Liane Curtis rocks the Hell out of Satan

GIRLFRIEND FROM HELL (1989)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

"I wish I picked a different line of work" - Satan

Great line delivered with puckish wit by Liane Curtis, who clearly relishes the role of Satan who has taken possession of a geeky girl. If only the movie had more delectable lines of wit and less sexual biplay that leads nowhere. And less wine drinking courtesy of Curtis.

The plot is fairly simple. The girl-next-door-type who can't stomach a date with anyone or look them in the face is being set up at a birthday party for a louse named Rocco. The date is not Rocco but an extremely shy, meek-looking Carl (Anthony Barrile) who is given advice by his dad (hilarious cameo by James Karen) on how to pick up women that might not fly in today's oversensitive millennialized climate. Curtis plays the geeky girl, Maggie, who doesn't know how to wear fake eyelashes though her lacy leggings with lipstick designs suggest a different kind of girl. Sooner than expected, Maggie steps out of the party and is consumed by some red flash of light from the sky. Yep, she is possessed by Satan and you know Satan is no kind of repressed teenager, no way. Maggie suddenly sports a pouffed-up hairstyle, seduces every man and then sucks their souls out of their bodies, tries to run down a group of gun-toting nuns (!), embarrasses everyone at a restaurant, drinks wine by the gallon, you get the picture. She is the 1980's own Party Girl who grows bored easily.

Meanwhile, Dana Ashbrook ("Twin Peaks") is Chaser, who literally chases Satan hoping to extinguish her to hell and damnation, but not before apologizing for not being the best boyfriend to her all those ages ago. He is constantly teleported from what looks likes the desert to the house party, to a nightclub, back to the desert - it gets repetitive in the second act all this mindless teleporting.

"Girlfriend From Hell" is a shapeless disaster, neither comical enough or sexy or funny enough to qualify as anything other a dry hump of a cinematic experience. Liane Curtis is the best thing in the film (her sole leading role) and it is always fun to watch Lezlie Deane (who later appeared in "Freddy's Dead: The Final Nightmare") as a more sophisticated friend of Maggie's who smacks and punches men without blinking. Fact is that women in this movie kick and punch men and the men are as apologetic as ever, until they decide to keep focusing on breasts and lower extremities. Women are also seen as nothing but sluts and if they aren't, they sure as hell will turn into one (except for Lezlie Deane). Most of this film could offend women overall (80's movies never gave young women a fair shake) but the biggest offense in "Girlfriend From Hell" is that it is likely to put the viewer to sleep. Teleport me out of here.

Collette and Diaz in Sibling Rivalry

IN HER SHOES (2005)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Original review from 2005

A chick flick from a chick lit bestseller? Both of these terms have recently been entered into the Webster's dictionary. I despise the terms because they limit what both may offer. Does chick flick describe all romantic comedies, movies about women bonding, female empowerment or all the above? I don't see how "Pretty Woman" and "Thelma Louise" fit in the same category, but never mind. "In Her Shoes" could've been cliched, sentimental glop that pushed the tearjerking mechanisms down the throat of your average moviegoer. Instead it is a heartwarming, regaling tale of two sisters who are at extreme polar opposites in their relationship and attitude.

Based on a novel by Jennifer Weiner, "In Her Shoes" stars Cameron Diaz as a flirtatious, alcoholic, dyslexic woman, Maggie, who has no desire to do anything except to party and screw. At the start of the film, Maggie is seen at a high-school reunion screwing some unnamed guy in a bathroom (Conservatives take note). She arrives at her parents' home only to be thrown out. Now she must live with her prim and proper sister, Rose (Toni Collette), a Philadelphia attorney who has her own man in bed! Talk about an inconvenience, Maggie takes wind and has a romp in the hay with him as well. Before that happens, Rose insists that Maggie find a job but it is a downhill struggle - Maggie is kicked out of Rose's house and is forced to find her own way. While moving her things from her parents' house, she finds birthday cards addressed to her and Rose from her grandmother in Florida. These letters were concealed for reasons I'll not reveal, but it is the precedent for Maggie's migration to Florida to mooch off her grandmother.

