way of torture. De Sade's work gets so out of hand and causes such scandals everywhere, including one involving Collard's own youthful wife, a former nun who reads De Sade's work with relish, that the writer is stripped of his talents, physically and emotionally. His quills are taken away, as are his clothes. You can't censor a good writer for too long since he uses any available means of writing his prose, including his own blood (by pricking his fingers) and his feces. This lunatic cannot live without writing, and never before have I seen such a slowly developed emotional catharsis for an artist intent on making his work come to fruition in any way possible.

"Quills" is quite prescient in its look at censorship, and how the writer of what some have described as pornography can be used as a scapegoat for the ills of society - certainly such lascivious prose would not cause women to act lustful now would it? And what about the other patients in the institution who act out his plays regularly - are they capable of misinterpreting his work and using it as an excuse to commit violent acts?

The centerpiece of the film is the naive young priest (Joaquin Phoenix), who believes that De Sade's work is immoral yet still admires the man for his tenacity. Still, the priest does manage to read some of the man's work and it may be possible that it causes him to develop feelings for the beautiful, buxom chambermaid.

"Quills" works mainly because of Geoffrey Rush's magnificent, fully alive performance - he wretches, he cavorts, he has a devilish laugh and smile, and basically he is irresistible. I think the real De Sade must have been too, and his work shone with equal engagement. The chambermaid may find De Sade too intensely passionate for her blood, but she is nevertheless intrigued by him and sexually connected to him. De Sade turns out to bring out the best and worst in everybody close to him, including his long-suffering wife and, in a couple of startling scenes, the hypocritical Dr. Royer-Collard.

Exquisitely acted and often hauntingly beautiful in its bleached, murky look, "Quills" is about a madman who writes such erotic, violent words that it causes trouble not only for him, but for everyone around him. We can't stand to bear his pain or his enclosed surroundings yet we are unable to turn away and that, in the end, was the beauty of De Sade's art.

Boobs in Fantasy Land

BABES IN TOYLAND (1986)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

When a fantasy movie is so third rate that it is devoid of magic, a sense of wonder or anything approaching a sense of fun, I get irritated. "Babes in Toyland" is threadbare Clive Donner crap (a director who has done far superior work, including 1984's invigorating "A Christmas Carol" with George C. Scott) that is unlikely to move an impatient toddler.

Drew Barrymore is Lisa Piper, a Cincinnati 11-year-old girl who cares for her family and apparently does all the cooking. Her older sibling, Mary (Jill Schoelen), works at a toy store and is forced to push sales of teddy bears by a demanding boss (the wonderful Richard Mulligan). Keanu Reeves plays Mary's boyfriend who also works at the toy store. When Lisa gets wind that her mother (Eileen Brennan) will not be in time for dinner due to a severe snowstorm while the TV antenna's signal is cut, little Lisa runs to the toy store and asks for her sister's help. They all drive merrily home while singing "C-I-N-C-I-N-N-A-T-I" until there is a car wreck! Guess what happens! Lisa is transported to Toyland where her sister Mary, now Mary Contrary, is getting married to the dastardly, wicked Barnaby (Mulligan, again) who lives in a giant bowling ball! The marriage is intervened and we also get a roster of talented stars such as Eileen Brennan (again) as Mother Goose; Pat Morita as a Toymaker who turns out to be (SPOILER ALERT!) Kris Kringle himself, and a host of pale-green-faced creatures and actors wearing immobile animal costumes including teddy bears who serve as crossing guards! I think I also spotted Humpty-Dumpty with a movable, wandering eye. "Wizard of Oz," it is decidedly not (The stage musical of "Oz" served as the inspiration for the operetta of "Babes in Toyland" back in 1903).

The Cincinnati opener is actually decent and sort of fun, while it lasts. Jill Schoelen and Drew Barrymore work so well together that you wish they had more screen time as sisters before embarking on the Toyland adventure. Once we enter the colorful Toyland, it disappointingly looks like an amusement park, not a lived-in fantasy land. Worse yet, despite a game cast, the movie is insufferably dull and practically unwatchable. There is no flair or sense of magic in this land - it is dreary and artificial at best despite the brightly colored art-direction. Mother Goose's Shoe House and those Go-Carts are fun for a while (I like Brennan's line: "I will not allow such radical thinking in my shoe!"), and it is somewhat interesting that it is always daylight in Toyland but the whole setting resembles a western that just happens to have odd creatures. Other than that, the movie sinks fast with unmemorable songs and a climax with the toy soldiers that is so shoddily staged (witness Drew pelting monsters with tomatoes and a wooden soldier shedding a tear) that it is hard to believe anyone like director Donner would've shaped it. Everything about this movie is wooden, both in design and staging and performance (Pat Morita and Eileen Brennan bring some measure of intermittent sweetness but lovely Drew is misdirected as if she was a rotten actor who couldn't emote beyond a sunny smile). If you are a babysitter and wish to put the kids to sleep, show them this movie. 

