Conventionally unconventional rom-com

BRIDGET JONES'S DIARY (2001)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Originally viewed on July 3rd, 2001

Renee Zellweger is an actress whose sprightly charm and quivering, cutesy smile can melt moviegoers' hearts like no other. She is the girl-next-door type but her irresistibility breaks some new ground here - you get the feeling that she can be embarrassed and impish at the same time. She is the unique joy of "Bridget Jones' Diary," a fairly amusing if slightly misguided romantic comedy with ample charm and considerable laughs. It just lacks the extra leap to take it beyond conventionality.

Bridget Jones (Renee Zellweger) is the neurotic, lonely, uncouth heroine of the 1996 bestseller by Helen Fielding. She is so lonely that she drinks heavily while listening to Eric Carmen's "All By Myself" (a touching, heartbreaking moment). At first glance, no one seems to take a gander at Bridget. She is plumpish and tends to say exactly what is on her mind, including at book receptions where everyone looks at her with slight bemusement. At dinner parties, she confronts men who see her as an unappealing spinster, including the rich Mr. Darcy (Colin Firth). Her boss, however, takes a liking to her (he is played with irresistible glee by Hugh Grant), and the two begin having an affair. Of course, Mr. Darcy gets jealous since he does like her.

It is no surprise where the film is headed when we know Mr. Darcy will inevitably change his mind about Bridget. But the film takes on a knowing, self-conscious style at the beginning where we begin to think that it will poke fun at romantic comedy conventions. There is a moment where Bridget makes an error in judgment at work and we see her unsaid obscenity splashed across the screen. "Bridget Jones' Diary," however, does not take as many unconventional routes as one might hope. Bridget loves the two men but has to decide between one. Bridget also tries to bring her parents back together after a brief separation. Some of these episodes work better than others but they hardly figure cohesively as a whole.

I have not read Fielding's book but I've been told that it truly maps out Bridget's insecurities and messy lifestyle with more depth. The film does show her drinking and eating and smoking too much and we sense she is real obsessive and has trouble finding the proper man (she is also a bad cook, witness the strange coloring of her cooked meals). But all these qualities are painted in broad strokes. Bridget's biggest flaw seems to be her uncouth quality but I was not clear why everyone seemed so perturbed whenever she made a speech (I found her speeches funny and engaging). As played by Zellweger, she has charm and an affable quality but her weight gain (reports say she gained as much as 20 to 40 pounds for the role) does not exactly put her on the same scale as Conchata Ferrell (who I love no matter how much she weighs). In other words, I get the sense that the film has been sanitized from its written form to accommodate all women in the audience. Where does this leave the women who are perhaps uncomfortable with their weight or who need someone like Bridget Jones as their role model, essentially saying it is okay to be fat and still have Hugh Grant as your suitor?

"Bridget Jones' Diary" has Zellweger at its center and she is as convincing and delightful as one can imagine. Kudos also go to Hugh Grant and Colin Firth in witty supporting roles (I could have lived without a cliched fistfight between them). There is also a funny cameo by Salman Rushdie as himself no less. The film has pizzazz to offer but compare this to any other romantic comedy, and I dare you to find the difference.

Better than Identity, Bourne still remote

THE BOURNE SUPREMACY (2004)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

(Original review from 2004)

I sat for two hours watching "The Bourne Supremacy" with a full audience at a 3:00 afternoon show. After the first twenty minutes, I could not concentrate for too long because I grew dizzy (added to that, I kept hearing an old guy snoring behind me). The dizziness was due to the constant hand-held camerawork, relentless to the point that the camera shakes more violently during an action sequence or a fistfight. And yet this movie is far more enjoyable than "The Bourne Identity," a bland thriller that coasted along its own bland energy.

