Robin Williams

Thomas Brown once noted that death is the cure for all illnesses. This is a morbid way to start a tribute for one of our national treasures, Robin Williams, who died yesterday of an apparent suicide. But let me explain. In "What Dreams May Come," one of his most underrated films, Williams plays a grieving husband whose wife commits suicide. When he, too, later dies, he discovers that she is not in Heaven waiting for him. He is understandably angry, demanding to know why his wife is being punished simply because she ended her suffering. It's a powerful scene, one that could provoke thought and dialogue about suffering and dying.

It appears evident that Williams spent the last several years of his life suffering. He was in and out of rehab, battling drug and alcohol addiction for years. He recently divorced his second wife; his sitcom on CBS, "The Crazy Ones," was canceled after only one season; and the majority of his films in the past decade have been considered flops. Clearly, these were taking a toll. No one deserves suffering, and no one deserves to be blamed for attempting to end their suffering. I feel deeply sorry for Williams and his many family members and for the world, for we have truly lost a decent human being and a comedic genius. I cannot, though, but feel at least an ounce of satisfaction that he will no longer suffer. No one deserves such suffering.

About his acting, where to start? He first got America to adore him through his guest appearances on "Happy Days" as an eccentric alien in the era of sci-fi re-emergence. His character eventually got his own TV show, "Mork and Mindy." There were his dramatic roles, like playing the introverted doctor opposite Robert De Niro in Penny Marshall's "Awakenings," one of the best films of 1990. In his review of the film, Stanley Kauffmann in the New Republic called Williams a "unique maniacal treasure, part competent actor, part Jonathan Winters spin-off, part socio-political surgeon." Williams understood that there were essentially no laughs in the film, and that's how the role should be played. There wasn't even a slight hint of the screwball Tasmanian devil he so often became onscreen. In Mike Nichols' "The Birdcage," he understood that the humor there called for him to be the straight man (no pun intended), and while there were moments where Nichols let Williams be Williams, the actor understood that he often needed to cede the humor to Nathan Lane, Gene Hackman, Dianne Wiest and Hank Azaria. It is one of his very best works.

He knew how to play terrifying as well. 2002 was his Year of Hitchcock. The first pitted him against Al Pacino in Christopher Nolan's "Insomnia," taunting his opponent, an LA cop (Pacino) suffering from sleeplessness in Alaska while trying to solve a murder mystery. "Don't worry, Will," he whispers. "You can sleep when you're dead." That same year he played a terribly lonely photo developer who becomes dangerously obsessed with a family in "One Hour Photo." It was the dark characters that made Williams, an actor trained at Juilliard, the most interesting to watch. A perfect example is the last terrific film he made: "World's Greatest Dad," in 2009. I wrote at the time that it was the perfect visualization of the human need to provoke the sympathy of others, and that it was one of Williams' best films.

But Robin Williams will most likely be remembered for his outrageously funny performances: rapidly spitting out humor and slight diatribes in "Good Morning Vietnam," which earned him his first Oscar nomination (he was also nominated for "Dead Poets Society," "The Fisher King," and won for "Good Will Hunting"); being as equally funny to children as to adults in "Fern Gully: The Last Rainforest" and Disney's "Aladdin," in which he improvised 16 hours of material, so much that apparently the Academy turned down a request to be nominated for Best Adapted Screenplay because so much of it was ad-libbed; and of course, his role as a divorced father so desperate to spend time with his children that he disguises himself as a British nanny in "Mrs. Doubtfire." I cannot think of a funnier performance on film, and it was a shame that he was not nominated for Best Actor.

I'm very skeptical of alternative medicine, and yet I can't not be intrigued by laugh therapy. Here's how the Cancer Center's page of the remedy opens: "We were born with the gift of laughter. Laughter is a natural medicine. It lifts our spirits and makes us feel happy. Laughter is a contagious emotion. It can bring people together. It can help us feel more alive and empowered."

