You'll forget it in a flash

FLASHPOINT (1984)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Friends, Conspiracy Theorists, Thriller Fans, Lend me your Insights! "Flashpoint" is another one of those disposable conspiracy thrillers that has a concept that could've flown high. Instead, it crash lands to smithereens leaving nothing but dust in its wake. Killer concept, though, pardon the pun.

Kris Kristofferson and Treat Williams (two actors I would love to see paired again) are border patrol cops, Logan and Wyatt, who sense their jobs are in jeopardy. A computer system, complete with motion-detection sensors, is to be installed thanks to the federal government, and all the agents have to dig in the hard desert earth and plant them. Sounds like a shit job, and it is. Wyatt fears they will be staring at computer screens all day, though I do have a nagging question - aren't border agents still needed to bring in the illegals who cross the border? Meanwhile, Logan discovers a buried Jeep in the desert that contains a skeleton, a briefcase with $800,000, and another case containing a fishing rod and a rifle. The money is dated 1962-1963 and its origin is Dallas, and the skeletal remains are of some individual from San Antonio. Clearly, it is a criminal of some kind, but whom? Movie buffs will instantly see a connection between this mystery (at least in terms of the actual discovery) and the plot of "Lone Star" from 1996 which also starred Kris Kristofferson in a killer role, pun intended. Movie buffs will further see a connection between this film and Treat Williams in the 1981 flick, "The Pursuit of D.B. Cooper." This is all I could think about while watching this run-of-the-mill flick.

"Flashpoint" has a great concept that could have led to a fantastic mystery thriller with some clever twists and turns. For a while, the movie is involving and invites curiosity as Logan tries to find the clues to this mysterious dead fellow - was the guy an assassin or a bank robber? As soon as federal agents come into the scene, led by the inquisitive and devilish Carson (the always splendid Kurtwood Smith), the movie loses focus, the body count rises, and we are left with our heroes driving around the desert and engaging in quick shootouts. The final revelation will come as no surprise (let's say the year 1963 has some significance) but its execution is just stupid and comes out of left field. Plus, the two women in the film, Tess Harper and Jean Smart, are the alleged love interests but they barely have time to give our hero cops a rest from the conspiracy doldrums.

"Flashpoint" is a movie I saw on cable way back when and forgot about. Seeing it again didn't leave me nostalgic for the 1980's - it reminded me that crappy, disposable cinema has its place in every decade. Perhaps like the skeleton found in the movie, the movie's theme could apply to the movie itself - stay buried. 

Gay-themed Killers from Space

DON'T ASK DON'T TELL (2002)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

"Mystery Science Theatre" was the first TV show to ever mock bad movies by filming actors voicing their rants and raves. Now imagine a movie where a bad movie's initial intentions are eradicated by inserting a whole new storyline, new voices to match the original actors and newly inserted scenes. It's been done before with Woody Allen's "What's Up Tiger Lily?" back in 1969 and some more obscure efforts since, but "Don't Ask Don't Tell" ratchets it up a few notches by making a statement about sexual orientation in America in the 21st century. It does so with lots of laughs, too.

The movie in question is 1954's "Killers From Space," a science-fiction thriller that starred the young Peter Graves. Except this movie is not strictly about aliens but rather about gays! Some sort of alien laser is changing straight people into gays and Graves, playing a scientist known as Dr. Fartin (voiced by Erik Frandsen), is the latest victim after an unsuccessful mission to Operation Manhole. He becomes bewildered, distraught, can't walk straight and keeps saying everything is "fabulous." Dr. Fartin will not make love to his wife Ellen (Barbara Bestar, voice of Rosa Rugosa), which proves frustrating especially after numerous attempts to entice him by lifting her skirt. Finally, she consults the help of a German doctor who advises her to try more provocative poses. The military, represented by Colonel Butts and Major Problemo, try to find out how the good doctor got himself into this mess. They also recommend the best solutions to regaining his straight, virile self. One solution had me laughing out loud: "Did you try driving a tow truck?"