The movie jumps into high action gears immediately. The slowly-getting-out-of-his-amnesiac-shell Jason Bourne (Matt Damon) is now living in India with his girlfriend, Marie (Franka Potente), shut out from the rest of the world. Of course, like any Robert Ludlum spy thriller, you can't keep a good assassin down for long. Bourne notices a man dressed in the wrong clothes and driving the wrong car near the streets of this Indian pueblo - someone is after him and wants him killed. Bourne whisks Marie away in his jeep, crashes off a bridge, falls deep underwater, and tries to rescue Marie. Unfortunately, she is dead (and don't expect her to come back a la "Run Lola Run's" time-twisting narrative). So who is after Bourne? It turns out that Bourne is accused of killing someone during a CIA mission - his fingerprints are planted there! This begs the question: who got his fingerprints? Definitely not the Russian assassin who tried to kill Bourne in the opening sequence. Or maybe the hand-held camerawork swayed from any details that couldn't stay on screen longer than two seconds.

Bourne wants to clear his name. He goes after Pamela Landy (Joan Allen - always a welcome presence), a new agent who wants the truth as much as Bourne does. The trouble is that this Ludlum antihero is always one step ahead of everyone, including Landy and the reptilian CIA boss, Ward Abbott (Brian Cox). He travels from Naples to Berlin to Moscow, always evading the CIA. In one chilling moment, Bourne aims his telescopic rifle at the unaware Landy while communicating via cell phone. And he is still one hell of a fighter, even disabling someone with a rolled-up magazine! And boy, can this guy move! He jumps with the ease of a Jackie Chan and, at times, resembles a superhero with his dark overcoat. Oh, and he can do wonders with toasters!

The movie is murky with details and conspiracy rings, particularly involving Abbott who you know is as corrupt as anyone in the entire movie. We are never sure who or what is responsible or why. We just get carried along by Bourne's continuous search for the truth, especially the possibility that he murdered a Russian in Berlin (an apparent introductory drill into the life of an assassin).

"The Bourne Supremacy" is dense with details that do not amount to much. It is sort of a latter-day "The Fugitive" with Bourne visiting hotels, apartments, train stations - they serve as reminders of long-forgotten memories that can trigger his cabeza to dispel truths he wants the CIA to uncover. Yet we still never discover who this Jason Bourne really is. After two movies, we just know he is an able assassin and a quick-as-lighting fighter - Damon plays him as a robot with no sense of humor. Realistically, it makes sense but it can get on your nerves. To be fair, he seems more threatening than he was in "Identity" and we do get carried along by his charisma.

As for the interminable hand-held camerawork, it is unfathomable how director Paul Greengrass thought this was the best way to shoot. The camera swings between 180 to 360 degrees, rotating and panning with barely much stabilization. Some people on the movie discussion boards said it was a way of "implying action." How can you imply when you can't tell what may or may not be implied? Still, I grew accustomed to it (and the use of long lenses where there would be out-of-focus shots) but it could have used the more rapid-fire, stabilized approach of John Frankeheimer's "Ronin" or William Friedkin's "The French Connection." I will say that the climactic car chase involving a taxicab and a SUV is about as exciting as car chases ever get, and the hand-held camera approach exemplifies it.

"The Bourne Supremacy" is entertaining enough for its two-hour running time, but it is a hollow, cursory thriller. We don't know what is really at stake and we learn precious little about Jason Bourne. It is the latest Hollywood thrill ride and it is engaging in a remote way, but it needs more carbs.

Bland Identity

THE BOURNE IDENTITY (2002)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

(Original review from 2003)

Spy thrillers that deal with secret agents often excite me if they are as dependent on the actions of the characters as much as the mechanics of the plot. For truly spine-tingling spy thrillers, I would recommend two of the best recent ones starring Donald Sutherland, 1991's "Eminent Domain" and 1981's "Eye of the Needle." And for thrilling, in-your-face melodrama dealing with assassins and an implicit touch of humanity, you can't do better than Luc Besson's "Le Femme Nikita." "The Bourne Identity" has some mild pizazz but it never really takes off because the hero never seems to take flight.

