Not quite on the level of the Beatles album

 BACK IN THE U.S.S.R (1992)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

From what I gather in this lumbering, plot-holish disaster of a movie, there is a religious icon that the Russian mafia wants. A priest also wants it after it was stolen from him. And a museum curator demands it. Just about anyone is willing to kill for it. Its monetary worth and why these people crave it are questions never answered and possibly never asked by the filmmakers of this completely nonsensical thriller. It may as well be a comedy.

Frank Whaley, always diverting no matter what he's doing, is the naive American named Archer visiting Russia and eager to see the "real Russia." This includes going to some punk rock club, getting mugged, having sex with a Russian prostitute who steals the icon in the opening sequence, getting beaten by Mafia goons and getting shot in the hand by a criminal businessman (Roman Polanski, doing a reprise of his "Chinatown" character). Oh, and the terminally stupid Archer is wanted for murder all over town! The Russian girl's friend wants Whaley's precious sneakers. So much for that "real Russia." And on, and on, and on, to the point that I just gave up and admired the overcast Russian skies and was fascinated by the run-down areas of Moscow. I also enjoyed watching Natalya Negoda as the Girl who has one trick up her sleeve that you can see miles ahead. A final, infernal (a dual meaning there) twist will make you wonder if you are supposed to be stupefied or to laugh, or to do both. 

I could say you've been warned but in the spirit of the former Soviet Union and glasnost, I'd rather take it to another level: it is a DEFCON 4 warning. 

Frontier Life Seeped with Violence

 HORIZON: AN AMERICAN SAGA - CHAPTER 1 (2024)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

There have been sporadic westerns in the last few years but there has not been an epic of this magnitude like "Horizon." Kevin Costner's "Horizon: Chapter 1" is tough, gradually exciting, magnificently shot and never feels long. Costner can make long, long films ("Dances With Wolves" has an extended Blu Ray version beyond its initial 180-minute theatrical version) but he is a master of character building and development in the western genre. The fact that three or four more of these stories will unfold in the next couple of years is tremendous news for this western fan. Aside from Eastwood and a couple of other notable directors, Costner is so firmly associated with the Western that there is a comfort level to it - you just expect him to be there.  

In all fairness, I was not sure where Costner was headed with this grand story, the saga of the Natives vs. the white settlers in the frontier life, circa 1859. The film begins with merriment between families dancing in tents in a new settlement called Horizon - construction is imminent and ads circle this area as part of that new frontier. Only the Apaches are unhappy with white men coming into their territory, and that is exactly where the film sold me on its premise. That is, albeit, only part of it. After the Apaches attack (including the young determined warrior Pionsenay played by Owen Crow Shoe) these families in a sweeping fire that kills and wounds many (the violence is pungent and heartbreaking), headstrong Frances Kittredge (Sienna Miller) and her daughter, Elizabeth (Georgia MacPhail), escape under the floorboards of their home using a shotgun pushed through the ground so they can breathe. Most of this stunning sequence takes over the first hour and it never feels excessive or overlong. 

The story cleverly shifts between two different women with different prospects. One is a prostitute, Marigold (Abbey Lee), who has trouble earning money since she has steady competition. The other is Ellen (Jena Malone), a tough-as-nails mother who shot her violent husband, Sykes, and took her child away. Sykes is wounded but not dead and his family wants Ellen and her baby - retaliation is in the air. This is further complicated by horse trader Hayes Ellison (Kevin Costner) who is not looking for a fight and has a gradual interest in Marigold and he might just run into the almost demonic, cackling Caleb (Jamie Campbell Bower) and his older, no-nonsense brother Junior Sykes (Jon Beavers), both who are the elder Sykes' sons. Marigold is residing with Ellen and her new husband, and violence once again enters the picture when they least expect it. 

