Bollocks on Bullock

ALL ABOUT STEVE (2009)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

I cannot fathom what "All About Steve" is trying to say or what it wants to be. It is the classic identity crisis movie where it wants to be everything to everyone, and ends up pleasing no one.

Sandra Bullock plays Mary Horowitz, a very astute crossword puzzle writer for a small Sacramento newspaper. She is knowledgeable on all facts about every town in America. She also lives with her parents and her best friend is a hamster. Her parents have set her up on a blind date with a news cameraman, the charming Steve (Bradley Cooper). Mary is hoping he is not gay and they practically undress in his jeep before even going to a restaurant. Unfortunately, the sexual romp in the hay is cut short when Steve is called in to work at the TV station (of course, he fakes it since he wants out of any entanglement whatsoever. It used to be that a first date would be a date that lasted through the evening. Now, we live in a world where the date is not given half of a chance beyond the first meet cute moment). There are already problems with this scene: A.) It is not believable and hardly sincere. Cooper's Steve is initially taken by Mary, then he loves the fact that she promptly wants sex and then dumps her because she talks too much. B.) It serves as a contrivance to further a plot that makes little sense. How could anyone believe that people behave this way? Well, Steve doesn't exactly dump her but allows an open invitation, albeit insincerely, to his whereabouts. Mary buys it without questioning anything - just because the guy gives you his umbrella doesn't mean he wants you. Oh, and there is that dreadful crossword puzzle about Steve cooked up by Mary that nobody can solve, thus causing her to lose her job.

Mary travels by bus where she annoys the driver so much, she is thrown out. A kind truck driver (M. C. Gainey) is one of the few that puts up with her long enough to drop her off at her destination. Meanwhile, we get a bunch of scenes of an anxious news reporter, Hartman Hughes (Thomas Haden Church) who wants to be anchor and keeps screwing it up. Church's scenes with Steve and Ken Jeong as a field producer are actually very funny and one wishes the movie would be about them. Mixing in Mary into the proceedings, when the movie can never decide if she is a stalker or an insane person or neither, doesn't jell at all. By the end of the film, Mary is just as likely to be misunderstood which is a definite cop-out.

The film is not any worse than its reputation might indicate. Bullock does her best to play a seemingly complicated, good-natured character who is not given many complications except in her sincere desire to be with the supposed man of her dreams. When something out of left field is dropped on us, a manhole that Mary and a group of deaf children accidentally fall into, I wondered what I was supposed to take away from all this. As the film ends, you will wonder something that I do not ponder about after seeing a David Lynch film: What the hell was that all about? 

Ker-Plunk

K-PAX (2001)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

(Original review from Nov. 14th, 2001)

Do not be fooled by the ads. "K-PAX" will not make you change the way you look at the world for one good reason - you've seen this tale before and done far better. Consider it an "Analyze This" crossed with the haunting riches of "Man Facing Southeast" and you'll see how the melding of different films and tones result in one confused, predictable, highly indifferent movie.

Kevin Spacey is the stubbly new patient at the Psychiatric Institute of Manhattan, having just been admitted as he was found wandering at a train station commenting on Earth's brightness. He calls himself Prot and claims to be an alien from the planet K-PAX. There is a haggard psychiatrist, Dr. Mark Powell (Jeff Bridges), who has the task of determining Prot's sanity and whether or not he is an alien. Prot is persuasive. He is so persuasive that the doctor is convinced the man is not so delusional. Dr. Powell gathers a panel of astronomers to determine whether Prot's supposed solar system, 100 light years away, exists. Prot draws a diagram that has the astronomers astounded in disbelief. It is this crucial scene that had me convinced the man is an alien or he has studied astronomy and is some kind of scientific genius.Why? Because the astronomers are shown to be astounded. If this is not enough proof and Dr. Powell is sure Prot could be mentally ill, then why doesn't he ask a question that bugged me throughout the movie: since when do aliens sport stubble?

