Interview with Catherine Mary Stewart: Seeing Beyond the Horizon

An Interview with Catherine Mary Stewart: 

Seeing beyond the horizon 

By Jerry Saravia
Reprinted with permission by Steel Notes Magazine

Back in the 1980s, you could call Catherine Mary Stewart the girl-next-door type. You could also call her the woman with dreams and aspirations, someone who saw beyond the horizon and caught wind of some sort of indiscernible future. That defining quality is omnipresent in most of her films, ranging from her acting debut in the bizarro, truly magnifique musical “The Apple” to her cult status in 1984’s subversive “Night of the Comet,” to even something as mindless as “Weekend at Bernie’s.” Even as the girl-next-door type in 1983’s “A Killer in the Family” or “The Last Starfighter” (a far meatier role), I always sensed Catherine as a woman who had ambitions, who sought some meaning beyond her current status in life. She has penetrating, sincere eyes and a wide grin -- the impression being that of a soul searching for something deeper in the universe (now that I think about it, the ending to “The Last Starfighter” is far more fitting than I thought). That is my impression and when you listen to her words about her career, past and present, you can’t help but think Catherine Mary Stewart is looking forward.

Robert Hays and Catherine Mary Stewart in 1987 TV-Movie Murder By the Book

Jerry Saravia: I looked through “Murder by the Book” with Robert Hays again. I am guessing I had seen it back in 1987, and I found it remarkable how innocent and playful it frequently was. You sort of play a femme fatale to a certain extent and you got to work with Fred Gwynne, Christopher Murney and Robert Hays. How did this project end up at your doorstep? 

Catherine Mary Stewart: I don’t remember the exact circumstances of how “Murder by the Book” landed in my hands, but I believe it was an offer. Believe it or not, I had to refamiliarize myself with who Robert Hays was. I quickly remembered him from “Airplane”, one of the funniest movies ever. Bob is an absolute doll. I grew up with Fred Gwynne as “Herman” in the “The Munsters.” It was one of my favorite series so it was surreal to actually work with him. What a presence. Christopher Murney is hilarious! He played a sort of “Columbo” character in “Murder by the Book.” He had us cracking up all the time.

JS: Aside from “Murder by the Book,” you have a host of television credits to your name. One I found noteworthy is the canceled soap, “Guiding Light,” where you played Naomi. Expand on the colorful character that you played in two episodes -- it must be the first time I have seen you speak with a Southern accent (“Has the butter slipped off your biscuit?”)

CMS: I believe I did 10 episodes of “Guiding Light.” That role was a lot of fun for me because it was different from any other role I’d played up to that time. “Naomi” was a shady kind of con-woman who mysteriously appears claiming to be friends with “Lorelei”, actress Beth Chamberline’s character. It was very liberating playing this broad southern character. My husband is from Virginia, so I borrowed some sayings from his family and him. The producer was pretty flexible about letting me play with the script so I would call up my in-laws and incorporate some of their flip little sayings in my dialogue. I wish I’d written them all down. They were hilarious. It was fun!

Catherine Mary Stewart in 1983's A Killer in the Family

JS: I want to ask, as a precursor to “The Last Starfighter,” about working on the intense 1983 TV movie, “A Killer in the Family.” You played James Spader’s girlfriend in it, a rather brief part where you are also a waitress at a pizza restaurant. Mr. Spader wasn’t really well known yet -- I am assuming you had a good rapport with Spader? And did you get to meet Robert Mitchum, playing the title role?

CMS: “A Killer in the Family” was one of my very first jobs in LA. One of the best fringe benefits of being an actor is the opportunity to work with or at least meeting acting legends. I don’t think we actually had a scene together but I met Robert Mitchum. It’s hard to describe how cool that is. James Spader really wasn’t the established actor that he is today, but it was evident that he was going places. He was very serious and focused. He was very kind to me.

