Communicating ideas based on hard facts

THE 50 YEAR ARGUMENT (2014)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

I was never an avid reader of the New York Times nor the New York Review of Books so I am approaching this documentary with a cold perspective. "The 50 Year Argument" is an incisive revelation, a rip-roaring guide through the years of the numerous articles, authors and writers who dominated the hot potato of controversy of a magazine that, upon its inception, was anything but what it remains today - an intellectual, eye-opening discourse on politics and key central figures in our history.

The documentary covers the gamut of writers like Norman Mailer, Gore Vidal, Isaiah Berlin, Noam Chomsky, W.H. Auden, James Baldwin and Stephen Jay Gould, among many others, who covered a wide range of topics and scrutinized (rather than lionized) many central political figures such as Nixon and, most alarmingly, Leni Riefenstahl, the documentarian of the most beautiful and controversial propaganda film of all time, "Triumph of the Will." Sometimes the focus was on current American issues of the day such as the Vietnam War, feminism and Norman Mailer's own virulent discourse on women (his 1971 Town Hall standoff with Susan Sontag has to be seen believed), and other times it was on the political progression of countries like North Vietnam, post-Vietnam War, and how it implemented power no different than its formerly Communist regime. Naturally, all of these various topics, covering alternative ground on matters that the national dialogue would not permit, is watched, read and analyzed by Robert Silvers, the New York Reviews of Book's founding editor who knew his writers better than they knew themselves.

Three writers stand out in "The 50 Year Argument" - Norman Mailer, Gore Vidal and Joan Didion. Mailer criticizes Vidal for placing his hot-temperedness on the same list as Charles Manson, and for Vidal's understandable concern about Mailer's "sexual violence" leanings in his novels not to mention his opposition to feminism. The two duked it out famously on the Dick Cavett Show.

Writer Joan Didion, who used to be a screenwriter, is featured in one segment as having written that something was askew in the assigning of blame to three black men for allegedly raping the Central Park Jogger. She correctly surmises that the three black men were innocent years before it was fact - assigning quick blame to black men for raping a white woman, something which she mentions casually has happened before. Thus, a historical perspective and a societal mob mentality, with varying degrees of polarization, enables scapegoating the wrong assailants.

"50 Year Argument" is exceptionally shaped and lucidly structured as a document of 50 years of ardent discussion and communication in the little magazine that could. The fact that it helped to shed light on matters of national and societal importance, something which mainstream newspapers couldn't or wouldn't articulate with regards to apparent cultural shifts in foreign and domestic stories, is exemplified by Silvers who sought complex truth, not simplicity. A barrage of clips of authors speaking of the magazine as one whose intellectual prowess reached the isles of Ireland, directors Martin Scorsese and David Tedeschi have concocted a massively detailed history in just over a hour and a half without missing a beat. More significantly, the film reminds us of a time where a communication of ideas based on hard facts could take precedence over arguing without them. Today's news could take a page or two from the New York Review of Books.

Revenge of the Mossad Squad

MUNICH (2005)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

(Originally reviewed in 2006)

Steven Spielberg's "Munich" is a troubling though affecting mess. It is definitely a good film but it lacks an overall center and contains affectless characters. It is also too long, occasionally disjointed and overdone. Despite that, "Munich" will keep you glued to the screen.

In the opening sequence set in 1972 during the Munich Olympics, we see a group of Palestinian terrorists invade an apartment next to the Munich Olympic stadium. They hold a bunch of athletes hostage, and some are executed. Tragedy ensues as all the athletes and virtually all the terrorists, members of the Black September group, are killed. We see this as a mixture of reenactment and actual news footage - some of it is truly spellbinding in how seamless it all is.

The Prime Minister of Israel, Golda Meir (Lynn Cohen), has decided to take action, to exact revenge - essentially, to compromise their values like every other generation. She asks that a group of ex-Mossad members be assembled and assassinate those responsible for the tragedy. Avner (Eric Bana) is selected as the leader, a former bodyguard for Meir, and heads four teammates. There is Robert (Mathieu Kassovitz), a toymaker who is an expert at disarming bombs rather than building them; the bespectacled Carl (Ciaran Hinds) the Cleaner; Steve (Daniel Craig), the one who is eager to shoot to kill; and Hans (Hanns Zischler), the expert forger. Ephraim (Geoffrey Rush) denies this group their existence for protective reasons and claims they work for no one - the team has to travel under false names and passports. Their link to the Palestinian terrorists is through a Frenchman named Louis (Mathiew Amalric) whom they pay handsomely for information. The question becomes simple: if this Frenchman doesn't work for any government, then can he be trusted? More pointedly, can the Frenchman reveal the identities of the Mossad squad if the price is right? Although insinuated, Spielberg is not interested in going down that path.