These questions would not have bothered me in the slightest if the movie hadn't bored me. Unfortunately, the director Iain Softley ("The Wings of the Dove") finds a rather monotonous tone by delaying the plot for as long as humanly possible, and keeps repeating key scenes with little flair or energy. The scenes between Prot and the doctor should be engaging and fascinating but something is off. Spacey and Bridges seem indifferent and speak in hushed tones that only drove me nuttier than Prot. Bridges is the master of hushed tones, finding a voice decibel level that is often inviting. Not so this time, and Spacey, one of the most electrifying actors working today, is too restrained for his own good. I sense that he was miscast in this role - perhaps someone like Christopher Walken (who looks like an alien) might have cut right to the core of Prot.

And to make matters worse, we have the motley crew of patients that irritate in ways I cannot begin to describe. They just aren't engaging in any way, nothing like the similar group of patients in "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" or "Awakenings." Here they seem to be marking time, and their weight is dictated by Prot's ability to cure them of their mental states and his promise to take one lucky patient back to his home planet.

"K-PAX" is one awkward hybrid of comedy and offbeat drama that results in a typical, simple morality tale. Prot teaches the doctor a valuable lesson about family and unity. He seems to say that we must be united and invest time on this great planet earth doing so. I would have expected more from a would-be alien as smart as Einstein.

Belongs in dusty bin from last season

I KNOW WHAT YOU DID LAST SUMMER (1997)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Original review written in 1998

I know what has happened to the slasher film genre - it has become limited and uninspiring offering little in the way of novelty or surprise. True, the "Scream" movies revived the dusty genre only because they poked a little fun at it, and brought a self-reflective gaze upon it. But this genre has nothing to offer unless a talented filmmaker can reinvent it and bring some level of humanity. "I Know What You Did Last Summer" is not that film, and it is as idiotic and mind-numbingly awful as you can imagine.

The premise centers on four teenagers who kill a pedestrian on the road at night during a July 4th celebration. They contemplate their dilemma and unconvincingly draw up reasons why they can't tell the police - to protect their futures beyond high school. They dump the body by the docks (though the supposed corpse never seems to be truly dead). A year later passes, and the main teen of the cast (a frail-looking Jennifer Love-Hewitt) arrives home from college to find a note in the mail indicating the film's title. Someone knows, but who? Could it be her ring of friends that night who swore never to tell anyone? Could it be the kid who drove by that night making inquiries? Could it be the backwoods woman (Anne Heche) whose brother committed suicide that same night?

This is a mildly intriguing premise for a slasher film, but all sense of mystery and horror is thrown out the window once the killings and implausibilities set in. We have a body in a trunk full of crabs that conveniently disappears, a killer in a slicker outfit during a hot summer (how conspicuous), a girl's blonde hair chopped off while she's asleep (!), and more and more ridiculous scenarios that will shock you into laughter and boredom.

The actors are bland and forgettable (save for the cute-as-a-button Hewitt), the scares are predictable, the dialogue is sheer rubbish, and of course, there is a door left open for a sequel. Most of these movies ("Halloween: H20," "Urban Legend") are mediocre and thrill-less to being with offering little imagination or raison d'être. Writer Kevin Williamson of "Scream" fame should have known better.

Lester is the Seeker

AMERICAN BEAUTY (1999)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Originally reviewed back in 1999

Watching Sam Mendes's "American Beauty" is like taking a roller coaster tour through suburbia - gleeful yet observant that something awry may be happening in each house of each neighborhood. "American Beauty" is the latest 90's view of dysfunctional families of America, a fascinating, complex, irritating, grandiose and finally (and purposely) uneven satire.

Kevin Spacey stars as the hapless, droll Lester Burnham, a magazine writer for a bland organization run by bland businessmen who seemed to have emerged from the offices of the film "In The Company of Men." He is unhappily married to his frantic wife, Carolyn (Annette Bening), a real-estate agent whose sales have depleted due to the new local hotshot honcho in town (Peter Gallagher). They both have a smug, obnoxious daughter, Jane (Thora Birch) whose sole intent in life is to have augmented breasts. Their new neighbors are not any less strange or threatening to suburbia. There is the intensely coiled former Marine (Chris Cooper) and his catatonic wife (Allison Janney, in an atypical role), and their son, Ricky (Wes Bentley), a video camera freak with a steely gaze in his eyes - he has the ability to see the beauty in things.

