2 hrs, color, 1990
The
recent death of Robin Williams has naturally triggered memories of outstanding performances he has given on the
wide screen, and while I recall moments of great hilarity he has created, ones
I hope to view again and enjoy again, and in a style that no one has been able
to ape, we must not forget that he has made dramatic contributions that are
just as native to his genius as the comic ones.
Likewise they too are endemic to his special talent; no one else could
have pulled them off exactly as he did.
Perhaps the most low keyed of all is the portrayal of Dr. Malcolm Sayer,
a neurologist who conducted an amazing experiment at a chronic hospital in the
Bronx in the summer of 1969 that became known worldwide.
Sayer,
as Williams portrays him, is a very quiet, retiring and humble man who in his
quiet, retiring and humble manner implores his staff to allow him the
administering of a new drug to a few dozen victims of a largely paralyzing
disease, whose symptoms he traces to encephalitis. Encouraged and supported by a nursing
assistant named Eleanor (Julie Kavner) he believes heartily that his patients
are not brain dead as he has been informed by his superiors but “alive on the
inside,” and he manages to press his case to get miraculous results. He demonstrates what we might call
deferential, self-effacing persistence.
Although cast alongside a more boisterous player during the course of
the film, Williams generates a magnetic field that brought forth rare inner
qualities for which he had not been noted up to that point – the year of
release being 1990.
That
other actor is none other than Robert Deniro giving one of his most powerful
and remarkable portrayals as Leonard Lowe, a man who has resided in that
hospital for over thirty years unable to move his limbs or to speak or to eat
or even to turn his head without assistance, one of the group under Sayer’s
care who display varied manifestations of this immobility. Some can shuffle around the floor; all of
them can catch a ball if it is tossed at them but without bending an arm or
leg. Frankly as a group they strike a
rather hideous pose. Using Leonard for a
successful trial run, Sayer amazes everyone including himself when soon he has
them all awakening from a years-long catatonia, speaking and walking and
discovering the world anew.
Suddenly
for these resurrected individuals it is the little things that take on gigantic
importance. Leonard awakes at nighttime
and cannot understand where everybody on the ward has gone and why the place is
so quiet, when he is wide awake. He has
some difficulty distinguishing day from night and is afraid to go to sleep
after the following day passes. Sayer
has to assure him that he will not stay asleep as before but will wake up when
it is morning again and that that will be another day. He is curious about his grownup image in the
mirror, the first reflection of himself he has seen since he was nine years
old. He learns how to eat corn on the
cob, how to shave for the first time, how to dress himself, how to comb his
hair that has grown to never before seen lengths and is mind blown by the sight
of street scenes through which he is escorted – mobs of people milling around
in unfamiliar dress. He discovers rock
and roll and goes into a frenzy like that of a child when he is allowed to wade
into the water at the shore.
Sayer
is frightened, wondering what kind of strange Pandora’s Box he has opened. His most overwhelming moment and the
audience’s most hilarious moment consists of a visit he and his patients make
to a dance floor, where a swing orchestra is playing music that was popular
when many of the patients were younger and healthy, before their affliction
came about. Suddenly he has a lot of
turned on, swinging and swaying and jitterbugging folk, one of whom pulls him
against his will onto the floor kicking up his heels – this staid, private,
almost antisocial man who has a devil of a time keeping up with everyone. I laughed myself silly during both of my screenings. A most touching and sweet diversion is
delivered by a woman named Lucy (Alice Drummond), who rediscovers the voice she
once had, singing “Just a Song at Twilight.”
But
of course the effect of the drug is not permanent, and Leonard, who starts
taking it some time before the rest of them do, is the first to manifest
retrograde symptoms, and here is where the full throttle skill of Deniro’s
acting kicks in. I doubt if a majority
of even the most professional players could master the tics and shakes and
shudders and spasms and seizures that he has to simulate. We can only dimly imagine the hours and days
and maybe even weeks he had to spend mastering them before confronting the
camera.
Contrast
has always been an essential aspect of any work of art in any medium, and the
two male stars of “Awakenings” provide a most potent manifestation of it. You have Deniro rattling the rafters, tearing
up the scenery, openly volcanic alongside Williams playing it cool, soft and
poised. Both
are fine tuned, exactly what they are supposed to be and they make a
spellbinding combination. Williams,
though he may seem upstaged in the familiar sense of the term, is just as vital
to the drama and is just as adroit in the use of body language and visible
emotion as his costar. Having been an
actor myself who has played both types, I can truthfully attest to this state
of play. The softer portrayal can appear
to be the easier, but if done with earnest it can be the most demanding of the
two. There are many examples of this
phenomenon in cinema history. Richard
Burton seems for a spell a mere straight man in “Becket” to Peter O’Toole’s
complex, conflicted Henry II, but he is anything but that. Jack Lemmon seemed a wearisome Mr. Uptight
next to Walter Matthau in “The Odd Couple,” but his is actually the most
demanding of the two roles, a fact that becomes clear upon close, careful
inspection. Bette Davis is a ghastly
scourge of horror in “Whatever Happened to Baby Jane,” while Joan Crawford, the
victim of her abuse, who barely moves a muscle, is a quiet force to contend
with from her wheelchair, but just as essential to the conflict.
Williams
could have merely walked through the part, but his work here is a study in the
brilliant use of subtlety to unearth the soul and psyche of a subject. There is more to what he does than at first
meets the eye.
And
it is Sayer who gets in the last word of reflection, when he is talking to his
fellow physicians assembled. In trying
to make sense of what the experiment has meant to posterity, despite its
disappointing outcome, Sayer declares that the awakenings could not have come
about if not for the adamant will of the patients themselves. “The human spirit is more powerful than any
drug.” So it is!
The
screenplay by Steven Zaillian (to gain acclaim for his writing on “Schindler’s
List” just a few years later) is based upon a book by Oliver Sacks, M.D., and
the picture was directed by Penny Marshall with a knowing, sensitive approach
and a skillful hand. As I announced when
I opened up this blog, I will be taking a look at old movies from time to time,
especially those like this one that have not dated and are eternally new.
To read other entries in my
blog, please consult its website:
enspiritus.blogspot.com. To learn
about me consult on the website the blog entry for August 9, 2013.
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