Money trumps art in 1930's Hollywood

THE LAST TYCOON (1976)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Elia Kazan's last film is not a full-bodied portrait of a film producer losing his way in the 1930's Hollywood. Based on F. Scott Fitzgerald's last incomplete novel, "The Last Tycoon" is a largely a series of pauses, silences and whispers in isolated room interiors - there is a claustrophobic feeling to the film even at the site of an unfinished construction of a beach house.

Monroe Stahr (Robert De Niro) is the Irving Thalberg-like movie studio chief who has a penchant for trimming and reshooting certain films to achieve something passable - he takes these projects as his personal vision, sometimes hiring and firing writers and directors at will. The movie revels in the pitch meetings and studio screenings where everyone waits to hear Monroe's word - can a film sink or swim depending on Monroe's mood that day? He does face an uphill battle - the union, the movie executives and such are concerned about ballooning budgets and last-minute revisions and reshoots. The name of the game is money and Monroe Stahr is too concerned with the writers' process and making personal statements, all of which is slowly seeping away in a New Hollywood.

Monroe is a workaholic but he does notice a lovely presence on the set one day - a young starlet in
the making perhaps named Kathleen Moore (Ingrid Boulting). She is a ravishing presence who is soft-spoken and has no phone number. Monroe is taken by her and, in some of the most romantic scenes I've seen from director Elia Kazan in ages, he tries to seduce her in that unfinished beach house. There is a certain artificiality to these scenes and that is what makes them leap from the screen - a "dream" romance that could be Monroe's imagination at work.

Written by Harold Pinter, "The Last Tycoon" is not on the same list of other monumental Kazan films but I did appreciate its understated, low-keyed qualities. De Niro also proves his worth as an elegant romantic leading man (certainly a 180 from his Travis Bickle role the same year) and it is marvelous to watch him play such an emotionally restrained character. Added to Kazan's gallery of extraordinary cast members are Robert Mitchum as an executive who sees Monroe losing his grasp of reality; Jeanne Moreau as a Joan-Crawford type (or maybe Bette Davis) actress who demands retakes; an exquisite Jack Nicholson as a union organizer; the wonderful debut of Theresa Russell as Mitchum's flirty daughter; Tony Curtis as an impotent movie star, and lastly Donald Pleasence as the drunk screenwriter who is convinced by Monroe, albeit briefly, that movies can sing when it is all about the images.

There is a profound sadness to "The Last Tycoon" and, in its own muted palette of earth tone colors, you get the impression that the excitement of making movies is withering away - it is becoming a business where personality is trumped by economics. 

Kemo sabe has uneven spirit

THE LONE RANGER (2013)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

"The Lone Ranger" is hardly a total washout but it has tonal shifts the size of bulldozers trying to operate during a rampaging tornado season. Within the first hour, the film works wonders, appropriating the right tone and spirit of that Masked Man. The middle section has too much padding and unnecessary twists and too many villains, and then the finale works up its old-fashioned spirit again.

We are back in Colby, Texas with John Reid (Armie Hammer), a John Locke admirer, as the attorney who is deputized as a Texas Ranger by his brother, Dan (James Badge Dale). Before you know it, the next reel sets in with the escape of the nasty, murderous Butch Cavendish (William Fichtner), a cannibal of all things. The Rangers approach the Cavendish gang's hideout and guns are ablazin', and I imagine most Lone Ranger fans know what happens next. John Reid is the only surviving Ranger, saved by Tonto (Johnny Depp), a smart Comanche warrior who senses the Ranger is just another dumb white man. A mask is adorned by John, the white horse Silver appears, a silver bullet is created by Tonto, need I say more? Apparently so, because the story segues into a plot involving a fearless railroad tycoon (Tom Wilkinson), the Cavalry killing a bunch of Comanches, and the separation of Tonto from Lone Ranger for far too long. When they reunite, there is a lot of humorous bickering between them but not much in the way of chemistry. Still, how can a Ranger compete with Johnny Depp's inspired performance.