Ella is the grandmother (played by Shirley MacLaine), living in a retirement community where she assists older folks. She is no dummy and can see through Maggie. Ella points out that Maggie's option is to work at the retirement home and, if she succeeds, Ella will match her pay dollar for dollar. If not, Maggie is back on the street. And you can imagine what the retired older men think when they see a nearly naked Maggie sunbathing while they play poker.

Meanwhile, Rose is pursued by Simon (Mark Feuerstein), a co-worker who is seriously smitten with her. She also quits her job and becomes a dog-walker! However, just like Maggie, she can't communicate her feelings about her sister and lies to everyone, including her parents. Of course, her father (Ken Howard) has his own deep secret.

Nothing too surprising happens in "In Her Shoes" but it is the movie's confidence in the characters of Maggie and Rose that helps raise this a few notches above the usual term I hate, "chick flick." Thanks to screenwriter Susannah Grant and director Curtis Hanson ("L.A. Confidential"), the movie offers ample time invested in these characters so that the highly emotional finale wrings true with tears well-earned. This is simply a story of sibling rivalry and each sibling learning from each other. Rose builds confidence and learns to communicate her emotions, which are always kept in check. Maggie turns from a dyslexic floozie to a respectable, poetry-loving woman who learns to appreciate life and what it has to offer. This doesn't mean she'll feel differently about wearing good shoes.

Something nagged at me during the movie though. According to a reliable source who read the book (my wife), Rose is quite fat in the novel. In the movie, Toni Collette hardly looks like a fat ugly duckling (this is the same woman who lit up "Muriel's Wedding"). Reportedly, Collette gained 25 pounds for the part but you can hardly tell (at least I couldn't - shades here of Zellweger's slim weight gain for "Bridget Jones's Diary"). And so the highly charged scene where Rose finds her sister in the throes of her boyfriend that leads to Maggie calling Rose a "fat pig" doesn't register as anything except as a verbal insult. If Collette represents a fat woman in this day and age, then where does that leave the formerly heavy Kirstie Alley? The debate continues.

"In Her Shoes" is a pleasant, often entertaining film with truly engaging performances by Cameron Diaz and Toni Collette. Diaz is so good that you forget she's acting, and is truly moving in scenes where she reads an Elizabeth Bishop poem to a blind professor. Diaz also has good chemistry with Collette and their rickety relationship is believable. Collette is an underrated actress (who was Oscar-nominated for "The Sixth Sense") and she provides all the dramatic weight that colors Rose. She can be sweet, enraged, demure and loving - her smile at the end is quixotic and unforgettable. I also love Shirley MacLaine as Ella, the sharp, tough grandmother who is still tickled pink when asked out on a date. Mark Feuerstein is a capable romantic lead and has a certain charm - I wish there were more scenes between him and Rose. Also worth mentioning is Brooke Smith's equally sharp turn as Rose's best friend, Amy, whom Rose confides in. And there's also Ken Howard as the loving, understanding father who realizes he can't hide things from his daughters forever.

For laughs and some revelatory truths about sisters, "In Her Shoes" is highly recommended. It doesn't hit you over the head with messages or how to become a better person. The movie is slinky and sophisticated in its mood and tone and gives you comfort - just like wearing a good pair of shoes.

Conventionally unconventional rom-com

BRIDGET JONES'S DIARY (2001)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Originally viewed on July 3rd, 2001

Renee Zellweger is an actress whose sprightly charm and quivering, cutesy smile can melt moviegoers' hearts like no other. She is the girl-next-door type but her irresistibility breaks some new ground here - you get the feeling that she can be embarrassed and impish at the same time. She is the unique joy of "Bridget Jones' Diary," a fairly amusing if slightly misguided romantic comedy with ample charm and considerable laughs. It just lacks the extra leap to take it beyond conventionality.