So between Hayes and Marigold and their escape from the Sykes, the Apaches and their plans to push out the white settlers, a wagon train with an educated people unaware they should participate in manual labor, and stunning scenes of Frances Kittredge and her daughter staying with the Union Cavalry and a potential romance between Frances and the Army lieutenant, "Horizon, Chapter 1" has plenty of story to spare and it is all deftly told (written with a sure hand by Jon Baird and Kevin Costner) with tremendous landscapes that any John Ford fan would love. I never found my attention flagging nor did I check my watch. Costner is able to keep everything smoothly played out with dramatic, intense moments and truly romantic scenes especially with Kittredge. Is this first chapter of "Horizon" a masterpiece? No, but I sure as hell look forward to seeing the rest of this saga play out. 

Que Sera, Sera, Mean Girls whatever will be!

HEATHERS (1989)

Reassessment by Jerry Saravia (includes Spoilers)

Talking about being an affront to the normally cutesy romantic teen comedies of the 1980's, it is only fitting that the cold-as-ice "Heathers" was released at the tail end of the consumerist 1980's. "Heathers" is wild, wildly uneven, rancidly black comedy purporting to be somewhat satirical though never quite crossing that stream without shooting itself in the foot repeatedly. It shattered the glass of expectations for high-school comedies in general, yet all that remains are bloody shards of glass. It is revolting yet I can't say it doesn't hold your attention.

The basic outline is that there is a clique of high-school teenage girls who calls themselves Heather, and they all play croquet. The parents of these girls are well-off and seem lost in Never NeverLand. Veronica (played by the bewitching Winona Ryder, who steals the movie) is reluctantly one of the Heathers and reluctantly goes along with whatever the leading queen Heather (a sharp-tongued Kim Walker) says or does. This includes outrageous acts like sleeping with high-school jocks, cow-tipping, and pranks of such low bar (like passing a fake love note) that they could only happen in high-school. Veronica's whole plastic, pointlessly cruel world comes to a screeching halt when she meets the troublemaker J.D. (Christian Slater), a student dressed in a long coat who looks ready to kill and maim anyone who gets in his way (in one scene, he shoots two jocks with blanks in a cafeteria). J.D. and Veronica talk over slushies and have sex rather than play croquet (thank goodness) and it looks like the rebel, the cool outsider, has found his own queen. Veronica hates Heather Number 1, so much so that the idea of making her violently ill pleases her. Only J.D. doesn't believe in an orange juice/milk solution but rather Drano! It is the first and only truly shocking death in the movie. Heather Number 1 drinks the deadly potion as a dare, unaware what she's consuming, and lands face first on a glass table. I think I stopped laughing and smiling after that.

After the initial shock, "Heathers" never quite recovers and removes itself from its initial satirical targets. It aims into territory that today would be considered either a documentary or some half-witted and half-hearted attempt at eviscerating political correctness or good taste (Just so you know where I stand with satires about suicide and bad taste, I love "Harold and Maude"). J.D. and Veronica decide that Heather Number 1's death should look like a suicide and her note should include the word "myriad" (a word Heather got wrong in a test). Then there are the two jocks who are killed in what is meant to look like a murder-suicide of two gay guys who were not gay at all (this would not pass muster today, nor 20 years ago). The school becomes embroiled in these unexplained suicides and the local news turns the spotlight on them. Veronica is saddened at first and then gets off on it somewhat. She claims to be naive about blanks versus bullets, yet they are about to  murder anyone she and J.D. hate (one nightmare scene of killing a Heather is almost as cartoonish as reality itself). She writes voraciously in her diary wearing a monocle, and that is quite a sight - a Heather-like version of "The Catcher in the Rye" with spilled blood.

"Heathers" then falls into a horror-movie scenario involving J.D.'s plan to blow up the school (oh, boy, that would definitely not go over well today). Veronica has her limitations when it comes to violence and I grew to hate her and J.D. "Heathers" gives us no one to empathize with or to root for. No student of this school is pictured as anything more than a potential dead teenager. The adults are dumb and could care less, especially the school faculty who don't want any sermons on togetherness lasting longer than half a day . The world of this movie is bizarre, uncontrollable and devoid of humanity. Well, that is until the last scene where Veronica decides to befriend a bullied Martha “Dumptruck” Dunnstock (Carrie Lynn) who does attempt to kill herself by walking into traffic. This is after J.D. has gloriously blown himself up, saving the school thanks to Veronica who becomes the savior. Yeah, sure.

