An apathetic and sour Captain America

CAPTAIN AMERICA (1990)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Video: Jerry at the Movies reviews Captain America (1990)

I had heard of this much maligned version of "Captain America" back in 1990, eagerly anticipating its spring release. The advertising was ubiquitous. Spring of 1990 came and went with no sign of the red, blue and white superhero with his colorful and powerful shield of armor until its debut on home video circa 1992 (it was theatrically released internationally). Having recently seen it, the film is not nearly as bad as some have decried nor is it a disgrace to those who read their Captain America comics. Unfortunately, it is also shapeless, poorly edited and succeeds more as a work print than an answer print.

Matt Salinger (the late J.D. Salinger's son) is the sincere Steve Rogers, a polio-infected volunteer for an Army experiment where he is injected with a serum to become a super soldier. His purpose: help fight WW II and defeat the powerful Red Skull (Scott Paulin), who has plans to destroy half if not all of Europe (and become President of the U.S.). We get an early scene of Steve, codenamed Captain America, fighting the Red Skull before being strapped to a rocket and landing in the frozen tundra of Alaska. This all happens in the first twenty minutes of the film, as it shifts to 1990 where Steve is looking for his future bride-to-be of the past. There is also a curious Washington reporter (Ned Beatty); an even more curious and idealistic President of the U.S. (Ronny Cox), who first witnessed Captain America strapped to that rocket when he was a kid; a conniving, corrupt general (Darren McGavin); and the Red Skull himself, (an Italian in this adaptation rather than German) who is the head of an "international cartel." This modern-day Skull doesn't resemble the iconic arch-nemesis - he had plastic surgery and wears beautiful suits and slicked back black hair, pontificating about "Captain Ammerriiicaaa."

The movie shifts and compresses so many events that there is no time to breathe and absorb the details. The opening sequence features a slaughter of an Italian family by some Nazis where some intelligent Italian kid is whisked away and used as a guinea pig to become a super soldier or the future Red Skull? Then we get Steve Rogers and his idealistic commitments to World War II but he is more cipher than human being. Once he awakens in the future of 1990 and sees that audio recorders are made in Japan and that punk kids asking him for a cigarette is a sign of trouble, Matt Salinger plays Steve as a blank, indifferent and big sourpuss of a Captain America (and the laughably rubber suit does him no favors). Ronny Cox brightens things a little as the President and Darren McGavin gets a few juicy scenes, though Ned Beatty's rambling, conspiracy theorist reporter is dismissed from the film a little too early. Still, none of these scenes jell nor are they part of any coherent whole.

The Red Skull's visage in the present-day Italy scenes is not red (I suppose he wants to blend in). Despite that, Scott Paulin is deliciously evil and handles every scene he has with devilish skill. I am still not sure I understood his plans to destroy Europe except that somehow, this would enable him to become President of the U.S. I know people in the 21st century accept a black President but one with a Michael Corleone accent with a frightening visage? I think not.

"Captain America" came from a production company (producers Stan Lee and Menahem Golan in tow) which, according to the director Albert Pyun, ran out of money too soon after filming commenced. A mediocre superhero epic overall, the film is truncated and is poorly constructed and hardly fleshed out - it has a rushed, let's-get-it-in-the-can feeling with no attention to a specific, coherent story. This "Captain America" version is not boring and not nearly as unwatchable as the Reb Brown TV movies from the late 70's, but there is nothing to cheer about when the hero is cheerless and apathetic. One wink to the camera from Matt Salinger at the end of the film is too little, too late.

The Facebook generation

CATFISH (2010)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

There are celebrities and critics who find "Catfish's" reality dubious. I don't know why but in an age where any and everything can be digitally manipulated, it would take a talent too enormous to fake this film. You have heard of it. "Catish" is about a facebook relationship that ends up revealing the truth of that relationship through, gasp, actual physical interaction. Some have declared "The Social Network" to be the definitive film about facebook and the social networks we cling to. I think "Catfish" will be the definitive film because it appears to be the most honest.