"Munich" is essentially a tale of the dehumanizing effects of exacting political revenge when the values of a country are questioned and compromised. Avner begins to suffer a debilitating blow to his conscience - is he doing the right thing by hunting down terrorists and killing them with bombs? Is he no different from the terrorists? Just when the job seems to be over, Avner grows more ambitious - he wants to venture into unsafe territory by going after the leader, presumably hiding in Beirut. At the same time, his team grows wary of this mission. Violence begets violence and there seems no end to it. Peace is barely in the horizon. What makes it worse is that not all the targets are terrorists - some are affiliated or were involved with the Munich hostage plan.

"Munich" asks lots of questions but it lacks the pacing and rhythm of a genuine political thriller such as Costa-Gravas's "Z.". It is highly charged at times, and sometimes it feels ponderous, as did Hitchcock's "Torn Curtain." Some scenes are truly suspenseful, especially the attempt to subvert a booby-trapped bomb inside an apartment where a little girl inadvertently answers the phone. A few bomb blasts keep us on alert, and there are some painfully violent executions. But I think Spielberg lost his way here a little. Once we realize how fruitless the whole righteous assassin scenario is, there is a little too much padding to push the film to an almost unwarranted two hour and forty minute running time. The padding comes in the form of far too many talky scenes, and suspiciously not enough interaction between the team members.

I did enjoy the scenes between Avner and Louis, however, and particularly Louis's father, Papa (Michael Londsdale, who can make any film lively) who explains that Avner is not part of his family despite being invited to a hearty lunch at his manor. There is something sinister and playful about Papa, a former member of the French Resistance - he and his son have access to information on anyone. So, once again, one is left wondering if they have any information on the Mossad. Remember that Father and Son work for no one, or do they? Do they work for the CIA? They can summon information for the right price - would they do the same for the Palestinians as they have for the Israelis? I just felt more friction and unease in those scenes than almost anything else in "Munich."

Perhaps, "Munich" is not economical enough, not brazen enough to be straightforward as a revenge film where morals and ethics among the supposed "heroes" of Israel slowly deteriorate. There just doesn't seem to be enough depth to Avner or his team, not enough exposure of their idealized view of Israel (Avner decides to abandon Israel and move to Brooklyn). There is a powerful scene where Avner discusses with a Palestinian terrorist what the concept of home is to a land that doesn't belong to the Palestinians - it is the only time that the "holy war" is ever mentioned.

As I said, "Munich" is occasionally effective and certainly morally ambiguous, the latter being a departure for the Spielman. I love the ending which ranks among Spielberg's best endings ever, including the subtle allusion to 9/11. But I don't think that "Munich" is meant for Spielberg - the material is too shaky, too contemplative and too morally complex for him to handle. It is overlong and overstuffed, trying too hard to be more intellectually moving as opposed to emotionally moving (similar problems plagued Spielberg's "Amistad"). I like the intellectual approach, the spirited speeches of patriotism or lack thereof, but its overall sensibility is closer to Costa-Gravas or Oliver Stone than Spielberg.

Crime pays for Abagnale

CATCH ME IF YOU CAN (2002)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

(Originally reviewed in 2002)

The previews for Steven Spielberg's caper comedy are off the mark one-hundred percent. I was led to believe that this was a comedy-drama with thrills every second. I thought it was about the excitement of trying to catch up with a con man on the loose with the FBI on his tail. Well, "Catch Me if You Can" has such moments but this is not a thriller or a comedy in the strictest sense of the words - this is a drama with comical innuendoes. In many ways, it is one of the nicest surprises of 2002.

