Breakfast Club Meets Invaders from Mars

THE FACULTY (1998)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Original Review from 1998

Back in 1998, I had suffered through the inanities of the by-the-numbers "Halloween: H20," the dull "Vampires," and the needless remake of "Psycho." I was glad, therefore, to revel in the exorbitant glory of Kevin Williamson's latest exercise, "The Faculty." It is a fun-filled, exciting, spine-tingling, sometimes scary, sci-fi horror picture with enough thrills, chills and drama to keep everyone on the edge of their seats.

The setting is a high-school full of the standard body-pierced teens, punks, bullies, and bored, alcoholic teachers. We have the insecure geek, Casey (Elijah Wood), who's always being beat up; the intelligent chemist, Zeke (Josh Hartnett, sporting a Monkee hairdo), who fails his senior year so he can sell drugs to his classmates; the punkish, wanna-be lesbian, Stokely (Clea Du Vall); the Miss
Perfect cheerleader, Delilah (Jordana Brewster); the jock-like Stan (Shawn Wayne Hatosy), who wants to use his brains more than his brawn; and the newly admitted student, Marybeth (Laura Harris II), who tries to bring Stokely out of her shell.

The faculty itself is even more interesting, though they are outclassed by the "Scream"-like cast. We have the intense football coach (the perfectly cast Robert Patrick); the demanding Principal Drake (Bebe Newirth); the sexy Nurse Harper (the luscious Salma Hayek, only in the movies); the mousy English teacher (the drop-dead gorgeous Famke Janseen, again, only in the movies); the goateed
Biology teacher (Jon Stewart); and the bitter Mrs. Olson (Piper Laurie). After a while, this lovely bunch becomes possessed by aliens, and they eventually take over the school. It is up to the surviving "Breakfast Club" group to outwit and outsmart the faculty.

Despite a mediocre if fitfully nerve-jangling opening sequence, "The Faculty" scurries into a tightly controlled horror thriller with enough visual razzle-dazzle and colorful performances to rally the senses. Amazingly, director Robert Rodriguez restrains himself, this time, lowering his fast-editing style to a few notches. There is nothing here that suggests the over-the-top theatrics of "From Dusk Till Dawn" or the terminally awful "Desperado." He saves his special-effects blow-out specialty for the last sequence in the school's gym and pool, which is full of claustrophobic energy.

The main plus in this delirious production is screenwriter Kevin Williamson. He is one of our
prime writers of pop references and self-aware dialogue - he is also, surprisingly, an acute observer of modern teenage life. This is personal terrain for me because I used to know teenagers like these, particularly Stokely, and I can say that the 90's teenagers are not at all different from the 80's due to their similar fears and anxieties about adjusting to a maladjusted environment. One can understand moments like the geek being driven into a pole by bullies, the geek's room hilariously invaded by disapproving parents ("No more internet! No more porno!"), Stokely shying away
from other students' advances, and so on. But, wait a doggone minute, isn't this a horror picture? Yes, think of it as "The Breakfast Club" meets Invaders from Mars or the cult favorite, "The Return of the Living Dead."

Of all the actors who portray members of the faculty, the one I was most impressed with was Robert Patrick as the fierce coach, probably his best role since "Terminator 2." He projects a comical side I've not seen in him before ("Please report to the principal's office"), and his level of intensity is
incredible, especially the opening scene where he erupts when the kids are not performing to expectations. From the actors as the students, I'll go with Clea Du Vall ("How to Make the
Cruelest Month"), a fine actress who projects some of Ally Sheedy's charisma and fragile emotional side (Hey! It's practically the same character Sheedy played in "The Breakfast Club").

"The Faculty" is not a great movie - Williamson has not yet transcended the numerous clichés of the horror genre - but there is enough of Williamson's typically clever dialogue (and Rodriguez's frenetic direction) to bring a smile, and an occasional scare, to your face.

DiCillo's Dream within a Dream

LIVING IN OBLIVION (1995)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Back in the 1990's, there were a myriad of indie flicks about making indie flicks - you can't get more postmodern (or meta, in today's parlance) than making a low-budget movie about making a low-budget movie. In hindsight, that almost sounds like an insane idea, if only because of how difficult it was in those days to get financing at all (I would not venture to guess how difficult it is now in 2018). The difference may be that "Living in Oblivion" is director Tom DiCillo's experience on making his debut film, "Johnny Suede" that starred then-unknown Brad Pitt - DiCillo knows the nuts and bolts of filmmaking almost on the fringe.

