Shakedown with the Heat Still On

 BEVERLY HILLS COP: AXEL F (2024)
Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Entertaining? You bet. Lots of action and comedy? Sure, kind of stirred up. The Heat is Back On? Ah, yeah, the heat is there but it is also recycled and rebooted and reformatted for our current times. We are talking about "Beverly Hills Cop: Axel F," the fourth film in the "Beverly Hills Cop" series that made Eddie Murphy an international star and a superstar. Times have changed when a "Beverly Hills Cop" movie, even the turd that is the third film, opened in theaters. Now, streaming is the new way to watch a new nostalgic-heavy sequel starring Eddie Murphy. Downsized to be sure in every way, this is a smooth and fun ride of a movie and an improvement on the third film but nowhere near the league of the 1984 film started it all. 

Right from the start, the nostalgia factor is on overdrive. Axel Foley is driving around Detroit, his home turf as a police detective, and we hear Glenn Frey's sensational song "The Heat is On," memorably used in the original film. Then there's a slightly funny moment between Axel and a fellow cop at a hockey game that then gives way to a truck action sequence utilizing Bob Seger's song "Shakedown," fairly iconic song used in "Beverly Hills Cop II." Oh, yes, Virginia, the Pointer Sisters' own energetic "Neutron Dance" is replayed during yet another chase scene. You'll smile when you hear these songs (especially if like me, you had the soundtracks on cassette) but you may still wonder why other newer songs couldn't have been used.

Then there are the recurring characters who have not appeared in a Cop sequel since 1987. Paul Reiser is a retiring, frosty-haired Detroit Chief of Police, Jeffrey Friedman, who was a hapless fool in the original films (how did super smart detective Axel Foley not get that job?) When we are smack down in Beverly Hills, we get the return of Taggart (John Ashton), still complaining about his wife Maureen whom we see fleetingly, and he is now Chief of Police in Beverly Hills. Other returning characters last seen in 1994's "Cop III" include the flamboyant Serge (Bronson Pinchot, still gives me belly laughs) and naturally the gun aficionado Billy Rosewood (Judge Reinhold, looking a little shell-shocked yet still has that vigor). 

The plot is as old-hat as they come, and it involves cocaine, drug cartels and a heavily corrupt cop (Kevin Bacon). Gee, where have we seen those plot points before? Of course, all the "Beverly Hills Cop" movies have mediocre plots with Eddie Murphy doing his best to improvise his way through them. Murphy, at 63 years old, still has the juices flowing though he is also more relaxed and confident and it shows a maturity that works better here than in "Cop III." His trademark laugh may be gone (and it has been gone for decades) but he still works his comic magic with some new impressions, and has solid chemistry with Taylour Paige as a defense attorney who happens to be his estranged daughter (do daughters and/or sons always have to be estranged? Look at "Live Free or Die Hard" for proof of this tired trope).

High-speed chases galore (including a hair-raising helicopter flyby through Beverly Hills), a few hilarious comedic bits (the one with Murphy and a parking lot attendant is a howler), some solid backing from Joseph Gordon-Levitt as another 90210 detective and the easygoing charm of Eddie Murphy makes for a decent sequel. Murphy has been there and done that and, yet, there is a sneaky joy in seeing him do it all over again. 

Wacky firecracker speedball noir

 BAD LIEUTENANT: PORT OF CALL NEW ORLEANS (2009)
Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

If you like wacky, in-your-face, deliberately over-the-top Nicolas Cage, then you got him in Werner Herzog's speedy speedball of a firecracker movie called "Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans." I don't recall Herzog ever making a zonked-out movie that appears higher on drugs than the lead character himself yet here we are. This movie recalled the watchably unwatchable atrocity known as "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas" and I sense Herzog would've done a superior job based on this lurid treatment.

There is much fear and loathing in a largely decadent post-Katrina New Orleans (this is accurate since I visited New Orleans years ago, pre-Katrina, since you could smell the decadence). Nicolas Cage is a lieutenant Terence McDonagh who loves getting high on crack cocaine - he smokes it or sniffs it. He started his drug habit with Vicodin, to lessen his back injury pain after rescuing a prisoner during hurricane Katrina. Even without excessive drug-ingestion, Terence is on some sort of fever pitch high - the guy is loose, loud and off-putting in the opening sequence alone. Years later, after being honored for his commendable action, Terence investigates a brutal massacre of a Senegalese immigrant family. This leads to one specific drug lord, Big Fate (rapper Alvin "Xzibit" Joiner, a stunning performance), whom no one from the streets claims to have any knowledge of. But the grisly investigation leads down to Terence's own fabricated rabbit holes or, more appropriately, iguana holes. He is in dire search of cocaine and stops a young couple at a club called "Gator's Retreat" - he frisks them, smokes some of the cocaine, and has sex with the girl while firing his gun at the disbelieving guy who is ready to run. This scene alone might cause walkouts with some viewers, but a later scene involving an elderly woman at a nursing home could easily do the trick. 

