(2 hrs
& 11 min, color, 1988)
An entire generation has been
born and grown to adulthood since this prize possession of a motion picture put
in its first appearance. Anyone under
thirty years of age has in all likelihood not seen it or at most has fleeting
memories of it. I was quite touched by
the picture when it was first put into release in theaters, but when I recently
viewed it again on a Netflix DVD, I was more than touched; I was profoundly
enthralled. And I found it easier to
identify with the characters for a very personal reason, which I will now try
to explain.
Charlie Babbitt (Tom Cruise)
is not the sort of individual with whom I would be likely to fraternize, if he
were real and if he were in my vicinity.
He is something of a rogue yuppie living in Los Angeles, a fast-talking
huckster of a salesman who thinks of himself as a smooth operator when in fact he
is a bit rough, coarse and heavy-handed and ever so impulsive a manipulator. His lowbrow impudence is matched by his raw
nerve. Right off the bat he and I have
nothing in common – except for one very crucial thing: We are both, as far as
we have been told, only children, the only offspring of our parents. (Yes, now you know something about me!) But how would it feel to discover by chance,
as Charlie does, that somewhere I have a sibling from whom I have been forcibly
separated? It would be culture shock and
future shock all in one payload.
Upon the death of his
estranged millionaire father (whom we never see), Charlie is informed that he
has inherited nothing but an old Buick convertible and some flower bushes,
while the three million dollars from the estate has been awarded to Raymond
Babbitt, the autistic brother he never knew he had, a permanent resident in a
mental institution in Cincinnati, Ohio that has been appointed keeper of the trust. Charlie is so furious that by a clever ruse
he succeeds in virtually kidnapping Raymond from the premises with the intent
of holding him for ransom in the amount of half the estate, the half to which
he feels he is entitled. Of course
Raymond does not comprehend that he is being kidnapped; he is just moving about
with another caretaker. This drastic
action is spurred on by huge financial troubles with which Charlie is
faced. He is a car dealer and has
imported four foreign cars which he incorrectly thought he could sell in a
hurry at a reduced price but finds the EPA breathing down his neck and
threatening confiscation if he does not meet their legal requirements within
hours.
The scheme, however, proves
to be easier planned than executed, mostly because Raymond is deathly afraid of
flying and Charlie can only get him back to California by driving across
country in the old Buick convertible, thereby eating into the limited time he
has before the EPA foreclosure. Further
complicating things is the fact that Raymond is a savant, in possession of a
super computer brain, about which the self-possessed and self-serving Charlie
is highly skeptical – at first. What
follows is probably the most unusual road picture sequence ever devised.
The only emotion to which
Raymond appears to be subject is extreme, irrational fear when he perceives he
is faced with bodily harm. Otherwise he
evidences no gut experience of the things he learns by rote or the digested
facts and quotes he repeats ad infinitum.
He is also fanatical about doing every little thing during the day at a
specified time – eating, watching certain TV programs, going to bed, etc. His life is precisely laid out in his mind
and any deviation from the routine threatens to bring on a crisis, which
Charlie is forced to deal with. A
reluctant party to the snatch is Charlie’s girlfriend Susanna (Valeria Golino),
who is also employed by him in his fly-by-night car dealership and goes along
for the ride until she sees that Charlie is not interested in Raymond as kin
but as someone to exploit, and she cuts out.
Many who saw “Rain Man” in
the 1980s and 1990s mistakenly concluded that all autistic people are savants,
with special powers of recall, which of course is not true. Very few are.
The characters in the story are fictitious, but it needs to be noted
that Barry Morrow, co-author of the original screenplay with Ronald Bass, based
Raymond upon a true life individual he had met who was so gifted. We can say, therefore, with some
justification that Hoffman’s portrayal has a basis in fact.
Hoffman’s portrayal! I could write pages and pages about it. And so could he. To create Raymond he had to abandon almost
all conventional approaches to acting.
He had to walk a certain way quite unlike his usual style of
ambulation. He had to learn to play
every scene without any eye contact, with either other characters in the
picture or the audience. But most
difficult of all he had to perfect a manner of speech that scarcely ever
changes pitch and has to sound like a mechanism triggered by external
influences and do so without seeming to imitate a robotic voice from a sci-fi
flick. What comes out is something
somewhere between a mutter and a drone with a nasal twang. He brings it off and sustains it
beautifully.
The film’s dramatic power
derives from a great use of contrast.
Charlie’s raging belligerence and fits of frustration play off of
Raymond’s unexcitable and remote demeanor to pack quite a wallop. This contrast by itself, however, could never
have sufficed without Morrow’s and Bass’s brilliant script. We are treated to some of the most incisive,
amusing dialogue our ears will ever hear.
Hoffman won the Best Actor
Oscar, which he richly deserved, but I think Cruise was at least entitled to
the nomination he did not get. As far as
I can perceive this could very well be his best performance on screen. The role of Charlie could very easily have
pushed a lesser actor over the top and made him overbearing and corny, but
Cruise gets the balance just right. He
controls his own magnetism and force and finds quite a lot of nuance in his
interpretation. We have the veteran
director Barry Levinson (of “Bugsy,” “Wag the Dog,” “Diner,” and many more) to
thank for bringing it all together and giving it pace and push and clarity from
scene to scene. He and the Morrow/Bass
writing team also won Oscars, as did the film for Best Picture.
Charlie’s inward journey, as
he slowly warms to the idea of caring for his brother and valuing him more than
the money, is a joyride beyond words.
“Why didn’t somebody tell me I had a brother?” At first he asks this in anger, but finally
he does it in wonder and with at least the hint of gratitude. In spite of the barriers a strange but
wonderful bonding takes place. I highly
recommend it for everyone over the age of fifteen.
To read other entries in my
blog, please consult its website:
enspiritus.blogspot.com
I welcome feedback. Direct it to bobracine@verizon.net
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