The specific details of making a movie are far too knowing to be made up in "Living in Oblivion." Bad milk makes the cinematographer sick after having his coffee; actors flubbing their lines; microphones accidentally ruining shots; the film director having a fit after hearing an endless ticking noise; fog machine releasing far too much fog; a diva-ish Brad Pitt-like actor who keeps changing every set-up to his own Method liking; sounds from a car radio with a deep bass; a light bulb bursts during filming, etc. The joke here, perhaps implied, is that professionalism may be lacking due to financial constraints in making a smaller film yet the big studios have to got to deal with their own hangups as well. A big-budget movie can have just as many problems on the set with accidents and diva-like personalities as a low-budget film.

Seeing "Living in Oblivion" yet again the other day for the first time since the late 90's, the film is almost nostalgic in its grungy look at a 1990's low-budget movie set. It is possibly the best film about making such films from that period because it focuses exclusively on the nuts and bolts and frustrations of making a movie. Steve Buscemi is a total joy as the erratic film director Nick - he shows patience with his actors but he can also be driven to madness (in one scene, he tears apart the stage). Catherine Keener is Nicole, the somewhat patient and frustrated lead actress who wants to do her best and is the most talented on the set, though women on the crew feel they could do a superior job. James LeGros is consistently funny as an airhead of a superstar actor who is concerned how he looks on screen, and does everything he can to upstage everyone (despite denials from DiCillo, LeGros's Chad Palomino instantly reminds one of Brad Pitt). Dermot Mulroney is wickedly engaging as the beret-wearing, leather-strapped cinematographer who cannot handle Chad's inability to stay in the frame of a shot. Danielle von Zerneck ("La Bamba") is a hoot and half as the assistant director who wears loud colorful shirts and has a thing for Chad (of course, all the women do). To top it all off, we have a memorable turn by Peter Dinklage as Tito, playing some sort of magical character in a dream sequence directed by Nick. Tito then asks, "why does every dream sequence have to have a dwarf?" Good question.

Speaking of dreams, most of what occurs in "Living in Oblivion" is a dream, either Nick's or Nicole's dream. Quite possibly the last section of the film, which I believe is not a dream, may be ironically the actual film about dreams with Tito that Nick is making (which feels odd when you consider the supposed domestic family drama in one dream, and the hokey 1940's-like black-and-white romance that follows). Maybe that is the idea - no matter what kind of film you are making, if you don't love it with a passion then it is not worth doing.

Spike Lee's Cathartic Statement on Hate

BLACK KKKLANSMAN (2018)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Those of you who wish not to spend 2 hours watching a Spike Lee polemic about how racism in the turbulent 1970's is no different than today's are advised to steer clear of "Black KkKlansman." Of course that would mean missing one of Spike Lee's finest films ever, a crackerjack detective story told through the lens of the 1970's era of the Black Panther party and the intensely fiery language of David Duke's KKK party.

The opening title of the film reads along the lines of "This shit's fo real." Real to some degree since Lee has taken dramatic license from the actual events but, then again, what filmmaker hasn't. So we got Ron Stallworth (John David Washington, Denzel's son) with an Afro that stands out in only that 1970's style. The guy wants to be a police officer in the town of Colorado Springs which doesn't see many blacks (and never had a black officer), nor many speakers like Civil Rights organizer Stokely Carmichael. Stallworth's hopes is to become an undercover detective and get out of the records room where the cops always ask for files on "toads." After being granted an investigation into Stokely Carmichael's speech at a nightclub, Stallworth takes things much further. He notices a newspaper recruitment ad for the Ku Klux Klan. Stallworth makes a call and pretends to be a white supremacist who is eager to join the "Organization" (a member must never call them the KKK). The fellow detectives are nonplussed by their stalwart new member, yet the investigation into this KKK must continue. Naturally Stallworth can't show up in person to meet these KKK members so a Jewish detective named Flip Zimmerman (a very nuanced Adam Driver) pretends to be Stallworth.