Catherine Mary Stewart in 1984's The Last Starfighter

JS: I find it interesting that in the Reagan-era of the 1980s, a little movie about a sweet couple living in a trailer park, “The Last Starfighter,” became a sci-fi picture with a lot of heart. Most fascinating to me is the idea that Maggie joins her b/f in a space adventure at the end. He hints that they will come back. It seems to me that a lot of teen movies and/or teens in genre pictures featuring your first love resulted in being together eternally. Cameron Crowe’s “Say Anything” had the same notion. Looking back, would the movie have worked just as well if he said his goodbyes to Mags and took off. Did Mags have to be in the ship or was this a way of showing Mags was willing to move on?

CMS: I think the theme of “The Last Starfighter” spoke to the notion of possibility. This is what I love about the movie. It inspires those who are young and impressionable to reach for the stars and hold on tight, to paraphrase “Otis” (Vernon Washington). “Maggie” goes with “Alex” because she loves him and wants to be with him. “Granny” encourages her to go for it, to get out of the safety of the trailer park and explore her own potential. What I also love about “The Last Starfighter” is the
characters are not cartoons, which leaves them available to the young audience. The audience can relate.

JS: On a side note, ever play the Atari game of “The Last Starfighter” and, perhaps a silly question, was the actual game playable on the set?

CMS: I have not played “The Last Starfighter” game and, no, it was not playable on the set. All that digital stuff was put in later. Nick Castle just explained to us what was happening, basically. I believe he was off-stage giving us directions as to how to react to a blank screen.

Catherine Mary Stewart in 1980's The Apple

JS: We have to talk about “The Apple,” a sci-fi, supernatural, Faustian musical with Biblical overtones that I find hard to put out of my mind. I think it is quite good with a nervous, frantic energy about it, hardly a good-bad movie in my opinion. Working with such solid, magnetic actors like Joss Ackland and Vladek Sheybal is amazing for your debut film -- did they provide sage advice on how to proceed with your acting career?

CMS: “The Apple” was a wild and crazy ride. I was studying dance in London, England when I
auditioned as a dancer for the movie. I had no previous experience as a professional actor so when I was offered the lead role I had no idea of what to expect, nor did I really worry about it. There is a certain freedom to innocence. By the time we shot the movie I knew it inside out. I could have recited everyone else’s lines, so I don’t remember really feeling nervous. I was as prepared as I could be and I just took it one day at a time. I didn’t think about what it meant in terms of my career or the impact of the movie itself. I don’t recall Joss Ackland or Vladek Sheybal giving me sage advice. Joss was lovely and is an amazing actor, as was Vladek. They both had enormous charisma and talent. It was a pleasure to watch them work.

JS: Why did you have such a small part as Amy Smart’s aunt in “Love ‘n’ Dancing?” A movie about dancing, which you had studied, and you barely get to strut your stuff?

CMS: I guess it was the extent of the character within the confines of the story and script. It was a lot of fun to learn some ballroom dancing with the handsome Gregory Harris. I enjoyed the sort of stuck-up ballroom dancer character. My daughter Hanna made her film acting debut in that movie.

JS: I always ask of every actor the following: Is there a defining role or project that you would love to be part of in the future, especially now that you are taking up directing?

CMS: I want to be a part of making this industry more available to women of on every level. It is high time that there are stories about women of all ages, more women directors, writers and producers. I see it slowly evolving. I want to use whatever influence or power to help make that happen. I think audiences are starving

Catherine Mary Stewart and Jonathan Silverman in 1989's Weekend at Bernie's

JS: Lastly, you often play women who cannot be controlled by the man, nor do you play women who actively seek control in a relationship either -- which I find fascinating and noteworthy. Even with “Weekend at Bernie’s,” you stormed off from Jonathan Silverman’s advances when you discovered what a creep he was (of course, things change at the end). Did you actively search and hope throughout your career to play women, not girls, who were not victims?