Directed by Gore Verbinski ("Pirates of the Caribbean"), "The Lone Ranger" is moderately entertaining though there are a couple of lulls before the story gets revved up again. The main issue is the tone which is everywhere except where it needs to be. Part of the charm of "The Lone Ranger" is that it was always meant to be old-fashioned escapism where the Masked Man followed a certain moral code (never kill anyone) and Tonto was always his second banana. This version has Tonto in fierce defiance of his white friend, and I appreciate that they took it in that direction. Aside from that difference, the movie is practically a Warner Bros. cartoon, especially in the endless train collisions and derring do of the final act. But the movie also features a Butch Cavendish who eats the heart of his murdered victims, and there are rabbits with canine teeth who must have run away from the set of "Night of the Lepus"! There is also the slaughter of a whole tribe that doesn't mesh with the cartoonish violence we see throughout. All this told from the point-of-view of a Tonto posing as a mannequin at a 1930's San Francisco Fair! Huh?

If nothing else, this bastardized yet colorful version is ten times better than the dull 1981 remake. But there is no comparing to the real Lone Ranger - the one and only Clayton Moore who made him iconic. Armie Hammer is no Clayton Moore, yet Johnny Depp stands up to the task in his revisionist update of that most noble savage, Tonto. I enjoyed about 6/10 of this bizarre popcorn movie but its infrequent and brutally violent elements and severely uneven tone almost ruin what could have been a far livelier adventure movie. 

Teaching 10,000 stars how not to dance

LIFE ITSELF (2014)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

I had been toying with the idea of whether I should review "Life Itself" or not. My memories of growing up with Siskel and Ebert during the 1980's made such a review almost too emotional. Out of respect to the film critic of the stars, I had to do it - review the film, not my nostalgic memory. Viewers familiar/unfamiliar with the late film critic Roger Ebert will find "Life Itself" a fascinating, almost voyeuristic and deeply penetrating documentary from acclaimed director Steve James ("Hoop Dreams," Ebert's pick for best film of 1994). An expose of the Chicago Sun-Times film critic who was the other half of the Siskel and Ebert at the Movies show, it is unforgettable, sad and explicitly honest. Another plus - it does not judge the critic himself.

Much has been written about Ebert, especially his prolific essays on politics, book bans and much more in the latter years before his death. He was also an avid film viewer who loved movies with a passion, and loved his wife Chaz just as much. Ebert is also the screenwriter who worked on the infamous "Beyond the Valley of the Dolls" by Russ Meyer (a film Siskel hated). It is interesting to note that Ebert had also been active as a writer of hot-button political issues long before film criticism became his mainstay, specifically writing for his college newspaper on civil rights and the unfortunate church bombing that included the deaths of four young black girls. Doubly interesting are Ebert's bouts of alcoholism, far worse than even I had ever heard before, and his dates with women that were a far cry from what his saloon pals expected.

The documentary also manages to capture the rivalry between Ebert and his co-partner and Chicago Sun-Times film critic in their popular TV show, Gene Siskel, yet it was not a bitter rivalry (Siskel was present at Ebert's wedding). Still, acrimony to some degree existed, as in Siskel's amazing attempts to get certain celebrities' interviews before Ebert did. Yet Ebert was also the first film critic to ever win the Pulitzer Prize and he was an expected and strong presence at the Cannes Film Festival for many years. There is no shying away from the fact that Ebert considered himself the best at what he did (I do recall Premiere Magazine once quoting Ebert as saying he was the best film critic in the world) - his arrogance was paramount. Ebert also championed smaller, independent filmmakers and, thus, was not nearly as populist as many had thought. Though he did not change his mind on his pans of "Blue Velvet," "Full Metal Jacket" and "A Clockwork Orange" (Chaz Ebert's favorite film by the way) through the years, he remained committed to his opinions and justified them.

Viewing "Life Itself" can be an overwhelmingly emotional experience, especially for myself. To watch Ebert struggle with his thyroid cancer and lose his most useful tool - his voice - can be especially tough on the average fainthearted viewer who cannot stand to watch people suffer (something that Ebert knew all too well). His writing got stronger though - he was never at a loss for words - and that is the most welcoming and appreciative element of the film. Had it not been for Roger Ebert during the 1980's, I would never have considered writing film reviews. I owe much to him and I am sorry I never expressed to that him, via email or in person. "Life Itself" appreciates the man himself and the critic who expressed his disgust for bad cinema and his love for passionate labors of love. I can only hope that Ebert is having a passionate discourse with Stanley Kubrick up above on how to teach 10,000 stars not to dance. Siskel might find that discussion boring and give it a thumbs down.