So we have truly bug-eyed aliens, provocative nurses named Nurse Bendover, sexual shenanigans involving blueberries and pancakes, townsfolk from Inbred, Texas, a few cracks at the Bush administration (including a portrait of Ike that morphs into Bush), a Freudian shrink, and so much more. The best moments center on the new lines given to these forgotten actors from the 1950's (excepting Peter Graves, who had narrated TV's "Biography"). Thanks to editor Jackie Eagan, most of it is quite seamless, though the depth of field for sound could have been better (it sounds like the actors are just speaking into the mikes). There is one great gag where Colonel Butts shows how menacing he is by indicating that everything except his eyes are masked (masking was a common editing effect since the silent era). Nice touch. And I also enjoyed the scenes of a toll-booth attendant (or was he a gas-station attendant?) giving the latest information on Fartin's whereabouts. And for gratuitous musical number fans, there is one involving the aliens that will rock your boat.

Now, of course, this is all as silly and overdone as one can expect. Comedian Lloyd Floyd, who appears in the newly shot and inserted scenes, plays a bunch of different characters like Nurse Bendover and other inhabitants devoid of intelligence from Inbred, Texas. They are not side-splittingly funny and some simply mark time. The sexual innuendoes and shots of crotches may induce more groans than laughs. And repeated use of the same close-up head shots of the military figures grows monotonous after a while.

Still, "Don't Ask Don't Tell" is a goofy, often hysterical time at the movies. Director Doug Miles and writer Tex Hauser infuse the 1954 film with a refreshingly comical and sordid tone. As for satire, it makes the claim that homosexuality is not something that should be feared, and acceptance can grow even in the military. Sounds like it has more up its sleeve than "Killers From Space."

Joyless Kaiju destruction

GODZILLA (2014)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

There is one scene in "Godzilla," the newest remake of the Japanese creation from the 1950's, that so indelibly captures the King of the Monsters that fans will rejoice. Godzilla, after reducing most of an American city to ruins, wakes up from a nap and walks towards the sea. Everyone stares at this massive reptile, including two key characters who look at him with a sense of wonder and amazement. A shame this is the last scene of a lumbering, underwritten and lazy monster flick that I watched with a collective yawn.

The wisp of a plot details an earthquake at a Japanese nuclear facility where conspiracy-wired nuclear engineer (a stellar Bryan Cranston) believes that a meltdown was caused by something else, a couple of atomic monsters no less. Cranston's wife, a nuclear scientist (Juliette Binoche, an excellent actress who deserves better), dies during the meltdown (the trailer gave one the impression that they were in the entire movie). Fast-forward to fifteen years later where Cranston tries to convince his son (Aaron Taylor-Thomas), a U.S. Navy explosives expert, to investigate the dormant facility. Problems arise when a huge winged creature takes flight, killing Cranston in the process. The rest of "Godzilla" barely has our favorite atomic monster and features endless scenes of destruction while spectators watch in disbelief as their cities are drowned by tsunamis and a heck of a lot of 9/11 imagery. Too much, in fact, to the point that all fun is drained from severely underlit night footage of the monsters battling it out.

Cranston, a real fireball of an actor, is the best thing in "Godzilla" and his appearance is premature. Elizabeth Olsen is not given much to do besides being the token worried wife. Ken Watanabe as Dr. Ishiro Serizawa, the lead scientist of a certain Project Monarch, merely looks concerned throughout - a waste of a remarkable actor who first sprouted real acting chops in "The Last Samurai." The actors are mere window dressing for special-effects that are not much to look at, I am afraid. I think I appreciate the old 1950's "Godzilla" features more so than this snore-inducing CGI fest. In recent years, "Cloverfield" and "Pacific Rim" proved to be far more successful at surprising us and including a sense of fun. This "Godzilla" is for the birds with not an ounce of suspense or real thrills in it.

"Godzilla" is a marginal improvement over the colossally bad 1998 remake that featured the most ridiculous-looking King of the Monsters in history, but that is not exactly a fitting recommendation. When all the DTS sound effects and ugly-looking visuals are over, you will wonder why Godzilla and company are only filmed at night rather than during the day - ah, perhaps because as Roger Ebert once said, nighttime covers up flaws. It didn't cover up screenplay flaws, though.