CMS: I’ve never felt like a victim in real life and perhaps that comes off on screen or in auditions. I certainly come from a long line of very strong, intelligent, independent women. I have had the opportunity to play such a huge variety of characters and that is what I strive for. If I can encourage girls or women to believe in their own strengths and power through the roles I play, then I’m very happy. I find that the male audience enjoys strong female characters at least as much as the female audience. The idea that a female character is always subservient to a male character is an antiquated notion.

For more on Catherine, check out the following: Catherine Mary Stewart’s website: http://www catherinemarystewart.com Twitter: @cmsall FB: https://www.facebook.com/catherinemarystewart/

Bearing witness to the scream

THE WITNESS (2016)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia
Reprinted with permission by Steel Notes Magazine

38 witnesses in an apartment complex claimed they saw and/or heard a woman screaming in agony after said woman had just suffered the first of two stabbings in the street below. Nobody did anything, nobody called the police. This became a moral lesson for an adage that is now spoken and distributed ubiquitously: If you see something, say something. In the case of Kitty Genovese, a young 28-year-old woman who was brutally stabbed outside of her apartment in Kew Gardens, NY back in 1964, if you hear something, say something. In the entrancingly disturbing, emotionally draining and very moving documentary “The Witness,” people did in fact hear her screeching screams of help yet, allegedly, nobody saw her. What is most revealing is that witnesses did in fact call the police and someone did help her during her last remaining moments she had left. This is the first of many disclosed truths that were ignored at the time.

Told from the point-of-view of Kitty’s youngest brother, Bill Genovese (a Vietnam Veteran),“The Witness” is a full-throttle attempt to find out the truth, the whole concealed truth of Kitty’s murder. Bill Genovese takes on the obsessive and difficult task of finding the truth to a 50-year-old murder. He is a double amputee riding around in his wheelchair, sometimes at the crime scene and often visiting those who bore witness to the crime during the aftermath (many other witnesses have long passed). It is the work of a top-notch sleuth -- he even goes so far as to interview “60 Minutes” own Mike Wallace (who did a piece on it back in the day); Abe Rosenthal, former New York Times editor (who helped to craft the alleged myth of witnesses’ anomie); Gabe Pressman, an NBC reporter who said the Times, the paper of record, would not be challenged by the news organization, and of course the surviving witnesses. One witness, Sophia Farrar, a close friend of Kitty’s, was there to comfort the dying Kitty in the hallway of the apartment building. We also learn from a witness who knew Kitty as a young boy that the blood hand prints on the walls were not Kitty’s but his mother Sophia’s, the one who was trying to comfort Kitty. New York Times would not hear of it, claiming it was Kitty’s and photographs of the hand prints were taken.

Most fascinating is the coverage of Kitty’s life as a celebrated barmaid who was loved by many, a free spirit who loved life. Kitty was romantically involved with Mary Ann Zielonko and they were roommates in the Kew Gardens apartment they shared. Kitty is also shown in various photographs and home movies as an exuberant, spirited woman who longed to spread love around. In a touchingly tactile way, “The Witness” depicts an angelic presence who was compassionate and possibly empathetic. This makes her murder that much more disturbing -- a life taken away without any justification. The murderer, Winston Moseley (who died in prison in 2016), stabbed her repeatedly without any real provocation (allegedly, Kitty used a racial slur against him), disappeared and then promptly came back to stab her again. It was a vicious crime that should never have happened. This is what drives Bill Genovese’s search for the full truth. Could something have been done to help Kitty sooner? Were the police contacted promptly?

We learn the New York Times’ writer Martin Gansburg may have embellished the truth about the witnesses, and certainly misrepresented the facts which were dependent on the information supplied by police commissioner Michael Murphy (the opening paragraph of the original Times article states that witnesses viewed the murder in its entirety when, in fact, nobody saw the murder in its entirety since the killer walked away and then came back around to poor Kitty. Case in point, here is how the article’s paragraph read: “For more than half an hour, 38 respectable, law-abiding citizens in Queens watched a killer stalk and stab a woman in three separate attacks in Kew Gardens.”) Apathy, however, was not part of the equation on that dreadful night. Bill finds that his older sister’s screams were heard by many in the apartment building yet (despite a couple of crucial witnesses) nobody saw the crime, and calls were made to the police though it is never established how many people actually called in. One certifiable fact is that 38 or more witnesses definitely heard the commotion and some looked out their windows, one even shouted at the killer to stay away from her. Still, when Bill hires an actress to relive Kitty’s last moments by delivering the high-pitched screams that couldn’t possibly be mistaken for anything other than the agony of a wounded, dying animal, you wonder how anyone could think differently and not respond. It is a scene of undeniable power, making us feel more empathetic for Kitty than ever.