Friedkin's Beautifully Ugly Mess

CRUISING (1980)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

"Cruising" may have been unfairly maligned upon its 1980 release to some, and particularly during its production shoot. Gay groups protested, regular moviegoers maybe not so much. We are talking about a pre-AIDS era where homosexuality was seen as a deviant act by the deviants of society, and today it still is regarded by some, albeit in smaller conservative groups. William Friedkin's "Cruising" is about the search for a serial killer who is targeting only gays in the underworld of gay leather clubs. My issue is that there is no single purpose in the film beyond being a gay slasher flick, and no real character exploration either to give it a lift.

A few murders in NYC result in body parts found along the Hudson River. Since there is no way of knowing who these body parts belong to, the murders cannot be identified as homicides. Meanwhile, there is pressure on exhausted Captain Edelson (played by Paul Sorvino, who walks with a limp for no discernible reason) from above (a Democratic Convention is coming to town) to solve these murders, pronto. Edelson asks a patrolman, Steve Burns (Al Pacino), to go undercover and find the gay killer in the homosexual underworld of quickies and S&M - bars, nightclubs and underground lairs mostly. The trouble is that the killer always wears sunglasses, participates in sex yet no DNA is found (for reasons that you can discover for yourself), and slaughters his victims with a kitchen knife and dismembers them but with no obvious blood trail. What is the motivation behind the killer's handiwork is not clear nor do I need to know - how this affects Steve is the real question.

That is a good question and it seems such questions were never really asked. Friedkin spends more time showing how unhealthy, filthy and downright deviant the lifestyle of this particular group of homosexuals is. He expresses no empathy towards them; they are merely a sideshow attraction that mainstream America can look at with disgust and nod in agreement that all homosexuals are like this and are, therefore, deviant. The cops respond to them as if they were a sickness, a pestilence which must be remedied (some cops ask for sexual favors from them). Though one line of dialogue makes it clear that this underworld is not mainstream gay America, it might have helped if there was one gay character we could actually like (Steve's accommodating next-door neighbor is given short-shrift). As for Steven, here is a detective who seems to like this world, or hates it, or sees himself as one of them. It is difficult to say which but the film and Pacino make no attempt to be subtle - one troubling sequence has Pacino's Steve attacking a next-door neighbor for no real reason. It is a volatile, violent scene and there is an aftermath and coda that suggests Steve is not quite what he seems. Any clues or foreshadowing is largely absent for a rather perplexing final scene.

There are virtues to "Cruising." It is certainly watchable and Friedkin's atmospheric eye and the use of sound (love the footsteps on the city streets, the crinkling of the leather jackets) definitely catches your attention. I also adore Karen Allen as Steve's girlfriend, though her purpose beyond being a girl who is not getting enough sex from Steve wastes the magnetic talent of this stellar actress. But "Cruising" is ultimately nothing more than an average slasher flick with above-average production values and excellent actors. Pacino remains doe-eyed from the beginning to the end - no nuance whatsoever so it was a waste to cast him. The movie is a beautifully ugly mess (a green tint figures throughout) but it is never boring. In retrospect, "Cruising" is also a little too morally reprehensible. 

Snowden's Clear and Present Danger

CITIZENFOUR (2014)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

A clear and present danger is displayed in "Citizenfour" with such unbridled urgency that anyone jaded over the malfeasance running our government is likely to suffer a twinge of disbelief after watching it. The U.S. government may have Big Brothered our society before but none of us may be prepared to know the extent of it. This is not an Orwellian nightmare in our landscape but also abroad, with help from Verizon! And the NSA used 9/11 to justify all this? This highly critical, exploratory and damning documentary details the roots and aftermath of Edward Snowden's leakage of top secret documents.

Edward Snowden

What is especially telling about "Citizenfour" is that anyone can be on a watchlist - not just any known celebrities or political figures. Top secret documents stipulate that the government looks for catchphrases on google search, facebook, texting - everything is inextricably linked together. Your IPad, IPod and cell phone all have a GPS signal - linked together like a connective web that reveals the depth of the web threads to any single person. Directed by Laura Poitras, herself the subject of consistent surveillance at airports and border crossings with no reason given as to why, the film slowly but surely gets under your skin. Part of the reason she may identify with Snowden is because some of the documentaries she has made, such as her Iraq documentary "My Country, My Country" which was told from the point of view of a Sunni Arab doctor, offer an alternative to the national dialogue on political matters.