Nev Schulman, Ariel Schulman and Henry Joost are three New York videographers who film and photograph modern dancers. Abby is a 9-year-old Michigan girl who sends Nev a painting of one of his photographs and develops a relationship with him through facebook, that global social interactive website. As Nev gets to know Abby, he also learns of her family, including Abby's mom, Angela, and the eldest daughter, 19-year-old Meghan. Meghan supposedly has a horse farm. There is also talk of an exhibition of paintings that Nev has received by mail in his New York office. But it is really Meghan whom Nev has a keen and vested interest in, talking to her on the phone, and hearing her covers of songs like "Tennessee Stud." Let's say that nothing is exactly what it seems.

"Catfish" is pulse-pounding, frequently on the verge of making you cringe in anticipation of what you may or may not find about this relationship. The Meghan we see in the facebook photo album looks like a supermodel - the girl of Nev's dreams. When we discover the reality, we find that Nev was predisposed to a reality that is fake in nature - not all women look like supermodels and, to be fair, not many look like George Clooney or Nev. 24-year-old Nev looks like a handsome, intelligent guy but he is naive and falls for someone who, let's face it, exists in digital air.

As I mentioned earlier, some find the authenticity of this film to be suspect. Well, it is no "Blair Witch Project" or "This is Spinal Tap." Some other critics said that the film hits all the right notes yet when one edits a film, we select the best pieces that fit the puzzle, especially a documentary. There may be hours of footage we have not seen that might be boring. I am willing to believe that what transpires in this film is the real thing (even the videographers occasionally forget to compose their shots correctly, especially in scenes where they type in the computer - their heads seem to be chopped off or they shoot the ceiling).

"Catfish" is continually absorbing and thrilling, right up to the conclusion which is miraculous in its understatement. There is no big revelation that we don't see coming but, I can say, the Michigan family is as warm and loving as you might think. If this film was faked, it might have ended with some violent temperament. "Catfish" will leave you exhilarated, surprised and elated - there is a joy that comes from the film's deeper subtext about today's need to socially interact in, yes, digital air that will you leave you thinking and ruminating for days and weeks on end.

Lost in the art of discovering America

ROAD SCHOLAR (1993)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

(Originally written in 1999)

Time and again, someone tries to discover America and its nether regions, hoping to make the definitive cultural statement about this country. The problem is that no one can make the definitive statement when America continually grows from one generation to the next. Even the state I live in, New Jersey, is full of stories and historical backgrounds, going back several decades and centuries (read the cult magazine "Weird N.J." for a better perspective). The narrator of the film "Road Scholar" even states how times have changed in America in the last twenty years. "Now Spanish is spoken as much as English," the narrator observes.

The narrator is Andrei Codrescu, a Romanian-born Jew who became an American citizen in 1981. He is best known as an NPR commentator for the program, "All Things Considered," and is a well-known poet. He is witty, urbane, sarcastic, and shrewd. Andrei uses his satiric prose and poetic sensibilities to come up with his own interpretation of America by way of a cross-country road trip. He gets a driver's license, and is off in a cherry-red '68 Cadillac convertible to explore America. Andrei comes up against a community of Christian Communists in upstate New York, accustomed to poverty on the margins despite a profitable business; New Age mysticism, religious militant groups and Native American habitats in New Mexico; the virtually empty, economically ravaged city of Detroit; homeless, crack-addicted Haitian immigrants in New York City; last-minute marriages in Las Vegas (including drive-thru marriages!); a Vietnamese author in San Francisco who is aching to go back to his homeland; an artist who lawfully places a car in her lawn proclaiming it as a piece of art; and so on.

"Road Scholar" has enormous fun in arriving at these different locales and points of interest in America, and it is continuously absorbing in investigating different patterns of life. My major complaint is that certain vignettes could have benefited from more screen time, such as the Detroit artists who place shoes and sneakers on the streets as a reminder of people who once populated a sparsely populated, poor neighborhood. There is also too much time invested on New Mexico mystics and healers - I used to live in Santa Fe and have had enough exposure to them. They are pure "kitsch," as Codrescu often refers to certain aspects of life or to the Statue of Liberty. Other moments show the loss of innocence in America, as in the traveling bus of peace-loving denizens who want to bring back the 60's free love ideals and such without benefit of drugs. I also found a strangely melancholic passage in the depiction of lost dreams in Detroit. One example is the movement of Motown sound from Detroit to the big leagues and how it affected an entire community who felt the music was theirs. In fact, the Detroit section of the film is the most astute as one gathers understanding of how America can let go of one of their cities in times of economic hardships.