Rising above Guy Ritchie

SEXY BEAST (2000)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

(Originally written in 2001)

(Ten Best Films of the 2000's)

I have declared my distaste for the postmodern Tarantino crime genre ad nauseam so I feel no need to continue voicing it. Nevertheless, a film like "Sexy Beast" usually comes marching along to ignite the genre beyond the usual expectations and boy, does it ever. "Sexy Beast" is a firecracker thriller, as intense and entertaining as "Reservoir Dogs" and about as menacing as "GoodFellas."

The opening scene sets in a different tone than expected. We see a man basking in the hot sun as he is lying on a chair near the pool. He starts using synonyms for his peace of mind and relaxation. Before you know it, a boulder comes crashing into his pool almost killing him in the process. His relaxation is over, as is the audiences'. The man at peace in his glorious house and pool is Gal Dove (Ray Winstone), a retired gangster who is trying to sooth his nerves. Those nerves become jangled as the imminent arrival of a Don Logan (Ben Kingsley) is announced by Gal's close friends, an ex-gangster sidekick (Cavan Kendall) and his exotic blonde wife (Julianne White). Don Logan is feared by these people and rightly so. Logan has come to recruit Gal for one last heist in London, a job commissioned by a crime lord known as Teddy "Mr. Black Magic" (Ian McShane). Problem is that Gal has no interest but boy, does Don try to persuade him. Persuasion and insistence are Don's codes of coercion - he will not take no for an answer. Don verbally and physically attacks everyone in his sight, including Gal and his former porn star wife (Amanda Redman), not to mention Gal's aforementioned friends. Never before have I witnessed a cliched plot device delivered so brilliantly in terms of desperation and sheer persuasion as shown here.

Eventually, Gal ends up in London to perform the complicated heist, which involves a highly secure bank and a Turkish bath! Teddy is the mastermind of this heist and also inquisitive and persuasive, particularly involving the mysterious disappearance of Don. This all results in one of the most conniving, cunning and surprising climaxes I've seen in eons.

Ben Kingsley is clearly the marvel of the film, a supreme scene-stealer. His startling, piercing eyes and thick East End London accent will drive you bonkers wishing he would just disappear. It is a performance of amazing intensity, all the more amazing coming from Kingsley who has played bona fide saints in "Gandhi" and "Schindler's List." He did play a suave gangster in "Bugsy" and left a haunting impression in "Death and the Maiden," but neither role can prepare you for what is easily the toughest villain since Joe Pesci's trigger-happy act in "GoodFellas." Ray Winstone is also as assured as the quiet, implosive Gal. He wants out of the crime world but one gets the sneaky suspicion that he craves the leisure and laid-back living it can provide. Only someone like Don has given him reason to quit for good and ever.

One final performance that left me riveted was Ian McShane's icy, cold-blooded Teddy - a character that is as dangerous and steely-eyed as Don. Combining these two magnificent performances in one film can create terror in everyone's mind for months on end. They would make James Bond's heart palpitate.

"Sexy Beast" is directed by first-timer Jonathan Glazer, whose background is in directing music videos. One would expect jump cuts galore and lots of loud rock music from the Guy Ritchie crime school. Glazer eschews the in-your-face style for a more formal, stable palette of fixed compositions (the swimming pool even looks menacing at times). His focus is also on the characters, and the best scenes are when Don and Gal are sitting by an umbrella table by the pool as the sun sets its glow on Don's bald head. It is moments of that nature that bring an unsettling tension to the film. No one-liners or clever postmodern, wink-it's-only-a-movie moments that would cut away from the tension. Glazer is as graceful and composed as most seasoned directors.