Empowered. We are at our lowest when we are not. There are three obvious examples of how Williams utilized laughter therapy to empower others. The first regards his dear friend and roommate from Julliard. Lauren Lapalater at Buzzfeed has written a great article titled "The Lifelong Friendship of Robin Williams and Christopher Reeve." Read it, and you will come across a passage from Reeve's memoirs describing his fear heading into a risky surgery after his accident left him paralyzed: He describes a man walking in dressed as a doctor and speaking in a Russian accent, announcing that he was to perform a rectal exam on Reeve. Reeve wrote: "For the first time since the accident, I laughed. My old friend had helped me know that somehow I was going to be okay."

The second story involves another friend, Steven Spielberg, who directed Williams in "Hook," in which Williams plays a grown-up Peter Pan who has forgotten Neverland and now is a stern lawyer who doesn't spend time with his kids. Spielberg was filming "Schindler's List," an immensely taxing project that left him drained and depressed. It was Williams who called Spielberg, filming in Poland, to crack jokes and cheer him up. Spielberg called these "comic care packages over the telephone." The third example is not a real-life one, but a film: "Patch Adams." It's not a particularly good film, but it celebrates his unique gift of helping others through humor. Sometimes, that humor could be a bit too potent, as was the time he appeared on "Inside the Actor's Studio" (in what was probably the show's best episode). Apparently, an audience member was rushed to the hospital for a hernia--she was laughing so hard during Williams' appearance.

I haven't even mentioned his charity work: He was involved in about 50 charities, including the Christopher & Dana Reeve Foundation. With Billy Crystal and Whoopi Goldberg, he hosted "Comic Relief," raising funds to help the homeless. Crystal responded to the news on Twitter with simply "No words." Goldberg seconded: "BillyCrytal is right. There are NO words."

While death might be a cure, so too is laughter. Steve Allen told us that our world would be intolerable without laughter; John Cleese called laughter a force for democracy; Stephen Colbert noted that one cannot be laughing and be afraid at the same time. "If you're laughing," he said, "I defy you to be angry." And I defy you to find someone who has made us laugh as much as Robin Williams did. What great comfort laughing is, and what a great comfort Robin Williams has been to us all.

Read More →

Noah

In his exhaustive anthology of the history of violence called "The Better Angels of Our Nature," Steven Pinker starts with the Bible, which "depicts a world that, seen through our modern eyes, is staggering in its savagery." He cites Matthew White, who estimates that through 600 passages that discuss violence, the number of deaths is around 1.2 million--genocidal numbers. The victims of the flood would increase the number to 20 million.

Incidentally, Pinker's thesis is that humans are, contrary to the "if-it-bleeds-it-leads" philosophy of the media, actually becoming more peaceful, not more violent. He humorously opens his work by reminding us of the Cain killing Abel story: "With a world population of exactly four, that works out to a homicide rate of 25 percent, which is about a thousand times higher than the equivalent rates in Western countries today."

Director Darren Aronofksy embraces this violence. His "Noah" is heavy on it. At one point, the title character, played by Russell Crowe, throws a spear at an adversary. I can't wait for the action figure; it will make Paramount Pictures a fortune. Is this really a Darren Aronofky film? It is, and "Noah" is the great disappointment of the year. It feels like an amateurish undertaking filled with fairy tale dialogue. There are scenes with the Watchers (?), sort of fallen angels who are punished by being rocks. They are conflicted about helping Noah build the ark. Some of them are voiced perfectly (like by Frank Langella); others, not so much (like by Nick Nolte). (You could complain about how these rock things are not in the Bible, but as Aronofsky points out, neither is an E.T. finger-to-finger touch between God and Adam.) There are some positives--the scenery (filmed in Iceland) is otherworldly, and Aronofsky and his team have colored the world with blue, orange and green. It's completely surreal. ILM's imagery of the Watchers and the ark sometimes look realistic and innovative, and sometimes it does not. It has a certain quality reminiscent of Ray Harryhausen's work, but it fits. There is a massive battle in rain just as the maelstrom begins. It's exciting, but it doesn't fit.