Director James Solomon has assembled a riveting documentary that serves as revisionist history, righting the wrongs of perceived anomie in NYC. Of course, if the New York Times article had been rewritten differently with more clarified accounts from witnesses, then Kitty’s name would not mean as much as it does today more than 50 years later. When Bill Genovese goes so far as to interview Moseley’s son, he still doesn’t get real satisfaction considering Moseley's son was unsure about meeting Bill whom he assumed was Mafia-related, hence Bill's last name! The conclusive irony is that Bill arrives at something much more fulfilling -- the Genovese family has finally embraced and celebrated Kitty rather than trying to forget her namesake via a headline-making murder. It is how she lived that spreads joy -- her name has been restored to the loving family member she always was. That is Bill’s satisfaction, and ours. 

Old Hollywood tale sparkles

RULES DON'T APPLY (2016)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

I'd be remiss if I did not state that the opening 15 minutes of "Rules Don't Apply" were uninvolving and a little dull. Sometimes a film can evolve and engage us and I was taken aback by this Howard Hughes bio tale because it did not grab me. Then, something happens and the film got me when it decided to get more intimate with its characters. The intimacy shone like a bright light from the gods of La La Land and, by the end of the film, I was engaged by this entertaining, elegant love letter to Old Hollywood.

Frank Forbes (Alden Ehrenreich) is a handsome young chauffeur for the reclusive billionaire Howard Hughes, a man that Forbes has yet to meet. At the start of the film set in the late 1950's, Forbes drives Marla Mabrey (Lily Collins, Phil Collins' daughter), a Baptist beauty queen from Virginia, to her screen test for a new Hughes film. Also in tow is Marla's mother (Annette Bening), a far more devout Baptist, who sees that Marla and Forbes are smitten with each other and doesn't approve (Forbes is already engaged). At this point, I thought this was going to devolve into some sort of cutesy, syrupy romance tale of puppy love with a loony Howard Hughes (Warren Beatty) only existing incidentally in the background. I was wrong as the film carefully segues, sometimes abruptly (scenes often just stop before cutting away rather abrasively to the next scene) between Hughes's business dealings, the Spruce Goose near-debacle and plane voyages, to Marla's ambitious plans of becoming an actress who eventually sleeps with Hughes after she has already been fumbling about with Forbes! Not such a pristine Baptist after all.

"Rules Don't Apply" works it melancholic charms best when it comes to Warren Beatty's interpretation of Howard Hughes as a capricious man whose wealth defined him and carried him to plateaus that few others could reach. Whether it was flying the massive plane called the Spruce Goose (which he likes to look at while eating a burger) or cavorting with young women, like Marla, or flying to any destination on a whim or requesting all the Banana Nut ice cream that is left, Howard is the megalomaniac whose tastes run hot and cold. He could get anything he wanted, whenever he wanted, at any price. Warren Beatty portrays Howard Hughes like an adult version of Beatty's own unpredictable stand-up comedy character from "Mickey One" from ages ago, making Leo DiCaprio's equally mercurial portrait of Hughes in 2004's "The Aviator" look normal by comparison. To be fair, the hearings over the Spruce Goose are not as invigoratingly portrayed as they should have been, yet everything else (including the controversy over a writer who faked a biography on Hughes, based on the real-life Clifford Irving) is exciting to watch. You'll even be chewing your fingernails during a hectic plane ride to Acapulco where Howard hardly seems to be attentive to his piloting.

