The Coens' Masterful Thriller with an Airgun

NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN (2007)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia
My Pick for Best Film of 2007

As if the Coens didn't surprise me enough with their every directorial endeavor, "No Country for Old Men" is a massively engrossing western noir tale that is so steeped in mystery, violence and sublime storytelling that I cannot lavish enough praise. Yes, it is violent and may contain some offputing elements that have turned off some audiences (the killing of a dog, the far-out though not so ambiguous finish) but it is quite simply the best damn Coens flick ever made, far surpassing "Fargo" and "The Man Who Wasn't There," already my absolute favorites from this dynamic duo.

The movie begins with Tommy Lee Jones's narration over desolate shots of the Texas desert, explaining how today's criminals (including the mention of a teenage killer) have no sense of consequences in committing murders - they do it just to do it, not even for the thrill of it. He can't grasp these criminals and their thought processes. All this is made to seem melancholic, especially since they are the words of a local sheriff who has seen it all and may just be sick of it all too.

A silent killer is on the loose, known as Anton Chigurh (Javier Bardem), who kills his victims with an air gun! He has the longer bowl haircut of Moe from the Three Stooges, wears black denim clothing, and has a plastered, Joker-like grin after he strangles a police officer that is chilling in its resplendence, almost a sense of orgasmic pleasure. Other times, he operates like the Terminator, killing with pin-point accuracy and nary an emotion. Interestingly, he sometimes offers his victims the choice of their fate by flipping a quarter. Never is this made more dramatic and thrilling than in the memorable scene where Chigurh plays the fate game with a gas station owner. It is so chilling and so scarily constructed, especially in terms of crisp dialogue, that it will leave you breathless. Every scene in "No Country for Old Men" operates on this level.

We also have Josh Brolin as Llewelyn Moss, a cowboy who loves to hunt antelope. He comes across a massacre that involved shady drug deals and lots of corpses. Moss observes and comes back to the scene of the crime at night, stealing the briefcase of cash and finds himself on the run from Chigurh (whom we learn is a hitman). Tommy Lee Jones is Ed Tom Bell, the sheriff, who is more surprised by the method in which Chigurh kills his victims than anything else.

Based on a novel by Cormac McCarthy, I wish not to say much more about "No Country for Old Men" except that it is an extraordinarily powerful, suspenseful and deeply moralistic film, and is played almost as a silent film with little to no music at all. This enhances each and every scene in the film, with moments of silence broken by gunfire or ambient sounds. Nothing is executed more beautifully by the Coens than Moss's struggle to get his bag of cash from out of a vent, or Chigurh nursing his wounds and stitching himself back together, or watching Sheriff Bell observing the evil that men do against the desert backdrop while trying to find clues to crimes that leave him nonplussed, or even Moss aiming his rifle at a herd in what looks like moments from a John Ford mixed with Sam Peckinpah western.

The morality of the film is determined by the risks that Moss and Chigurh make in their hourly decisions as they are always on the move. Neither men actually meet, except for a brief shootout, and they are always just barely crossing each other on the road. It is a film of pure dread and silence met with violence entering the lives of those who least expect it, and those who expect nothing less. That dichotomy, not to mention some richly memorable supporting characters, gives the film weight and texture. The Coens have made some great films and some not so wonderful - "No Country for Old Men" is their ultimate masterpiece.

Surviving the Holocaust

THE PIANIST (2002)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Original Review from 2002

(One of the top ten films of the 2000's)

The Holocaust remains a time and place that few will ever forget. It is as odious and horrendous a time as almost any other in the 20th century. No, I am not a Holocaust survivor (too young to be one) but my interest in the era has never dwindled. I still remember going to elementary school and hearing a Holocaust survivor describe her experiences in the camps and her need for survival - her words surged through the hearts of everyone in the audience. Lately we have been bombarded with so many films covering that time from every aspect. We have seen "Life is Beautiful," "Jakob the Liar," "The Grey Zone," dozens of documentaries and, of course, Steven Spielberg's "Schindler's List," which renewed interest in the subject all over again. And in case anybody thinks I had forgotten Lina Wermuller's "Seven Beauties" or Agnieszka Holland's "Europa, Europa" or the harrowing "Night and Fog" by Alan Resnais, then you are sadly mistaken. Now comes Roman Polanski's "The Pianist," which stands as an excellent film about survival in the most inhumane of times.

