American Splendor (2003)
While many "film geeks" (you know
who you are) rush out to see the latest comic book
incarnation of Marvel and DC characters brought to
the silver screen, those of us into art films and
more eclectic films have found ourselves salivating
while awaiting the release of next film based on an
"underground" comic. These dark and often melancholy
films have become quite popular with the cinematic
intelligentsia. Unfortunately, many of the critics
in America know absolutely nothing about the dark
side of existence (how else can you explain Michael
Medved, Bill Harris and Harry Knowles?) They simply
are not able to distinguish good "art" films from
the merely adequate, especially when it comes to films
based on underground comics and true societal "outsiders."
That's why a film like "American Splendor" has gotten
such a good buzz. Dumb critics THINK they are supposed
to like it. They just don't know any better.
Sure, "American Splendor" is better
than most of the films that are out there, but it
doesn't really hold up at all when compared to "Ghost
World" or the amazing documentary "Crumb." In many
ways, the film tries to go to the next level that
should be ascended after these two films and tries
to become something unique and fresh. And it nearly
succeeds. But the only way that filmmakers and writers
Shari Springer Berman and Robert Pulcini can think
of doing something new is to simply combine the aforementioned
films. What we end up with is a watered-down amalgam
that just doesn't work as well as it should. "Splendor"
is nowhere near as dark and poignant as "Ghost World"
and nowhere near as devastating and delightful as
"Crumb."
Then again, maybe this inadequacy
is due, in part, to the "source" of the film, Harvey
Pekar. Part comic-book character, part human being,
Harvey is himself an amalgam. The film mainly reflects
his comic books and his comic books are reflections
of his life. Shouldn't a film about Harvey's life
also be part comic book as well? Shouldn't it mix
elements of film, documentary and animation? Perhaps
it should but these elements just seem like aestheticly
cool imagery in the film. None of it really means
anything. And worse yet, Pekar's narration is often
quite pretentious and in-jokey stupid. "Here's the
guy playing me. He doesn't look like me," Pekar says
when Paul Giamatti appears early in the film. He doesn't
say it like he's being interviewed. He says it like
he's reading a written line of narration. It all seems
rather lifeless. (But then again, Pekar doesn't have
a life - arrgghhh).
There were two things about "American
Splendor" that I did like. One was Giamatti's performance.
Moving from mere mimicry into the realm of the ethereal,
Giamatti provides more than just a nearly living Xerox
of Pekar. But his work here isn't fantastic merely
because he adequately relates Pekar to us. Rather,
Giamatti provides a character we can really care about.
He becomes the loveable grouse that Pekar cannot be
in the documentary moments of the film. Giamatti makes
us care about Pekar so that when Pekar appears in
the film (sometimes in real footage not made for the
film - like some of his Letterman appearances), we
can relate to the man. And the ending of the film
hinges on us caring about Pekar. Only Giamatti can
make this work, even though it is the actual Pekar
who appears in the film's anti-climactic epilogue.
Giamatti, the actor, makes us love Pekar, the man,
in a way that Pekar never could himself. In other
words, what Robert Crumb and a host of other animators
have done for Pekar over the years on paper (made
him human), Giamatti does on film.
Also interesting is Pekar's coworkers
and friends who became underground celebrities because
of the comics. Even though they are played by actors
here, like Pekar, many of them also appear in the
film in the documentary sections. The most enjoyable
of these is Toby Radloff and his cinematic alter-
ego, actor Judah Friedlander. The scenes here with
this "character," whether with Giamatti or the real
Pekar, really make us love our protagonist even more.
Pekar has a gentle affinity with the down-trodden
and the abnormal people in his realm, like Radloff,
and that makes him a wondrous person to get to know.
(A cool scene with all four of these characters has
Giamatti and Friedlander sitting in the background
watching Pekar and Toby talk. Giamatti's face reflects
our own as his smile at the beauty of the two unusual
real people's relationship echos our feelings of wonder).
In the end, I guess I wished that
"American Splendor" were actually two separate films.
The fictionalized account by Giamatti would make a
fine film all its own. The documentary footage with
Pekar would make for an astounding and important addition
to the DVD release. Mixed together, the subtle, all
too human beauty that is Pekar often seems like a
contrived mess.
Notes:
Also with James Urbaniak as Robert
Crumb, Hope Davis, Molly Shannon, and Donal Logue
(also playing Pekar in a way).
Ted Hope is a producer.
The film won prestigious awards
at Cannes and Sundance. (It debuted at the latter).
Viewed at the Dobie in Austin in
September 2003.