Bridget Jones (Renee Zellweger) is the neurotic, lonely, uncouth heroine of the 1996 bestseller by Helen Fielding. She is so lonely that she drinks heavily while listening to Eric Carmen's "All By Myself" (a touching, heartbreaking moment). At first glance, no one seems to take a gander at Bridget. She is plumpish and tends to say exactly what is on her mind, including at book receptions where everyone looks at her with slight bemusement. At dinner parties, she confronts men who see her as an unappealing spinster, including the rich Mr. Darcy (Colin Firth). Her boss, however, takes a liking to her (he is played with irresistible glee by Hugh Grant), and the two begin having an affair. Of course, Mr. Darcy gets jealous since he does like her.

It is no surprise where the film is headed when we know Mr. Darcy will inevitably change his mind about Bridget. But the film takes on a knowing, self-conscious style at the beginning where we begin to think that it will poke fun at romantic comedy conventions. There is a moment where Bridget makes an error in judgment at work and we see her unsaid obscenity splashed across the screen. "Bridget Jones' Diary," however, does not take as many unconventional routes as one might hope. Bridget loves the two men but has to decide between one. Bridget also tries to bring her parents back together after a brief separation. Some of these episodes work better than others but they hardly figure cohesively as a whole.

I have not read Fielding's book but I've been told that it truly maps out Bridget's insecurities and messy lifestyle with more depth. The film does show her drinking and eating and smoking too much and we sense she is real obsessive and has trouble finding the proper man (she is also a bad cook, witness the strange coloring of her cooked meals). But all these qualities are painted in broad strokes. Bridget's biggest flaw seems to be her uncouth quality but I was not clear why everyone seemed so perturbed whenever she made a speech (I found her speeches funny and engaging). As played by Zellweger, she has charm and an affable quality but her weight gain (reports say she gained as much as 20 to 40 pounds for the role) does not exactly put her on the same scale as Conchata Ferrell (who I love no matter how much she weighs). In other words, I get the sense that the film has been sanitized from its written form to accommodate all women in the audience. Where does this leave the women who are perhaps uncomfortable with their weight or who need someone like Bridget Jones as their role model, essentially saying it is okay to be fat and still have Hugh Grant as your suitor?

"Bridget Jones' Diary" has Zellweger at its center and she is as convincing and delightful as one can imagine. Kudos also go to Hugh Grant and Colin Firth in witty supporting roles (I could have lived without a cliched fistfight between them). There is also a funny cameo by Salman Rushdie as himself no less. The film has pizzazz to offer but compare this to any other romantic comedy, and I dare you to find the difference.

Better than Identity, Bourne still remote

THE BOURNE SUPREMACY (2004)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

(Original review from 2004)

I sat for two hours watching "The Bourne Supremacy" with a full audience at a 3:00 afternoon show. After the first twenty minutes, I could not concentrate for too long because I grew dizzy (added to that, I kept hearing an old guy snoring behind me). The dizziness was due to the constant hand-held camerawork, relentless to the point that the camera shakes more violently during an action sequence or a fistfight. And yet this movie is far more enjoyable than "The Bourne Identity," a bland thriller that coasted along its own bland energy.

The movie jumps into high action gears immediately. The slowly-getting-out-of-his-amnesiac-shell Jason Bourne (Matt Damon) is now living in India with his girlfriend, Marie (Franka Potente), shut out from the rest of the world. Of course, like any Robert Ludlum spy thriller, you can't keep a good assassin down for long. Bourne notices a man dressed in the wrong clothes and driving the wrong car near the streets of this Indian pueblo - someone is after him and wants him killed. Bourne whisks Marie away in his jeep, crashes off a bridge, falls deep underwater, and tries to rescue Marie. Unfortunately, she is dead (and don't expect her to come back a la "Run Lola Run's" time-twisting narrative). So who is after Bourne? It turns out that Bourne is accused of killing someone during a CIA mission - his fingerprints are planted there! This begs the question: who got his fingerprints? Definitely not the Russian assassin who tried to kill Bourne in the opening sequence. Or maybe the hand-held camerawork swayed from any details that couldn't stay on screen longer than two seconds.