Wladyslaw Szpilman (Adrien Brody) is a popular pianist of classical works by composers like Chopin. He is living in Warsaw with his family, and mostly performs for a radio station. Then the bombs start dropping over the city, though Szpilman has no interest in leaving. The whole family assumes that the Nazis will be defeated by the Allied troops in one swift stroke. This is not to be as the Nazis start claiming their control in the city, forcing the Jews to wear armbands, shooting some without provocation, and entering their homes without warning. One scene shows Szpilman's father being forced to walk on the gutter as opposed to the streets. Szpilman himself cannot enter the local cafe where Jews are not allowed. He feels himself being drawn into a tight corner with no escape. The Jewish police are sometimes more brutal though they can offer help for the right price. Eventually, Szpilman's family is taken away in the trains to the concentration camps whereas Szpilman is forced to go to labor camps. Then more bombs are dropped. He soon finds himself occupying flats from friends in the Polish resistance, sleeping in closets, and then he is left wandering the streets of Warsaw which looks like a battlefield of ruins. This one shot alone has more power and resonance than anything found in "Schindler's List," as we see Szpilman walking with a limp among the eroded buildings and miles of rocks in the distance.

The film also tightens you into a corner as director Polanski draws us closer to the levels of frustration and hopelessness in Szpilman's condition. Szpilman gets sick, enervated, and practically starves to death, living on whatever he can find in nearly decimated houses and hospitals. Just when he thinks he is alone, a German officer finds him inside one of those houses. The officer asks Szpilman to play the piano in exchange for food and his coat. By the end of the film, we discover that Szpilman's own survival is all we need to move on, but can he ever forget what he has seen? The numerous executions and bomb blasts on the streets? The man in the wheelchair thrown out of a third-story flat? The sight of Szpilman's parents being led to their own deaths?

"The Pianist" is an amazing achievement as it shows one man's observation of war through windows and crevices. This subjective viewpoint of looking through mirror surfaces has become du jour for Polanski ever since "Cul-De-Sac." Polanski does not spare us the brutality nor does he lessen or abbreviate the horror. What is most amazing is that we see how one man survived with some help, and how the enemy is not always as unfriendly as one might think. That a Nazi with a loving family (as shown in one shot of a picture frame on his desk) would help a Jew during the last few days before the war was over is testament to the irony and honesty of a war one often deems as black-and-white. This is not fiction since it is based on Szpilman's own autobiography, and it tells us that evil sometimes has a human face after all. Adrien Brody lost weight to play the role, and he does a remarkable job of showing the various states of weakness and despair in Szpilman. He looks like a wrecked creature with puppy dog eyes, merely looking to survive and not get shot. It is a performance based solely on body language and facial expressions. It works quite well since Polanski gives us a nearly wordless last hour of silences and gestures in what remains the most potent section of the whole film.

"The Pianist" reminds us that thousands of personal stories exist during the Holocaust, and some are as scary and ironic as this one is. Finally, it is also a reminder that Roman Polanski has not lost his touch - his version of the Holocaust is at times as horrific and dramatically intense as some of his own great classics like "Repulsion" and "Rosemary's Baby." Many films about the Holocaust are likely to stay with you, but few have the honesty and verve of "The Pianist."

Good Will Hunting II

ROUNDERS (1998)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Originally reviewed in 1998

Back in 1998, I had thought that maybe Matt Damon was getting to a point where he was just repeating himself - the same path that early Tom Cruise went before proving what a fine, charismatic actor he really was. 1999's "The Talented Mr. Ripley" has proven to be a major exception. In "Rounders," Damon combines his "Good Will Hunting's" lead genius character with a cross of the lawyer theatrics in "The Rainmaker." In other words, you got it, Damon is playing a genius poker player (not a mathematician, but close) who happens to be a law student. Okay, that's not a fair criticism to make. The question is: is the movie any good? Yes, but Damon is too good to be true in his first lead role since "Good Will Hunting."