Written and directed by Warren Beatty after a 15-year hiatus, "Rules Don't Apply" gets off to a rocky start and its pacing is unwieldy. Still, once it introduces Beatty's uncontrollable Hughes (almost always shown in deep shadows or silhouette), it flies with passion and verve. The love story between Marla and Forbes also gets a lift, as if Hughes' own passions enliven the potential romance between the couple. The finale is about as romantic and sweet as anything I've seen of late, and this is amazing because I did not care for this Marla/Forbes romance initially. "Rules Don't Apply" is a moody and often elegant tribute to Old Hollywood melodramas, in addition to being faintly melancholic over Hughes' later years. Exquisite and original, once the motor gets going. 

2/3 great, 1/3 blood-soaked Ten Little Indians

THE HATEFUL EIGHT (2015)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

"The Hateful Eight" represents some of the best and worst habits of Quentin Tarantino. On one hand, it has terrifically framed dialogue scenes inside a stagecoach and a Haberdashery where the characters expound on issues such as the Civil War, slavery and what it means to be black in America in the 1860's. On the other hand, the film can indulge forever in ways that would even make the late Sergio Leone (no stranger to overlong westerns - his "Once Upon a Time in the West" is exceedingly overlong but still a masterpiece) say, "how much longer are we going to be inside that Haberdashery?" It is that aspect of overlength and some grotesque violence that exceeds even my endurance test levels. Though not a complete success like Tarantino's other works, "The Hateful Eight" should hardly be dismissed either.

Tarantino's near 3-hour claustrophobic western has scraggy, scraggly hangman and bounty hunter named  John "The Hangman" Ruth  (Kurt Russell), his murderous criminal Daisy Domergue (black-eyed Jennifer Jason Leigh) whom he wants to hang at Red Rock, going to their destination in the snowy blizzard conditions of Wyoming inside a stagecoach. Along the hazardous journey, they pick up a bounty hunter named Major Marquis Warren (Samuel L. Jackson) who is supposedly pen pals with Abraham Lincoln and carries around a personal letter from the 16th President (Warren is notorious for killing various Confederate soldiers during the war), and a new Sheriff of Red Rock named Mannix (Walter Goggins) who just happens to be wandering the area and is hardly the smartest Sheriff in town. Cut to Minnie's Haberdashery where they serve jelly beans, hot coffee and stewed potatoes. A newly-appointed Mexican employee (Demián Bichir) is taking over for Minnie in this one-room log cabin with one bed, while other people passing by are staying at this remote location. They include Tim Roth as a Christoph Walz-type hangman, Michael Madsen as Joe "Cow Puncher"  who is on his way to visit his mother for Christmas (!) and a former Confederate General (Bruce Dern) who is so racist that it becomes almost spooky. Good luck with Major Warren dealing with this nasty individual.

There is much to savor in "The Hateful Eight" and the tension builds on occasion, especially during a sequence where the coffee poisons almost everyone who drinks from it. There is also one sequence where Major Warren confronts the elderly Confederate General with a tale of how the Major tortured the General's son - it is done in flashback with Jackson's voice-over and is likely to make most viewers squirm and laugh nervously at the same time. That is the underlying beauty of Tarantino and why he rocks cinematically harder than any of his copycats with his pulp revenge tales - when forceful dialogue and dazzlingly powerful performances create a sustained mood of wickedness crossed with black humor in ways that can make audiences unsure of how to react. That is Tarantino's game, playing the audience like a piano. By the end of the gross-out extended climax, he is not playing the audience anymore - it is more like getting your fingers broken in agony while exploding heads, blown-off genitals and an offputting hanging grace the 70mm screen. You are left wallowing in excess gore which means the filmmaker is also left wallowing in it. The late Sam Peckinpah, no stranger in his heyday to stomach-churning, slow-motion ballets of violence, might have vomited while watching this grotesquerie. Ever since the cartoonish aesthetically over-the-top violence of his "Kill Bills," Tarantino has become the victim of what he was once criticized of being in the "Pulp Fiction" years - a director who really loves violence so much that it becomes dangerously close to being the subject of his movie. Let me be clear, the violence does not become the subject but it left a bitter taste in my mouth, almost but not too bitter.