Bourne wants to clear his name. He goes after Pamela Landy (Joan Allen - always a welcome presence), a new agent who wants the truth as much as Bourne does. The trouble is that this Ludlum antihero is always one step ahead of everyone, including Landy and the reptilian CIA boss, Ward Abbott (Brian Cox). He travels from Naples to Berlin to Moscow, always evading the CIA. In one chilling moment, Bourne aims his telescopic rifle at the unaware Landy while communicating via cell phone. And he is still one hell of a fighter, even disabling someone with a rolled-up magazine! And boy, can this guy move! He jumps with the ease of a Jackie Chan and, at times, resembles a superhero with his dark overcoat. Oh, and he can do wonders with toasters!

The movie is murky with details and conspiracy rings, particularly involving Abbott who you know is as corrupt as anyone in the entire movie. We are never sure who or what is responsible or why. We just get carried along by Bourne's continuous search for the truth, especially the possibility that he murdered a Russian in Berlin (an apparent introductory drill into the life of an assassin).

"The Bourne Supremacy" is dense with details that do not amount to much. It is sort of a latter-day "The Fugitive" with Bourne visiting hotels, apartments, train stations - they serve as reminders of long-forgotten memories that can trigger his cabeza to dispel truths he wants the CIA to uncover. Yet we still never discover who this Jason Bourne really is. After two movies, we just know he is an able assassin and a quick-as-lighting fighter - Damon plays him as a robot with no sense of humor. Realistically, it makes sense but it can get on your nerves. To be fair, he seems more threatening than he was in "Identity" and we do get carried along by his charisma.

As for the interminable hand-held camerawork, it is unfathomable how director Paul Greengrass thought this was the best way to shoot. The camera swings between 180 to 360 degrees, rotating and panning with barely much stabilization. Some people on the movie discussion boards said it was a way of "implying action." How can you imply when you can't tell what may or may not be implied? Still, I grew accustomed to it (and the use of long lenses where there would be out-of-focus shots) but it could have used the more rapid-fire, stabilized approach of John Frankeheimer's "Ronin" or William Friedkin's "The French Connection." I will say that the climactic car chase involving a taxicab and a SUV is about as exciting as car chases ever get, and the hand-held camera approach exemplifies it.

"The Bourne Supremacy" is entertaining enough for its two-hour running time, but it is a hollow, cursory thriller. We don't know what is really at stake and we learn precious little about Jason Bourne. It is the latest Hollywood thrill ride and it is engaging in a remote way, but it needs more carbs.

Bland Identity

THE BOURNE IDENTITY (2002)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

(Original review from 2003)

Spy thrillers that deal with secret agents often excite me if they are as dependent on the actions of the characters as much as the mechanics of the plot. For truly spine-tingling spy thrillers, I would recommend two of the best recent ones starring Donald Sutherland, 1991's "Eminent Domain" and 1981's "Eye of the Needle." And for thrilling, in-your-face melodrama dealing with assassins and an implicit touch of humanity, you can't do better than Luc Besson's "Le Femme Nikita." "The Bourne Identity" has some mild pizazz but it never really takes off because the hero never seems to take flight.