"Rounders" stars Damon as Mike McDermott, a clean-cut, high-stakes poker gambler, who calls it quits after losing $30,000 to a Russian gangster named Teddy KGB (John Malkovich). Mike chooses to stick to his law books and cavort with his live-in girlfriend, Jo (Gretchen Mol). No sooner can you predict that he'll revert to his gambling instincts when his troubled best friend, Worm (Edward Norton), is released from prison and goes back to gambling with Russians and other card players. Unsurprisingly, Worm brings the juice back into Mike's soul to gamble - Mike resists but can't help it and lies to Jo about his habit. The trouble is that Worm owes money to Teddy KGB and Mike vouches for Worm's activities - ouch! We're talking the noirish landscape of "Mean Streets," without the grit.

Most of "Rounders" is conventionally told but the difference is in the amount of attention paid to the details of poker playing. Director John Dahl and writers David Levien and Brian Koppelman render all the little secrets and nuances that all poker players adhere to. Since the film is narrated by Mike, we listen and watch how he studies players, and how he determines an opponent's cards because of the "tell." In other words, the opponent is telling the player what cards they are holding through gestures and specific tics. Teddy KGB's tell is the way he fondles an Oreo cookie. If he splits the cookie in front of his face, he's cheating. If he splits it by his ear, he's ahead and may be the winner.

Several scenes are structured around such moments. For example, there's an early scene where Mike enters a room where a judge and his cohorts are playing poker, and he pinpoints each hand the player is holding. It's an absorbing "movie" scene but unbelievable in context - how the hell can you tell what cards the players are holding if you just walked in out of nowhere but, then again, what do I know about poker? The movie's best, tense sequence is when Mike and Worm are roughed up by some cops after trying to swindle them - the scene has a noir element since it shows their desperation at trying to win money so they can pay back the gangsters.

The problem with "Rounders" is that it is too soft around the edges. It wants be a noirish Mamet-like parable about gambling and it has the right atmosphere for it but the wrong attitude. Matt Damon is too squeaky clean and youthful to be a professional gambler - he's like the Superboy of poker. He wins at every hand he plays, but the main thrust of the story should be how you can lose everything, even your life, when the gambling becomes an addiction. The irony of its conclusion is that it resorts to a "Rocky" climax, and then it tells you that gambling is the only solution to life's problems. You can't escape who you are or what you are.

"Rounders" does benefit from colorful supporting performances. I loved Martin Landau's sad-eyed Judge Petrovsky whose sole advice to Mike is that destiny chooses who we are - a platitude that is not applicable to Mike's situation. John Turturro is quite restrained, for a change, as Joey Knish, a gambler who doesn't take risks and plays just to make a living. John Malkovich is especially good as the thick-Russian-accented Teddy KGB who loves to fondle Oreo cookies. Also worth noting is the undernourished role of Jo, fetchingly played by Gretchen Mol, and she is the only reasonable person in the entire movie!

Accolades must go to Edward Norton playing the weasel-like loser, appropriately named Worm, who takes far too many risks. It also seems as if he's not much of a poker player since Mike comes to his aid and plays at very club and function to win the money they owe. Norton brings an authenticity to the role - he appears as a real-life character with flaws.

"Rounders" is generally well-acted, well-directed and well-shot. The movie is full of whispers, jazz music, smoky corridors, and pious platitudes about gambling and poker courtesy of Mike's voice-overs. Still, the movie takes the easy way out and lets Mike off the hook. Several poker-playing scenes and Mike's grand exit at the end reminded me too much of "Good Will Hunting." It would been a more winning hand if the film was only about Worm.

