Miranda’s Victim: The Crime Behind the Landmark Ruling

There is a reason you have not seen dozens of earnest documentaries and melodramatic TV movies about the case that gave rise to the Miranda Warning. The real-life events did not fit the preferred media “narrative.” The titular Ernesto Miranda was not found innocent of kidnapping and raping the woman referred to as “Trish Weir” in this film. The Supreme Court only annulled his trial, allowing Arizona to re-try him without the excluded confession. Of course, reliving the trial experience was a painful ordeal for his victim. Director Michelle Danner finally presents the Miranda case from her perspective in Michelle Danner’s Miranda’s Victim, which releases today in theaters and on-demand.

As viewers will see only too clearly, in 1963, the horror of a rape continued for victims when they tried reporting it to a doctor and the police. That is why Weir’s mother Zeola keeps telling her to forget it and move on with her life. Although never explicitly established, it is implied Mother Zeola endured something similar earlier in life, but her maternal instincts are still clearly flawed. Regardless, Weir gets crucial support from her sister and brother.

The latter even gets a partial plate number for a car matching Weir’s description, returning to the scene of the crime. With that, Det. Carroll Cooley tracked down Miranda. For the era, Cooley was reasonably respectful of Weir. He was also relatively restrained in his interrogation of Miranda, but he obviously did not Mirandize him.

Unfortunately, Miranda was the perfect test case for the ACLU and hotshot attorney John J. Flynn. In a scene guaranteed to cause consternation, Maricopa County prosecutor Lawrence Turoff reaches out to Flynn, hoping he will reconsider the Miranda case, asking “What about Miranda’s victim.” In the film, Flynn replies: “Lawrence, I really don’t care.”

Of course, Weir will have to endure another grilling from Flynn when Turoff re-tries Miranda. Danner and screenwriters George Kolber, Richard Lasser, and J. Craig Stiles are more interested in giving a voice to sexual assault victims than re-litigating the Miranda Warning ruling. Yet, it is hard to think of a sexual assault victim more silenced and marginalized than her, considering the ruling that bears her assailant’s name is regularly celebrated as a progressive victory.

This story will be new to a lot of viewers, but despite some unnecessary flashbacks, Kolber and company do a nice job explaining the circumstances of the investigation and subsequent court cases. Throughout it all, they squarely focus on Weir and the ways she was repeatedly victimized by this case. Danner’s approach as a filmmaker is always sensitive and respectful, but also conventional and decidedly not flashy, which was probably for the best.

Abigail Breslin is incredible as Weir. It is an emotionally devastating performance that is never cliched. She ought to have a place in the awards chatter, but she won’t. Mireille Enos ultimately makes her mother a very sad figure. Luke Wilson and Enrique Murciano are solid as Weir’s allies, Turoff and Cooley, but they are nowhere near Breslin’s level.

Rob the Mob: What Could Go Wrong with that Plan?

During 1991 and early 1992, New York was about as depressed as depression gets. The only ray of hope came from a series of high profile organized crime prosecutions initiated by then U.S. Attorney Rudy Giuliani. Yet, somehow John Gotti, the “Teflon Don,” kept wriggling out of the net—at least until Sammy “the Bull Gravano” turned state’s evidence. His testimony would also reveal the locations of several mafia-affiliated “social clubs” in open court. Tommy Uva used this information for the extraordinarily daring but not particularly well thought out crime spree that inspired Raymond De Felitta’s Rob the Mob (trailer here), which opens today in New York.

Uva is a loser, but Rosemarie loves him anyway. However, the rest of the Uva family still blames him and his lowlife ways for the death of his father. Uva on the other hand, vehemently blames the mafia loan sharks for their family tragedy. You could say he has a bit of a complex when it comes to wiseguys.

After a brief prison stretch, Uva gets a job with Rosemarie’s debt collection agency—probably the only business hiring during the Dinkins years. However, he is preoccupied with the Gotti trial. When he hears Gravano explain guns are verboten in their neighborhood front clubs, Uva hatches a very dangerous idea explained pretty clearly by the film’s three word title. One night, he takes in a pretty paltry score, but one of the old-timers at the Waikiki Club happened to be carrying something seriously incriminating.

As films go, Rob is about as New York as it gets. The period details are spot-on and the attitude is razor sharp. Nobody cares what the New York Times has to say in their milieu. The journalist who gets the Uvas’ story is naturally the Post’s organized crime beat writer, Jerry Cardozo. De Felitta (better known for dramedies like City Island and docs, such as ‘Tis Autumn), deftly juggles the large ensemble of gangsters, cops, reporters, and Uvas, maintaining an appealingly gritty vibe.