I was mostly confused, irritated, sometimes irrationally amused at what transpires on screen and angry at the same time, seeing a corrupt man who has no sights on restraint at all. If he has to kill to get information, he will. If he has to kill to get drugs, he will. Mostly Cage's Terence makes more threats than anything else yet he usually gets what he wants. His girlfriend (Eva Mendes) is a prostitute who sometimes supplies him with drugs, often from her own clients! To top it all off, Terence has bad gambling habits, owing money to his anxious bookie (a wonderfully energetic Brad Dourif). He threatens, in one unbelievable scene, a football star whom he catches buying pot to make good on his playing techniques against the team Terence is betting will win. Good god, does Terence have any scruples at all? Definitely not. 

This "Bad Lieutenant" is more of a trippy side dish full of gritty leftovers from Abel Ferrara's deadly serious decadent noir, "Bad Lieutenant" from 1992 which contains Harvey Keitel's greatest performance. I have to say there is a guileful snap to Cage in this movie and he has many memorable moments of inspired lunacy. Herzog's film is compelling and absurd yet never less than mesmerizing. Cage makes it all his own, including the smiling iguanas. 

Cannon fodder for the most undiscriminating viewer

 10 TO MIDNIGHT (1983)

Endured by Jerry Saravia

"10 to Midnight" is like any schlocky, inane 80's slasher picture except with some decent actors who don't give it much of a lift. How can they? It is indistinguishable from any slasher picture except it is uglier and has a pure disdain for women in general (and it is a Cannon picture). Sure, the killer who is barenaked when he stabs women is certifiably insane and clearly hates women, no question. The movie, though, hates women as well, often photographing them rather unflatteringly and as naked props set up for the kill. You know, like any rudimentary slasher picture.  

Lisa Eilbacher, a sweet and engaging presence in many movies, is a nurse and the daughter of a cop who doesn't play by the rules (Charles Bronson). She is estranged from her father and has a thing for his clean-cut partner (Andrew Stevens), a diligently by-the-book cop who uses words like "inured" that leaves Bronson perplexed. I guess Bronson's cop doesn't have much of a vocabulary. 

Other than Eilbacher, nothing else in "10 to Midnight" rates as entertainment even on the most basic sleazy, gore level. It is just nasty and disgustingly violent with repeated bloody stabbings of nude women - you never see the knife penetrating their bellies, which is I guess is sort of admirable. But you do see the victims covered in blood, one after another, with every thinly characterized woman as fodder (they include an early appearance by Kelly Preston, and Ola Ray from Michael Jackson's "Thriller"). One man is killed while having sex in a van with the killer's co-worker - the naked killer chases the naked girl when maybe she should have headed back to the van and took off (slasher victims in the 80's weren't too bright). 

How is any of this acceptable for a Charles Bronson vehicle that should be of a slightly higher pedigree? The killer (Gene Davis - Brad Davis's brother) has the mentality of an overgrown child who doesn't get his way, his motive being that if women didn't keep rejecting his advances, they might live. How noble. And when he hears that he could use an insanity defense, he uses it to defend his actions against Bronson face-to-face. Sorry but between ten and midnight, I'd rather be sleeping than sitting through this atrocity again. 

Jarmusch notwithstanding, this is still zombie by the numbers

 THE DEAD DON'T DIE (2019)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

A Jim Jarmusch absurdist take on the zombie genre might seem like a radical idea, but only to those who have never seen a zombie movie. George Romero's "Dead" films kind of tackled this before, starting with the satirical and bleakly funny "Dawn of the Dead." Except "Dawn" was released in 1978 and what followed in its wake were many, many iterations of the zombie genre done with sometimes savvy humor and an absurdist tone. "Shaun of the Dead," anyone? "The Dead Don't Die" is absurdist in largely mediocre ways, so mediocre in fact that I can't call it absurdist. It feels like pre-programmed absurdist claptrap. And Jarmusch is one of the few cinematic kings of absurdism, so color me disappointed.