Inspired by a true story, Leonardo DiCaprio plays Frank Abagnale, Jr., a 16-year-old teenager with two supposedly loving parents. Christopher Walken plays Frank Sr., who has trouble maintaining house payments and keeping his wife faithful. His French wife, Paula (Nathalie Baye), leaves after a divorce proceeding and Frank Jr. has to choose between the two. Instead, Frank Jr. runs away. This is after Frank had impersonated a substitute teacher for two weeks at the very school where he was attending as a student!

At the age of sixteen, Frank Jr. successfully impersonated an airline pilot, a doctor and a lawyer. During all that time, he forges checks of up to 4 million dollars, gets to travel all around the world, almost gets married to a naive nurse, stays in luxurious hotels, eats at the finest restaurants, and fools everyone along the way with constant variations on his name. But someone is not so easily fooled. Carl Hanratty (Tom Hanks) is the FBI agent on his trail who is convinced that the checks being forged are the work of a sixteen-year-old con man. His foolproof theories are met with initial reluctance by other agents, particularly when Carl mentions that the routing numbers on the checks are indicative of which state Frank is residing in.

Frank's reasoning for his criminal activities is that he wants to help his father and mother enjoy their lives, offering free flights and free Cadillacs. Frank Sr. can't be seen with a Cadillac considering he owes the IRS so much money. Curiously, the opening scenes of Frank Sr. trying to get a loan from a bank may insinuate that junior's cons are hereditary. Another scene shows Frank Sr. trying to get a black suit for his son at a dress shop. The shop hasn't opened for business yet but Frank manages to persuade the owner to open by holding a gold necklace (he claims she lost it in the parking lot). This trick is later repeated by junior in other cons.

"Catch Me If You Can" does not easily fit into a thriller mode or a comedy mode or a dramatic mode. Spielberg seems to be pulling strings everywhere, merely toying with us and conning us every step of the way. In a way, one can enjoy Frank's cons and ability to fool people (my favorite moment is when he convinces Hanratty that he is a Secret Service man) but the film is not merely about conning. On the other hand, one can see this as a comedy-drama but the comedy is lightweight (the film is not really meant to be funny) and the drama is directed not with a sledgehammer of sentimentality (as is sometimes the case with the Spielman) but with minimalist, implicit style. No performance aims to go over the top in this movie. DiCaprio, who gives the finest, most relaxed performance of his career, exudes the right touch of bravado, cleverness and wit. He can seem sad, romantic, desperate, suave (when he dresses like James Bond), enthusiastic and debonair - whenever he is in a tight spot of trouble, he is a quick thinker and eludes any suspicions of whom he pretends to be. One priceless sequence has Abagnale at his fiancee's parents' house. The girl's father (Martin Sheen) asks Abagnale what he does for a living. Mistakenly, he responds he is a doctor and a lawyer and that he graduated from the father's same alma mater. When Sheen asks about a professor's dog, Abagnale responds: "The dog died."

Christopher Walken walks tall in this movie, and gives a towering performance of controlled pain and regret as Abagnale's father. One can't help but feel sympathy towards him when he says to his son: "They will never catch you" or "Frank, I had to take the train to work. I can't be seen with a Cadillac." His early scenes reminded me of Harvey Keitel's con artist in the underrated "Imaginary Crimes," but then we realize this character has made mistakes in his choices. Perhaps he was not such a con man as he first appeared to be (whether he is a con man or not is unclear). This is Walken at his most piercing, giving his most heartrending performance since "The Dead Zone." I want to see an Oscar nomination for this man.

For once, Tom Hanks plays a serious, cartoonish goofball, a "Dragnet"-like FBI man who is as straight as an arrow. He is unable to crack much of a smile, and when he pooh-poohs fellow agents with a crude knock-knock joke, I could not help but laugh. His reaction shots are excellent and perfectly-timed, especially when he narrowly loses Abagnale at every opportunity. Hanks's best rection shot is when he almost traps Abagnale at an airport, using Frank's fiancee as bait. A young man is seated in a car with a pilot's hat and when he turns out to be a limo driver holding Hanratty's name, I was laughing hysterically. Hanks, the righteous Everyman of Hollywood, propagates a comic flair that is as breathless as any of his dramatic roles. I wish he was this freewheeling in the "Dragnet" remake from long ago.