Typically, movie reviews are required to include a paragraph or several explaining the plot. Is it necessary here? Probably not. You likely know the plot. The fourth story in the Bible, God has become angry with humans and has decided to kill them. But a very select few (Noah and his family) will be saved by building an ark and putting two of every animal on it. Martin Scorsese has talked about how the movies that have stayed with him the longest were the ones that didn't focus on plot so much as character, mood, and style. But with "Noah," despite our familiarity with the story, the plot is more interesting than everything (and everyone) else.

Crowe is reunited with his co-star from "A Beautiful Mind," Jennifer Connelly. She's not particularly good here, but most of it's not her fault--she's given such poor dialogue and not much else to do other than try and decide if she wants to speak in an American or British accent. The same goes for Emma Watson, who can't seem to not raise an eyebrow in each of her scenes. Her co-star from "The Perks of Being a Wallflower," though, Logan Lerman, does a fine job. He plays Ham, Noah's middle son (the one who is eventually cursed by Noah), jealous and sexually frustrated. The reason for the curse has divided scholars for generations, and yet one is indirectly provided here (and actually, there's not much of a cursing so much as an inability to "fix something that is broken"). Anthony Hopkins plays Methuselah, Noah's grandfather. The saying "as old as Methuselah" comes from the idea that this Biblical character apparently lived the longest, dying at a ripe old age of 969 (which is surely possible). It's easy to see why this saying is accurate. In virtually every scene he's in, Methuselah just wants someone to bring him berries. He finally gets them, and how happy he becomes. Hopkins has never, to my knowledge, given us a bad performance, but he has made a handful of bad films, and this is one of them. Finally, Ray Winstone is an effective villain. He plays Tubal-cain, a descendant of Cain. Winstone does the expected hissing and such, but he reveals that this is a somewhat interesting character, for his (and Noah's) confusion and frustration have plagued humans for eternity. In essence, these two men must be saying to themselves, "I pray, and yet I hear nothing."

As for Crowe, he has always had an impressive presence on screen in a wide variety of films: "L.A. Confidential," "The Insider," "Gladiator," "Master and Commander: The Far Side of the Universe," "American Gangster," "Man of Steel." His presence is here as well in his characterization of Noah. Aronofsky has said that his depiction of Noah embraces a balance between justice and mercy. Noah, however, through much of this film, leans toward the former, succeeding in getting everyone to hate him. His son pleads with him as their fellow human beings drown. "They are just people," he says. Noah's reply is terse: "There is no room for them." When it is revealed that on board the ark, Ila (Watson) has miraculously become pregnant (she is barren), he is sure that this will infuriate the Creator and he promises to destroy the child if it is a girl. The accident of birth.

My expectations of this film were so high not because it's a Russell Crowe movie or because it's a movie about the ark or anything else other than the fact that it's directed by Darren Aronofsky. Think of his previous films--"Requiem for a Dream," "The Fountain," "The Wrestler," "Black Swan." I opened by asking if "Noah" really is an Aronofsky film. I'm still not sure. His theme of obsession, so prevalent in other movies--drugs in "Requiem for a Dream," lost love in "The Fountain," a comeback in "The Wrestler," and perfection in "Black Swan"--is somewhat noticeable here in that Noah is obsessed with obeying the Creator and not with helping his fellow humans. But everything else is so distracting that one couldn't possibly contemplate much on this theme. This is indeed an Aronofsky film, but unfortunately it's a bad one. Still, he's arguably the most exciting director around; certainly the most exciting younger director. I'm confident his next film will be better.

Read More →

Guardians of the Galaxy

I don't think I ever anticipated nodding my head along to "I Want You Back" while watching a Marvel Comics film set in space. But there I was, doing such a thing. In what is one of the most joyous scenes in the film, the audience seemed to be filled with happiness as...well, it's best left unexplained for now. Just watch it, and I hope you will smile.

The movie opens with the unearthly "I'm Not in Love." Then, we see a man in an "Iron Giant"-like mask, walking around a barren, rainy planet. When he reaches his destination, he removes the helmet--it's Chris Pratt, in our first scene with him. He puts on some headphones and starts dancing to "Come and Get Your Love." Pratt, who explained that "acting is already embarrassing," not only has pretty good moves but really seems to be enjoying himself.