In hindsight, the nasty, unendurable violence of the last third of the film do not take away from the primal power of "The Hateful Eight." It is Tarantino's ode to Agatha Christie's "Ten Little Indians" albeit with characters of excessively low moral repute. I will not soon forget Samuel L. Jackson's duplicitous nature or his discussions of racism in post-Civil War years (he may as well be talking about what is happening in America in the 2010 era); Jennifer Jason Leigh's savage blood-soaked smiles or her moment of grace when she plays the guitar; the shocked looks of Bruce Dern's Confederate General; Russell struggling to get a cup of coffee while handcuffed to Leigh; the entrance door to the Haberdashery that must be nailed shut each time it is opened and, of course, under the amazing lensing of cinematographer Robert Richardson ("Natural Born Killers," "Casino"), the few outdoor mountainous shots of Colorado standing in for Wyoming including an extended take of a Christ statue in crucifixion pose. There is plenty to admire about this western and I still love Tarantino as a demonically talented filmmaker who can still make smart, wickedly funny revenge tales. Yet "The Hateful Eight" is far too long in spots, far too bloody and a little too uneven. It is 2/3 a great film, and 1/3 a nauseatingly blood-soaked "Ten Little Indians."  

Movies can change a country

CHUCK NORRIS VS. COMMUNISM (2015)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Reprinted with permission by Steel Notes Magazine

Imagine living in a Communist country where TV broadcasts only on two channels, 2 hours a day, and it is all propaganda. Okay, so in the United States, we have hundreds of channels and fed a lot of propaganda from two political parties yet it is a far cry from the Romania of the past. Further imagine banned VHS movies making their way into the underground with a Romanian State TV employee serving as the translator. That is the story of “Chuck Norris vs. Communism,” a thrilling, quietly stimulating one-hour documentary that focuses on how art, good or bad, can transcend a whole country.

During the 1980’s, Irina Nistor, a film translator for Romanian State TV who reluctantly worked with the censorship committee, was hired by the mysterious Mr. Teodor Zamfir to dub illegally obtained VHS movies and sell them in the underground to families who had no access to anything except government-controlled television (Romania’s dictator Nicolae Ceaușescu  was a frequent sight on the tube). Nistor’s voice dubbed nearly 3,000 films by 1989, the end of the Communist regime that led to the execution of Ceaușescu, and her voice ironically became the voice of the people. When the latest video party was held in someone’s apartment, it became a moment of awe and wonder, a glimpse and a chance to see the outside world, the Western values that were shielded from Romanian eyes. A country kept in ignorance began to see the glimmer of hope.

Throughout the documentary, we get interviews with various Romanians who watched “Top Gun,” “9 ½ Weeks,” “Rocky” (one man emulated the Italian Stallion’s egg yolk prep prior to running through the city), “Last Tango in Paris” (a woman felt she was struck by lightning when she saw it), and several Chuck Norris flicks especially “Missing in Action.” The Romanian citizens felt that TV was propaganda and, with the influx of these films, they were fed propaganda that was not Ceaușescu’s. An outsider’s view of a world was being shut out thanks to the ruling dictatorship; a dictatorship that sensed that Western influences could lead to a revolution, a change in the country’s political system. The Romanian government couldn’t have been more right.

Directed with care and sensitivity by debuting director Ilinca Calugareanu and instilling an exciting level of espionage through riveting reenactments of Nistor’s secretive recordings, “Chuck Norris vs. Communism” is a most unusual historical documentary that reminds us of the power of images. Movies don’t always change things but, in this case, they changed a whole regime. The implication is that the state secret police were also instrumental in implementing change because they were bribed to see these films for free. A change was coming. 