While Ron makes his heated telephone calls to the members for meetings and a couple to the Grand Imperial Wizard himself, David Duke (a purposely bland Topher Grace), Flip discovers a world where the KKK hang out in bars, play pool, are armed and ready when necessary and have a heck of a lot of issues with anyone non-white. Their ranting and raving could lead to violence, including a scheduled bombing of the Black Student Union at Colorado College! Meanwhile, Flip has to hear hateful racist tirades about blacks and Jews, including that one howler we have heard for far too long - the Holocaust was a hoax! As Ron hangs back making calls requesting a KKK member card, spies on Flip going undercover and incredulously serves as security detail for David Duke, Flip has to contend with hearing members of both genders spouting how they can't wait to exterminate all the blacks (they all proudly hoot and holler at a "Birth of a Nation" screening after being inducted into the KKK). Can Flip keep up the charade, and can Ron keep up his own charade of not telling his Black Power activist girlfriend, Patrice Dumas (Laura Herrier) the president of the black student union at Colorado College, that he is undercover?

"Black KkKlansman" unfolds from the start with the incendiary tone we come to expect from Spike Lee, and he has still got it but he does not sling it left and right like he used to. Whether it is the famous shot of wounded Confederate soldiers from "Gone With the Wind" or disgustingly disturbing clips from D.W. Griffiths' "Birth of a Nation" or Alec Baldwin as a PSA propaganda speaker who advocates for white-only neighborhoods, the movie definitely runs on heat at well above 425 degrees. This is Lee at his angriest yet these moments are brief as they are delivered in the opening and closing scenes that are sure to cause many to fidget who support President Trump (Charlottesville, anyone?) Forget fidgeting, Lee wants to make us all angry, to punch us in the gut about the vehement racism in our society and how it was always there at the core.

More importantly, "Black KkKlansman" is not just provocative but also one hell of a supercharged police thriller with some terrifically timed comic relief (Ron's telephone calls alone are hilarious). Through and through the police procedural mechanics of infiltrating the KKK, Lee suggests that racism in the 1970's where the KKK advocates for "America First" is a chilling reminder of where we are now. As I mentioned above, the anger is not delivered with Spike Lee's fist as much but rather through its two main characters, Ron and Flip. When we see how they react to a world they only previously heard about, "Black KkKlansman" achieves its storytelling thrust that burns up the screen right up until the last shot of an upside down U.S. flag that turns into black and white. That final image shakes us up but not in the same way as the flag that literally burned up in the opening moments of Lee's "Malcolm X." No, now we are seeing a different world that perhaps Lee has accepted - it will always be black and white.

Sinfully Silly Shocks

GUILTY AS SIN (1993)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

When Sidney Lumet attempts to fashion a suspense thriller that aims for psychological complexity, excitement runs at a fever pitch. But that is only partially true because "Guilty as Sin" has shards of complexity about it until they are abandoned in favor of overdone psycho thriller theatrics you have seen a million times.

Rebecca De Mornay is an ambitious Chicago attorney, Jennifer Haines, who will take on any case, well, almost any. When she meets an admiring courtroom spectator, David Greenhill (Don Johnson), trouble has already set in. It turns out that David murdered his rich wife by throwing her out of a high-rise apartment building and he wants Jennifer to defend him because he claims he is innocent. Of course, we and Jennifer both know that he is about as innocent as the knife he whirls around when cutting a sandwich. That particular scene involving a kitchen knife, by the way, happens early enough in the film to make us think that the movie might sink or swim based on whether it decides to be excessively silly or build up to dramatic heights with two attractive actors armed with Triple A battery powered personalities. Yep, you guessed it - it goes for the excess.

Jennifer has a loving boyfriend (Stephen Lang with a perm hairdo, almost unrecognizable) who doesn't like David and wants her to drop his case. David senses this and when Jennifer (who cannot abandon her client despite him threatening her at every turn in scenes that seems ripped out of "Fatal Attraction") tries to frame David, he gets revenge by beating up Lang in a scene as pointless as you can imagine. There's also the devoted Moe (Jack Warden), a detective and long-time friend of Jennifer's who uncovers a few screws are loose in our charming David. 

What starts out as psychological head games slowly becomes overheated melodrama. The final twenty minutes of the movie are so laughably histrionic that I began to wonder if Lumet had actually directed this. There is also an abrupt plot hole involving a witness who arrives out of nowhere and disappears just as quickly (SPOILER: My guess is that the witness was paid off to say what she says but there is no cinematic payoff and thus it is nothing more than a red herring). That is not to say that "Guilty As Sin" isn't crudely entertaining - both the lead stars have magnetism and make this better than it has any right to be. But it is entertaining only in a lazily potboilerish way, and not as the sound, tightly woven psychological noir thriller it should've been.