As "Catch Me If You Can" ended, I could not help but feel that Spielberg has matured greatly from his Hollywood wunderkind days. Ever since "Schindler's List," he has given us "Amistad," "Saving Private Ryan," "A.I.," and the sci-fi thriller "Minority Report." He is treading on darker waters than usual, and sometimes aims for some moral ambiguity (though I think he got squeamish about such ambiguity in "Minority Report.") With this film (more lighthearted than dark), he shows us a young man as a sort of innocent, 60's antihero who did no harm to anybody except steal money. And when he goes to jail and gets to work for the FBI in the check fraud department, one can't help but feel that Spielberg is saying something about crime he has never dared to say before: it pays.

Morality of Pre-Crime just skims the surface

MINORITY REPORT (2002)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

(Originally reviewed in 2002)

Something has happened to Steven Spielberg - he has been haunted by the ghost of Stanley Kubrick. The warm, sensitive, sentimental Spielberg is trying to tap into the darker recesses of fables and science-fiction stories. After last year's fabulous "A.I.," itself based on ideas by Kubrick, Spielberg was aiming for something more ominous and foreboding, and he basically succeeds with his new science-fiction dazzler, "Minority Report."

Cropped-haired Tom Cruise stars as John Anderton, the chief of Pre-Crime, an organization in Washington, D.C. that prevents actual crimes from happening. They manage this feat with the use of Pre-Cogs, precognitive humans who lie in a water tank and are tapped into some video computer that shows their premonitions of upcoming crimes, mostly homicides. When the main Pre-Cog, Agatha (Samantha Morton), the strongest of the three Pre-Cogs, sees a vision, a red ball is unleashed through some tubes with the name of the murderer. John's job is to use a high-tech system using motion control to find where the murderer will commit the crime. Along with his compatriots, they travel to the destination on a ship and prevent the murder within seconds. Pre-crime is a solid, workable system that has prevented crimes from taking place in almost six years (only, of course, in D.C.). The bureau director of this organization, Burgess (Max Von Sydow), is facing a crucial election year where Pre-Crime has been under total scrutiny. Enter the cynical bureaucrat from the Justice Department, Danny Witwer (Colin Farrell), who questions the validity of Pre-Crime, and is sure that flaws must exist in this system. Before you know it, John Anderton is in hot water when he discovers that he will commit murder himself.

Based on a short story by Philip K. Dick, "Minority Report" has a lot of story to work with, and it helps that Cruise is cast as the hot-blooded, doped-up John, facing his own crisis over the loss of his son. Cruise makes John the hero to root for in a world that is grayish and washed-out, thanks to the dazzling cinematography by Spielberg regular Janusz Kaminski. This world is no picnic and technology has taken precedence over personal privacy. The year is 2054 and we see souped-up Lexus cars that can travel on ramps alongside the surfaces of buildings, plants that move and can poison intruders in private homes, eye scanners at every single street corner, advertisements that salute you particularly at Gap stores, newspapers that have rapidly changing images, spider-like robots that search for murder suspects, and so on. It is a world as eerily prescient as the world shown in "Blade Runner," and now that the FBI can scan library records of just about anyone, our universe is becoming just as Orwellian as ever.

The aspects of Pre-Crime are fascinating, particularly the nature of it and if any flaws exist in a supposedly foolproof system. That is the function of the Danny Witwer character, questioning if any crime would have ever existed and if the Pre-Cogs could ever have been wrong in their assertions and visions. What if a homicide that took place was justifiable in some way? What about self-defense? What about a crime that leads to some positive consequences? The morality at stake of preventing crimes that may happen in the future is frightening, if you consider the consequences. And it comes out of John's character who may commit a murder, but to whom and why? Spielberg, however, is not as willing to plunge deeply with such questions. Despite working with Kubrick's ideas in "A.I." and fusing a questionable future for a child robot, Spielberg brings us close to the immorality of Pre-Crime but refuses to stick with the ideas. It is like watching a magician who speaks of magic tricks yet never actually performs them. This is no surprise coming from the eternal optimist who believes that hope will always prevail. Kubrick or, for that matter, Ridley Scott might have stuck with the phase that is set in motion because they see that darkness sometimes prevails, and the consequences of real-life crimes sometimes prevents others from seeing the wrongdoing ahead of time. The future is never that bright in movies, so the last thing I expect is a happy ending.