There's the small, boring town of Centreville where not much happens at all where you have one diner, one gas station, one motel, etc. The only bright spot of lively energy comes from the local mortician, a samurai-wielding woman named Zelda (Tilda Swinton, of course). She's such an original character that I'd preferred if she was the lead of this movie. Instead Jarmusch (who wrote and directed) aims his focus on two rather standard-issue police officers and they are both played by Bill Murray and Adam Driver! These two actors can burn the screen with their larger-than-life personalities yet there is not much charisma on display here and not much chemistry between them - they are low-key yet they are nothing more than robots with the barest of wit emitted from their lips. Another officer, the frightened and easily spooked Mindy (an exceptional Chloe Sevigny), shows sympathy in this indifferent town. Nobody seems to care when zombies attack and munch on bloody entrails - if this is meant to be absurdist, too little and too late since Romero beat Jarmusch to the punch several decades ago.

A motley crew of characters, including Selena Gomez (motel occupant travelling with two guys), Larry Fessenden (motel owner), and a creepy homeless man as only Tom Waits can play him, basically arrive on screen and disappear - they are like ghosts and we never feel invested in their fates. The film looks washed-out with a gray scale I have seen one too many times in far too many similar horror tales. Other than an otherworldly surprise presence and Swinton's colorful characterization, there is not much to latch onto in "The Dead Don't Die." I did get a kick out of seeing a Samuel Fuller gravestone that Iggy Pop popped out of. That's a witty reference that will make sense only to cineastes. Zombie fans, steer clear. 

Network with Satan guest, 30 share easy.

LATE NIGHT WITH THE DEVIL (2023)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia 

Imagine any current late-night TV host having a demonically possessed girl as a guest - the ratings would go through the roof! A 30 share easy. High ratings could help a 1970's talk show host like Jack Delroy climb up near Johnny Carson's top spot. "Late Night With the Devil" is more funny than frightening yet no less effective as a unique horror take using a novel twist to conjure up scares and unsettling moments. It is nothing earth-shattering or ear-splittingly noisy or eye-piercingly unnerving horror but it will do as counter-programming to the last "Exorcist" or "Omen" offerings.

Jack Delroy (David Dastmalchian) is not your usual TV host - he's lively, upbeat and is down for anything in something akin to a variety show than "The Tonight Show." But there is something deeper, something slightly unsettling about Jack and his topsy-turvy life. He starts off as a success but bad luck emerges. Jack's wife dies of cancer and he disappears for a month only to return to a show that is tanking in the ratings. A Halloween 1977 episode, however, offers Jack the opportunity to bounce back by inviting an alleged psychic (Fayssal Bazzi); Ian Bliss as a James Randi-type skeptic (no doubt that the first two guests were inspired by a famous Tonight Show episode); a worried parapsychologist and best-selling author June Ross-Mitchell (Laura Gordon) and her intriguing subject, a frequently demonically possessed 13-year-old named Lilly (Ingrid Torelli). Lights flickering and consistent electrical outages are the abnormal occurrences when Lilly appears with June - for some reason, it takes a while before Lilly is convinced not to stare at the TV cameras. 

"Late Night with the Devil" has a few devilish tricks and treats up its sleeve and they will make you squirm on occasion (the ugly worms just might do it). When the psychic vomits a black ooze after his alleged premonitions from random people in the audience, the show's demeanor starts to get heavy and we know trouble is coming. The film uses the cliched gimmick of found footage -as an existing live episode - and I would have been fine with that minus the grating behind-the-scenes footage that interferes with the snappy pacing. Technically, this film would've been perfect at 74 minutes. 

Aussie filmmakers Colin and Cameron Cairnes have mostly done an inventive and witty job of keeping us intrigued by this novel concept. Dastmalchian is an enormously canny actor whose very demeanor suggests someone with a sad inner life who might spring a surprise on you. "Late Night with the Devil" may not be a swinging success in the annals of horror but it has oomph, some major jolts (the replay of a live segment will keep your teeth chattering) and it is often vividly tantalizing. Show this movie on network TV and you will get a 30 share, easy. 

As perfect as escapist movies get

 THE PURPLE ROSE OF CAIRO (1984)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

The movies have always been a gateway to escape to another world, an escape from real-life problems. The rich irony to Woody Allen's "The Purple Rose of Cairo" is that the escape from real-life is a gateway to real-life, to the acceptance that real life is nothing like the movies. That is the special and wonderful charm of one of Woody Allen's greatest films. 