Based on Robert Ludlum's best-seller, Matt Damon plays Jason Bourne, a highly skilled CIA assassin who is left for dead after attempting to kill an African leader. He is found near the port of Marseilles by a fisherman, is taken aboard, and is found with two bullet wounds and a device with a Swiss bank account number. The fisherman gives him money to go to Switzerland. The only problem is that Jason Bourne has no idea who he is or where he came from - he is a 100% amnesiac who somehow manages to kick and punch with the ease of a martial-arts fighter. He enters a Swiss bank without identification, retrieves his belongings which includes several passports and a gun, and leaves with a noticeably red bag (red as in "alert") while being hounded by CIA agents and efficient assassins. Jason convinces a German gypsy (Franka Potente) to drive him to his residency in Paris for 10,000 dollars. Meanwhile, Jason's boss, Ted Conklin (Chris Cooper), wants to eliminate him for failing his mission and arousing suspicions.

"The Bourne Identity" has the typical premise of corruption at the core of intelligence and makes the assassin amnesiac so that we identify with him through his inner identity search. All fine and dandy but the eventual explanation of why he was set up leaves a lot to be desired, resulting in one too many anticlimaxes. I barely cared enough about Jason Bourne to care about the outcome of his plight. We hardly get to see him in action enough to believe he possesses any ability to kill (to be fair, there is a hair-raising rooftop sequence where Bourne manages to climb down a building). Clive Owen plays another assassin on Bourne's tail and I would preferred if he was cast in the lead role - he brings some spark to the film in his part. It might have been a more unsentimental choice casting Owen but who wants sentiment in a Ludlum adaptation? Though Matt Damon does as well as he can, he is hardly convincing as an assassin and appears to be curiously remote and unaffected in every scene. Consider the excellent "La Femme Nikita" which showcased a character who was human and vulnerable despite being a cold-blooded assassin.

There is no level of urgency or weight to anything that occurs on screen in "The Bourne Identity." Sure, there are indispensable car chases, numerous shootouts, glass breakage and a sex scene (a tame one too considering the rating) but hardly any of it is the least bit exciting or tremulous. A bland hero, bland plot, bland villains - gosh, even popcorn has more taste than this.

May the Shark Farce Be With You

SHARKNADO: THE 4TH AWAKENS (2016)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

The latest "Sharknado" sequel reads like a laundry list of cheesily ballish, foolhardy and dunderheaded moments that make your head spin and your mouth salivate at the prospect of "how do we top this?" Accusing this series of being over-the-top is like saying silver-haired Alex Trebek will continue being host of "Jeopardy" for another thirty years - it is a given. So let us go through this laundry list of sheerly and unbelievably stupid moments from this hyped-up cartoon of a movie, shall we? 

Tara Reid returns as April, a half-bionic, half-human, mostly all-functioning Terminatrix badass heroine who can also fly! (She supposedly died in the cliffhanger finale of the last "Sharknado") Ian Ziering, ever the formidable hero who can fight sharknados like nobody's business, is back as Fin and does his usual heroic shenanigans, including landing a car safely on the street after being swept by a sharknado from an improbably high altitude. Oh, there are firenados, bouldernados, lightningnados, even a nuclearnado thanks to sharks whipping their bodies around a nuclear power plant!

Cameos pollute every single frame of this movie. My favorites are Caroline Williams (80's cult movie star from "Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2" and "Stepfather 2") as a chainsaw seller who gets to hold one again for the first time since 1986, and co-founder of Troma Pictures, Lloyd Kaufman who issues warnings about the firenado that could crumble Mt. Rushmore. Steve Guttenberg appears for no discernible reason, presumably tying into his work in "Lavalantula," and Gary Busey actually plays it straight as a mad doctor who reanimated his daughter, April. Oh, and hell to the no with Carrot Top as an Uber Driver in Las Vegas, a presence that can grate my nerves. Oh, Hell to the No Part Deux with Gilbert Gottfried as some sort of field news correspondent who reports on the cownados (The "Twister" cow gag has already been in the series once before). Of course, cameos with these two comedians who are in desperate need of a nasal decongestant is still too much screen time. Stacey Dash also pops up in a hilarious turn as an aggressive politician who meets a Wicked Witch demise. I would like to have seen more of her.

