Will the Academy step up to the plate and nominate Spike Lee's tough, sprawling "Summer of Sam" for Best Picture? We'll see. This
perceptive, blistering film may be too forceful for Hollywood's middle-of-the-road tastes.
Lee's latest "Joint" uses the Son of Sam murder sprees as the
connecting thread and social milestone for the summer of 1977, when punk and disco faced off as musical styles and ways of life, New York City sweltered under a heat wave and tottered at the brink of fiscal
ruin, the sexual license of the 70s was in full swing, and society's rules were being renegotiated. Despite a lot of sensational ink about its subject matter and violence, "Sam" is nowhere near as gory
as your average Hollywood movie. Killing scenes are unflinchingly brutal, but not out of line when depicting the work of a homicidal maniac. You see worse on network TV.
"Sam" spins a tale
of moral decay and paranoia as the killer's rampage through the city plays on fear and turns a community into a jittery, trigger-happy lynch mob. Lee's sharp eye for a neighborhood's fabric turns to
Scorsese territory. He steps into the Italian-American arena with assurance, focusing on Vinnie (Hispanic comedian/actor John Leguziamo) and his troubled relationship with loyal wife Dionna (Mira Sorvino
, back in fine form). Vinnie's a carousing louse whose one redeeming quality is stubborn loyalty to his friend Ritchie (Adrian Brody, delivering a solid, calm performance even when required to play some absolutely daffy scenes) who's
suddenly speaking in a British accent and sporting punk gear. Vinnie has a disturbingly close encounter with the killer's work, sending him into an increasingly hysterical self-examination.
Where Ritchie easily reconciles conflicting desires (a little too convincingly), Vinnie's inability to "do the right thing" has disastrous effects. Lee turns a sociologist's observant eye on a Bronx
community, illuminating what could be cliches (macho posturing, the code of a local mafiosio) into a convincing and real backdrop for the struggles of the central characters to find their place in a changing
world where the old rules no longer apply.
It's a lengthy, explosive tapestry of a film, delving deep into the guts of a particular time and locale. Lee takes his time fleshing out all the
characters in his story, shifting from humor to clear-eyed observation and firmly establishing their relationship to each other. Then he turns up the heat. Relationships come together and shred
to pieces as the unknown madman's threat of violence brings tensions to the boiling point. Lee's colorful, agile camera peeks into secrets and lies, betrayal and anguish, against a surreal mood of
helplessness and dread. Finger-pointing and closing ranks is rampant, portrayed in some of the movie's funniest scenes. My favorite is the idiotic explanation for putting Reggie Jackson on a
suspect list. ("What's the killer's number? What's Reggie's number? There you go!")
Brilliant camera work, fine fever-dream photography and dead-on costume design by Ruth Carter (she also did 'What's Love Got To Do With It,' and deserves
an Oscar nomination for this work) give muscle and grace to Lee's determinedly artistic, ambitious meditation on a particular New York State of mind. Deft screenplay
easily handles many characters and storylines, deserves an Oscar nod. Emotional rollercoaster pace is driven by the intense score
and operatic use of music in scenes, particularly Ritchie's montage and the closing sequence set to "Teenage Wasteland." Fine editing never lets the story fall flat.
Lee's never been surer in his always excellent directing of
actors. Sorvino doesn't set a foot wrong as her Dionna goes from gentle, desperate to please wife to ferocious combatant, giving as good as she gets. Leguziamo has a lot of screen time and does a
terrific job fleshing out Vinnie, who's not the most likeable character, into someone very real. He's a jerk, but a very real jerk.
Adrian Brody has been hyped as the new DeNiro, and he does
very good work with a part that's not as well written as the rest of the script. Ritchie's exotic dancing and sexual dabbling just don't jive with his punk ethos and determinedly heterosexual
life. Brody is able to pull off Ritchie's quiet confidence in following his desires, not society, even when he's required to lick a knife while bumping & grinding onstage (those are the
aforementioned "daffy" scenes). His versatility and authenticity enable him to pull off deceptively casual scenes (his first encounter with Ruby) broad farce (his mom on the couch!) and emotional
disclosure (Vinnie warns him at CBGB's). Jennifer Esposito
("Kiss Me Guido") plays Ruby with sensitivity and guts, making her transition from guido-girl runaround to punk singer quite believable and never losing touch with the core of sweetness under her flashy outfits. Ritchie and Ruby's innocent goodness is touching, reminiscent of 'Sid and Nancy.' It's to Lee's credit that he doesn't turn them into the perpetually angry punk cliche. They are the most moral, decent people in this film
Lee's at the top of his form, delivering violent scenes that roar off the screen yet are never confusing or gratuitous, and guiding his actors into shaded, complex performances that keep their
characters very human in the midst of surreal madness. The killer's dementia and agony are well handled and appropriately creepy. That's John Turturro as the voice of Sam. You don't know
whether to laugh or be horrified when Sam speaks to the killer. The disorientation and confusion works very well to accentuate the surreal mental state of New York, under seige.
The film fairly
boils with famous locales (Studio 54, Plato's Retreat, CBGB's) and is crammed with information, vivid scenes (riots, beatings, murders, orgies) and many, many characters. Despite a thicket of locations
and people, "Sam" is not muddled or cluttered in the least. Lee keeps the focus on his main characters and the city's increasing madness, never slowing down his story. This is filmmaking at its
best: all the elements at the director's disposal are concentrating on the film's delivery. Sometimes too-blatant props (the "Dead End" sign, Ritchie's stage performances) don't drag the film
down. Sly visual jokes like Lee's impersonation of John Johnson (in a giant afro and kooky glasses] and Leguziamo's mile-wide lapels make this film great fun to watch. Lee's particular
stamp of angry, accurate accusation on the state of race relations in our country shoots in and out of the script, leaving the bitter sting of truth (dismissing Willie Mays, the Bed-Stuy woman mocking
Johnson].
Creative casting results in big, dynamic and diverse group of
actors includes Broadway stars Patti LuPone (unrecognizable as Helen, Ritchie's mother ) and Bebe Neuwirth (Vinnie's boss Gloria) spiced with appearances by good actors such as Debi Mazur,
Anthony LaPaglia and Ben Gazzara.
"Sam" references the legendary "Taxi Driver" in many ways (Ritchie bringing Ruby to the dance joint, his haircut, the killer's narration, the camera panning
through a madman's dishelved, seedy apartment, the general undertone of menace). It is a companion piece, looking at the outside effects of one man's madness. Chilling end to the film as the killer's
delivery erupts into a scene very much like celebrity adultation. Lee communicates the sensational furor and tabloid hype generated by the killer's spree. Accurate production design, choice use of popular music and throbbing score enhance the mad-dog elements of the story.
"Sam" pretends to be reportorial, bracketing the story between Jimmy
Breslin's monologue and explanation of the historical facts, but it's much more than a mere story. Moody, bristling with emotion and telling detail, "Sam" is a masterful examination of how people deal
with fear of the unknown, both within and without. Superb accomplishment, deserves Oscar nods for Picture, Director, Costumes, Score, Actress (Sorvino), Supporting Actor (Brody). Won't lose
much in renting. Don't miss this one. |