"Minority Report" is a stunning achievement in special-effects and production design, and Cruise fires his acting missiles with acute timing and perfect pitch. I like some of the dark humor in the film and the Kubrickian homages, and the film does have a spellbinding look to it - it is like a darkly humorous, sci-fi noir comedy. But it also goes on too long just when it appears it might have ended (a common Spielberg fallacy) and the last section in the film is overwrought and overdone. Still, it is quite a marvel of a film and the ironic look into the future of privacy invasion is haunting.

Wagging the Dog

A Look Back at PRIMARY COLORS (1998) and THE WAR ROOM (1993)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

(Both originally reviewed in 1998)

 After hearing the media's relentless obsession over President Clinton's sexual life and personal affairs (not to mention "Wag the Dog"), we get Mike Nichols' irreverent, deeply hysterical "Primary Colors" that centers on a presidential candidate trying to evade questions about purported sexual dalliances. This couldn't be a more timely subject and make no mistake, this film is about President Clinton. "Primary Colors" also reminded me of the intoxicating documentary "The War Room" from 1993, which focused on Governor Clinton's run for the presidency in 1992. The same basic premise exists for both films: the underdog aiming for the presidency amid a flurry of rumors and personal bashing.

"Primary Colors" stars John Travolta as the white-haired, doughnut-eating, Arkansas-bred Jack Stanton who vies for the presidential office. As played by Travolta, Jack is quite a charmer and full of charisma, more so than Clinton. He is even married to a Hillary Clinton-type, played to the hilt by Emma Thompson using an authentic American accent. Stanton gets help from his campaign staff headed by a James Carville-redneck-type (Billy Bob Thornton), and a promising, idealistic campaign staffer Henry Burton (Adrian Lester). Jack has fleeting sexual flings with co-workers while the staff prepares a campaign aimed at proving to the people that Stanton believes in putting the people's needs first.

Unfortunately, Stanton's sexual history is put at the forefront of the political forum and is exploited by fellow candidates, including Gov. Fred Picker (Larry Hagman in top form) who enters the race late - Picker may intentionally remind you of Ross Perot. In order to defend himself against verbal attacks and seemingly fabricated tape recordings, Jack enlists the help of an old friend, Libby Holden (an intense Kathy Bates) a.k.a. "Dustbuster," a lesbian, all-purpose troubleshooter who has no qualms about placing a gun on a man's privates.

"Primary Colors" is based on the book of the same name by Anonymous (recently known as political journalist Joe Klein), and it is rife with richly drawn characters, an acidly sharp script by Elaine May, and astute direction by Mike Nichols. It is a film that begins as comedy and slowly evolves into a dark satire - a reproach of the process by which someone like Jack Stanton gets elected despite the personal allegations.

"The War Room" is a vibrant, witty excursion into the presidential campaign of 1992 when then Gov. Clinton was running for office. The film follows the campaign process via chief political strategist James Carville and adviser George Stephanopoulos, and is all set in the "war room," formerly a Little Rock newspaper office.

Carville and Stephanopoulos are two of the most charismatic characters I've seen in a documentary (or film) in a long time, and they couldn't be more opposite in their physical demeanor. Carville, in his Southern drawl, is always actively making decisions whether it's about prepared speeches, the look of a campaign poster, or arguing endlessly on the phone about the other candidates or Clinton's past - "Every time somebody even farts the word 'draft,' it makes the paper." Stephanopoulos is the more timid, quiet, reserved individual - he reminds me a lot of Michael J. Fox's character Alex P. Keaton in "Family Ties"; Fox subsequently played a variation of George in "The American President." George is more subtle and calm than Carville, and operates in an equally articulate manner. At one crucial point, George receives a call from a black woman claiming to have given birth to Clinton's child. George convinces the caller that she will be ridiculed in the press if she comes out with such a sensational story. This scene is reminiscent of the scene in "Primary Colors" where Stanton's advisers visit a teenage black girl claiming to have the candidate's baby.

As directed by D.A. Pennebaker and Chris Hegedus, "The War Room" is very keen on details and conversations between staff and personnel regarding the plight of the Clinton campaign. The atmosphere grows more and more tense as we get to the inevitable climax where Clinton wins the nomination in the election victory. On the eve of the election, Carville gives an emotional speech regarding the strong effort he and his aides have made in helping Clinton, and the positive effect politics has had on his life. George is even questioned by the secretary as to how he feels: "Exhausted."