However, the ace up De Felitta’s sleeve is once again Andy Garcia, who plays the composite don of dons “Big Al” Fiorello with tragic dignity worthy of a Shakespearean figure. As Garcia slowly reveals his backstory, we come to understand Fiorello reluctantly reached his current position through a strange twist of fate. He is a complicated figure, but he is about the only ethically nuanced gangster. In contrast, his underlings are a craven lot and just about everyone on either side of the side thinks Gotti is complete pond scum.

While he does not quite knock it out of the park like Garcia (partly because De Felitta does not pitch him comparably fat fast balls over the plate), Ray Romano’s characteristic nervous energy and deadpan delivery still nicely serve Cardozo, a substantially straight dramatic role. While their over-the-top outer borough affectations are rather off-putting at first, Michael Pitt and Nina Arianda still develop some rather touching (and convincingly reckless) screen chemistry as the couple ironically dubbed “Bonnie and Clyde” by Fiorello’s gang. However, for real old school street cred, nobody can touch Burt Young doing his thing as aging mob lieutenant Joey D.

Granted, everyone will readily form an educated guess of the general direction Rob is headed, even if they are not familiar with the Uvas’ case, but De Felitta’s sure-footed execution will still keep viewers keyed in from start to finish. Featuring an award-worthy supporting turn from Garcia, Rob is one of the best American gangster films in several years. Particularly recommended for New Yorkers (who might be getting a glimpse of our de Blasio future as well as our Dinkins past), Rob the Mob opens today (3/21) at the Angelika Film Center.

A Dark Truth: Andy Garcia Knows It’s Out There

Jack Begosian went from cover-ups to bottom-feeding.  The former CIA agent now hosts a conspiracy theory driven radio program in Toronto.  He claims the new gig eases his conscience.  However, he will have the opportunity to atone for past sins with more direct action in Damian Lee’s A Dark Truth (trailer here), which opens in Miami this Friday.

To be fair, Begosian is not trafficking in space alien rumors, but he gets plenty of those calls on his late night talk show.  Although his backstory is never fully spelled out, Begosian left the Agency under scandalous circumstances.  A Congressional hearing was involved.  Trying to live quietly with his frustrated wife and emotionally withdrawn son, Begosian is not looking for freelance gigs.  Nevertheless, one comes his way.

Heiress Morgan Swinton suspects Clearbec, her family’s industrial water filtration company, is up to no good in Ecuador.  She needs an independent hardnose to go down there and check things out.  For Begosian, it represents karma coming full circle.  According to reports, environmental activist Francisco Francis has incriminating evidence on Clearbec.  That would be the same Francis who served time in a rather unpleasant Latin American prison thanks to Begosian’s behind-the-scenes maneuvering.  Now his assignment is to get Francis and his wife safely out of the country and into a courtroom, despite the efforts of the Ecuadoran military and Clearbec’s enforcers.

Dark Truth largely recycles Hollywood’s standard issue corporate villainy plot, but Lee’s screenplay is less morally simplistic, portraying the culpable Swinton brother in relatively sympathetic terms.  Yet, it is Andy Garcia who truly dominates the film as Begosian.  He still has plenty of credibility in the adequately staged action scenes and brings the appropriate gravitas for Begosian’s “that’s the way it is” radio pronouncements.

Garcia is still one bad cat and so is Kevin Durand, who is coolly hardboiled as the unpredictable hitman, Torrance “Tor” Mashinter.  Unfortunately, Forest Whitaker and Eva Longoria do not fare so well as the Francises, awkwardly trying to look noble as the scramble through the jungle.  In contrast, Kim Coates makes an intriguingly human villain, nicely conveying Bruce Swinton’s guilt and desperation.

Lee, whose credits including producing Death Wish V, is not exactly a distinctive visual stylist, but if you’re filming a difficult scene in the Dominican rain forest, he can probably be relied on to get it in the can quickly.  He also delivers some pretty good work from his cast, most notably Garcia, Durand, and Coates.  An okay diversion on a commercial flight or as a VOD time killer, A Dark Truth is really just recommended for Garcia’s biggest fans.  Conveniently, it begins its theatrical run at the O Cinema in Miami (where a fair number of them probably are) this Friday (1/4), expanding to Lake Worth the following week.  For New Yorkers, it is already available on-demand.

