A-

Films that accurately capture the painful chasm that separates
childrens’ perceptions from those of adults are rare and
precious things (think of such masterful examples as Rene
Clement’s “Forbidden Games” and Charles Laughton’s “The Night
of the Hunter”); but recent efforts from Iran such as “The
White Balloon” and “Children of Heaven” have been remarkably
affecting additions to the canon. This new picture by Majid
Majidi, who was also responsible for “Children,” is yet
another, a visually stunning and emotionally wrenching portrait
of an eight-year old blind boy (Mohsen Ramezani) whose self-
centered, desperately practical single father (Hossein Mahjub)
wants to pack off his son to an apprenticeship with a similarly-
handicapped carpenter so that he’ll be free to marry a younger
woman from a wealthier family.

Like Majidi’s last picture, “The Color of Paradise” is very
straightforward and unforced, but its simplicity is deceptive.
Its message–that the blind youth actually sees more, and
better, than his sighted father–could have easily become
heavy-handed, but the writer-director’s gentle approach keeps
it from descending into bathos; and its religious element–
the father’s self-pity has led him to question God’s very
existence, while his son, though unable to see the splendor
of the natural world which surrounds him, seems somehow to
feel the divine presence that infuses it–might have grown
preachy, but never does. Similarly, the figure of the white-
haired grandmother (Salime Feizi) who cherishes the boy and
warns her son against the mistakes he’s making would, in less
capable hands, be a hopeless cliche, but the delicate shading
that actress and director bring to the character makes her a
touchingly realistic, though obviously iconic, figure.

And Majidi has drawn brilliant performances from his two leads
as well. Mohsen Ramezani, who is actually blind and untrained
as an actor, brings a quiet, eloquent dignity to the boy,
honestly earning the tears he will draw from many members of
the audience; and Hossein Mahjub successfully captures the
torment of an essentially well-intentioned man whose virtues
are overcome by what he considers the unfairness of fate.
Mention must also be made of the luminous cinematography of
Mohammad Davoodi, which joins a crystalline clarity with a
luxuriant color palate, especially in the outdoor rural scenes.

The denouement of “The Color of Paradise” is a trifle
disappointing in that it manufactures a crisis which ends the
film on a note of devastating loss which could have been
achieved in a less contrived fashion, and with a final image
that is self-consciously poetic; “Forbidden Games,” with its
heartbreakingly simple close, is again the touchstone here.
But this is a minor blemish on an uncommonly graceful and
deeply moving portrayal of the hopes and desolation of
childhood.

F

What sort of filmmakers could possibly think it a good idea
to title their picture “Screwed”? Don’t they realize the
critical comments they’re inviting?

In this instance, the perpetrators are Scott Alexander and
Larry Karaszewski, an intermittently successful writing duo
(they penned the excellent “Ed Wood” and “The People vs. Larry
Flynt,” but also the first two “Problem Child” pictures and
“Man in the Moon”) who are here taking a first stab at co-
directing, too. The result is an abysmally painful “wacky”
comedy about a put-upon butler (Norm MacDonald) who, with the
doubtful assistance of an inept buddy (David Chappelle), tries
to kidnap the pooch beloved of his grumpy old employer (Elaine
Stritch); when that fails, however, he pretends to have been
snatched himself, leading to all sorts of complications as the
cops get involved, the bumbling pair recruits a mortuary worker
(Danny DeVito, back in Full Penguin Mode) to provide a body
they can pass off as MacDonald’s, and Stritch’s corporate
underlings (Sherman Hemsley and Malcolm Stewart) seek to turn
the situation to their own corrupt benefit.

Obviously the intent was to fashion a wild, anarchically
amusing sort of farce, but nothing works. The situations pile
up chaotically, without the inner logic needed for an amusingly
complicated comedic situation to develop, and the cast
abandons every hint of subtlety in a futile attempt to generate
a few laughs. It’s hardly surprising that MacDonald and
Chappelle resort to such rabid hamminess, but it’s depressing
to see old pros DeVito, Stritch and Hemsley deliver shrill,
bug-eyed performances that are instantly irritating. (It’s
cruel, incidentally, to force the audience to observe both
Stritch and Hemsley in various states of undress at this
advanced stage of their careers.)

“Screwed” is also tonally way off, with surprisingly unpleasant
bursts of violence periodically punctuating the supposedly
comic antics. When one watches as gushes of MacDonald’s
blood splatter over walls when Stritch’s dog bites into his
hand during the initial kidnapping, the effect is about as far
from funny as one could imagine; it’s positively revolting.

Given the miserable quality of the picture, it’s hardly
surprising that the turkey’s been sitting on a studio shelf
for a couple of years; and as is usual in such cases, it’s
only gotten more fetid with age. There are signs that someone
tinkered with it prior to release–chunks of necessary
exposition (especially material related to MacDonald’s
girlfriend Sarah Silverman, who pops up without without being
introduced and then reappears without rhyme or reason
thereafter) are lacking, presumably lopped off by the blade
of some editor. Under normal circumstances one might grumble
that the attenuation impedes the coherence of the story, but
in this case it’s what’s been allowed to remain that’s a valid
cause for complaint; surely no one will want any more of
“Screwed.”