"Sexy Beast" is not as much a heist film as it is about people involved in an emotional crisis and mood swinging tempos, especially Gal's wife who loves her husband dearly yet feels threatened as does everyone in the film. Exceptionally performed, directed and photographed, "Sexy Beast" is like no crime film I've seen before - a surreal, sometimes mind-bending trip into the allure of crime and the leisure it offers. There are unforeseen obstacles and sometimes it is less than glamorous in the underworld. When someone like Don Logan comes along, there may be no way out.

Raiding tombs by the numbers

LARA CROFT: TOMB RAIDER (2001)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

(Originally written in 2001)

People go to the movies to escape reality, not confront it. I have no problem spending two hours in front of a movie and being merely entertained, and then forget it about the next day. They are called popcorn movies, forged since the advent of "Star Wars" and "Raiders of the Lost Ark" 20 years ago. But "Lara Croft: Tomb Raider" is one hour and a half of such tired nonsensical gibberish that you will definitely forget about it the next day.

I know this movie is based on a popular video game. I know Angelina Jolie (one of the most charismatic actresses in cinema now) plays Lara Croft as bewitchingly as she is allowed to play her. I also know the plot, dealing with a hidden clock that has an eyepiece that can be used at the precise moment of planetary alignment to unlock secrets of the universe or something to that effect, is meant to be a device, a MacGuffin, for the action sequences. Whoops! What did I just say? Yes, folks, you do recall what the MacGuffin is, don't you? It is a term derived from Alfred Hitchcock's suspense oeuvre referring to the object that the characters are looking for that the audience could care less about. The audience is really just interested in the relationships between the characters. But "Lara Croft: Tomb Raider" uses the MacGuffin as a showcase for showing Jolie shooting her way out of crumbling temples with two .45 pistols, all at the expense of character development. There is a villain for Lara to match wits with and a former boyfriend who becomes a traitor but they are just window dressing for the action on display.

This movie is a big-screen commercial for a video game, nothing more. The characters are thin, the plotting more than just merely confounding, the action is slipshod complete with milisecond cuts and glaring techno pop music reminding us to be excited and so on. Locations change randomly with abrupt transitions. One minute Jolie is showering, the next she is shooting some stone monkeys and all with a delicate British accent. She winks, smiles, flaunts her breasts even in an icy tundra and that is it. The fact that she is an archaeology professor is a moot point (one line of dialogue makes a reference to her profession and even then it seems unbelievable). Usually this is the kind of movie one makes before winning an Oscar, not after.

The summer of 2001 will go down in history as the worst summer for movies ever, and "Tomb Raider" will be further proof of it. Basing a movie on a video game is not a terrible idea - it's just that one has to separate the game from the movie. Here, they are one and the same.

Mary Jo Doesn't Live Here Anymore

TUMBLEWEEDS (1999)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

(Originally reviewed in 1999)

The road movie is a genre not likely to die anytime soon because it represents the American landscape of searching for your identity. Now the road movie about a single/divorced/widowed mother searching for a new place and a new man with a daughter or son in tow is nothing new, and a certifiable genre in its own right. From "Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore" to "This Boy's Life," the genre has been milked dry of all possibilities but then comes "Tumbleweeds," which mildly reverses expectations.

The change is the casting of English actress Janet McTeer as the Southerner from North Carolina, Mary Jo Walker, a vibrant, energetic woman who has just left her husband and hastily leaves with her daughter, Ava (Kimberly Brown), to another state. They disagree over where to go to and finally decide on San Diego, California, near a beach. Ava goes to school and discovers she a talent for acting, and thus prepares for a role as Romeo in the school play of "Romeo and Juliet." Mary Jo works for a telephone wake-up call service, and has a strange boss (Michael J. Pollard) watching her every move. Everything seems perfect including the truck driver she's dating, Jack Ranson (Gavin O'Connor), who asks them to move in to his house. Ava smells trouble from the start, already devising an escape route from her bedroom.

Mary Jo has always escaped from her life and her abusive boyfriends and husbands, and Ava loves her mother dearly but she also knows her too well. Their relationship and need for each other is at the core of "Tumbleweeds," and it is pinpointed in one scene where Ava explains to Mary that everything may seem fine with the new beau, but six months is longer than Mary should expect to stay attached.