Living in Oblivion crossed with The Truman Show

BOWFINGER (1999)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Eddie Murphy's newfangled success post-"Nutty Professor" has not exactly been inspiring. Missing from his last few films was the wisecracking Eddie from "Beverly Hills Cop" and "48 HRS." who made us smile with his every maneuver - gargantuan laugh, wide grin, and a rapid-fire exchange of dialogue like a charged-up comic ready to make you howl over with laughter at every expense. "Coming to America" and "The Nutty Professor" were among his finest achievements, and among some of his best acting roles to date. Add his latest film "Bowfinger" to the crop - an often wicked comedy where his sure-handed personality shines thanks to a solidly good script by writer-actor Steve Martin.

Bobby Bowfinger is the name of a low-level producer/director (Steve Martin) with big dreams of making a motion-picture with current action star, the paranoid Kit Ramsey (Eddie Murphy). Problem is Kit turns him down, and now Bowfinger comes up with an inspired plan, he will make a film by secretly filming Kit. He has cameras hidden in bushes outside Kit's mansion, and films Kit having lunch at trendy restaurants by having his actors sneak up to him and deliver the lines. Essentially, wherever Kit goes, Bowfinger will be there making him the unaware star of his film. The catch is that no one in his crew is aware that Kit has not actually been cast.

Apparently, Bowfinger saved over $1500 since his childhood to make his dream project called "Chubby Rain," which has a ludicrous storyline dealing with aliens hiding in drops of water. The screenplay is written by Afrim (Adam Alexi-Malle), a "damn good writer, as well as an accountant and part-time receptionist," assures Bowfinger. In terms of casting, Bowfinger has an experienced drama queen, Carol (Christine Baranski), who's been waiting an entire year for this opportunity, and wants to meet Kit. He's also got Daisy from Ohio (Heather Graham) who walks into his bungalow/office with aspirations to be a star. At first rejected, then accepted for her great kissing scenes, she finds herself sleeping to the top of this low-level group to get more scenes written with Kit. Enter another actor who tries out for a part, Jiff Ramsey (also played by Murphy), a goofy, bespectacled man who not only passes for Kit's double but is also Kit's real-life brother. "I am an active renter at Blockbuster," says Jiff during his audition, who assures Bowfinger that he has had accidents cutting his own hair.

There are two hilarious scenes that had me doubled over with laughter. One is a parking lot scene where an unseen dog wearing heels scares Kit while walking to his car. Another equally funny scene is when Jiff runs across a Los Angeles freeway while evading all traffic and yelling "Hail to God!"

"Bowfinger" does fall short of expectations even with its ingenious premise, a semi-cross between "The Truman Show" and "Living in Oblivion." Steve Martin fails to push the film itself further with comic bang...there are often more whimpers than genuine laughs. He is still a hell of a writer, but he holds back too often. Some scenes as directed by Frank Oz are too flat and lack the pizzazz that they need - a chase after Kit while hiding a camera in a tree planted on Bowfinger's truck leaves a lot to be desired.

If nothing else, most of the actors deliver juicy performances. Eddie Murphy has two great roles - one as the nervous superstar who tries "to keep it together" at a Scientology-type cult led by Terence Stamp as its calm, spiritual leader, and the other as the dim-witted, naive Jiff who for the first time in his life feels accepted. Murphy plays these roles with aplomb, and proves that with a good script, he can flow with comic ease and be funny as hell. His smiles and winks are priceless. Steve Martin is, as always, good old Steve - and here he plays the ruthless and scheming con artist as all desperate first-time directors usually are. He'll do anything he can to make his film, even to the point of stealing Daisy's Ohio credit cards. Morality is never an issue when making a production - desperation is.

The one actor who fails to deliver is Heather Graham as the ingenue Daisy. As in "Austin Powers 2," Graham is lifeless and oblivious - she seems to show little in the way of comic flair or energy. A sad state of affairs from a dramatic actress with a powerful range as she proved to have in "Boogie Nights" and "Drugstore Cowboy." Comedy does not seem to be her forte.