There is a dichotomy in the breakdown of these two families. As far as the Burnhams are concerned, Lester and Carolyn (their sexually frustration always in check) listen to dinner music while eating, and Jane (who hates her parents) brings her best friend, a seemingly teenage blonde nymphette named Angela (Mena Suvari), for sleepovers. Angela admits that Jane's father is cute, and claims she wants to have sex with him. Ricky's family has deep seated hatred towards Jews and homosexuals. His Marine father does not want his son Ricky to resort to drugs use anymore, and regularly beats him if he touches his own belongings. Ricky draws more attention to his video camera and films Jane and the rest of her family through his bedroom window - it is his means of escape. And his mother never says a word and seems to live a life of sadness reflected in her endless stares.

By comparison, the Burnhams are living a life with more zest. Lester is drawn to his daughter's sexy friend and has a regressive awakening. He quits his job, starts lifting weights and jogging, and frequently postures and rants about his newfangled freedom. Lester also starts smoking pot, listens to his collection of 70's songs, and tells his family what he really thinks about his life and his marriage. In other words, he is driving them further apart than they were already.

There are many more revelations in the richly designed tapestry of writer Alan Ball's screenplay, and it is unfair to say more because nothing in this film can be predicted. I have been saying for a long time that Hollywood films should take the initiative of relying on character-based narrative to unveil a slice of Americana. Most recent Hollywood films rely on plot to drive the characters forward in motion (see "Pushing Tin") whereas Ball instead lets these characters live and breathe by their passions and hungers - they are not dictated by cumbersome plot points. Essentially, these people are not at all what they seem to be, and slowly other attributes start to evolve in their personalities. Lester undergoes the most thrilling transformation from a jerky, ironic three-piece suit bureaucrat to a t-shirt wearing, posturing, reborn, virile man with lots of attitude to spare, more so than his cheerleading daughter. He is the anchor of the film, and basically underscores all the tension within his family and his next-door neighbors with his rampant, rebellious slant on life.

"American Beauty" scores heavily with Spacey's beautifully modulated, magnetic performance - it is clearly his best work by far. Annette Bening finally has her zestiest, most radiant role since "The Grifters" - here she accomplishes the rare feat of being sympathetic while simultaneously being pathetic and annoying. Thora Birch also does solid work as the cranky Jane (she certainly grew up since her work in those Harrison Ford/Tom Clancy movies). One performance that deserves some recognition is the underrated Chris Cooper as the violently abusive Marine. Cooper also played a dad earlier this year in the gentle "October Sky" and has had decent parts in some John Sayles films. Here he demonstrates an intensity that is nearly unwatchable, and his rain-drenched scene with Spacey will make you squirm. More kudos are deserving of Mena Suvari as the blonde cheerleader friend of Jane's - her role says more about the plight of teenage girls in high school than most teen movies of late. She could give Rachel Leigh Cook a run for her money.

As much as I like newcomer Wes Bentley, his enigmatic Ricky left me unsatisfied, partly because we know so little about him. One critic described him as evil (which he is not) but there is a disarming, almost Norman Bates aura about this kid that is creepily inconclusive. Ditto Ricky's mother who is left in the sidelines, though I imagine we can draw our own conclusions as to why she is virtually catatonic.

"American Beauty" is not perfect or as harrowingly honest as last year's undeniably great "Happiness," but it is entertainingly wicked, insightful and satirical in its unfolding of this slice of suburban life. Once it is over, you will get an urge to drive through the suburbs of any town in America and try to take a peek at what is happening in those family homes.

Bird food for the avante-garde set

BIRDMAN OR (THE UNEXPECTED VIRTUE OF IGNORANCE) (2014)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia
Reprinted with Permission by Steel Notes Magazine

Alejandro Inarritu, an overpraised director who was ridiculously bellied up with raves for the limp "Gravity," has concocted another limp film, a vanity project where the director can show off  his technical prowess. Only his endless long takes burden and suffocate the viewer with portentous characters of little draw or joy, save for the stellar work of Michael Keaton and Emma Stone. "Birdman" is virtually long-take porn and a sad sack character study that is more artificial than all of its magical realism gimmicks.

