Summer of Sam

Everyone is pissed off at Spike Lee for his new film about the 1970s serial killer, including the culprit himself, David Berkowitz, and the filmmaker's own fans. Summer of Sam is a misconceived mess, with enough flashes of brilliance to make it seem truly criminal. The idea is smart, bold, and provocative -- how the killer's rampage in blue-collar neighborhoods of Queens and the Bronx instigated and illuminated the intolerance and violence underlying those communities. But Lee's treatment is at best a rehash of Martin Scorsese's Mean Streets and Driver Taxi, and overall a listless mishmash of sloppy narrative, erratic tone, phony verisimilitude, and smug platitudes.

Among the residents of the country-club section of the Bronx whose life is altered by the "Son of Sam" is Vinny (a whiny John Leguizamo), a local hairdresser who can't stay faithful to his straitlaced wife, Dionna (Mira Sorvino, surprisingly feisty). At least Vinny feels guilty about his strayings; his long-time friend Ritchie (Adrien Brody) revels in the transgression of punk culture, sporting a spiky mohawk, playing in a rock band, and, on the sly, baring it all for a few bucks at a Manhattan gay club. When the neighborhood forms vigilante groups to hunt down the killer, Ritchie gets fingered as a suspect, and Vinny has to choose between loyalty and conformity.

Lee almost succeeds in drawing a parallel between Berkowitz, who blamed his crimes on Satanic messages from his neighbor's dog, and his characters, who seek out scapegoats for their own vices. Too bad Lee's writing isn't as effective as Berkowitz's: the letters the killer sent to the police and the media during his rampage provide some of the film's creepiest moments -- unlike Lee in this movie, Berkowitz at least had a vision. Despite an ending that evokes some of the power of Do the Right Thing, Summer of Sam is way off target. At the Harbour Mall, Opera House, and Showcase cinemas.
-- Peter Keough