There’s a wall in my office building that makes me ill every time I pass. As some bizarre motivational tribute for employees, each member of the floor is photoshopped into an individual glam studio guitar-laden stage performance shot with the caption reading, “ROCK STAR!” These sickening depictions represent, for me, the worst of corporate behavior – the substitution of actual motivational behavior with cost-effective tacky motivational behavior and the belief that all employees are cookie cutter, easily manipulated, and even more easily replaced entities. Yes, we all wish we were rock stars. Isn’t it lovely? That’s me as a rock star. I can’t wait to deface mine. Rock star is a dream I never had, and not just for lack of talent. Something about the realization that, intentional or not, a life devoted to vapid adoration and hedonistic pleasure kinda gets old fast.
Speaking of lives devoted to vapid adoration and hedonistic pleasure, Al Pacino Danny Collins opened last week to remind us how horrible it is to be an icon. You’re not going to believe this is an enjoyable film. And no one will blame your disbelief. You might catch a glimpse of Al Pacino prancing about while “singing” the new-but-deliberately-weather-beaten-sounding iconic diddy “Baby Doll.” You might see the trailer with Al in a silk shirt unbuttoned to his chest and a gaudy diamond earring, loudly flaunting a junior pompadour and a cocaine-filled cross and say, “this is exactly the kind of caricature hooey I’ve come to loathe.” Maybe you won’t use the word, “hooey.” I dunno. But the sentiment will definitely be there.
The key to Danny Collins (Pacino) is that he’s really a nice guy; he just got caught up in his own celebrity. That’s probably the easiest thing in the world to do. What’s the downside of endless wealth, drugs and supermodels throwing themselves at you? Only the part where Wired Al discovers at age 92 or so that his life is empty. The money and fame haven’t actually bought him happiness, or not the happiness that he wants. Awwww. As a birthday present, his manager (Christopher Plummer) delivers an as-yet-unseen letter John Lennon wrote to Danny in 1971. Suddenly, Danny is inspired to track down an estranged son, move into a nearby Holiday Inn and write the album he never got a chance to write.
And Danny really does have his heart in the right place – he departs from his cheating fiancée with a kiss and hug, urging her to remain in his mansion with her benefitted friend. He does muscle his way into the
lives of son Tom (Bobby Cannavale) and daughter-in-law Samantha (Jennifer Garner). We expect that. When he lavishes gifts like a shopping spree and an exclusive school for their ADHD child, we expect that, too. What we don’t expect is how sweetly he treats his new potential love interest (Annette Bening – at least she’s in the google satellite image of his age range) and his desire to see Tom all the way through a personal crisis. Danny Collins is a wonderful reflection on the understanding that the parents you have are often not the parents you want – so you kind of have to accept what is given rather than what is or was needed. I didn’t at all expect parental insight from a film about Mick Jagger.
I’ve never considered Bobby Cannavale as anything but a space consumer; this is his breakout film. He may not have the mug for features roles, but they’ll get bigger after this for sure. And, let’s face it, I haven’t enjoyed Pacino in years. It’s possible I still didn’t enjoy him here, but, my word, he came closer to finding human soul here while playing a cliché than he has in a decade while playing himself.
Grandpa rocker Danny C. embraces the fear
A family connection he needs, that is clear
Hard not to be cheesy
When life is a breeze-y
I don’t know his song and lyrics or they would be here
Rated R, 106 Minutes
D: Dan Fogelman
W: Dan Fogelman
Genre: Redemption
Type of person most likely to enjoy this film: Estranged fathers
Type of person least likely to enjoy this film: “Get off the stage, grandpa!”