St. James Theatre on Broadway is the setting. Riggan Thomson (Keaton) is the mediocre actor and mediocre star of a movie franchise that made a box-office killing, Birdman. After "Birdman 2," Riggan flew far away from it all and decided he wanted to be taken seriously. Thanks to sage advice from the late author Raymond Carver during Thomson's early days in theatre, he decides to direct, write and act in his own adaptation of Carver's "What We Talk About When We Talk About Love," which strikes me as an insufferable bore of a play from a writer I do admire, Carver that is (check out the short stories and the sparkling diamond of a film made from it, "Short Cuts").  Riggan's daughter (Emma Stone) is his indifferent assistant who hates picking out flowers for him and seems to hate him, period. The best scene in the film is the most shockingly honest as Riggan's daughter lays down the truth about his stature as an actor and for having adapted a play that only rich people adore.

Such blazing honesty is missing from the rest of Inarritu's Odyssey of Long Takes. I do admire uninterrupted long takes because, for cinematic purposes, they have a sweeping effect of lifting you from your seats and since the film delves into magical realist elements such as Riggan's imagining himself as a flying bird, and sometimes not imagining himself at all, the technical visual strategy is apropos. But it is at a cost to the dramatic conflicts of its characters because what takes place in front of the camera is often inert. "Birdman" has no real pulse, no blood in it, no passion. It assumes the theatre world is full of arrogant dim bulbs (not unlike Edward Norton's own sendup of himself in the guise of a far too technical actor) and I wanted to get away from them as quickly as possible. Even the New York Times theatre critic (Frank Rich would've conked this woman out in real life) is snobbish and can't be bothered with watching the play before reviewing it - she hates everything Riggan stands for.

Michael Keaton is a solid actor but he often mumbles his way through the proceedings. I never felt connected to him -- Bill Murray would've been a wiser choice to play such a dull actor. That is not to take away from several choice scenes Keaton has to play but he often works best when he is restrained (Check out 1988’s "Clean and Sober" for proof). Although I do admire the in-jokes and the atmosphere, "Birdman" is bird food for the avante-garde set - the poseurs.

Personal Crisis weighs a ton of emotion

21 GRAMS (2003)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Originally viewed on January 2nd, 2004

It is difficult to explain why "21 Grams" works so powerfully. One can say it is the unconventional structure which, in hindsight, is not as unconventional as we might think. Others may say it is the stellar acting turns by most of the cast. I would say that director Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu proves to be a force-of-nature on film - his grainy images and hand-held camerawork create a dizzying immediacy that few other filmmakers can approach. "21 Grams" feels alive, and you will feel quite alive in ways one can't easily describe after it is over.

We always hear complaints (myself included in this camp) that few recent movies ever focus so clearly and definitively on characters. "21 Grams" could be considered a film that overdoses on characters and character details. There is Paul (Sean Penn), a mathematician who has just received a heart transplant from a car accident victim. He is unhappily married to Mary (Charlotte Gainsbourg) who moves back in with him after his surgery to help him. She wants to have a baby through artificial insemination, though Paul is initially dismayed by the prospect. Meanwhile, there is Jack (Benicio Del Toro), an ex-con who has followed Jesus and his Gospel more devotedly than your average Catholic. His life is guided by the Bible and by God, and even helps troubled kids at a reform school. He is married and has kids but his past continues to haunt him. And then there is Christine (Naomi Watts), a once-happily married woman who faces a tragedy few can bear, and resorts to drugs to cope.

Somehow, all these lives intersect in ways that may surprise and titillate you. The structure of going back and forth in time between one isolated incident and another may drive you up the wall. One moment, Sean Penn has a beard and is walking around with an oxygen tank, the next moment he is clean shaven and having lunch with friends. Yet another moment, he is seen driving Christine to a prison where Jack is being held. Say what? Well, when the film proceeds along with such extended scenes out of order, we begin to understand what director Inarritu is doing - he is focusing on aspects and details of behavior in his characters that lend to greater introspection by the time the film is over. This is not an intentional shuffling of scenes for his sake - it is a gathering of collected moments that pinpoint each different crisis facing each character. At first, it may be jarring to see Christine sniffing coke in the bathroom, looking glum and unglamorous, before seeing her smiling at a swimming pool. What this technique does is to illustrate how a character once felt before a tragedy took place - it is like looking through a prism of one's past, present and uncertain future.