I've seen "Heathers" a couple of times since 1989 and, each time, I found myself getting punched and kicked in the face by it. There was potential here for satirizing the Heathers and the very idea of cliques, not to mention high-school life. There are shades of that but not quite enough - the spirited lunacy from its solidly tight first half-hour or so doesn't last. There is not much spirit or lunacy or any sense of wicked fun beyond its first act. There are "myriad" jokes on gays and suicidal attempts and they all kind of fall flat on their face. I still find the film eerily compelling in its rawness and in Ryder's dumbfounded looks and priceless smirks and frowns. Slater does his best to remind us that he could be as good as Jack Nicholson yet his character is an enigmatic psycho (just what is the deal with his father, a demolitions expert?) Watching this movie can feel like nails being driven into a chalkboard. 

Hope is the dream of a waking man

 STALKER (1979)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

For mainstream viewers, watching a Tarkovsky film would be like watching paint dry. It is an expression I hate, especially when applied to one of his films which are often cerebral and poetic. "Stalker" is not one of Tarkovsky's greatest films but it is a maddeningly frustrating and deeply unsettling film about the search for happiness. Or so it seems. 

The Stalker (Aleksandr Kaydanovskiy) is not one who stalks people but rather serves as a cautionary guide to the Zone. The Zone is a largely grassy, unkempt, unclean furnace of nothingness yet if you dare enter, you do not leave as the same person you were. The Stalker is the guide for two people of literate background, the Writer and the Professor. The Writer pontificates quite a bit about his loss of inspiration for writing. The Professor doesn't talk as much though he is angling for a Nobel Prize, and after a while I got a little confused as to who the Professor or the Writer were. Not that they seem interchangeable, but they are stripped of their individuality and their personalities when entering the Zone (which may be precisely the point). Sometimes I got lost where the Zone actually began and where it ended (or if it even included where these three live and originated from on their forbidden journey). We see decaying metal staircases that are practically underwater, and an endless tunnel with stalactites that leads to a small metal door (it certainly looks like a gloomy, uninhabited section from a hydro or nuclear plant which is where the film was shot). This all leads to the Room, a place where a former stalker named Porcupine had entered to save his brother and then committed suicide. Whatever sense of relief from gloom and doom exists in the Room and its surroundings is not apparent - it looks uninviting. All three weary, mucky travellers hear a phone ringing - who is calling them and why? 

"Stalker" begins in startling monochromatic sepia tones that sure make for arresting images, especially scenes inside decrepit buildings near the railway. I must say that the switch to grainy colors didn't please my eyes as much, no matter how well shot it is (the cinematographer is Aleksandr Knyazhinskiy). Though I am not exactly confounded by "Stalker," I was left feeling a great deal of despair over its stark dystopian look at a world that is practically crumbled already. When it is discussed at the beginning how a meteorite crashed somewhere in the Zone's grasslands with some hint of science-fiction, I didn't think it made any difference for the film's bleak outlook. The Stalker, for example, has a wife and a daughter who has some special gifts, yet the relationship with his wife is fraught with nothing but despair and pain. Almost the whole film has nothing but pain and displeasure in its veins. When Tarkovsky films his subjects in close-up, it bears the stamp of humanity still trying to improve the world and the lives of its protagonists. But is there any hope of change? I doubted it until I felt momentary relief during its closing scenes, a small ray of sunshine. Cloudy with hints of sunshine, which may sum up Tarkovsky's career overall.   

Thinking outside the box

 MINDWALK (1990)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

"Mindwalk" is an intellectual curiosity, a wonderful film about people engaged in deep conversation about ecology, the environment and politics. Throw in a little Pablo Neruda, some ancient displays of a clocking device and a torture chamber and you might find yourself a deep admirer of what you see and hear. You may not agree with its talking points but it opens an awareness that few films ever dare to.