Jim Carrey making amends

BRUCE ALMIGHTY (2003)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

(Originally reviewed in 2003)

There was a time when Jim Carrey could make one's heart miss a beat with his anything-goes comedic hijinks - a mixture of the slapstick with a physical prowess that was unlike anything ever seen before. Carrey didn't just make us laugh by making faces or talking out of his derriere - he was the comedic equivalent of the Plastic Man. He could contort his body to do the kind of acts that could realistically cause herniated disks. With "Bruce Almighty," Carrey is rather toned-down from his usual manic act. More restrained than usual, I got the feeling that he wanted to apologize for making even the most rubbery facial expression.

Carrey plays Bruce Nolan, a feature reporter for Eyewitness News in Buffalo. He longs to be anchor and known for something besides the customary tag line, "and that's how the cookie crumbles." He is the butt of jokes in the office and even his boss (Philip Baker Hall) does not take him seriously (Bruce is later fired for making obscene remarks in a live broadcast at Niagara Falls). Bruce's devoted girlfriend (Jennifer Aniston) feels slighted when he calls his life mediocre. All it takes is for him to be given a second chance by God Himself (Morgan Freeman). This God lives in some abandoned warehouse, mops the floor, fixes the electricity, and wears a snappy white outfit. He offers Bruce a chance to redeem himself (and for his blasphemous name-calling) by taking over as God for seven days, utilizing all His powers to do anything he wants except the use of free will. Bruce starts tearing up Buffalo by getting revenge on some hoodlums who had beaten him up; create a fountain of water out of a fire hydrant; mimic parting the Red Sea in a bowl of tomato soup; get his reporter job back by mysteriously finding the remains of Jimmy Hoffa; make a rival news reporter fumble his newscast; literally lasso a moon and force it to come closer to the Earth's surface (a cute Capraesque nod to "It's a Wonderful Life"); make his girlfriend grow larger breasts and get the orgasm of her life, and so on. All of this adds up to a fun-filled first hour of pure delight - all we can do is wait and see what Bruce will come up with next.

The trailer for "Bruce Almighty" indicated nothing more than pure laughs based on Bruce's extraordinary powers. Alas, there is more up the film's sleeve, and not all of it is as funny as its initial premise. God is sad to see Bruce using his powers to his heart's content, never thinking for a moment that maybe people's prayers need to be answered. In other words, Bruce has to amend for his blasphemous name-calling and his selfish needs in order to help others, particularly his girlfriend who dumps him after finding him kissing another woman. What we get is the constant referencing to God and constant praying - if you are selfish, God can help you. All you need to do is pray for a miracle. The last thing I would expect from a Jim Carrey flick is a religious sermon.

"Bruce Almighty" has a few laugh-out-loud moments, and quite a few superb zingers. Carrey and Aniston have sparkling chemistry and seem to really play two people who are deeply in love. In fact, the final scenes where Aniston pleads for his return, even if she wants to forget him, is truly touching. Carrey also has the ability to make me care about him in ways that few actors can accomplish (even the ugly "Grinch" elicited a brief emotional response from me). It's just that for such an inventive premise, the movie opts to rationalize and moralize Bruce's behavior, making us think that such brazen use of the Almighty's powers is not enough - we have to realize it is also wrong to use them to our own advantage. It may also mirror Carrey's own amending for his purely maniacal and physical humor. Why should he apologize for what made him so popular in the first place?

Boyish womanizing Hugh Grant

ABOUT A BOY (2002)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

(Originally reviewed in 2002)

If Hugh Grant didn't exist, it would be necessary to invent him. In my estimation, he is a modern-day Cary Grant with a touch of healthy cynicism and the heart of a skeptic when it comes to human relationships. Alas, in "About a Boy," he has found the perfect role of Will Freeman, a man who has still not grown up or matured beyond the stage of a boy looking for his status in life.