This is a Marvel movie, right?

It is. I have disliked many of the other Marvel films (especially "Iron Man" and "The Avengers") so much that I had low expectations for "Guardians of the Galaxy." But it's a great summer film, and a great soundtrack certainly helps it. Director James Gunn has described his approach to the music of the film as "holistic," and he played them on set during film. But a great soundtrack only takes you so far--comedy can help tremendously, as well. At another point in the movie, our stars Pratt and Zoe Saldana are (about to) dance to Elvin Bishop's "Fooled Around and Fell in Love." In that scene, Gamora (Saldana) mentions that she is an assassin and therefore doesn't dance. "Really?" is his response. "Well, on my planet, we have a legend for people like you. It's called 'Footloose.' And in it, a great hero, named Kevin Bacon, teaches an entire city full of people with sticks up their butts that dancing, well, is the greatest thing there is." (Bacon was amused.) Dave Batista plays Drax the Destroyer, a chiseled prisoner who seeks revenge for the death of his family. Drax is of an alien species that, we are told, is a literal one--one that has no understanding of metaphors. But Drax disagrees. "Nothing goes over my head...My reflexes are too fast. I would catch it."

But the film's best comedy team is Bradley Cooper and Vin Diesel. Cooper has shown that he can do comedy just as easily as he can do drama (and sometimes, as is the case with "Silver Linings Playbook" and "American Hustle," he does both simultaneously). Here, he provides the majority of the film's laughs. He plays Rocket, the Han Solo character, but he's also a genetically altered, walking/talking/hissing raccoon. When we first meet him, he and his partner Groot are after a bounty for Peter Quill (Pratt), who incidentally prefers to be called Star-Lord (which is a corny name, but of course, so is Luke Skywalker). They try to catch Quill, who is being pursued by Gamora, and the four of them engage in a fairly exciting chase. Groot is voiced by Vin Diesel. What I was frequently reminding myself of while watching "Guardians of the Galaxy" was the famous story of how Bela Lugosi didn't want the title role of Frankenstein in 1931 because of the character's lack of dialogue. So the role went to Boris Karloff, who was then an unknown. So why would Diesel, who is a major star and has appeared in films as varied as "Saving Private Ryan" and the "Fast" series, want a role in which his only line is saying "I am Groot"? Well, think about it: Diesel has had quite the challenge before him. He has had to create arguably the most complex character in the film while only getting out three words consecutively. Diesel has also offered a much more interesting reason: his life since the death of his friend and co-star Paul Walker. Diesel appreciated how "Guardians of the Galaxy" allowed him to play a character who celebrates life in such a manner. Indeed, he is the spark of many of the most heartfelt moments in the movie. He's the only pure, innocent character. In one scene, he sacrifices, and in another, he gives a young girl a flower while smiling gently (and doesn't react in a similar fashion as Karloff did in a similar situation in "Frankenstein"), all while uttering in a simple fashion "I am Groot." So there's emotional weight here in the film. This is a story about friendship, camaraderie and reconciliation.

There's plenty to not like about "Guardians of the Galaxy." I'm not sure why some of the modern high-budget movies like the "Pirates of the Caribbean" series and the new "Planet of the Apes" movies look so fantastic but it's always the Marvel Studios movies that look like a mess. As Todd VanDerWerff pointed out in Vox, this movie is at its best when it's not a Marvel movie, calling it fun but frustratingly typical. But otherwise, it's quite a worthwhile movie-watching experience, especially to see such performances. Pratt really is a joy here. Rob Lowe was likely on to something when he called Pratt the "future of movie stars." Pratt will also appear in the new "Jurassic Park" film next year. Saldana now is the queen of franchises after also appearing in the "Star Trek" films and "Avatar." (She also appeared in the first "Pirates of the Caribbean" film but apparently had a miserable experience.) It's not simply our main cast who are exceptional in their roles. While Glenn Close and John C. Reilly, as a politician and police officer respectively, are disappointingly underused, Lee Pace (whom you might recognize--though he looks completely different--from "The Hobbit" films) and Karen Gill are quite good as the villains. For another entertaining scene, there's Benecio Del Toro in one of his best performances in years. Nearly stealing the show is Michael Rooker as Yondu, a blue-skinned bandit good-guy/bad-guy who can easily take out a host of adversaries while whistling.