If this were just an ordinary documentary about America in the 90's, it would have worked just fine with its look at people of different nationalities. Alas, using Andre as a witty commentator on the scene enlivens the proceedings enormously - he is sometimes sardonic but he also identifies with most of the people, particularly the immigrants who came to this country in hopes of fulfilling their dreams. Some did, and many did not. Andre became a poet and wrote books, and was allowed to have the power of freethinking without getting arrested. His story is just as insightful, and proves just as entertaining. He also recognizes, as reminded to him by the late poet Allen Ginsberg, that America is "an Indian thing." For a relatively fast-paced, inspirational tour of America, you can do no better than "Road Scholar."

You make this room look bad

CRAZY HEART (2009)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

At its best when I listen to it, country music is often about heartbreak. I am no fan of the music (I am partial to Johnny Cash, who wasn't all country) but after watching and listening to "Crazy Heart," I am a bigger fan of the inspirations, which include Merle Haggard, and of the unsung actor Jeff Bridges. Bridges is in every single scene and he brings heartbreak to his performance in all its country glory.

Bridges is the alcoholic, 57-year-old Otis "Bad" Blake, a country singer who reluctantly plays at bowling alleys and bars throughout New Mexico. He is drunk offstage and onstage. In a scene that could have been far more cringe-worthy, he is almost ready to sing until he splits from the stage, vomits outside, and then comes back just as the song is finished by his pick-up band. The audience still applauds because Bad Blake has a charisma that offsets any flaws. That scene is at the heart of "Crazy Heart" because nobody in this film, aside from a doctor at a Santa Fe hospital, tells Blake to stop drinking altogether - just dial it down a few notches. The screenplay dodges and spares us the cliches that normally accompany a has-been singer - this is not the excessively inebriated singer you might have seen in "The Rose," which starred the brilliant Bette Midler. Bad Blake is a middle-of-the-road alcoholic who can stop drinking but wishes not to. He smokes and drinks but the drinking keeps his mind from writing down new lyrics which he improvises on the fly.

Blake meets a young journalist, Jean (ever the effervescent actress, Maggie Gyllenhaal), who wants to write an article about him. They develop a relationship but she knows where to draw the line in the sand when it comes to fathering her four-year-old son, Buddy (Jack Nation). Jean knows instinctively what Blake is all about and there are moments where it is clear that she doesn't know what sort of future he might have with her.

"Crazy Heart" has a few surprises in store for the viewer who has seen this sort of tale before. The cliches are excised and the screenplay wisely chooses to focus on Blake's own forging ahead with his career, despite his drinking and truck accident. Bad Blake won't settle for any old gig - he nearly turns down an arena of 14,000 people in attendance where a supposed rival, a young hotshot country singer named Tommy Sweet (Colin Farrell) is performing. "Crazy Heart" settles for something redemptive in Bad Blake towards its conclusion. I am not always a fan of a redemption in a character, particularly a drunk, but I realized that Jeff Bridges sells the character so well that a change of heart seems true and honest  (especially in the similar drunk Bridges played in "The Fisher King"). And let us say that not everything that occurs is as expected.

Robert Duvall (co-producer of the film and star of the similar film, "Tender Mercies") is always a welcome presence in any film as a former alcoholic who tends bar and keeps an eye on Blake. Colin Farrell, an actor I do not always care for, also brings authenticity to his role - it is not played as an egotistical new talent who can outsell Blake's own records sales but as someone who admires Blake. Maggie Gyllenhaal is a genuine treasure playing a woman who holds her own fort. She could've played the character as shrill or even conniving - she genuinely cares for Blake but sees his shortcomings.

It is an inescapable fact that Jeff Bridges somehow fits his persona into his characters invisibly, thus we never catch him acting. His portrayal of the alcoholic Bad Blake (which he deservedly won the Oscar for) is stunning to watch because he is subtle and underplays beautifully, just as Jeff Bridges always has. "Crazy Heart" is near-great (I would have preferred more time with Duvall's character myself) but it is Jeff Bridges who burns a hole through your heart.