Based on Robert Ludlum's best-seller, Matt Damon plays Jason Bourne, a highly skilled CIA assassin who is left for dead after attempting to kill an African leader. He is found near the port of Marseilles by a fisherman, is taken aboard, and is found with two bullet wounds and a device with a Swiss bank account number. The fisherman gives him money to go to Switzerland. The only problem is that Jason Bourne has no idea who he is or where he came from - he is a 100% amnesiac who somehow manages to kick and punch with the ease of a martial-arts fighter. He enters a Swiss bank without identification, retrieves his belongings which includes several passports and a gun, and leaves with a noticeably red bag (red as in "alert") while being hounded by CIA agents and efficient assassins. Jason convinces a German gypsy (Franka Potente) to drive him to his residency in Paris for 10,000 dollars. Meanwhile, Jason's boss, Ted Conklin (Chris Cooper), wants to eliminate him for failing his mission and arousing suspicions.

"The Bourne Identity" has the typical premise of corruption at the core of intelligence and makes the assassin amnesiac so that we identify with him through his inner identity search. All fine and dandy but the eventual explanation of why he was set up leaves a lot to be desired, resulting in one too many anticlimaxes. I barely cared enough about Jason Bourne to care about the outcome of his plight. We hardly get to see him in action enough to believe he possesses any ability to kill (to be fair, there is a hair-raising rooftop sequence where Bourne manages to climb down a building). Clive Owen plays another assassin on Bourne's tail and I would preferred if he was cast in the lead role - he brings some spark to the film in his part. It might have been a more unsentimental choice casting Owen but who wants sentiment in a Ludlum adaptation? Though Matt Damon does as well as he can, he is hardly convincing as an assassin and appears to be curiously remote and unaffected in every scene. Consider the excellent "La Femme Nikita" which showcased a character who was human and vulnerable despite being a cold-blooded assassin.

There is no level of urgency or weight to anything that occurs on screen in "The Bourne Identity." Sure, there are indispensable car chases, numerous shootouts, glass breakage and a sex scene (a tame one too considering the rating) but hardly any of it is the least bit exciting or tremulous. A bland hero, bland plot, bland villains - gosh, even popcorn has more taste than this.

May the Shark Farce Be With You

SHARKNADO: THE 4TH AWAKENS (2016)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

The latest "Sharknado" sequel reads like a laundry list of cheesily ballish, foolhardy and dunderheaded moments that make your head spin and your mouth salivate at the prospect of "how do we top this?" Accusing this series of being over-the-top is like saying silver-haired Alex Trebek will continue being host of "Jeopardy" for another thirty years - it is a given. So let us go through this laundry list of sheerly and unbelievably stupid moments from this hyped-up cartoon of a movie, shall we? 

Tara Reid returns as April, a half-bionic, half-human, mostly all-functioning Terminatrix badass heroine who can also fly! (She supposedly died in the cliffhanger finale of the last "Sharknado") Ian Ziering, ever the formidable hero who can fight sharknados like nobody's business, is back as Fin and does his usual heroic shenanigans, including landing a car safely on the street after being swept by a sharknado from an improbably high altitude. Oh, there are firenados, bouldernados, lightningnados, even a nuclearnado thanks to sharks whipping their bodies around a nuclear power plant!

Cameos pollute every single frame of this movie. My favorites are Caroline Williams (80's cult movie star from "Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2" and "Stepfather 2") as a chainsaw seller who gets to hold one again for the first time since 1986, and co-founder of Troma Pictures, Lloyd Kaufman who issues warnings about the firenado that could crumble Mt. Rushmore. Steve Guttenberg appears for no discernible reason, presumably tying into his work in "Lavalantula," and Gary Busey actually plays it straight as a mad doctor who reanimated his daughter, April. Oh, and hell to the no with Carrot Top as an Uber Driver in Las Vegas, a presence that can grate my nerves. Oh, Hell to the No Part Deux with Gilbert Gottfried as some sort of field news correspondent who reports on the cownados (The "Twister" cow gag has already been in the series once before). Of course, cameos with these two comedians who are in desperate need of a nasal decongestant is still too much screen time. Stacey Dash also pops up in a hilarious turn as an aggressive politician who meets a Wicked Witch demise. I would like to have seen more of her.