For Greater Glory: the Fight for Religious Liberty in Mexico

It could be said socialist “President” Plutarco Calles made Mexico a holier place.  He was ultimately responsible for the canonization of twenty-five Mexican saints, by martyring them during the Christero War.  His brutal “anti-clerical” laws inspired a heroic rebellion, dramatized in Dean Wright’s For Greater Glory (trailer here), which would have been thematically appropriate for Memorial Day weekend but opens this Friday across the country instead.

General Enrique Gorostieta Velarde does not believe in the Catholic faith, but in religious liberty—perhaps enough to even die for it.  He has also been offered an unusually high salary to take command of the hardscrabble Christero forces.  Before his appointment, the Christero rebels had won embarrassing victories, but they were not considered a serious threat to the Calles regime.  However, Gorostieta is a man to be reckoned with.

Calles is a duly elected dictator, who razes churches and executes foreign born priests like the kindly Father Christopher, played by Peter O’Toole (who must enjoy the irony of such a pious role, given his notoriously checkered private life).  Glory is not shy about depicting the violent oppression meted out by the Calles forces, most notably with their treatment of José Luis Sánchez del Río, the captured mascot of Gorostieta’s army, who joined the Christeros after witnessing Father Christopher’s state-sanctioned murder.  However, the film does not just wave the bloody shirt.  Christeros like the legendary “El Catorce” take the battle to the Federales good and hard, heedless of their superior numbers, in several satisfying scenes of vintage warfighting.

Of course, Glory is a prime example of one of the fundamental laws of cinema: don’t mess with Andy Garcia.  Perfectly cast as Gorostieta, he captures both the swagger and the gravitas of the principled man of action.  It is easy to see why men would follow him into battle.  Just as Garcia looks the part of Gorostieta, Ruben Blades is the near spitting image of Calles, aptly conveying his arrogance and ruthlessness. 

Santiago Cabrera is also quite a riveting presence as Father Vega, a priest turned guerrilla general, while young Mauricio Kuri is surprisingly poised as Sánchez del Río.  It is a strong and accomplished cast, even featuring Oscar nominee Catalina Sandino Morena (for Maria Full of Grace) as Christero fund-raiser Adriana.  Though a bit of an undercooked role, she projects a strong presence nonetheless.  However, Eva Longoria seems to be dropped into the film merely for decorative effect as Gorostieta’s wife, Tulita.  Arguably, the most intriguing supporting turn comes from the ever-reliable Bruce Greenwood as American Ambassador Dwight Morrow, sent to broker a deal to keep the petroleum flowing, duly fulfilling his brief despite the twinges of his conscience.

Indeed, Glory shines a spotlight on some conveniently overlooked Mexican and American history.  Had Coolidge been more Reaganite and backed the Christeros, the Twentieth Century might have been much more prosperous and pleasant for Mexico.  Instead, Calles’s PRI party would dominate Mexico for decades, whereas Calles himself briefly took refuge in America during a period of involuntary exile, where he fell in with the marginalized fascist movement (maybe he even met Morrow’s future son-in-law, Charles Lindbergh).  Frankly, he ought to be regarded as one of history’s worst despots.

Granted, Glory is not exactly the most nuanced film, but there is not a lot of room for subtlety in such a brazen episode of religious persecution.  Though director Dean Wright’s background is in special effects, he shows a strong aptitude for old school cavalry and artillery battles.  (The English language dialogue is a bit of a misstep though, in contrast to the greater authenticity subtitled Spanish would have lent the film.)  Pretty stirring stuff, For Greater Glory is earnestly recommended for everyone concerned about state encroachments on religious liberty, but still enjoys a sweeping historical tragedy.  It opens nationwide this Friday (6/1), including the AMC Empire and Village 7 theaters in New York.