Sean Penn, in what may be his most glorious year ever after such a powerhouse performance in "Mystic River," is a true revelation - exuding his charisma and body language with a deep level of understanding of Paul's own future and past. Paul may have a better perception of who he is than anyone else in the movie. I personally pick Penn as the Best Actor of 2003 for his stunning work. A major actress emerging from the shadows, especially since "Mulholland Dr.," is Naomi Watts who gives us a shattering performance of such emotional gravity that I was blown away - Watts embodies everything we might feel if we were parents and lost an entire family. And as for Benicio Del Toro, we see an actor who is at his best keeping it low-key. Yes, he does lose his cool in many scenes but, this time, it is in keeping with the character's own inner and outer rages - he is still a loose cannon even with a strong belief in God being omnipresent.

There is no real plot in "21 Grams" but there are richly-drawn characters that leave you feeling pity for them. Everyone goes through a crisis, a moment in time that can't be changed no matter how much guilt and confusion sets in. The actors give us such pained, realistic performances that I swear I had shed a tear for each and every one of them. Yes, "21 Grams" is tough, uncompromising and unsentimental. This is not wholesome entertainment, nor is it meant to be. But it is rewarding, gloomy and poetic - the kind of film where the uncertainty of people's lives leaves one feeling incomplete leaving the theater. And whose to say that feeling is nothing like real life.

Scrappy diverting poke at Old Hollywood

HAIL, CAESAR! (2016)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

I love Hollywood satire and there is enough to admire from the Coens' "Hail, Caesar!" but I did wish there was more to chew on. The targets are there from Old Hollywood, from the Cinemascope movies that used to populate theaters back in the 1950's to the traditional movie fixer Mannix overseeing the production of a big-budget Roman tale, to hiding a pregnancy from a known actress, etc. As I said, there is plenty to look at in "Hail, Caesar!" but the film curiously holds back.

George Clooney is Baird Whitlock, a movie star who looks out of place in Roman soldier gear (Clancy Brown looks more appropriate in a fine cameo). That may be the joke of the film yet it is also the fact that Baird is not all that bright. He is kidnapped and sent to a Hollywood executive's home which is a meeting place for Communists who read books like "Das Kapital" and promote their cause known as "The Future." Why Baird is taken to this Communist meeting is beyond me except maybe to indoctrinate the idiotic actor or teach him the evils of capitalism.

Meanwhile, Eddie Mannix (Josh Brolin, exceedingly good), head of Capitol Pictures, tries to maintain several debacles at once, Baird's kidnapping being one. A cowboy star who can sing but can't act (Alden Ehrenreich) is cast in a sophisticated drama where he has trouble saying the line, "Would that it 'twere so simple." The impatient British director Laurence Lorenz (Ralph Fiennes) has an unforgettably hilarious scene where he endlessly tries to help the actor enunciate with proper diction. Good luck with that. Another debacle is DeeAnna Moran (Scarlett Johansson), the Esther Williams of underwater musicals, who is pregnant and has to hide it - the remedy is to tell the press that she has adopted. Oh, we also got two gossip column sisters, Thora and Thessaly Thacker (both played by Tilda Swinton) who try to get the latest scoop about everything, including Baird's alleged homosexual encounter with Lorenz in the production of a past movie. To make matters worse, Lockheed astonishingly wants Mannix to apply for a position, though it is unclear as to why.

I enjoyed "Hail, Caesar!" overall and any movie that has references to colorful musicals, the H bomb, Communism, Roman epics and untalented actors from a bygone era merits special attention. But the movie doesn't bite hard enough, it is content to swiftly move from one wacky situation to another without enough irony. Some scenes enthrall, such as the showstopping musical numbers, and other scenes lay flat such as the climactic submarine scene that looks as fake and staged as the movies they poke fun at. Unlike the Coens' own masterful Hollywood-skewering flick "Barton Fink" from two decades ago, "Hail, Caesar!" doesn't go for the extra mile or the comical punch it needs - it floats but it lacks a central motor. There are many scenes that made me laugh (love the scarf that nearly chokes a film editor played by Frances McDormand) and many that made me smile (Clooney giving a long impassioned speech in one take ruined by forgetting a line of dialogue). I just expected more mileage out of this scrappy though diverting poke at Old Hollywood.