‘R Xmas (2001) + Serpico (1973) – DVDs

‘R XMAS
***/**** Image A+ Sound A- Extras C
starring Drea De Matteo, Lillo Brancato, Jr., Ice-T, Victor Argo
screenplay by Scott Pardo, Abel Ferrara
directed by Abel Ferrara

SERPICO
**½/**** Image A- Sound B+ Extras C+
starring Al Pacino, Jack Kehoe, John Randolph, Biff McGuire
screenplay by Waldo Salt and Norman Wexler, based on the book by Peter Maas
directed by Sidney Lumet

by Bill Chambers Arriving on DVD within a week of each other, Abel Ferrara’s ‘R Xmas and Sidney Lumet’s Serpico share a preoccupation with the fate of dirty money. Minimum-wagers are seen as honourable by Lumet, with Detective Frank Serpico proudly leading the starving-artist’s life from behind a cop’s badge, while in Ferrara’s view, there are few such romantic distinctions to be made between the haves and have-nots. But the corrupting influence of money defines the people we’re dealing with in both films, which, although they illustrate rather contained moral dilemmas, share a somewhat epic ambition despite rarely stepping outside their respective milieux. Watched back-to-back, they’re like Traffic pulled in two.

It’s Christmastime in Manhattan circa 1993, and our heroes, husband and wife smack dealers played by Lillo Brancato, Jr. and Drea De Matteo, need to get their shipments to the street. Meanwhile, their little girl wants the new fad doll, an impossible score that, combined with an impending turf war (as well as a mutual, if unspoken, craving to leave the proverbial Life behind), is sapping them of holiday joy. ‘R Xmas comprises three or four beats too dramatically fragile to withstand spoilers, I suspect, so, leaving the plot synopsis behind, allow me to brace you for the usual Ferrara-isms: ethnic slurs; lots of driving around; and an appearance by Victor Argo.

Stubbornly anti-commercial, Ferrara is a prolific filmmaker with soft critical and cult followings (‘R Xmas is his tenth feature in twelve years), and one doesn’t imagine that ‘R Xmas will affect a change in the popular opinion that he’s deliberately obscure–obtuse, even. The picture opens with a horse-drawn carriage clip-clopping through the streets of Victorian-era New York as Lincoln-bearded children spread seasonal cheer, and it ends with the graphic “to be continued,” the word “continued” cut off as if to aggravate the viewer’s foreordained frustration with this TV gimmick being applied to a film intended for theatrical release not called Back to the Future Part Something.

Occupying the middle of the piece are lethargic sequences that make one long for the breakneck pace of Tarkovsky. Yet as zonked-out as Ferrara can act in public, ‘R Xmas and others of his work are only inexplicable if you lack the patience to draw the lines that connect the dots therein. The prologue, for instance (which gives way to a school play), is an obvious visual metaphor that establishes the quaint grubbiness of pre-Giuliani NYC. And while the “to be continued” is cheeky in spirit, sure, the film, bookended by breviloquent history lessons that scroll up the screen, was clearly also intended as the prologue in a series exposing the radical changes that Ferrara’s hometown underwent in the 1990s–a dirge for the days before New York got body-snatched. (Ferrara, of course, directed the most recent remake of Invasion of the Body Snatchers.) Whether the auteur goes on to sequelize ‘R Xmas seems moot, and as it stands, it’s a quietly powerful lament for a way of life that wasn’t rehabilitated, but simply deleted from conscious thought.

Although a product of the zesty cinema of the Seventies, Serpico is a two-parter of “Hill Street Blues” next to the spare yet audacious ‘R Xmas, heavy on exposition and light on style. A half-reverential biopic for a folk hero of the late-Sixties, the film opens in medias res with the shooting of Frank Serpico (Al Pacino) and backtracks through the key circumstances leading up to that inevitable day: Serpico’s graduation from the police academy; his first “collar” (slang for catching a suspect); his transfers to and from BCI (the records department); his first dog… girlfriend… moustache… beard; and so on. Uniting these disparate events is his steadfast refusal to pocket a take. Force-wide fear that he’ll blow the whistle on this generally-accepted practice lands Serpico in the crosshairs of his colleagues, excepting a cop with mayoral connections (Tony Roberts) and a few superiors nostalgic for their innocent early days on the job.