As for new cast members, it is fun watching the ever-beaming Tommy Davidson as Aston, a CEO for Astro X which has helped terminate sharknados for five years. The one and only Dog the Bounty Hunter makes an appearance fleetingly as another chainsaw seller. Other than that, we get the usual gang of returnees from a haggard-looking David Hasselhoff as Fin's father to Natalie Morales and Al Roker as Today's anchors commenting on the sharknado weather patterns. I can't tell if the same actors playing Fin's kids are back or not, and I could care less since you will forget them as soon as they appear.

If anything could be improved with this endless SyFy series, it is finding a filmmaker who can shape and edit scenes together to deliver a payoff. For example, there is a peculiar scene towards the end where the cinematographer for whatever reason could not get a shot of Tara Reid giving mouth-to-mouth to Ian Ziering - did her contract stipulate that no shot can actually show Reid giving mouth-to-mouth to anyone? You see her giving mouth-to-mouth but the screen cuts her off at just above her mouth - huh? Some scenes are so randomly fragmented together during several climaxes that it is hard to tell what is happening to whom. That is the legacy of "Sharknado," a shapeless mess that is just meant to kick up the notch of incredulous Z movie entertainment. If you love sharknados of any kind and can enjoy a leather-strapped Tara Reid who often forces gazes at something in the distance, not to mention various "Star Wars", "Texas Chainsaw Massacre" and "Wizard of Oz" references, then may this Shark Farce be with you.

The virtues of 'Hamlet' in a DeVito 'comedy'

RENAISSANCE MAN (1994)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Watching a movie with Danny DeVito teaching remedial classes at a military base could invite a lot of guffaws based on its premise alone. "Renaissance Man" is not that film, in fact, I don't think I could even call it a comedy. It is a strange movie experience, sort of a marginal "Dead Poet's Society" clone except with a few more laughs and a lot of the same sentimentality. I liked it well enough but I was not sure what exactly I was watching.

DeVito is Bill Rago, a failed Detroit advertising man who can't make it to an important pitch meeting due to heavy traffic. Nothing here screams funny or hysterical from the start, especially when DeVito is so restrained from his usual hyperactive likable self. When Bill finally makes it to the meeting, everyone is gone and just then, I thought, well, he is going to overhear a conversation in the nearby office and then blare out his DeVito mannerisms - shouting and yelling to justify himself. Only the movie never gives him that chance. DeVito simply walks away, disappointed.

Since Bill can't cut it in advertising anymore, he receives unemployment. The agency, however, offers him a job - teaching basic comprehension at an Army base. Not exactly cutthroat "Mad Men" work but that is all there is. Bill is reluctant, can't find his way through the base and is unsure of his superiors and the recruits whom he has to teach. In short, it looks like another raucous Danny DeVito comedy but that is not the route director Penny Marshall and writer Jim Burnstein take. Instead, the recruits turn out to be an upbeat motley crew who come from backgrounds where they have been disenfranchised (one from a trailer park, another from Detroit - no prizes awarded to those who can guess where Marky Mark's character is from). Bill decides to teach them about similes, oxymorons and the Shakespeare play, "Hamlet." In fact, the rest of the film devotes itself to the complexities inherent in "Hamlet" that go way beyond the famous speech, "To be or not to be." The teacher finds a way of having his recruits learn to apply Shakespeare's tragedy and the fates of its characters to their own lives.

"Renaissance Man" is watchable with sentimental inclinations to its material. It is also oddly moving at times and I love the lessons imparted by Bill (though nothing at the beginning of the movie suggests this man is a lover of English Lit.) But I do not know what to call this film...a comedy with dramatic intonations or a drama with serviceable comedic overtones. It begins as a DeVito scorcher of a comedy, to some extent, and then it decides to play it straight. Odd and oddly diverting.

Footnote: Dark victory is not an oxymoron. Failed victory would be more appropriately oxymoronic.