New Yorkers need legends

HERO AT LARGE  (1980)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

"Hero at Large" is one of the most disarmingly appealing movies you will ever see, largely due to the presence of John Ritter. Ritter is a pleasant, charming presence, completely sincere and thus 100% appealing. Well, in fact, so sincere that the movie may as well be called "Sincerity at Large." That is the movie's strength and it is justified since the character Ritter plays may not be unlike himself.

Speaking of sincerity, Steve Nichols (John Ritter) is an unemployed NYC actor who occasionally drives a cab. Steve is so damn sincere that, at one point, he tells another out-of-work actor about a commercial the actor might be good for, without a shred of irony! Steve's own agent is nonplussed - no wonder Steven can't find work. Still, there is a job available, to stand-in for a costumed superhero and sign autographs for the upcoming premiere of a "Captain Avenger" movie. This would require Steve to dress up as Captain Avenger as a publicity stunt to drive up some attention. One night, while buying milk at a grocery store, a couple of thieves attempt to rob the store but not before Nichols' Captain Avenger (still dressed in the costume) stops them and beats them up. A hero is born in New York and Nichols, at first, relishes the attention though nobody is aware of the hero's identity. When Nichols gets a police scanner and drives around in his cab, he gets wind of some robbers in a getaway car and shows up, only this time Nichols is shot in the arm. Maybe this crime-fighting business is not for him.

"Hero at Large" follows a simple formula that allows one to anticipate its every move. Anne Archer is the next-door neighbor who cares for Nichols when he is thrown out of his apartment for non-payment of rent, though she mostly nurtures his gunshot wound. She is not interested in him romantically, despite a blissfully romantic evening that leads to him getting rejected yet again. We know they will end up together yet Archer plays such a mature character with a measure of complexity that is only hinted at. We know Nichols will dress up as Captain Avenger again once he is discovered by the New York City Mayor's staff that he was the crime-fighting hero. This means more publicity stunts that Nichols can't abide by, but then he does anyway. Some of his earnestness here gets a little tedious and the movie feels longer than its 97-minute running time.

Still, "Hero at Large" is reasonably entertaining with a good heart and a simple message of rewarding the ideology of a hero (which of course most of the Captain Avengers fans can't get behind) rather than the hero himself. There is a bit too much padding with Bert Convy as the slick PR guy who works for the Mayor and the rather dull business of Leonard Harris (in a role not dissimilar from his role in "Taxi Driver") as the mayor who is booed by NYC. Despite a few lulls, there are a few laughs strewn throughout and it is a kick seeing Ritter as an enthusiastic Captain Avenger wannabe. His sincerity makes it harmless, occasionally intoxicating fun. 

Trauma and Denial

SPIDER (2002)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

David Cronenberg's "Spider" is not your usual Cronenberg fare, whatever that might mean because in some ways, it is as heavy-going and as morose as his other films. He has occasionally stepped away from his body-modifying tropes and slimy bodily fluids emanating from unimaginable orifices to make films like "M. Butterfly" or perhaps "Dead Ringers" (in latter years, he directed one of the phenomenally great films of the 2000 decade, "A History of Violence"). "Spider" exists on some other level of consciousness, one about parental abuse and neglect and how that can shape a child into a misshapen mess of a broken man. It is also how the perception of reality can be altered through denial. It is also one of his most eye-opening films in years.

The opening sequence is a stunner as we watch passengers exiting a London train as the camera swoops by them at a low-angle, eventually arriving at Spider Cleg (Ralph Fiennes) who can't walk straight, has yellowish fingernails, grabs a bag from inside his pants, and mutters to himself while carrying a briefcase. He has a destination and it is at some English boarding house which looks about as inviting as a rundown shed in the middle of the woods. He stays in a bare, ugly room with a rug where he can hide his notebook. Spider keeps writing in his notebook (and it looks like pure gibberish) and revisits the places of his troubling youth, whether it was a local pub his father (Gabriel Byrne) attended nightly, or his own house. Spider, in an Ingmar Bergmanesque touch (that Woody Allen later borrowed), sees himself and his family from the early years, often repeating phrases his father or mother used before they utter them. It is essentially as if Spider is stepping back in time, only slowly do we realize that the basis of his trauma is not what we thought it was.