5 Days of War: While the World Looked the Other Way

In early August, 2008, the Russian military invaded the free and democratic country of Georgia, leaving death and destruction in their wake. They are still there, occupying the so-called breakaway republics of South Ossetia and Abkhazia, a fact the media has yet to notice. Indeed, the journalistic establishment did its best to look the other way, except for a hardy band of foreign correspondents who risked life and limb to cover the Russian atrocities. Finnish filmmaker Renny Harlin (yes, that Renny Harlin) dramatizes Georgia’s struggle to preserve its sovereign integrity through their lenses in 5 Days of War (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Georgian president Mikheil Saakashvili was elected President as a Western-oriented reformer, the exact opposite of Russian PM Vladimir Putin. So committed to strengthening relations with America and NATO, Georgia contributed military forces to Operation Iraqi Freedom. For war reporter Thomas Anders, it is a good thing they did. As 5 Days opens, Capt. Rezo Avaliani’s unit arrives just in the nick of time to save him from a terrorist ambush, creating a bond of friendship between the two men. As Russia starts massing troops on the border, the psychologically wounded Anders heads back into the field, where he will encounter the good Captain again.

President Saakashvili and his American advisor scramble to rally world support, but the media is not interested. When CNN bothers to cover the story (yes, the network is mentioned by name), they only present the Russian government’s spin. Even more frustrating, legitimate journalist on the ground, like Anders and his hard drinking colleague Laurens “Dutchman” Roemer, are not able to place their dramatic stories of Russian war crimes (unflinchingly illustrated throughout the film), because their outlets simply do not care. Unfortunately, the Olympics will soon start, crowding beleaguered Georgia out of the media spotlight.

It will come as a shock to many that Renny Harlin had such a serious and timely film in him. Yet, it is important to remember the Cliffhanger director’s Finnish roots. Indeed, Saakashvili explicitly references Finland’s resistance to Soviet invaders in his climatic address to the nation. The director clearly has a passion for the story, but his action movie roots also serve the material quite well.

Frankly, it is a bit of a misnomer to call 5 Days a war film, because it was never a fair fight. However, Harlin and cinematographer Checco Varese (a former news cameraman who saw action in Bosnia and Chechnya) convey a vivid sense of what it is like to have the Soviet Russian war machine bearing down on you. It is a scarily convincing sensation, never really captured on film so effectively before.

A surprisingly good physical match for Saakashvili, Andy Garcia invests the film with real dignity and gravitas. In fact, his delivery of the President’s stirring national address might just get you a little choked up. Indeed, the Georgian characters are all quite credible and compelling, particularly Johnathon Schaech as the resourceful Capt. Avaliani.

Shrewdly, Val Kilmer plays to his new degenerate out-of-shape image as the cynical Dutchman. Rade Sherbedgia, Kilmer’s former co-star from The Saint, notches another memorable heavy role, playing Col. Demidov with more nuance than the Russians deserve. If there is a weak spot in the cast it is Rupert Friend, who only digs into his character just so far, in between dodging bullets and getting the stuffing kicked out of him. Still, he is serviceable enough to keep the film on track and firing on all cylinders.

Tightly helmed by Harlin, 5 Days is absolutely riveting as cinema when considered only according to strict formalist criteria, but of course there is much more to take into account. One suspects it was originally conceived with an even darker slap-in-the-face ending. Regardless, the final film is blisteringly angry and honest. Yet, it is also inspiring, depicting a small scrappy Eastern European nation standing up against a vastly more powerful aggressor, championing the values we advocate. Conversely, for nearly everyone working for a major media outlet, the film is a long cold glass of shame. One of the year’s best, 5 Days opens this Friday (8/19) in New York at the Angelika Film Center.

American Master—Cachao: Uno Mas

He played for Presidents FDR and W. In between, he revolutionized Latin dance music, endured the pain of exile from his Cuban homeland, and enjoyed a late-career renaissance thanks in large measure to the efforts of musician-actor Andy Garcia. His name was Israel López, but most knew him simply as Cachao. His life and insistently danceable music are lovingly remembered in Dikayl Rimmasch’s Cachao: Uno Mas (trailer here), co-produced by Garcia, which airs this coming Monday as part of the current season of PBS’s American Masters.

A classically trained bassist, Cachao co-wrote Mambo #1 with his brother Orestes. Simply titled “Mambo,” it was the first of his signature danzóns (Cuban ballroom dances), featuring jazz like syncopation and an infectious rhythmic drive. Needless to say, the mambo was a hit—everywhere—spawning the global mambo craze. Yet, Cachao usually was not the one in the spotlight. Hip musicians certainly knew who he was though.

According to Cachao, he and his brother wrote 1,500 danzóns each. He also recorded his classic Descargas: Cuban Jam Sessions in Miniature, thoroughly blurring the distinctions between jazz and traditional Cuban musical forms. He even penned “Chanchullo,” the original melody that would become first Tito Puente’s and then Carlos Santana’s “Oye Como Va.” That Cachao never received proper credit or compensation for those monster hits still visibly rankles Garcia, but the zen-like master bassist was apparently unconcerned with such worldly matters.