New York's Dishonest Car Dealer

SOLITARY MAN (2009)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Having recently rewatched "The China Syndrome" and seen "Solitary Man," my conclusion is that Michael Douglas is not as interesting or as charismatic as he once was. This is far from an ageist comment - Douglas simply can't carry himself playing an unlikable boor as he does in "Solitary Man" (the Douglas of the 70's and 80's might have). Maybe it is not in his nature to play such a character but, as written in this film, he is more ruthless and diabolical than human. Not even Gordon Gekko was this bad, and that character is one of the great, colorful characters of all time.

At the start of "Solitary Man," Douglas's character, Ben Kalmen, is told by his doctor he might have some sort of heart problem. Flash forward to several years later and we see a Ben who sleeps with women half his age (including his girlfriend's daughter!); is losing his profitable New York car dealership due to some illegal financial wheeling and dealing that not even Gordon Gekko would approve of; has money problems to the point that he works in a deli near the university where his girlfriend's daughter attends; is not punctual when it comes to his grandson's birthday; and is slowly losing touch with his impatient daughter (Jenna Fischer) whom he has the audacity to ask for money loans. Meanwhile, Ben sleeps with women, attends college parties where he tries to school a student (Jesse Eisenberg) on seducing women, and so on.

I grew tired by the fast-talking Ben because the character is simply a salesman no matter what he does - his addiction is not drugs but simply being able to lie and sneak his way into doing anything he wishes. I recall Harvey Keitel playing a smooth con-man in the little-seen and underappreciated "Imaginary Crimes," and in that film, we had some measure of sympathy because Keitel was playing a real person who loved his family and did what he could to provide and protect. Douglas essentially plays a con-man (not to suggest all salesmen are con-men) as a selfish, uncaring, irresponsible bastard who can't and won't care about anyone or anything except money. I admire Michael Douglas for playing such a risky part (and he has played his share) but he seems barely there - more like a mirage than a character and Douglas mostly alleviates the part with a low buzz. When you saw Douglas in "Wall Street" or in the slimy husband roles he played in heightened mediocre thrillers like "Fatal Attraction" or "Disclosure," he did it with brio and charisma and some measure of humanity (not to mention a leathery, reptilian voice) that you cheered for the man you love to hate. He wanted to be loved, and the audience knew it, despite his indiscretions. Douglas doesn't bring any of those qualities and the screenplay by Brian Koppelman and David Levien (both co-directed) doesn't allow for them either. Ben Kalmen is a one-dimensional cretin.

Douglas is, however, surrounded by an energetic and superb cast. Mary Louise Parker is absolutely brilliant as Douglas's rich, no-nonsense girlfriend - her scene in a car where she outlines how Ben needs to get out of her life is sublime. Danny DeVito is also at his restrained best as Ben's old pal who runs the university deli. Jesse Eisenberg easily steals the film from Douglas, giving us a character far more mature than Ben who sees through Ben and his ways. Kudos also go to Susan Sarandon in the brief and lively role of Ben's ex-wife.

"Solitary Man" is awkwardly paced and seems to take an eternity to get nowhere fast. The final shot of the film is purposely ambiguous but it left me cold and empty. Sometimes I like that feeling if the film carries weight, but Ben Kalmen is someone I'd rather not get that feeling from.

The World According to Ramona

RAMONA AND BEEZUS (2010)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

I am still a sucker for a sweet, sentimental family film that aims to tug the heartstrings and show that normal, happy, functional families still exist. Well, not entirely - I'm not because many of them are as sappy and artificial as aspertame ("Bye Bye Love" comes to mind). But if it works, it is worth checking out and we shouldn't leave it entirely to Hallmark to make it a genre of its own. "Ramona and Beezus" is an exceptional treat that never gets too thickly syrupy or sweet to render one with diabetes. No, in fact, the film is a Splenda-sweetened and gentle ride that doesn't render everything on screen as hokey or sappy. Thanks goodness for that.