"The War Room" could have used more footage of Clinton and perhaps the filmmakers could have caught him in truly private, unguarded moments as to how he really felt about the adultery charges. Still, "The War Room" and "Primary Colors" greatly succeed in capturing the political atmosphere and the exhausting process in which a candidate is elected. The irony is that Clinton and Stanton's adulterous affairs not only sidestepped their political agendas, but made them stronger candidates for the presidency. In other words, give the people what they want.

Bright Angel in Tennessee Williams territory

JUNEBUG (2005)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

"Junebug" is one of those rarities - a cinematic treat that works in many ways, and yet undercuts most of what it could have delivered. It has promise, skill, choice lines of dialogue, a fine cast, but they do not coalesce to deliver the socko punch of a family drama.

Don't get me to say that I am one of those who expect a family drama to be unambiguous and clear-cut - not at all. One of my favorite dramas dealing with the breakdown of a family, minus clichés and melodrama, was "Shoot the Moon." One of the worst was a little-known melodrama about parental abuse called "Firstborn" (oddly, those two films starred Peter Weller). I also admire an understated style, as in "Ordinary People," and the hyperbolic stylings of "American Beauty." "Junebug" is in the understated category, and it details the breakdown of a family minus clichés and melodrama.

A pair of young Chicago newlyweds, Madeleine (Embeth Davidtz) and George (Alessandro Nivola), are headed to North Carolina. One aspect of their trip is for Madeleine to promote a bold and original painter for a showing at an art gallery. While they are in town, Madeleine meets George's family who give new definition to the word repression. George's mother, Peg (Celia Weston), is anything but friendly. George's brother, Johnny (Benjamin McKenzie), barely makes much eye contact, has trouble operating a VCR and has a giddy pregnant wife, Ashley (Oscar-nominated Amy Adams). There is also George's virtually silent father, Eugene (Scott Wilson), whose primary goal is to find his Philips screwdriver. Not exactly a happy household that spreads good cheer.

Peg and Eugene are the version of real-life parents that we probably have encountered at one time or another. They are humorless, devoid of emotion, and barely up for small talk. Peg seems happiest at a baby shower whereas Eugene merely walks through life, perhaps having given up on any social interaction.

Johnny is happiest at work and absolutely miserable at home (his mother is always pestering him). There is some tension, perhaps some unspoken feud, with his brother George, though we never learn what that is. Johnny loves his wife Ashley, but he may not be ready for a baby or a life with her. As Ashley suggests in the movie's best line, "God loves you the way you are, but he loves you too much to let you stay that way."

It is only Ashley that seems like the bright angel who can set this family in a more hopeful direction. She is the inquisitive type, excited to see her brother-in-law and his new bride. Ashley asks Madeleine questions a mile a minute, and seems to brighten Madeleine's day.

"Junebug" is a movie about character interaction, setting each character to interact with the other, often isolating two at a time in individual rooms (it is surprising that the film was not adapted from a play). Madeleine tries to reason and understand Johnny's pain. Peg and Eugene, in again individual moments, do not respond to Madeleine's humor. Ashley tries to have some fun activities with Madeleine, including having their nails painted and going to a mall - their relationship is the only one that actually does work. Johnny is consistently berated by his mother, and takes out his aggression on Ashley. Peg obviously prefers her other son, George, though he doesn't figure as much in the action.

"Junebug" is the feature debut of director Phil Morrison (from a script by Angus MacLachlan), and it is a stunning achievement. Morrison has an eye for character detail and meticulous attention paid to tone (it may be too soon to say it but he's parading on Tennessee Williams' territory and that is a good thing). The screenplay, acting and the largely rigid camerawork exemplify a rare grace unseen in most current films. If I have a couple of gripes, it is the portrayal of the far too repressed character of Eugene, George's father. The insight is in the wearying wrinkles and his lack of communication but this guy would've been more at home in Edith Wharton land than in the 2000 decade of South Carolina. That is not to say that such characters do not exist in modern times, they do, but such pure scrutiny to reality is not always the best route when you present such a character with no true inner life.