Unfortunately, worldly events would intrude into Cachao’s musical life. Though he initially supported the revolution against Battista, Cachao (like Garcia’s parents) chose the pain of exile as oppressive nature of the Castro regime became painfully apparent. As the American Master himself explains: “Over there they say, ‘No, because of Fidel . . .’ and that’s it. Everyone is listening to you to hear what you say. If they don’t like it, you’re asking for trouble.”

Though Cachao passed away in early 2008, he was playing strong up until his final bar. Wisely, Uno Mas showcases his musical fire, fitting its profile segments around a scorching hot 2005 concert in San Francisco. Cachao swings like mad with an all-star ensemble including Garcia on bongos, John Santos on congas, Justo Almario on saxophone, and Federico Britos on violin (at one point engaging in some tasty call-and-response with the leader).

Utilizing nine cameras, Rimmasch shot some of the best live concert footage you are ever likely to see on television. He beautifully captures the unspoken back-and-forth between musicians, which probably gives a better sense of Cachao the man than any of the interview segments. Indeed, the music is so good, Uno Mas is probably destined to become a staple of PBS pledge break programming for years to come. While he does not perform in the film, trumpeter and Cuban defector Arturo Sandoval (played by Garcia in the under-appreciated HBO film For Love or Country) also adds some entertainingly animated musical commentary.

Cachao led a dramatic life and left behind an impressive body of absolutely joyous music. Like many Cuban exiles, he became a loyal patriot of two countries, making him a perfect subject for American Masters. Sometimes touching, but ultimately a blast of invigorating music, Uno Mas airs this coming Monday (9/20) on PBS outlets nationwide.

(Cachao photo © 2005 by Jakub Mosur)

Tribeca ‘09: City Island

City Island might be part of the borough of the Bronx, but the small fishing community is a world removed from Fort Apache. It is a tightly-knit deeply-rooted community of working-class “clam diggers,” like Vince Rizzo, the protagonist of Raymond de Felitta’s City Island now screening at the Tribeca Film Festival.

Rizzo is a prison guard—sorry, that’s corrections officer—but acting is his secret ambition. He furtively takes drama lessons in the City, telling his judgmental wife Joyce he is playing poker instead. Of course, she incorrectly assumes the faithful Rizzo is having an affair. He does have secrets though, like the son he abandoned in his immature youth before meeting Joyce. Suddenly, Rizzo is forced to confront his past, when Tony Nardella, his long lost son, is transferred to his prison.

Nardella never had much family, but he could certainly use some now. He would qualify for parole if only he had someone to take him into their custody. Panged by conscience but reluctant to reveal the truth, Rizzo takes Nardella home with him, ostensibly to help him with home repair projects. Of course, the Rizzo home is not a particularly stable environment either, with Rizzo sneaking off to auditions, his wife manically suspicious, teen-aged son Vince, Jr. obsessed with his particular internet porn fetish, and daughter Vivian secretly working as a stripper after getting expelled from college.

Island might sound like a quirky indie family drama rife with cutesy pitfalls. However, the film nimbly tap-dances through that minefield. A jazz pianist as well as a director, de Felitta has a great sense of timing, maintaining a crisp pace throughout. In an appropriately representative scene, Rizzo’s drama teacher (in a memorable cameo performance by Alan Arkin) instructs his would-be method actors to avoid pauses in their delivery. Keeping it breezy seems to be de Felitta’s strategy here and by-and-large it works, abetted by a buoyantly diverse soundtrack, including some of the director’s own trio recordings.

Much of the complicated Rizzo family drama works quite well, never getting too adorable or saccharine. While somewhat uneven, Island never tarries too long with a misfiring subplot (like the pursuits of smarmy Vince, Jr.). Andy Garcia ably leads the cast, bringing both a blue-collar credibility and an engaging vulnerability to the confused Rizzo. Though her character is a bit exaggerated, Julianna Margulies is almost unrecognizable, submerging into Joyce’s Bronx-Westchester persona. However, Emily Mortimer packs the film’s greatest emotional punch as Rizzo’s drama class partner, wrestling with her own guilty secrets.

With Island, De Felitta charts a middle course between earnest indie family drama and screwball comedy that is surprisingly effective. It is a pleasingly light, but satisfying film. It screens again on April 29th and May 1st.