Everyone who is a film buff can predict where "Tumbleweeds" will go with its premise. Jack seems nice but he's also temperamental, and ignores Ava. We know that Jack will be all wrong for Mary Jo, yet her co-worker, Dan Miller (Jay O. Sanders) may be what she needs - someone who can take care of her and who understands the iambic pentameter in Shakespeare. We also are aware that Mary Jo will finally realize that she is, in effect, only running away from herself.

Janet McTeer is sheerly perfect as Mary Jo - those penetrating yet soothing eyes and luscious smile give us everything we need to sympathize with her and her plight. She has a very touching scene with her co-worker and best friend, Laurie (Laurel Holloman), where she admits that she does not know why she's always leaving. The beauty is all there in this beaming, dreamy Mary Jo, but she is also emotionally fragile. Kimberly Brown gives one of the best, purest and most naturalistic performances of any child actor this year as the presumptuous, smart Ava. I found myself laughing heartily whenever she secretly winked or nodded to her mother, and plus she has some truly humane scenes with McTeer. One particular example is when Mary Jo is showing Ava how to kiss using apples, and the way it is shot and timed makes the scene as simple and real as any other film could be. I also liked an earlier scene where they toss out old clothes from their car, trying to start anew.

My big reservation about "Tumbleweeds" is that it ends just as the story is getting more interesting. This is one of those independent films that would have benefited from a 2 hour-plus running time, especially with the introduction of characters such as the widower Jack, the kind gardener Ginger (Lois Smith), or Mary's best pal, Laurie. I also would have preferred a less formulaic approach and not so many cliches (the film often feels more episodic than the rambling character study it aimed to be). Still, benefiting from the amazing performances by McTeer and Brown, "Tumbleweeds" has moments of true beauty and realism that will make you tumble with joy.

Tales from the Underimagined Crypt

AFTER MIDNIGHT (1989)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

"After Midnight" is one of those el cheapo horror anthologies that teeters between tongue-in-cheek horror with a gradual touch of knowing self-winks, and real terror. Its major faults are that the tongue-in-cheek lacks sufficient wit and the real terror would barely scare any toddler less than a year old.

A creepy professor of a class called "The Psychology of Fear" (Ramy Sada) wants to do away with textbooks and really scare his students by example. First, he points a gun with one bullet in its chamber at a student. Next, he offs himself by firing a gun at his head. Well, he does not really off himself but the terminally stupid students do not know this at first. What is troubling is that the students do not react to either incident with much more than a collective, "oh, my God!" as opposed to "OH, MY GOD!, OUR TEACHER JUST KILLED HIMSELF!" This is the first day of class, mind you. The professor, who later learns his teaching methods are unorthodox, decides to have his students partake in an experiment at his house! UH, UHHH!!!

During a rainy night, a handful of students tell scary stories to the professor and this sets up the horror anthology aspect of the film. My problem is that it takes too long to get to the alleged good stuff, not that these stories are worth anything in the midnight fright factor. "The Old Dark House" segment has a little "Creepshow" vibe though most of it feels too short to resonate (Marc McClure and Nadine Van der Velde are the married couple in it who stop at an abandoned mansion - Nadine being the older sister in the memorable "Critters"). I also intermittently enjoyed the "All Night Messenger" with Marg Helgenberger as a telephone answer operator in crutches but the villain (Al Rosenberg) is so over-the-top that all sense of wicked fun is thrown out the window. The middle story, easily the worst, concerns four girls at a gas station with dogs chasing their tail. Lame, especially when the highlight is an explosion. Wow. For 1980's devotees, Judie Aronson of "Weird Science" and Penelope Sudrow of "A Nightmare on Elm Street 3" appear in this mediocre segment but all they do is run and scream.

I adore watching Pamela Segall (a curiously small role) and Marg Helgenberger in anything but they are not enough to save this trite, sparsely imagined horror anthology. Stick to "Creepshow" or even the older "Vault of Horror" or "Tales From the Crypt."