Will is a London womanizer, eager to meet any woman for one-night stands. He frequents clubs, restaurants and supermarkets in search of his next date, only to throw away the number of a disappointing date the next day. He has his trusty Macintosh computer, watches television, including videos and, best of all DVD's, and that is about it. This man has no life and no interests outside of picking up women and shopping for electronics. He does nothing, and he is nothing. Will lives off of royalties from the song "Santa's Super Sleigh," a song composed by his late father. In short, Will is content with what he has - he just needs women at his every convenience.

One day, he starts dating a woman who has a son. Will is not crazy about the notion, but she remarkably dumps him. He takes it well considering he was planning the same thing. But he realizes that women with children have a need for sexual pleasure and passion, so he goes to a single parents's group called SPAT, pretends to have a son and takes an interest in one blonde. Through a series of mishaps, Will becomes a paternal figure to the blonde's friend's son, Marcus (Nicholas Hoult), a sweet kid who is bullied around in school and has aspirations to sing. Marcus also needs a father figure, and who better than someone who has nothing to do in his spare time.

Marcus's mother, Fiona (Toni Collette), is a mess. She bawls every morning and afternoon, attempts suicide, and dresses "like a Yeti," as Will observes. Fiona is happiest when she sings along with Marcus, but clearly another person is needed in this dour household. Is it Will? I will not tell. Suffice to say that the film does not travel to the predictable road we have traveled through before, though one can expect Will's life may change around at some point.

"About a Boy" is written and directed by Paul and Chris Weitz, both responsible for the hugely successful "American Pie." This film is a complete change from their gross-out comedy theatrics of sexual innuendos and pie jokes. For once, pre-teens are treated with some degree of sensitivity. Yes, sex and rap remain interests of these London kids but other things also enter their mind. In the case with Marcus, he needs a guardian who can take care of him and his poor mother.

Marcus may be a boy because he is still young, but Will has lots of growing up to do. Will has nothing in his life outside of a handsome flat and the latest technological gadgets and electronics (this is the first film I can recall seeing where DVD's are mentioned in such a carefree way). He is deceitful but never appearing less than sincere which I suspect is why women love him at first sight. He does after all catch the eye of Rachel (Rachel Weiz), a single mother who senses some good in this man, even if he lies about Marcus being his son.

The best scene-stealer of modern times is Hugh Grant, and he handles his double-takes and nuanced expressions of befuddlement and blinks of disbelief marvelously. I can think of no other actor that comes close to handling leading roles in romantic comedies better. From "Four Weddings and a Funeral" to "Notting Hill," Grant delivers every ounce of Will's caddish persona, compassion and sincere insincerity in droves. It is an Oscar-caliber performance in my mind, one that will be surely overlooked because Grant does it so well that it is invisible. No matter - he is the new Cary Grant in every respect.

Kudos must also go to Nicholas Hoult as Marcus, a kid actor who is not insufferably cute or too clever as is frequently depicted. Hoult makes Marcus feel like a real kid going through a tough time with his mother and with school, and handling both situations with admirable restraint. I also enjoyed Toni Collete's small role as Fiona, and watching her sullen eyes made me feel pity for a woman ready to end her life and still see the joy and the tears of what she already has. Writing all of this makes me more and more amazed that the Weitz brothers actually wrote the screenplay.

"About a Boy" ends rather abruptly, and the last two sequences involving an embarrassing rendition of "Killing Me Softly" at a school assembly and the other involving a neat little wrap-up of Will's problems, smack of rushed resolutions for characters whose lives are far more complicated than they seem. However, ten years from now, when people ask which films will best reflect lonely bachelor men of today, I have no doubt that "About a Boy" will be mentioned. Will's life needed some changes, and Marcus has embraced and seen through this man and his isolation. If a kid cannot even understand how someone can do nothing, then there may be hope for men like Will indeed.

Glad Darkman retired

DARKMAN III: DIE DARKMAN DIE (1996)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Some sequels never even try to match up to the originals. "Darkman II: The Return of Durant" is one of the least inspired sequels ever made, especially when you consider what a perfect beginning, middle and bittersweet conclusion the original "Darkman" had. "Darkman III: Die Darkman Die" (talk about an uninspired title to boot) was shot around the same time as the second film, though this movie was supposed to be number 2. Sometimes I can't tell which one of my turds is supposed to have ejected first, the second one or the humongous third one so I can see where the filmmakers got confused with their own cinematic waste.

