Review
Review Date: 31-August-03
Spoiler Rating: Low
Juju Judgment: Jubilation!
American Splendor (2003)
If you go to a lot of movies, you become used to mediocrity. You find yourself looking for little things from which to derive satisfaction with the same old same old: a quirky line, a solid punch, the way an actor's hair curls, the cool font used in the title sequence. But every now and then a film comes along that makes you sit up and think, "Cinema is a creative art! And there are real artists working at it! Bless their scriptwriting, camera-holding, boundary-breaking little hearts!" "American Splendor" is the first such film I have seen this year. A singular blend of comedy, drama, documentary, and comic book, the movie is both stunningly brilliant and thoroughly entertaining.
Paul Giamatti stars as Harvey Pekar, a smart, unassuming, cantankerous file clerk from Cleveland who gained a modicum of fame by writing a comic book about everyday life called "American Splendor." Giamatti's flawless performance ought not to be overlooked come awards season, but his chances may be dimmed by the fact that he shares the screen with the real-life Pekar and an illustrated Pekar, both of whom are equally riveting. The mix of animated panels, reenacted scenes from Pekar's life, and conversations with the man himself (including clips from his appearances on David Letterman) creates an uncharacteristically well rounded view of the hero. Balding, gloomy, lonely, and self-loathing, Pekar is the kind of guy you run into at work or on the bus but never give a second thought, unless it's to write him off as weird. But as the movie (and the comic book) shows, you may discover something interesting when you scratch the surface of even the most nondescript fellow.
"American Splendor" takes place mostly in the 1970s and '80s (eras deliciously evoked by the soundtrack), after Pekar became friends with legendary comic artist Robert Crumb and began to put his thoughts on paper. Frustrated by two failed marriages and a dead-end job, Pekar channeled his disappointment with the hardships of an unspectacular life into a series of stories which were illustrated by Crumb and others. In addition to his own self-doubts, he tapped into the wealth of truthful humor offered by the eccentricities of his coworkers and the challenges of ordinary experiences like going to the grocery store. His lode of subject matter was later increased by a sudden (but ongoing) marriage to Joyce Brabner, a brusque but kindhearted hypochondriac (played in the reenactments by Hope Davis). Although Pekar's books have enjoyed a strong cult following, they never made enough money to allow him to quit his day job, or lifted him out of the shadow of bitter insignificance (by which I mean a psychological state and not just Cleveland). His story, then, gains added vibrancy by making the viewer feel that it's still going on, with all its potential for subtle richness, long after the show is over.
Spouses Robert Pulcini and Shari Springer Berman wrote and directed "American Splendor" with an obvious understanding and appreciation of Pekar, his work, and the art of filmmaking. They merge the carefully chosen bits of documentary, expertly staged biographical scenes, and animated strips from Pekar's comic into a seamless movie that transcends any one art form. As all good cinema should, it engages its viewers on several levels, offering visual stimulation, a strong sense of time and place, laugh-out-loud comedy, thought-provoking situations, and a fascinating central character who cannot fail to evoke empathy. Although the dazzling perfection of the first hour is not entirely matched in the second — when the story leaves behind smaller trials for a momentous Issue, due simply to the facts of Pekar's life — "American Splendor" never settles for tidy revelations, happy endings, broad punchlines, or the security of the mediocre. This is a movie that will merit multiple viewings and, I'm confident, will prove rewarding on every one.
Copyright © 2003 The Jujube (M. I. Kim). All rights reserved.