Film is not reality, reality is not film

FULL FRONTAL (2002)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Steven Soderbergh's "Full Frontal" is quite a movie experience but it is not a coherent one, and I kind of appreciated that. Soderbergh has created a mini-canvas of lives in Los Angeles but without the multi-layered connections of a Robert Altman or an Alan Rudolph flick, or for that matter Paul Thomas Anderson.

"Full Frontal" takes place in Hollywood where movie stars like Brad Pitt make movies on the city streets and people walk around dressed in full Dracula costumes. This is also the Hollywood of screenwriters, massage therapists, producers, reporters, personnel directors, animal doctors, and so on. They are all conflicted in their lives because of bad relationships that need desperate mending. Lee (Catherine Keener) is a personnel director who loathes her job and humiliates her employees by asking them personal questions (get it?) while holding a globe. She is unhappily married to Carl (David Hyde Pierce), a screenwriter who also writes magazine articles and gets fired from that job because he has confused quirks with standards. Lee feels frustrated and takes her frustrations out on her sister Linda (Mary McCormack), a masseuse who can't find the right man in her life so she looks for one on the Internet. Their relationship is the most arresting and fascinating of the lot.

Meanwhile, there is a director named Ed (Enrico Colantoni), who Linda is about to meet for the first time in Tucson. He is working on a new play about Hitler as some sort of buffoon (it is entitled "The Sound and the Fuhrer"). The terrifically funny Nicky Katt is playing Hitler though there is a method to his madness - he likes to rewrite the stage directions and insult the actors. And let's not forget Blair Underwood as a movie star in the film-within-the-film called "Rendezvous," who begins to explain the method to his madness and his standing as a black actor to a smitten reporter (Julia Roberts). So what we are seeing is a movie relationship and the real relationships in "reality" - what is the real truth being explored here? Or perhaps Soderbergh is saying that life is like a movie, hence all relationships are like movies. It is possible we are not seeing a "realistic" relationship in the entire film.

"Full Frontal" is one quirky film alright, as playful and entrancing as Soderbergh's "Schizopolis." The point of the movie may be that a movie is a movie, never a reality. This is not a new conceit. Consider that Alejandro Jodorowsky's "The Holy Mountain" had the director appear in the last scene showing that his film was not a real film, hence a film crew is seen in the shot. Ah, but a film is still being made and someone is still shooting a scene of the director making his remarks. The point is that film is not a reality anyway, only an approximation. Still, the last shot of "Full Frontal" is what I call a "glass breakage" scene where the reality of the film is broken by its reflection of an inner truth nobody was aware of, or thought of. It's nothing new but it did catch me by surprise.

"Full Frontal" is shot on grainy, low-grade video and 35 mm film. Again, the technique of applying different film stocks is nothing new but it feels appropriate for the material. It feels like Soderbergh made this film to renew his faith in the magic of filmmaking at a guerrilla stage, and who can blame him? After making the excellent "Traffic" and the fluffy "Ocean's Eleven," he is back on track making the kind of films that gave him his shot of recognition in the first place. Maybe in a few years I'll look back at this review and say to myself, "how could I have given 'Full Frontal' a rave review?" Well, nothing will hinder my praise - "Full Frontal" is one of the few engaging films of 2002.

Han Solo and Rambo together, oh, if only

THE EXPENDABLES 3 (2014)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Sylvester Stallone has become far more interesting nowadays, thanks to his gravelly voice and his been-there-done-that-older-wiser repartee. He looks like an older lion who still has the stamina and strength to crush you, yet he can also have a good time at a bar drinking with the rest of them. Unfortunately, "The Expendables" movie series has gotten more banal with each entry and this third chapter is inexplicably a two-hour snoozer. Stallone tries to save it but his presence is not enough.

Stallone is once again Barney Ross, the mercenary who wants to kill a former Expendable-turned-psychotic-arms dealer, Conrad Stonebanks (Mel Gibson, looking as if he wants to be home screaming at someone - perhaps his agent). The problem is that Ross's boss, an impatient CIA operative (Harrison Ford, who looks like he'd rather be piloting the Millennium Falcon), wants Stonebanks alive so that he can be tried for war crimes. A mission where Conrad, presumed dead, is initially discovered by Barney results in the near-fatal gunshots suffered by Hale Caesar (Terry Crews, always a spirited and fun actor). Ross decides to disband his older cronies for newer, fresher blood. These new recruits barely got my attention except for Ronda Rousey as a tough bouncer and mixed martial-artist - she has a tender and vicious side that makes her a perfect new Expendable. However, you start to miss the reliable pros of 80's and 90's action pic fame like Dolph Lundgren, Jet Li, Arnold Schwarzenegger and Harrison Ford - they are AWOL for almost 60 percent of the film.

"Expendables 3" is not as cartoonishly empty as the second film but it is nowhere near as decent as the first film. In the end, the movie is about nothing more than amassing a huge body count and the chance to hear Harrison Ford say the word "fuck." I am all for the small pleasures in life but with such an extraordinary cast that can bring you goosebumps when you hear all their names together, the end result is nothing but numbing monotony.