As for new cast members, it is fun watching the ever-beaming Tommy Davidson as Aston, a CEO for Astro X which has helped terminate sharknados for five years. The one and only Dog the Bounty Hunter makes an appearance fleetingly as another chainsaw seller. Other than that, we get the usual gang of returnees from a haggard-looking David Hasselhoff as Fin's father to Natalie Morales and Al Roker as Today's anchors commenting on the sharknado weather patterns. I can't tell if the same actors playing Fin's kids are back or not, and I could care less since you will forget them as soon as they appear.

If anything could be improved with this endless SyFy series, it is finding a filmmaker who can shape and edit scenes together to deliver a payoff. For example, there is a peculiar scene towards the end where the cinematographer for whatever reason could not get a shot of Tara Reid giving mouth-to-mouth to Ian Ziering - did her contract stipulate that no shot can actually show Reid giving mouth-to-mouth to anyone? You see her giving mouth-to-mouth but the screen cuts her off at just above her mouth - huh? Some scenes are so randomly fragmented together during several climaxes that it is hard to tell what is happening to whom. That is the legacy of "Sharknado," a shapeless mess that is just meant to kick up the notch of incredulous Z movie entertainment. If you love sharknados of any kind and can enjoy a leather-strapped Tara Reid who often forces gazes at something in the distance, not to mention various "Star Wars", "Texas Chainsaw Massacre" and "Wizard of Oz" references, then may this Shark Farce be with you.

The virtues of 'Hamlet' in a DeVito 'comedy'

RENAISSANCE MAN (1994)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Watching a movie with Danny DeVito teaching remedial classes at a military base could invite a lot of guffaws based on its premise alone. "Renaissance Man" is not that film, in fact, I don't think I could even call it a comedy. It is a strange movie experience, sort of a marginal "Dead Poet's Society" clone except with a few more laughs and a lot of the same sentimentality. I liked it well enough but I was not sure what exactly I was watching.

DeVito is Bill Rago, a failed Detroit advertising man who can't make it to an important pitch meeting due to heavy traffic. Nothing here screams funny or hysterical from the start, especially when DeVito is so restrained from his usual hyperactive likable self. When Bill finally makes it to the meeting, everyone is gone and just then, I thought, well, he is going to overhear a conversation in the nearby office and then blare out his DeVito mannerisms - shouting and yelling to justify himself. Only the movie never gives him that chance. DeVito simply walks away, disappointed.

Since Bill can't cut it in advertising anymore, he receives unemployment. The agency, however, offers him a job - teaching basic comprehension at an Army base. Not exactly cutthroat "Mad Men" work but that is all there is. Bill is reluctant, can't find his way through the base and is unsure of his superiors and the recruits whom he has to teach. In short, it looks like another raucous Danny DeVito comedy but that is not the route director Penny Marshall and writer Jim Burnstein take. Instead, the recruits turn out to be an upbeat motley crew who come from backgrounds where they have been disenfranchised (one from a trailer park, another from Detroit - no prizes awarded to those who can guess where Marky Mark's character is from). Bill decides to teach them about similes, oxymorons and the Shakespeare play, "Hamlet." In fact, the rest of the film devotes itself to the complexities inherent in "Hamlet" that go way beyond the famous speech, "To be or not to be." The teacher finds a way of having his recruits learn to apply Shakespeare's tragedy and the fates of its characters to their own lives.

"Renaissance Man" is watchable with sentimental inclinations to its material. It is also oddly moving at times and I love the lessons imparted by Bill (though nothing at the beginning of the movie suggests this man is a lover of English Lit.) But I do not know what to call this film...a comedy with dramatic intonations or a drama with serviceable comedic overtones. It begins as a DeVito scorcher of a comedy, to some extent, and then it decides to play it straight. Odd and oddly diverting.

Footnote: Dark victory is not an oxymoron. Failed victory would be more appropriately oxymoronic.

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."