"Ramona and Beezus" is based on the books by Beverly Cleary, which I've never read but, as a side note, my wife has read them and feels the film captures the flavor of the books nicely. So, back to the movie. Ramona (Joey King) is the imaginative and accident-prone 9-year-old heroine who lives in a house on Klickitat Street in Portland, Oregon with her 15-year-old sister, Beatrice (Selena Gomez) whom Ramona refers to as Beezus, and her parents, Robert (John Corbett) and Dorothy (Bridget Moynahan). Robert the Dad, who had artistic aspirations (before starting a family), has lost his job in management while construction for a new room is taking place in their home. Ramona wants to make Dad's life easier by earning money, but she delivers more mischief than cash. She helps to hose down the Range Rover of her best friend's Uncle Howie for, ahem, almost 100 dollars! It pays more than the lemonade stand. The problem arrives when the vehicle is accidentally drenched in vivid colors of paint! The uncle, Uncle Howie (Josh Duhamel), by the way, is Ramona's Aunt Bea's (Ginnifer Goodwin) ex-boyfriend. 

As I've said, the movie version of "Ramona and Beezus" is not uncomplicated about real issues we can identify with, such as losing your job and possibly your home. Ramona is klutzy but so kind-hearted and not too bratty, and by the end of the film, she has helped to save the day (SPOILER ALERT: all is forgiven in the finale). I do not dislike the picture and it is what it is...but something gnaws at me. Maybe it is because it romanticizes the idea of complications. Maybe it is hard to distinguish Ramona's fantasies from the real world. Or maybe I am not the intended audience for this movie. But I do enjoy films like this as long as the sentiment is not laid too thickly over the proceedings. 

"Ramona and Beezus" works and it is a charming, entertaining picture. The filmmakers could not have found a better Ramona than the bright and bouncy charm of Joey King. All the other actors snuggly fit into their roles. Perhaps there is that side of me that wishes the movie didn't end with such tidy resolutions. Still, I am not too critical without knowing that, yes, we may need more films like this. 

Blustering and wearying 'Informer'

THE INFORMER (1935)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Victor McLaglen plays one of the great boisterous drunks of all time in John Ford's "The Informer." Not only does Victor play a drunk, he is also an Irish drunk. And he is inebriated throughout this movie, and so much so that it grows tedious. Yep, too tedious to the point of not caring. As I said, he plays a great drunk but he also plays it too well, and the movie's final scenes will make you tear your hair out, albeit for all the wrong reasons.

Set in Dublin in the 1920's, an Irish rebel named Frankie McPhillip (Wallace Ford) is on the run. The Irish drunk and ex-IRA member, Gypo Nolan (Victor McLaglen), informs on his friend, Frankie, to the British Army. Frankie is located, gunned down, and now Gypo collects a reward, feels a smidgeon of guilt, gives himself away at Frankie's wake to some suspicious IRA members, and spends the rest of the movie drinking, spending most of his reward money and cavorting with other drunks and some prostitutes.

"The Informer" never quite addresses the insights into Gypo's guilt. As directed by John Ford (who has made some clunkers and some terrific pictures), the movie settles for the drunken stupor of Gypo to give us a grand, wicked caricature of a giant Irish drunk who can still punch with great velocity (in one scene, he knocks out a policeman). Gypo is guilty of being an informant and he knows it, yet he points to an innocent tailor (Donald Meek, in the most restrained performance in the movie) as the informant. Once the tailor is cleared, the ensnaring of Gypo becomes tighter but the movie never establishes enough tension to make it palatable. Frankly, I was hoping Gypo was going to be found guilty sooner than the story allows. Since we never get caught up in his misfortune and sense of guilt, it is hard to feel any remorse.

Victor plays it to the hilt, one-hundred percent (he won the Oscar for Best Actor), but there is not enough to draw empathy from his occasionally one-note performance. It is a shame and the ending, involving Una O'Connor (one of the great character actresses of her time) as Frankie's mother, feels tacked-on and inconsistent. "The Informer" lacks drive and passion yet it boasts some spectacular black-and-white photography by Joseph August, who purposely echoes German Expressionism in its foggy look (Max Steiner's haunting music score is also a plus and evokes dread). A minor failure by John Ford is more worthwile than most other films that do less, but I do not think Ford's heart was in the world of film noir or this half-hearted tale of snitching.