So imagine my surprise when I discovered instead a movie that sidestepped easy answers, replete with shades of gray, almost free of sloppy sentimentality (until the very last scene). The movie is vastly different from what the trailer leads you to believe; in fact, the "beautiful heart" line from the trailer doesn't even appear in the film (thank god), and many of the lines that seem pompous and overwrought in the trailer work just fine in context. This is far and away Ron Howard's best movie and maybe the only one that I've liked unreservedly since Splash.
Howard's success is due entirely to John Forbes Nash -- the real man and the man in the movie. His story is extraordinary, compelling, and moving, and he has the good fortune to be played in A Beautiful Mind by an extraordinary actor. Russell Crowe inhabits this shy, tormented intellectual with the same conviction he used to disappear into Jeffrey Wigand in The Insider or Maximus in Gladiator. Without such a fascinating subject and such a talented actor bringing him to life, this movie would be nothing. [Lest you think my adulation of Russell Crowe is pre-ordained, let me note that he has been off my pedestal ever since I found out that he signed on to do a screen version of "Hogan's Heroes" (the story said that they intend to make it "more serious" -- uh, it's been done: it's called Stalag 17, and it won an Oscar). He was on probation because of the whole Meg Ryan thing, and "Hogan's Heroes" just calls his judgment even more into question.]
Nash's story is intriguing: a brilliant young economist/mathematician, he suffered from schizophrenia that nearly destroyed his life, yet he ended up winning a Nobel Prize for his contributions to game theory (which I will not even attempt to explain: my rule is, the less said about game theory, the better). If you want to know more, go to the Nobel website and look him up. There you'll find, among other materials, a loopy autobiography where he discusses, albeit almost incomprehensibly, his mental illness.
I won't go into the details of the movie, because it holds genuine surprises, particularly about the extent of Nash's delusions (I spent a lot of the first half of the film grumbling about inconsistencies or unrealistic things -- the second half of the film explains them). The first part is a wonderful, subtle character portrait of an eccentric genius with a curious blend of self-confidence and self-loathing. He is supremely confident, to the point of arrogance, in his talents and abilities, but his self-esteem in the rest of his life is exactly the opposite. He often says, "I don't like people, and they don't like me," but he desperately wants approval; he sees his work as the way to get it (there's a terrific exchange between him and his professor at Princeton, played by Judd Hirsch, that encapsulates this in just a few simple words). Crowe expresses his personality as much through physical movements as through dialogue; his jerky, self-conscious movements, his avoidance of eye contact until he has exactly the right thing to say.
Yet Crowe is unbelievably sexy and charming. It's such a contrast to his bold sexuality as Maximus; here he's the shy, adorable guy who's too tongue-tied to speak to a beautiful girl in a bar, who gazes with frank, surprised delight at his date's bare back as if he'd never seen so much bare female skin before. He reminded me why, in spite of Meg Ryan and "Hogan's Heroes," I dream about him.
As Nash's wife Alicia, Jennifer Connelly is better than I expected. I initially loathed her; as Nash's student, she's aggressive and grating, with a smug archness that suggests she's always gotten exactly what she wants and doesn't expect that to ever change. Which makes her role in the second half of the film, as a wife who's forced to cope with a situation she never bargained for, all the more touching. She handles Alicia's anger and disappointment very well, not making her into a saint or a shrew, but a real person.
There are some uncomfortable echoes of today's atmosphere, beyond the pang you get from seeing the Pentagon unblemished (who would have thought such ugly, utilitarian buildings as the World Trade Center towers and the Pentagon could ever be invested with so much grace and emotion?). The work Nash gets drawn into at the Department of Defense involves a Russian plan to detonate a portable atomic device on American soil with "maximum civilian casualties." And Ed Harris, as the enigmatic spymaster William Parcher, is eerily, chillingly prescient: "Man is capable of as much atrocity as he has imagination."
I'm not entirely pleased with the movie's treatment of Nash's schizophrenia, although from what I can tell, it's reasonably close to the truth. Nash refuses treatment (not all that surprising, considering the horrific psychiatric methods used) and instead manages his schizophrenia through willpower and logic (he does actually take some medication, but its benefits are downplayed). It's the wrong message to send, that mental illness is an at-will state, but it ends up being rather moving. Maybe it's just because I spent 20 minutes trying to "explain" Memento to a guy in line before the movie, but Nash reminded me a bit of Guy Pearce's Leonard with his heart-breakingly blind faith in logic and his own ability to solve problems. Nash never met a problem he couldn't reason his way out of, sooner or later, with bloodless logic, and when told he can't reason his way through schizophrenia, he explodes in child-like frustration: "Why not? Why can't I?"
The film's not perfect; the dialogue gets a little precious sometimes, particularly when showcasing Nash's utter lack of social niceties, and the pacing goes awry about two-thirds of the way through. There's a certain je ne sais quoi missing that prevents the movie from truly soaring. But overall, it far exceeded my expectations in every way (see? it's all about having the appropriate expectations). It resists simple explanations and resolutions. Crowe's remarkable performance provokes empathy with Nash, not pity. An unusual and moving film; I definitely recommend it.
A pair of audience rants: First, the audience at the actual movie. They laughed uproariously at Nash's hallucinations and delusions. They thought it was hilarious that he stopped taking his medication. And the college kid in the movie who mocks Nash's distinctive walk? Hysterical! Ha ha! Isn't mental illness a scream? After the movie, let's go make fun of retarded kids!
Second: When we saw Spy Game on Thanksgiving, they showed a preview for A Beautiful Mind before the film. A guy behind us said loudly to his companion, "Is that the guy from Gladiator? Dude, he really let himself go!" I can just imagine this bozo twenty years ago, seeing a trailer for Raging Bull and saying, "Dude, the guy from Taxi Driver really let himself go!" It made me almost as angry as when I went to see Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me, and during the opening credits, when Chris Isaak's name appeared, the guy next to me said to his girlfriend, "Isn't he that Elvis impersonator?"
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