Arnold Vosloo reprises his role as Dr. Westlake, the scarred avenger of the streets who is seeking a liquid skin concoction for a face mask that will last longer than 99 minutes. He apparently steals cash from drug lords and drug deals gone bad to help finance his scientific research, which I guess proves that a freakishly disfigured man in a black trenchcoat and hat can't work any menial job unless it is in the circus. Jeff Fahey gets top billing this time, as the snarliest, smoothest drug lord I've seen in a long time. He plays classical piano yet ignores his wife and daughter, and has open affairs without a shred of remorse. Fahey is the star of this movie and is good enough to make one wish he played Dr. Westlake, but hey, I am not in the casting department for direct-to-video movies so what do I know. Vosloo is not the right fit to play an angry, avenging hero with the strength to beat a hundred men. He looks like someone who should be running a restaurant.

There is one truly galvanizing moment in "Darkman III." The good doctor adopts a face mask of Fahey's character. He attends a surprise birthday party for Fahey where the song "Up Where We Belong" plays in the background, as he caresses the frustrated wife. It is an alarming, almost enchanting moment with a dose of welcome humor. It lasts a whole ten seconds or less. You still got less than 9,900 seconds to go. 

Drop out of this school

SATAN'S SCHOOL FOR GIRLS (1973)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Maybe including Satan in the title of anything, especially a semi-adequate TV movie of this nature, is asking for trouble, the kind where nuance and implication has no rightful place. "The Omen," "The Exorcist" and "Rosemary's Baby" sound like decent demonic titles where Satan's name was not required for horrific effect. "Satan's School for Girls" is a moronic title for a listless, undernourished horror picture, the kind where a little subtlety in its title and in its overall direction could have been used. You'll be straining to stay awake.

A frightened female student, Martha Sayers (Terry Lumley), is running away though it is unclear from what or whom. She locates her sister's house but her sister, Elizabeth, is not home. After entering the house thanks to an eerie-looking neighbor, Martha suddenly sees something horrifying and her high-pitched scream carries us over to the next scene where she is found hanging from a noose. The film had me interested at that moment because we never see what made her scream and it gave me a nice jolt. Elizabeth (Pamela Franklin) finds Martha dead after the police burst through the door and her emotional reaction is the kind I have when I have to wake up early to go work - emotional indifference. It was at this point that "Satan's School for Girls" lost me. Nevertheless, Elizabeth ventures to the school her sister attended, enrolls in several classes and discovers that other students have committed suicide. Who is to blame? One student has a painting that resembles a dungeon (and the girl in the painting suspiciously looks like Martha, but that point is never raised). This student also commits suicide. The professors include one sadistic S.O.B (Lloyd Bochner) who is irritated when his students can't figure out his mice in a maze lessons. This one professor, known as Delacroix, might also be up to some questionable business in the cellar of the school, which of course resembles the dungeon-like atmosphere of that one painting. Is the school actually a coven of witches with Satan as their leader? Which professor is Satan? And are all the girls witches or are some more innocent than others?

"Satan's School for Girls" is adequate horror fare for those who enjoy watching women entering dark cellars with candles and flashlights, searching for devilish clues to a mystery. This would have made a nifty Nancy Drew mystery, and it turns there was one such book from the 1950's called "The Witch Tree Symbol." With the exception of Kate Jackson as a student named Roberta who has her own growing suspicions about her school, the movie never quite comes alive. I can only stand so many shots of women running through the woods or entering and exiting dark rooms. Pamela Franklin seems more apathetic than scared by anything and she is not allowed a single truthful emotional reaction - from the start, I thought she might be a witch or Satan herself. "Satan's School for Girls" lacks urgency and it is more likely to induce occasional boredom unless you find the prospect of entering and exiting dimly-lit rooms an exciting proposition.