There's Jack (Sam Waterston), a conservative Democrat who failed in his bid for the presidential race, meeting up with his former speechwriter and cynical poet, Thomas Harriman (John Heard). They drive to the beautifully scenic tidal island known as Mont Saint-Michel, Normandy - it has a distinctive castle-like structure/commune smack in the middle of it. They start talking about Nixon's resignation and how big business took over everything - the sheer idea of capitalism shredding anything that isn't a profit motive. Listening in the wings of this ancient commune is a former nuclear Norwegian physicist Sonia Hoffman (Liv Ullman) who shares her passion of science and physics, and there is much talk here about electrons, physical matter and empty space - somehow, everything is interconnected. A lot of this is difficult for me to comprehend, let alone for Jack and Thomas who can't visualize a world of empty space. Sonia also has issues with the mechanistic views of Descartes - life can't be subjected or operated only by mechanical laws in her view. Her past involved her quitting her job because she was not fond of having her advanced laser discoveries being used for other purposes (think Oppenheimer).   

When watching "Mindwalk," one must be mindful (pardon the pun) of the film's unconventional approach. It is not a traditional narrative per se nor is there any plot. No one is ever accustomed to three peripheral characters who are drawn by their philosophies thus, today if not in 1990, this film would be considered a talky bore. I was drawn in by the conversations, which seems to occur matter-of-factly - why wouldn't a former speechwriter and a Senator talk politics in such scenic overwhelming beauty? Why wouldn't Sonia offer her two cents on how humanity can become more interconnected in order to solve the world's problems, such as climate change? Why wouldn't Sonia be dismissive of young kids throwing garbage on the cobblestone walkways within this medieval island fortress? Some viewers and critics felt there were talking points addressed as didactic tools. Sure, but there is not a whole lot of sermonizing here - these are people offering their world views and you'd be hard pressed to agree or disagree. They may be right and wrong about much of what they say but I can agree that interconnectedness would be useful for humanity. Descartes, be damned, and hello Pablo Neruda!  

I serve the man downstairs

 LONGLEGS (2024)
Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

I have seen so-called dangerous films in my youth that I felt I shouldn't have seen, yet there was a slight giddiness mixed with an unclean feeling that brought some uneasy euphoria. "Pink Flamingos" was one, the original "Texas Chainsaw Massacre" was another, not to mention "The Exorcist" or the abominable "Caligula." The great films, some which were horror, fit that bill. You couldn't wait to tell someone about them. Hyperbolic statements would fly out of your mouth when sharing your shocked enthusiasm at whatever strange images you had seen from these forbidden movies. "Longlegs" is, proud to say, one of those forbidden movies that you might feel unclean after seeing it yet you can't wait to tell someone about it. 

The opening shots of this hyperbolic, punk-ish horror flick already set a mood of uncertainty and the unknowing. It is the 1970's and a young girl is sitting in her room on a snowy, gloomy day when she hears a car pull up. She's curious, steps out and sees the vehicle but no one steps out. A man's voice is heard in the background and we then get someone with long blonde curly hair and frosty white skin with virtually ruby red lips (what is he, the Joker?) We sense trouble and then we flash forward to the 1990's. A sullen FBI agent, Lee Harker (Maika Monroe) who has psychic abilities, is assigned to bizarre murder-suicides where letters are left signed by "Longlegs." The problem is that the murders are usually committed by the family patriarch and Lee listens to 911 calls made either during or after the murders. The letters are also not written by anyone in the family, and they also have coded messages. The confusion to these family massacres is that there is no forced entry and no fingerprints. Who in creation is that creepy pale-faced maniac known as Longlegs? Why do the codes point to Bible passages from Revelation? What is up with those creepy dolls found in the homes that resemble the families' own daughters? 