The same can be said for George and Madeleine who exist more as characters defined by their work than anything else. Madeleine may be soul searching, thanks to a subtle reawakening by Ashley, so that is a forgivable slight on the screenwriter's part (and her final scenes as played by Davitz are a revelation). Unfortunately, George's character is practically left in the sidelines. Though we understand George is a clear favorite son of his mother's, any other insights are to be gained by inference, not by ambiguity.

"Junebug" is a fascinating, troubling, exasperating, exhausting, quietly affecting drama but it lacks something pungent, something more forceful. The movie is all about ambiguities and not much depth, and such ambiguity serves some characters better than others. In the case of Ashley, she is such an incandescent beauty that it is surprising that none of the other characters can crack a smile in her presence.

Too cruel to be kind

INTOLERABLE CRUELTY (2003)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

(Originally reviewed in 2003)

For every "Fargo" and "Blood Simple," there is a "Raising Arizona" or a "O' Brother, Where Art Thou?" In other words, the Coen Brothers can be at their best in their film noir mode, as proven with their last great film, "The Man Who Wasn't There," or they can create comic inanities the size of the moon, especially "Raising Arizona." "Intolerable Cruelty" is the Coens in their inanely comic mode with bizarre sequences and histrionic acting. It worked in "Big Lebowski" but here, it results in a humdrum disaster.

As is the case with most movies nowadays, "Intolerable Cruelty" starts off well. In the opening sequence, Geoffrey Rush plays a ponytailed TV producer who finds his wife cheating on him with the pool cleaner (a scene not unlike "Mulholland Dr." where a film director finds his wife in bed with the pool cleaner). Rush goes berserk, gets stabbed by his wife, starts shooting at her, and then calmly takes pictures of his butt so he can sue her in court. Then we are treated to a delightful opening credits sequence with Cupids firing arrows while we hear Elvis Presley's "Suspicious Minds." I thought we were in for a real treat. I was wrong.

George Clooney plays a cold-hearted divorce lawyer named Miles Massey, who is as concerned with the whiteness of his teeth as he is with the law or his fool proof prenup (one used in law school apparently). When he is in court, he is king of the hill. He oversees so many divorce cases that he is likely to lose his marbles (of course, the Coens show him off his rocker from the start). Then he becomes seriously smitten one day with Marylin Rexroth (Catherine Zeta-Jones), a serial divorcee seeking separation from her philandering husband (Edward Herrmann, looking more foolish than ever). Of course, Massey falls for Marylin's charms quickly, after winning the case against her, to the point that he would marry her and forgo his ironclad Massey prenup. But then Marylin marries some Texas oil tycoon (Billy Bob Thornton), whose manner of speech is as incomprehensible as the rest of the movie.

"Intolerable Cruelty" could be the Coens' own homage to the screwball comedy genre, a genre worth commemorating with the likes of classics such as "Bringing Up Baby" and "His Girl Friday." Unfortunately the film is hardly funny and seems to coast on the swagger and over-exaggerated expressions of its stars, including George Clooney. I knew something was off when Clooney spends a lot of time fretting over his teeth, a trait not likely to be found in any of the leading men of the past. At least Zeta-Jones plays down the exaggeration, much to her benefit. She is a becalming presence, as sensuous, iridescent and glamorous as an actress can get. Her performance is the sole saving grace of this endless, deadly bore.

The rest of the cast acts funny, mugging excessively to the camera. Sometimes they speak in hushed tones, sometimes they scream out their lines. Some of the dialogue is clever, but you'd be hard-pressed to understand every bit of it. There is a cantankerous aging lawyer, strapped to a chair with tubes to keep him alive, who offers legal advice to Clooney - a Coens invention to be sure but I missed every word he said. Then there is an asthmatic hit man! Oh, yes, and then there is the private investigator (Cedric the Entertainer) who takes pictures of philandering husbands and wives caught with their pants down. All these characters are stripped of emotion, humanity or wit - they are like automatons operated by remote control.

"Intolerable Cruelty" looks like it was assembled out of outtakes and, to quote Andrew Dice Clay (!), it is all about as funny as a bottle of milk. It is a grueling, embarrassingly frustrating experience - all the more so for the extraordinary talent involved. One would have to be cruel to recommend it.