Pacino is riveting in Serpico until his alter ego turns to mush. It sounds more compelling than it is that Serpico, nicknamed “Paco” (Spanish for Frank), becomes so immobilized by his anger and frustrations that, like David Lynch’s comic-strip dog, he can’t speak, but Serpico’s brooding robs at least one character of integrity: “I’m really gonna miss you, Serpico,” says Captain McClain (Biff McGuire). This is, at that juncture, akin to bidding a fond farewell to a lamppost.

The opening third is especially perceptive in pitting Serpico’s outside interests (ballet, poetry, classical music) against the macho-conformist expectations of the precinct, culminating in a false accusation that leads to Frank’s dismissal from BCI. Pacino and Lumet drop the ball, however, on the homophobic subtext of Serpico’s ostracism, reducing him to a Capra archetype, a paragon of decency paralyzed by Method rage. Though the policeman’s other positive contributions to the profession are touched upon (such as Serpico’s pioneering “street” wardrobe, a better camouflage for undercover work), Lumet–as is his wont–has an underdog agenda he won’t complicate too much, not with male politics and certainly not with an abundance of showy technique.

THE DVDs
Released to New York theatres and DVD simultaneously, ‘R Xmas is one of Artisan’s slicker non-Special Edition discs. The film, letterboxed at 1.77:1 and enhanced for 16×9 displays, looks sumptuous in this form–perhaps Ferrara sums it up best in his commentary when he says, “Now that is red.” Perfect colouring combines with hair-fine detail to produce one of the year’s best video transfers, of an indie production or otherwise. The Dolby Digital 5.1 mix is less attention-grabbing, devoting most of its energy to a tight bassline for the hip-hop-flavoured score.

Extras include trailers for The Playaz Court, Jacked Up, and Outrage, an on-screen, paragraph-length synopsis of the film (!), and the aforementioned yak-track, an endurance test featuring Ferrara and, apparently, production designer Frank DeCurtis. In desperate need of subtitles or a translator, Ferrara, sounding uncannily like Brando with a mouth full of Kleenex, begins by mocking the introductory logos, mumbles “Vietnam or Asia” in regards to Ken Kelsch’s cinematography, and offers, “Now, you know, that dissolve isn’t just a dissolve to the next shot” during a dissolve to, well, the next shot. DeCurtis, meanwhile, pipes up whenever an image catches his fancy; how do they acquit themselves on set?, one wonders. The pair promises future instalments of ‘R Xmas, for what it’s worth.

A long-awaited catalogue title, Paramount’s DVD release of Serpico presents the film in a clean 1.78:1 anamorphic widescreen transfer–a slightly taller frame than the advertised aspect ratio of 1.85:1. As with many of the studio’s designated classics from the Seventies (Don’t Look Now, Saturday Night Fever), the picture’s aesthetics may betray its age on DVD, but authoring efforts do not. The original mono stems have been remastered in 2.0 mono and 5.1 configurations, the latter a remix distinguished only by the anchoring of dialogue in the centre channel and some inoffensive ambient bleed into the surrounds.

Bonus material is slim: In addition to the horrible self-parody of a theatrical trailer, you’ll find four typically superficial Laurent Bouzereau featurettes (I’ll wait for my Back to the Future Trilogy review to climb atop that particular soapbox). “Serpico: Real to Reel” (10 mins.) alternates interviews with producer Martin Bregman and director Lumet, who summarizes the contributions of co-screenwriters Waldo Salt and Norman Wexler. “Inside Serpico” (10 mins.) alternates interviews with Bregman and Lumet again, while Bregman and, believe it or not, Lumet select their respective preferred sequence(s) from Serpico in “Serpico: Favorite Moments” (3 mins.). To be fair, this Chris Farley request of them (‘What’s the most awesome scene?’) leads to surprisingly introspective choices. An animated photo gallery (4 mins.), over which Lumet tells a splendid anecdote revolving around composer Theodorakis, rounds out the disc.

• ‘R Xmas
  83 minutes; R; 1.77:1 (16×9-enhanced); English DD 5.1; CC; Spanish subtitles; DVD-9; Region One; Artisan
• Serpico
  130 minutes; R; 1.85:1 (16×9-enhanced); English DD 5.1, English DD 2.0 (Mono), French DD 2.0 (Mono); CC; English subtitles; DVD-9; Region One; Paramount