Summer of Sam

Summer of Sam was berated on its US release by New Yorkers and relatives of the victims of serial killer David Berkowitz alike. In the summer of 1977, paranoia eclipsed disco fever as the so-called .44 Killer murdered six and injured seven, all while keeping in contact with columnist Jimmy Breslin (whose comments bookend this movie). Not the kind of events to revisit in these days of the easily offended, and seeing Lee's claustrophobic take on Berkowitz in his deranged apartment is almost enough deter you from visiting the Big Apple.

The focus of the movie is an insular community of Italian-Americans. Mistrust rules the roost: the only thing close-knit about them is an occasional cheesy tank-top. Fear and conformity underpin the set-pieces upon which Lee thrives, from cops meeting a Mafia chief (Ben Gazarra) to a half-hearted Studio 54-style orgy. John Leguizamo thrives when passing himself off as John Travolta, but his marriage is a hollow sham. His quest for redemption hinges on saving punk friend Ritchie (Adrien Brody) from both himself and the lynchmob they grew up with.

Summer of Sam has invited comparisons with Do the Right Thing, on account of its portrayal of the simmering tensions building up to horrendous violence. Yet the lifestyles on show throughout make it closer to Scorsese's Mean Streets, albeit balanced by several strong female leads, notably Mira Sorvino. At 142 minutes it has stretched the attention span of some viewers and reviewers, but as the closing credits roll Lee has got us to care about the characters as each boils over. Ditching the irksome music video/sitcom visuals - even at a Late-term Abortions gig, with Ritchie on guitar - this is Spike Lee's most mature joint to date.

Graham Barnfield

Spike Lee's "Summer of Sam," like most of his films, emerges as an intriguing but, nevertheless, regrettable failure. Using as his background the long, hot summer of 1977, when the serial killer known as the Son of Sam held New York City in the grip of terror, Lee spins a tale of drug abuse, infidelity and violence among a group of Italians living in a Bronx neighborhood. Unfortunately, Lee's meandering take on the subject robs it of much of its potential drama as he searches for a focal point that will make it compelling to the audience. He only occasionally succeeds and that is when he concentrates on the two lead characters: Vinny, whose deep religious convictions and sincere devotion to his wife cannot compel him to resist his womanizing compulsions, and Dionna, his beautiful but longsuffering wife, who suspects his infidelities and desperately struggles to satisfy Vinny's strong sexual needs but who runs up against the roadblock of her husband's strange misapprehension about what exactly constitutes the extent of marital relations. Vinny, in particular, as he struggles against the demons that plague him and the guilt they impose on him, suggests a complexity of character that makes him a compelling center for this otherwise sprawling story.

Unfortunately, many of the subsidiary characters, who surround these two and keep pulling us away from them, emerge as little more than ethnic and sexual stereotypes, from the neighborhood mob boss (Ben Gazarra) to the loving-father drug dealer to the punk rock iconoclast to the local flaming "fairy." Not even strong performances by a game cast can infuse these roles with the depth and humanity necessary to justify their inclusion in the film.

Stylistically, this film is much less visually flashy than previous Lee works with less elaborate camerawork and only the occasional near-subliminal quick cuts (used to convey memories) to distract us. Lee should, also, have avoided at all costs the temptation to cast himself as an on-site news reporter. Even more egregiously, why oh why did Lee feel compelled to visualize literally (through animatronics) the demon dog that Berkowitz reportedly cited as the motivation for his crimes actually barking out instructions to the crazed psychopath?

The risk in these docudramas is that the moviemakers will not be able to match, in their narrative, the compelling nature of the actual events upon which they are based. Lee's film is no exception, for just as the killer is captured, the fictional side of the story resolves itself in a flurry of heavy handed "Ox Bow Incident" melodramatics, scarcely credible even for a cadre of characters as lacking in common sense as these are. "Summer of Sam" is notable for the performances of John Leguizamo and Mira Sorvino in the central roles, its disco-drenched soundtrack and its letter-perfect recreation of a particular moment in recent American history. What a shame, then, that the film never really coheres into a satisfying whole.

Spike Lee's telling of the sweltering summer of 1977 in New York, the year the Son of Sam murders gripped the city, is effective in transporting us to the era, especially with music references that span disco, pop, rock, and punk. It's also very well cast, with Mira Sorvino especially turning in a great performance, and John Leguizamo, Adrien Brody, and Jennifer Esposito all strong as well.

Lee's tale has the actually serial killer in the background, an interesting idea that allowed him to focus on the evils of the citizens in the neighborhood: little bits of racism and homophobia, a good dose of misogyny and the double standard in the attitude and philandering of a married guy (Leguizamo), and most effectively, the turning loose of the mob to both loot during the blackouts, and to target individuals unfairly deemed suspects in the killings, like the guy from the neighborhood who wants to be a punk rocker (Brody).

Unfortunately, Lee got a little overindulgent in focusing on these people, and aside from creating characters that sometimes seemed like shallow clichés, the script veered too often into sexual antics. The married couple going from his numerous affairs to her trying to please him through dressing up, asking for sexual advice, going to an orgy, etc felt like a little much. The friend who aside from wanting to be a punk rocker also dances provocatively and services men in a gay nightclub did too. You could say this is a hot mess of a film, and at 142 minutes, it went on too long.

With that said, I was always engaged, and found Lee's memory of this period (he was 20 in 1977) to have a certain intimacy, one with a refreshing darkness that contrasts the buoyant songs of the day, any semblance of sentimentality reserved only for his beloved New York Yankees. Speaking of which, I loved the lines speculating that the killer might be Reggie Jackson - the Son of Sam, Uncle Sam, New York Yankee wearing #44, the caliber of the handgun used.

This is one of Spike Lee's greatest films. To start, the acting is incredible. Leguizamo and Sorvino, as well as the other actors, give amazing performances grounded in emotion and realism. The story is enthralling, and incredibly original. It pits the people of New York City in the seventies against their fears, desires and each other. Also Ellen Kuras's cinematography is beautiful. It employs an expressionistic use of color, giving the film a very unique and very different look, creating stark contrasts between hues. Any fan of Spike Lee's who hasn't yet seen this film must, and anyone else who hasn't should. It is brilliant, simply brilliant.

Not sure what Spike was trying to say - that Son of Sam was a product of the craziness of NY and the heat of 1977?

While movies don't have to have endearing characters, you have to relate to them on some level to empathize with them. So that even if the circumstances of their lives or are not ours but we have find a connection on some level to be interested in them - in this movie, there are no such characters.

Some of them we are just tired of them because this movie is so long and enough already. The scary thing is we can relate to Son of Sam's breakdown more than any of the characters because we are starting to wonder if this dreary mess is ever going to end. Each character is unpleasant because they lead small, petty lives and are just whiners - we get it - let's move on Spike. Not interesting. And any characters we care about just dissolve into a pornographic and sleazy means.

Spike was a great director for exactly two movies - Spike, what happened? - he starts the movie by placing his characters in front of a sign that reads Dead End - as if that's not bad enough, in case we didn't get the pan on it or the lingering closeup, he cuts back to that sign about 50 times. In a local community college film class, you'd be derided as a rank amateur - let along a big budget movie.

Spike also appears in the film as a TV announcer - we know Spike can act - he choose not to act for his role - why? Who knows?

This movie is pointless, tiresome and dreary.