by Joe Hammerschmidt
[NOTE: This film originally reviewed as part of the 2018 Seattle International Film Festival]
As if there had been any doubt over the proximity of a given awards season darling making a first impression on Seattle audiences at a given film festival, what viewers were treated to on closing night could have footing as maybe the fourth or fifth Oscar contender to come out of those screens committed to sharing a string of memorable experiennce. Chief among them for this writer, the joy of his first time with a Gus Van Sant film. Seriously, I’m not kidding. It’s not essentially ideal conditions for a directorial introduction, considering his work history, including notable Oscars for Milk and Good Will Hunting. After a trio of major misfires (can’t say for sure if they are even that bad), his return feels rather natural, if not painfully restrained. What does matter at the top of the list, is the director’s profound affection for one of his honest heroes, almost to an obsessive plane.
In Dont Worry, He Won’t Get Far on Foot, Van Sant takes another spin on the standard biopic, gravitates above the norm, but thematically struggles to stay consistent. Without frequent collaborator Joaquin Phoenix riding shotgun, the emotional value may have proven more stagnant than what one would prefer. He once more envelopes himself into a character, largely enough to separate the actor we know from the role we’re being introduced to. This time, it’s handicapped cartoonist John Callahan, best known for his. It’s all his story right from the get-go, through multiple flashbacks, timely use of his own drawings, and even a song of his over the end credits. Phoenix is nothing less than the physical manifestation of this subtle anti-hero, and he proceeds so effectively, until it doesn’t.
Van Sant’s adaptation of Callahan’s autobiography is rather committed to doing right by his legacy, and his backstory. Starting as a rebellious, aloof gardener with a bit of a drinking problem, a night of bad choices and lousy karma with close friend Dexter (Jack Black), leaves him a post-car crash quadraplegic. Bouncing back equals a sudden requirement for sobreity, and with it a rediscovery of the true joys of humanity. Among his friends in therapy, the openly gay, authoritative yet heavenly Donnie Green (a rather transformative Jonah Hill, unrecognizable from where his career trajectory was a decade prior); the enigmatic Hans (Udo Kier, who one couldn’t possibly get enough of; underused, once again); the unapologetic Reba (a fantastic Beth Ditto); tendency-prone Mike (Mark Webber), and the room-recognizing presence of Corky (Kim Gordon). They all offer a valuable insight by which John feels his resolve slip, rise, then slip. He cannot stay on a singular course of action, but that high uncertainty is where Phoenix most excels in, valuing his relationships like the last great hope for redemption. That, and his skill for drawing crude yet impactful newspaper doodles, brave enough to poke fun at disability, ensure readers it may not always be as bad, and that certain politicians will never stop making costly mistakes.
Trying to balance the quirkiness that would come naturally from Callahan in his comics, with the bitter reality of his profound situation, that’s the obvious struggle ol’ Gus ignores to lean more on the leading figure’s positives, the third act not all easy to take seriously with its emotional hubris crumbling down in front of us. as much as the artist’s fluctuation, our empathy toward the man and those around him will veer too far off course. Not the largest waste of effort, though. Try as she might, Rooney Mara portraying a Swedish-ish nurse who briefly wins John’s affections cannot leave any large impression on the viewer. Nothing unlike Phoenix, who’s on another level of believability; while Ditto and Kier, and even Mr. Black deserved a little more time to light up our antihero’s life, for better or worse. But of course, it all comes back to Jonah freaking Hill. In a special character mirroring a purest Messiah-like quality, from prophetic reminders to “drink water”, to a demeanor lacking in any hesitation or aggression, Hill goes all out for a warm, cozy middle ground that can keep the film on its otherwise lack of firm footing. He aims for no higher or lower than true hippie transcendence, pulling off the easiest smiles.
But of course, Van Sant’s lack of clear focus shows a nearly decadent fanboy-ish quality to his biopic approach. He’s earned it, he adores the artist enough to tell his story right, a rather unexpected one, one whose figure at the front you may not know, but luckily will after embarking on this quaint journey of rediscovery. Yet going too laidback may have its consequences, so do take heed. Don’t Worry, He Won’t Get Far on Foot won’t please everyone, its overly casual nature may turn some serious biopic enthusiasts away. Everyone else may be enthralled by a leading man who’s not in his tallest heights, but remains comfortable when at his/most profound. With tears in his eyes, and soulfulness around his heart, Phoenix wins out. Hill wins out. Gus would’ve benefitted from a few rewrites to fix the tonal shifts, but nonetheless delivers the goods. While i can’t stack this up against some/of greater achievements, his directorial prowess will be something to keep an eye on, and stay hydrated for.
Don’t Worry, He Won’t Get Far on Foot opens in Seattle this weekend, four locations: SIFF Uptown, AMC Seattle 10, Regal Thornton Place, and Cinemark Lincoln Square; expansion in coming weeks; rated R; 115 minutes.