Laura received encrypted emails over the period of five months, thanks to her notoriety of being on a watchlist, by an individual known only by the username, Citizenfour. Initially, Poitras was set on a documentary about The War on Terror (which would have culminated in the completion of her post-9/11 trilogy), where she was set to interview investigative journalist for the Guardian, Glenn Greenwald. Later we see Laura (armed with a digital video camera) and Glenn meeting their unknown source (Citizenfour) in a Hong Kong hotel room, along with Ewen MacAskill, a defence and intelligence correspondent for the Guardian. Citizenfour is Edward Snowden, a former CIA analyst and NSA employee who outlines the intricate, massive surveillance on American citizens who speak out and criticize the government in addition to foreign officials and other dignitaries, and how this information is shared with various intelligence factions. Fire alarms are heard in the hotel in one eerie scene of questionable coincidence just before he spills the beans. And after unveiling the damaging evidence, Snowden decides that he has to reveal himself as the source with the hope that the information should take precedence over who the source is. 1.7 million secret documents are discussed, not all are published. Naturally, those who thought Snowden was a traitor were only concerned with the source and bringing him to justice.

Filmmaker Laura Poitras and Guardian journalist Glenn Greenwald

"Citizenfour" is a hallucinatory view of surveillance in general, funneling our worst fears that our privacy is at the behest of analysts in their twenties (Snowden himself was 29 years old at the time) who, we are told by Snowden, watch screens where our privacy is torpedoed and sometimes without full knowledge of the real context. There is also focus on William Binney, a former 30-year NSA analyst who quit his job after 9/11 and blew the whistle because Homeland Security and the NSA were conducting illegal surveillance on citizens who had nothing to do with terrorism.  Privacy is not the central issue in "Citizenfour" - in fact, it is almost of tertiary concern (how often are pictures hacked and shared on a daily basis by anyone who is not affiliated with the government?) Snowden correctly claims that we are afraid as American citizens and residents to speak out on issues for fear of being on a watchlist. The government has 1.5 million people on their watchlist and not just exclusively those who spout rhetoric about our government - who are the rest? Why aren't these people told they are on a watchlist? And that latest statistic comes from another unnamed whistleblower - information that makes even Snowden incredulous.

"Citizenfour" is shot and edited like a 70's thriller, complete with a cryptic voiceover by Laura over shots of an endless tunnel and beautifully composed shots of Glenn Greenwald sitting in a chair in Rio de Janeiro - this is the opening of the film and I thought for a second I was watching something other than a documentary. Once we get to the footage of Snowden in a hotel room, which makes up the bulk of the film, it is riveting, sweat-inducing and unsettling to watch. At one point, Snowden looks out the window and we get the sense that snipers could be targeting him, or maybe he is being watched by someone with binoculars. In fact, he may be asking himself, "where do I go from here?"

Life is nothing but showbiz in 1994

THE APPLE (1980)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

I do admire musicals with eccentricity written all over them. For the uninitiated, I do not mean "The Sound of Music" or straight-as-an-arrow animated classics like "The Lion King." I am talking about "The Rocky Horror Picture Show" and, naturally, the wild shenanigans of "The Apple." "The Apple," for all its dissenters and vocal critics who grant it the status of a "good bad movie," is actually a kinetic, supremely watchable and Biblically-themed sci-fi musical, the likes of which not even "Rocky Horror" could muster.

Catherine Mary Stewart and George Gilmour in "The Apple"