The Great Depression has made everyone poor ("The whole country's out of work") yet Cecilia (Mia Farrow), a newly hired waitress at the local diner, is always dreaming of the movies and sees one every week at the local theater. Her boisterous brute of an unemployed, flirtatious husband, Monk (Danny Aiello), plays craps and seemingly refuses to work ("I went to the ice factory and there's nothing there"). Cecilia has to make ends meet and get good tips but before long, she becomes unemployed. So she goes to the movies to escape from her depressing world to see the latest Hollywood programmer, "The Purple Rose of Cairo." This is a movie about the super wealthy (in the 1930's, people needed that kind of escape from the world - who the heck knew anybody who was wealthy?) and a naive explorer/archaeologist wearing a pith helmet at every function, including glamorous parties. He's Tom Baxter of the Chicago Baxters (Jeff Daniels) and the flickering movie persona notices that Cecilia is seeing this movie every day. Yep, think of this as a glorious update of "Sherlock Jr." except this Tom Baxter is no Buster Keaton - he is a man in love with Cecilia. This causes a ruckus as he steps off the screen and the movie-within-the-movie stops short of continuing its story. Cecilia teaches Tom everything about real life such as movie money is not real money, that you can't live on love, there are no fade outs during a kiss and that cars just can't start without an ignition key! There is also a bordello scene that is possibly one of the sweetest bordello scenes ever seen, if that seems possible.

"Purple Rose of Cairo" could have floated beautifully with this impossible romance on its own yet Allen complicates things. Gil Shepherd (also played by Jeff Daniels) is the Hollywood actor who comes this small NJ town to convince "his creation" to get back on the screen. Easier said than done. To make things even more complicated, Gil falls in love with Cecilia and buys her a ukulele. Is this love with Gil for real, or is the blooming romance between the fictional Tom and Cecilia more real?

"The Purple Rose of Cairo" is a cinematic jewel, a truly remarkable comedy sprinkled with enough real drama dust to pass as one of Woody's most perfect films. Pure joy is evident in every frame. Every performance, every Depression-era period detail, every piece of music so suffuses every scene that it flows like a dream one that doesn't want to end. That's the movies, folks, but maybe not real life! Cecilia learns that painful lesson.

Make me Believe in the Warrens again

 THE CONJURING: THE DEVIL MADE ME DO IT (2021)
Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

The Warrens are such a lovely couple, so devoted to each other and their grounded love that you wish they would be at the service of a better horror movie than "The Conjuring: The Devil Made Me Do It." This latest Conjuring sequel is microwaved leftovers, leaving us with such a bland, overcooked taste that I just felt disappointed and underwhelmed. There is nothing here you haven't been served before.

This latest "Conjuring" movie begins with an exorcism of a bespectacled tyke whose body contorts and bends with such bone-cracking violence that I expected the kid to die. Alas, the kid is okay as the demon is transferred to an older twentysomething named Arne Johnson who insists on this transference by uttering words we had heard in another movie from 1973: "Take Me!" The question is whether Arne is really possessed or is the demon up to something else? Well, apparently this demon has murder on its mind as it gets Arne to kill his landlord with a pocket knife. Here is my question: if a demon can possess you (an amazing supernatural ability when you get right down to it), is the only thing on its mind is to have its host stab a landlord 22 times who is letting Arne and his girlfriend stay rent-free?

Naturally, our favorite demonologists, Ed and Lorraine Warren (Patrick Wilson, Vera Farmiga), are on board to prove that Arne is not a killer because, you know, the Devil made him do it (this was the first actual court case where demonic possession was entered as evidence). Plus, they know Arne from the possession of that young kid at the beginning of the movie. All this involves Lorraine to do the heavy work of veering into the visions of another dead victim that involves some occultist's totem (one which is discovered in the basement of the house from the opening sequence). Poor Ed has heart issues thanks to the near-deadly touch of the Devil so, for the majority of the movie, he has to walk with a cane. 

None of this is goosebumping fun at all. Sure, this is based on a true story yet the details of this infamous 1981 case and the possession feel cribbed from many other movies, regardless of their (dubious) authenticity. This third "Conjuring" gets wrapped up in snore-inducing climaxes inside a house with a basement that leads to a lower level that looks like a lair out of any thousand movies about the occult (complete with an altar). The Warrens were more dynamic in previous "Conjuring" movies and only show their affection in a lovely ending. Unfortunately, they are mostly going through the paces of demonic visions that look tired, unfocused and plainly mediocre. Make me believe in the Warrens again.