Some reviewers felt as if the ending was nothing special. I disagree, though it is not without its obviousness. The difference is that Fiennes, despite his stuttering and his emotional indifference, still makes us feel sympathetic for him and for the loss of his mother at an early age. The predicament that his mother (Oscar-caliber performance by Miranda Richardson) faces when she loses her life is presented twice, both alternately different scenarios. One is presented in a slightly garish, almost Hammer Horror-like manner, and the other is far too eerily realistic. Clues are presented early on about Spider's affection to his mother, was it unhealthy or did he just love her so much that he could not stand to see her go? When the boarding house landlady (Lynn Redgrave) suddenly becomes the visage of Spider's mother, it begins to overtake him, psychologically and physically. . Spider also imagines his mother as a blonde prostitute whom his father picks up at the bar. Fiennes often shows a man who can barely stand on his own two feet, always disheveled and disoriented. Are there separate realities or is it all the same trauma that began with his mother's death?

Based on a novel by Gothic novelist Patrick McGrath, "Spider" is a grimy, relentlessly bleak movie that will make you feel uncomfortable and uneasy. In that sense, it is typical Cronenberg yet it also has a dark heart at its center where we never lose focus on Spider. This is a broken man and we feel emotionally broke by the end. 

Welles Displacing Air

FILMING OTHELLO (1978)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia 

A friend of mine once told me about a painter who decided to self-promote, literally filming herself as she divulged detailed information about every painting of hers. To my friend, that seemed like unimaginable hubris. Watching "Filming Othello" reminded me of that. After all, it is Orson Welles himself as he discusses the trials and tribulations of making his Shakespearean film adaptation of "Othello." However, since it is Orson Welles with his trombonish, larger-than-life voice that could make ocean waves crash and Iago quake in his boots, this can hardly be called unimaginable hubris. Welles himself even thought he was out of his league to narrate his own inside stories on making "Othello," so there you have it. 

Sitting by a moviola where clips from 1952' "Othello" (a stunning film) are shown, Welles expounds on the making of "Othello" where the budget was so restrictive that reverse shots from certain scenes were sometimes shot years later and in other countries! An Italian producer named Montatori Scalera agreed to finance, though he thought he was initially financing a film version of Verdi's opera "Otello" as opposed to the Shakespeare tragedy. To keep up the financing of the film, Welles took acting jobs (this has been pervasive in his directorial career) and certain key roles, like Desdemona, were recast due to lengthy delays. As an interesting side note, Welles had originally sought financing to do a film version of "Cyrano de Bergerac," which Jose Ferrer later made. Finally, financing came through though no sets were built, only found. Costumes were sometimes borrowed from other productions without permission, and the description of how the famous Turkish Bath sequence was shot (a setting not to be found in the play) is simply remarkable.

In latter segments that divide up the documentary rather fluidly, Welles meets with Micheal MacLiammoir (who definitively played the treacherous, power-hungry Iago) and Hilton Edwards (who played Brabantio) at a Paris hotel as they discuss the film, the characters' motives and a fair amount of time talking about envy and jealousy, specifically Othello's jealousy of his wife Desdemona. Finally, the film ends with a Cambridge, Massachusetts audience who had just seen "Othello" and they ask detailed questions. As Welles makes clear time and again to the college-age audience, films are about unintentional accidents and whatever mistakes occur can sometimes help a film. In accordance with how "Othello" was randomly shot out of necessity, Welles shot his reverse shot reactions to Edwards and MacLiammor separately in his Beverly Hills home, two years later. Astounding.

I found "Filming Othello" enthralling as a conversation piece about the difficulties of making a film, and the exploration of what ended up on the screen versus the original text (the 3 hour play was shrunk to 90 minutes). Welles favors the written play by Shakespeare, although calling it a monumental work of art or more appropriately "one of the great monuments of Western Civilization" is pushing it a bit far for me (I prefer "King Lear," an epic family tragedy). But Welles doesn't inhabit or exhibit any arrogance - he realizes his own limitations and how he was too young to play the Moor from Venice. By the end of the film, it is clear that Welles might have done even more justice to Shakespeare's play had he filmed it later. Listening to Welles talk about "Othello" and, on a couple of instances, act out scenes with the same panache as he had back in the day is truly awe-inspiring and powerful to witness. "Othello" is not one of the great monuments of Western Civilization, Orson Welles is.