It is 1994 and the Worldvision Song Festival, a sort of early precursor to "American Idol," is looking for hot talent - the kind that can make the targeted audiences' heartbeats literally increase to the magic number, 150. There is a discotheque music group with a dash of hard rock thrown in called BIM that inspires the audience - in actuality, it is all programmed to be consumed by the average person. After BIM performs, a young folksy couple named Alphie and Bibi (George Gilmour, Catherine Mary Stewart in her film debut) sing about love in strains equal to Peter, Paul and Mary and the audience loves it more but Mr. Boogalow (Vladek Sheybal) can't allow that. To backtrack, the movie is set in a future where Mr. Boogalow controls and owns everything - his ideal world is one of temptation, sin and pure glitzy musical numbers. This place (looking a little like West Germany which is where it was filmed) is where BIM stickers shaped like pyramids (New World Order, indeed) are required to be worn by all citizens to control them, where the aging 60's hippies are forced to live in caves, and where a multilingual music promoter like Boogalow can have a group sell records before any recording takes place. Alphie and Bibi are the new recording stars, forced to sign contracts where they sing songs about drugs and uninhibited sexual pleasure. Alphie wants none of this, hoping to score as a love song poet but he is continually rejected. It is implied that love and peace, the latter being a word never uttered in this future, are prohibited - just sell yourself and your body for pleasure. Oh, also, do not eat from the apple.

Not all of "The Apple" makes sense - why does Boogalow give Alphie and Bibi a chance when all they sing about is love? I guess it is to show that the Satanic Boogalow can convert Bibi into some sort of hard rock/disco singer but the songs BIM sings and the ones Bibi covers couldn't be more different - Bibi's "Speed" song serves as satire of America's addiction to consumerism. Would such an Orwellian police state allow such a song? I should think not. Still, despite the film's reputation as an awful musical with cult potential since its inception, I truly enjoyed "The Apple." A sci-fi, supernatural Faustian tale of excess set in a police state with definite Biblical overtones is certainly not the norm, especially one that features The Rapture. The cast performs these songs with gusto (Baby-faced Catherine Mary Stewart's voice was dubbed) - there is also an unbridled and threatening spirit to the film. The future seen in "The Apple" is one of a Satanic cabaret infused with pre-programmed and restrictive music, thus not allowing for free thought. Life is nothing but show business in 1994.  

Jokey 'Murder' misses the boat

MURDER BY THE BOOK (1987)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

It is Robert Hays, with a little help from his alter-ego character and an accomplished supporting cast, who saves "Murder By the Book" from being a largely banal mystery thriller with a simple twist of lemon.

Speaking of banal, Hays plays a best-selling mystery novelist, Hank Mercer, who wishes to retire his romantic 40's detective hero, Biff Degan (also played by Hays). Hank's publisher wants him to reconsider but Hank has other ideas, namely creating a different detective hero. While discussing this in a swanky restaurant, Hank sees a possible crime in progress - an alluring woman (Catherine Mary Stewart) is kidnapped by a wealthy art dealer (Fred Gwynne). Hank gets help from his alter-ego, his detective creation - Biff. Of course, this means there are many scenes where Hank is actually talking to Biff in street corners and cafes while the onlookers believe he is crazy. So does the kidnapped woman whom he eventually saves - her brother created a priceless statue that is being sought. In the midst of this rather thin plot is a matchbook containing microfilm and a police lieutenant of another color, the Columbo kind (Christopher Murney) with the same beige raincoat, who may or may not be what he seems.

Robert Hays and Catherine Mary Stewart in "Murder by the Book"

"Murder By the Book" has a great premise - an author and his detective hero trying to solve a murder case - that often lags behind its plot with some minor digressions. Worse digression is an overlong escape from a Long Island, NY home that belongs in some other movie (sodium pentothal figures into the situation). It would have been worked best to have Biff only speaking to Hank in his mind rather than the imaginary hero frequently appearing in the worst circumstances. Hank must realize that others look at him when he is talking to thin air but nothing comes of this peculiarity - it would have been more comical had Hank done everything to avoid suspicion that he is talking to an imaginary character. A final substandard chase scene in a warehouse looks like something you might have seen in any TV episode of "Starsky and Hutch."

Robert Hays as Biff Degan and Hank Mercer (left to right) in "Murder By the Book"

"Murder By the Book" does benefit from subdued performances by Hays, Fred Gwynne (that booming voice alone is enough to make you sit up and listen), Catherine Mary Stewart as the kidnapped girl with a soft spot for Hank (though her lack of surprise at him talking to the unseen Biff feels off),  Celeste Holm as Hank's mother who wishes he wrote about real-life, and Christopher Murney as the impish lieutenant. The movie is a curiously jokey noir but its story does not have the slyness and mercurial plotting it could have used to really poke fun at the genre. It is safe and fun enough for a family viewing (Stewart in particular could have been infused with far more sultriness) but it is mostly a near-miss.