"Longlegs" is long on atmosphere filled with more dread-inducing images than most anything else I've seen since "Hereditary." It is ostensibly geeky horror filled with serious overtones that takes it beyond a freaky geeky show. The movie is almost completely bereft of humor (not unlike Maika Monroe's almost impassive performance), other than Longlegs' infrequent outbursts which are equally frightening and funny. As directed by Osgood Perkins (the late Anthony Perkins' son), the movie is rigidly tight in its storytelling and in its dank cinematographic look that actually helps, not hinder as in other films of its ilk, the unsavory world we witness. There is nothing bright or cheery here, visually or otherwise, and "Longlegs" holds you in a vise and its intriguing FBI investigation is compelling. You want to know where it is going and just when you think you have a handle on the film's Satanic twists, you will be floored by the depth of these twists. 

Haunting and spine-chilling in every sense of the word, along with "Hereditary" and "Barbarian" this is solidly unkempt and unbridled horror at its finest. I guarantee you will want to share what you've seen with someone as soon as it is over.       

Stealing Huggies and a Junior baby

 RAISING ARIZONA (1987)

Reassessment by Jerry Saravia

The Coen Brothers' first foray into the film world was 1984's "Blood Simple," one of the most astonishing debuts by any writer-director or, in this case, the writer-director brother team known as the Coens. Following that noir splash of Hitchcockian levels came "Raising Arizona," an insanely high-pitched, cartoonish carnival of a road movie to nowhere. It is one of those films I decided to reassess since I never quite cared for it back in 1987. Today, it seems juiced up and memorably irreverent to be sure, but nothing in it connects me to its outlandish material. It is a complete original, I will say that.

Hi is the Nicolas Cage character, a repeat criminal offender who robs a convenience store each time and serves an eight to nine month prison term. Each time he gets out promising to a parole board that he will improve his life, and each time he winds up right back in the slammer. And each time, he meets a police booking officer named Ed (Holly Hunter) who takes his mugshot. A relationship is developing as he is smitten with her and before you can even get to the romance, they get hitched. Hi tries to go straight working at a machine shop, and eventually the couple move into a trailer park. Ed can't have kids due to being infertile and adoption is out of the question thanks to Hi's numerous arrests. What else can be done other than kidnapping one of the quintuplets from a furniture magnate king named Nathan Arizona (the name of his furniture chain is "Unpainted Arizona") Hi gets a ladder to the Arizona residence and gets a baby, why none other than Nathan, Jr. 

"Raising Arizona" could have developed along the lines of a deviant family trying to raise a child without raising eyebrows. Well, raising eyebrows they do from Hi's former jail buddies Evelle and Gale Snopes (child-like William Forsythe and screaming-like-a-howling-dog John Goodman) who emerge from a prison escape underneath a muddy terrain in scenes that looked like they may have inspired 1994's "The Shawshank Redemption." There's also the kookier-than-thou couple, Glen (Sam McMurray) who is Hi's boss, and his wife Dot (Frances McDormand) and their insane, unruly group of kids who practically destroy Hi's small mobile home. Glen suggests that they swap wives, a little swinging Arizona thing. These scenes are among the worst in the film, cringe-inducing and pathetically unfunny. I might have preferred if this excruciating couple was excised from the film completely. 

So "Raising Arizona" has babies crawling out of cribs, babies left in car seats in the middle of the road, a destructive motorcyclist and possibly bail-bondsman from Hell, lots of robbing Huggies from stores, an insane number of car and foot chases and one hilarious supermarket scene involving a police shootout and women running with their carts down the aisles. Nothing in this movie makes a lick of sense and the absurdist humor runs hot and cold - I occasionally laughed but most of the time, I felt disconnected from the experience. The movie is a barrage of absurdist episodes yet they never quite fit into a whole - they just meander. 

Still, the Coens have always proven to be the most original, inventive filmmakers with a visual bravado of shots that fly by with acute timing and are so perfectly composed that you can't help but smile (the shots of the car stopping just short of a few inches from a baby car seat on the road will leave you breathless). I also love the close-ups of the soiled biker from Hell as he smokes his cigar - he is so cartoonish in tone and style that you know he would not be out of place in a Road Runner cartoon. "Raising Arizona" is never boring, though it does meander, and most of it seems pointless yet has some energetic, colorful moments that will hit you like a ton of bricks. I call it zany silliness at best.