"Bowfinger" is uneven and does not have the breeze or whiz of director Frank Oz's other efforts, such as "Dirty Rotten Scoundrels," but it is full of surprises and contains moments of inspired lunacy. Martin and Murphy make a great team for the world of comedy - let's hope they reunite in the future.

Count Yourself Lucky if you skip it

LUCKY NUMBER SLEVIN (2006)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia (Review from 2008)

Just when you thought neo-noir Tarantino knock-offs were on the way out, they come back in. And just when you thought that referencing old movies in dialogue that sounds suspiciously Tarantinian was on the way out, it comes right back in. Of course, "Lucky Number Slevin" doesn't suffer for those reasons alone - it is also stultifyingly dull.

The occasionally boring, pallid Josh Hartnett plays Slevin, an unlucky guy who gets punched in the face by a mugger and seems to forget that a dress code in the New York City streets doesn't entail wearing only a towel around your waist. Slevin is visiting his friend Nick in New York, except Nick is not home so Slevin lets himself in. Nick's inquisitive neighbor (Lucy Liu) is wondering what is behind Slevin's towel! Oh, yeah, and she loves James Bond movies and can quote them (Tarantino coming in to the mix again). Slevin's lack of luck becomes clearer when he is mistaken for Nick by some hoods. It turns out that Nick owes $96,000 dollars to two rival crime lords, the Boss (Morgan Freeman) and the Rabbi (Ben Kingsley). In the only nice twist in the movie, the crime lords live across the street from each other's penthouses! Slevin's dilemma is worsened when the Boss says he can forget the gambling debt owed if he does a job for him - kill the Rabbi's son! The Rabbi asks for a different favor. But then why the hell is a world-class hitman (Bruce Willis) needed? Maybe because the assassin will kill Slevin whom everyone thinks is Nick. The mind boggles and wiggles and, quite frankly, it is hard to care because you've seen it all before, except not with such a lack of humanity.

"Lucky Number Slevin" is movie that closes its hands at the end and, when you open them to decipher its meaning, it comes up empty. Or maybe it release two flipping birds at the audience. I've seen movies like "Lucky Number Slevin" and two come to mind that are far superior in every respect and are fresher and more introspective - "The Usual Suspects" and "The Limey." "Usual Suspects" had an ending that just barely negated the entire movie you watched - it was pure trickery and sleight-of-hand but it was entertaining and memorably acted. "The Limey" is full of flashbacks and flashforwards and had a powerful ending that enriched the neo-noir, thriller mechanics of its story (and it had Terence Stamp to boot). "Lucky Number Slevin" has...nothing. It is a movie dependent on style and numerous shoot- outs and pop-culture discussions on Hitchcock, "The Shmoo" and James Bond than anything else. Once the plot becomes apparent, the ending (which is technically foreseeable) is not a cheat. But director Paul McGuigan seems to think he is more clever than he really is. All the flashbacks and flashforwards do not indicate anything that you don't already know - it is superfluous decoration. And Hartnett's Slevin is so insufferably inert that it is hard to care about his dilemma, or lack thereof. And when the Rabbi discusses the mistaken identity plot of "North By Northwest," I became very angry, knowing that the filmmakers were trying to link this overproduced mess to a Hitchcock classic.

Hartnett is not someone I would wish for more leading parts in, though he comes alive in the latter sections of the film. Morgan Freeman and Ben Kingsley have seen better days. Lucy Liu is always a sweet presence on screen but she is nothing more than an annoyance after a while. As for Bruce Willis, he is a consummate actor on screen but this is a part that is far below his acting capability. Reliable Robert Forster appears out of nowhere and basically explains the plot (which needs no explaining) in the same way he explained Norman Bates's psychosis in the "Psycho" remake. Talk about references!

So forget the bland coolness of "Lucky Number Slevin" completely - it is a monotonous and repetitive waste of time. Have yourself a grand time at the movies by watching "North By Northwest" or "The Limey" or "The Usual Suspects." You won't mistake them for "Lucky Number Slevin."