Danny Collins (12A.)
Directed by Dan Folgelman.
Starring Al Pacino, Annette Bening, Bobby Cannavale, Jennifer Garner and Christopher Plummer. 105 mins
So Al Pacino is a famous rock star who suddenly discovers a letter that John Lennon wrote to him nearly four decades earlier. Now you're probably looking at that sentence thinking how's that going to work out. Where's the story? And how exactly is Pacino ever going to be a rock star? Danny Collins is one of those films that you can't get a grip on before you see it, and 105 minutes later you are still largely in the dark.
Where they are going with it is up and over the redemptive arc. In the early 70s the young Collins tells an interviewer (nice cameo by Nick Offerman) that he is nervous about becoming rich and famous. Jump to the present day where, realizing he's a sell out, he dumps his superficial LA lifestyle, starts to write songs, tries to connect with the son that he has never met (Cannavale) and moves into a Hilton hotel where he starts to play matchmaker with the staff and hit on the manageress (Bening.)
Pacino's performance, and the film as a whole, flirts furiously with being completely awful. Pacino is nobody idea of a rock star, and not just because he really can't sing (not a note, he wouldn't even be able to do the talky-singing big stars use to make it through a musical.) He can play washed up, he can play ridiculous and he could play any other kind of showbiz veteran, but not rock'n'roll. On stage he's ridiculous, but not Jagger ridiculous. He's Vegas showman silly, and when you see him on stage he's like Frankie Vaughan rattling his cufflinks through a rendition of Give Me The Moonlight. If anything he's like an old Jewish stand up, a whore for the limelight who is always on. When he arrives at the hotel he's instantly working the room, trying to set people up. His pursuit of the reluctant Bening seems driven less by love or lust but by a desire to use some lines on her. “We have great patter,” he says affirmatively.
(Could it be that Danny Collins is meant as some kind of reflection of Pacino's own career? In the early 70s prologue the interviewer compares his writing with Lennon, but in the next scene we see him on stage in the present day banging out his biggest hit, the lyrics to which are “Hey Baby Doll, what's going on?” The young Collins is Michael Corleone Pacino; the older Collins is Who Ha Pacino. But I don't think that works because the quiet, still intensity of his Godfather performances was the exception even then. In the early films he was already a ham, always ready to invite audiences to say hello to his little friends. Anyway, unlike De Niro, the old Pacino isn't a sell out or dead eyed travesty of his younger self; you can still feel his passion for his craft. )
The film has little to no sense of shame, so when Pacino tries to connect with his family the script dumps loads of disease and misery at it. And yet, and yet, every now and then it'll throw you into a loop, not go the obvious route. So the delightful/obnoxious grand daughter who is always saying cute things turns out to have ADHD and be a bit of handful. Pacino's character has learned to live with his ridiculousness and the film has too. It's very loose and easy going, and there are lots of moments that look improvised and they are infectiously funny and really draw you into it. This film has great patter.
Serpico review
Salome review
Danny Collins (12A.)
Directed by Dan Folgelman.
Starring Al Pacino, Annette Bening, Bobby Cannavale, Jennifer Garner and Christopher Plummer. 105 mins
So Al Pacino is a famous rock star who suddenly discovers a letter that John Lennon wrote to him nearly four decades earlier. Now you're probably looking at that sentence thinking how's that going to work out. Where's the story? And how exactly is Pacino ever going to be a rock star? Danny Collins is one of those films that you can't get a grip on before you see it, and 105 minutes later you are still largely in the dark.
Where they are going with it is up and over the redemptive arc. In the early 70s the young Collins tells an interviewer (nice cameo by Nick Offerman) that he is nervous about becoming rich and famous. Jump to the present day where, realizing he's a sell out, he dumps his superficial LA lifestyle, starts to write songs, tries to connect with the son that he has never met (Cannavale) and moves into a Hilton hotel where he starts to play matchmaker with the staff and hit on the manageress (Bening.)
Pacino's performance, and the film as a whole, flirts furiously with being completely awful. Pacino is nobody idea of a rock star, and not just because he really can't sing (not a note, he wouldn't even be able to do the talky-singing big stars use to make it through a musical.) He can play washed up, he can play ridiculous and he could play any other kind of showbiz veteran, but not rock'n'roll. On stage he's ridiculous, but not Jagger ridiculous. He's Vegas showman silly, and when you see him on stage he's like Frankie Vaughan rattling his cufflinks through a rendition of Give Me The Moonlight. If anything he's like an old Jewish stand up, a whore for the limelight who is always on. When he arrives at the hotel he's instantly working the room, trying to set people up. His pursuit of the reluctant Bening seems driven less by love or lust but by a desire to use some lines on her. “We have great patter,” he says affirmatively.
(Could it be that Danny Collins is meant as some kind of reflection of Pacino's own career? In the early 70s prologue the interviewer compares his writing with Lennon, but in the next scene we see him on stage in the present day banging out his biggest hit, the lyrics to which are “Hey Baby Doll, what's going on?” The young Collins is Michael Corleone Pacino; the older Collins is Who Ha Pacino. But I don't think that works because the quiet, still intensity of his Godfather performances was the exception even then. In the early films he was already a ham, always ready to invite audiences to say hello to his little friends. Anyway, unlike De Niro, the old Pacino isn't a sell out or dead eyed travesty of his younger self; you can still feel his passion for his craft. )
The film has little to no sense of shame, so when Pacino tries to connect with his family the script dumps loads of disease and misery at it. And yet, and yet, every now and then it'll throw you into a loop, not go the obvious route. So the delightful/obnoxious grand daughter who is always saying cute things turns out to have ADHD and be a bit of handful. Pacino's character has learned to live with his ridiculousness and the film has too. It's very loose and easy going, and there are lots of moments that look improvised and they are infectiously funny and really draw you into it. This film has great patter.
Serpico review
Salome review