I really don't think I've had so much fun at the movies in a long time. The audience applauded at the end. It's moments like those when I am reminded of what an experience the cinema is. And I got to watch space scoundrels dancing to the Jackson 5. Can't beat that.

Read More →

Boyhood

The joys of a young child can be ruined by the yelling of adults. This is how "Boyhood" starts. There's a young child (Ellar Coltrane) lying in the grass, unobtrusively staring at the sky. His mother (Patricia Arquette) picks him up and asks him how his day was, gently prodding him about negative progress reports she's receiving from his teacher. His mother mentions that the teacher claims Mason, the young boy, deliberately inserted rocks into the classroom's pencil sharpener. She keeps asking why he would do such a thing. His eventual response is he assumed that because the machines make pencils sharp, it would do the same of rocks. He is quite the curious young boy, as most children often are.

"Boyhood" is an epic story. A film like this--one that takes place over twelve years--would typically feature a young actor as Mason at age six, then another one in his early teen years, then perhaps a twenty-something actor as a college-bound young man. His parents would be played by Arquette and Ethan Hawke, but they would have makeup applied to them throughout the filming to at times make them look younger and other times to make them look older. Not so with "Boyhood."

"Boyhood," directed by Richard Linklater (who, with "Dazed and Confused," "Waking Life," "School of Rock" and the "Before" trilogy, has show that he is one of America's most versatile directors) is a most unusual movie-making experiment, one unlike just about any other American film before it. Unlike the traditional approach, it has literally been filmed over twelve years. Starting in 2002, Mason grows up before our eyes. "It's time for you to grow up!" could be the mantra of his story. His inquisitiveness shifts to cynicism but ultimately bends towards optimism. He's a "yeah, I guess" kind of kid who doesn't appear to excel as much as his sister (Lorelei Linklater); his eyebrows seem permanently arched, particularly in his preteen years. By the time he's an adult, he looks a bit like Peter Dinklage. But in every one of these twelve years, it seems to be that he is the brunt of every sort of lecture. Have you ever seen a more relaxed youth on the screen? I can't recall any scenes of tantrums or even fighting back. The film (and trailer) make excellent use of an exceptional song called "Hero" by Family of the Year. The lyrics "let me go; I don't want to be your hero" seem to exemplify Mason's persona.  

But ultimately, this movie is good, but not great. Hawke (Linklater's collaborator on the "Before" trilogy) overdoes it in a scene or two. The film goes on for about 40 minutes too long, and Linklater's dialogue is painful at many times in the film--virtually every line from a young person sounds incredibly artificial.

But what I do like most about "Boyhood" is the complexities, because such is life. You can find such complexities in the role of Mason's parents. Sarah Boxer in the Atlantic recently asked why all the mothers in Disney films die, arguing that the beneficiary of a dead mother in children's films is a good father. In "Boyhood," it's not so simple. Early on, the father certainly does, in the eyes of the two children, come across as "the nice one," giving away gifts liberally and taking his children out for bowling and French fries while their mother scolds them for not doing their homework. Hawke's character, we are told, has just returned from Alaska, where he worked. At various times in the story, he is unemployed. The mother, on the other hand, moves the kids around for better economic opportunities. Mason and his sister get to see their dad on the weekends, but their father is replaced by one alcoholic after the other. One of them is possibly suffering through post-traumatic stress disorder and the other has a frightening malicious disposition in his eyes. The latter is played by Marco Perella, and he's absolutely terrifying, even in his "normal" scenes. There haven't been scenes of childhood abuse this disturbing since "This Boy's Life" more than twenty years ago. Fortunately, Mason still has his two loving parents. This ultimately might be a story not necessarily of a young boy but of his relationship to his two loving parents; the parents might not love each other anymore, but they certainly love their children.

Read More →