Rain Man's Agreement; or, I'm an Excellent Reporter

Welcome to the latest episode of Best Pictures from the Outside In, where Nick Davis, Nathaniel Rogers, and yours truly discuss two Best Picture winners as if they have something to do with each other, aside from winning Best Picture and being part of the secret Hollywood cabal that decides who lives and who has to star in movies with talking animals. New to this? Delve into the past.

Today in 1864 (Mike typed, about a month ago), General William Tecumseh Sherman reached Savannah, GA, nearing the end of his infamous March to the Sea that left a wide swath of the Confederacy in ruins. I mention him because he, like most of the people in the 1947 Best Picture winner Gentleman's Agreement, would most certainly out himself as an antisemite if given half a chance. And like Tom Cruise in the 1988 Best Picture winner Rain Man, he'd probably become a better person if he discovered that he had an autistic older brother, especially one with such a knack for coining catch-phrases.

But first, in case our readers haven't seen one or both of the films, or need to refresh their memory, I made this handy video:

Much like Sherman's March, these films left wide swaths of the Oscars and my sanity in ruins. Neither is a truly bad film, I think, but neither is particularly notable. Gentleman's Agreement is the archetype of the Social Problem Picture, an example of Hollywood studios deciding, often all at the same time (witness another 1947 Best Picture nominee, Crossfire, which is also about antisemitism), that there's an Important Issue Out There That We Must Address. It's a prestige production, uniting relative newcomer Elia Kazan with storied playwright Moss Hart, megastar Gregory Peck, and dependably great supporting players like Anne Revere, Celeste Holm, and Albert Dekker. It couldn't lose, and it didn't. But it's deadly dull, overwhelmingly earnest, and so wrapped up in providing scene after scene of average people demonstrating that they're thoughtlessly hateful that it gets a bit unwatchable by the halfway point. And over in 1988, Rain Man is a little harder to explain as a sure thing. Hot young star Tom Cruise finally gets his "not just a pretty face" role, Barry Levinson cements his reputation as a dependable director of ostensibly serious films that are also fun to watch, and Dustin Hoffman wins an Oscar for mastering three or four verbal and physical tics.

Since it's Hanukkah (or it was when I typed this), and in general a season of being generous, let's start by being nice: what was your favorite thing about each film? In Gentleman's it was most certainly every scene that the sublime Celeste Holm is onscreen (she's still alive! I want to meet her and thank her for being the best thing in a lot of movies!). In Rain Man, I have to admit to being pretty impressed with Tom Cruise, who I think would have been a more legitimate choice for a Best Actor nomination. But maybe that's going too far: he's certainly superior to Hoffman here, and I think he shows some growth as an actor from his earlier roles, and manages to sell me on both the change of heart and his inability to explain exactly why he's having it.

OK, your turn.

NICK: I can see that you have just asked us a question about something else, but before we move on, I just thought I should mention that I am a Scientologist. Did you guys know this about me? I suspect you didn't, and I'm uncertain as to your views about Scientology. Actually, I suspect your views might be negative or ill-informed, but if I keep telling you this about myself at totally inopportune moments, and you start acting uncomfortable about it, then boy will I have your number. I'll really have gotten you both where I want you. So, I just thought I should mention that I am a Scientologist. Please know that I am stiffly glowering at you as I say this.

Nathaniel, do you want to answer Mike's question? I got distracted, thinking about the Scientology that I practice, and I can't remember what he asked.

NATHANIEL: Here. Please put on this pair of Ray-Ban sunglasses so that
1. your hostile laser stare is hidden from view.
2. you may look appropriately "80s" (which is totally the best thing about you and Rain Man. We love a good time capsule.)

Ahhh, much better.

And now for some poorly managed hostility of my own: Mike, it's straight up selfish to ask what our favorite thing about Gentleman's Agreement is knowing that you've already hogged the only feasible answer. I don't even want to speak to you now except to maybe lecture you on your carelessly hurtful behavior.

Lectures are so hot. Well... if Gregory Peck is the one delivering them. But in all seriousness Celeste Holm is tremendously good in this movie as a sassy career gal with a big but slightly lonely social life. At first I was worried it was one of those cases where you latch on to and overvalue a charismatic performance because it saves you from its dull surroundings (too many examples to name) but by the movie's end I was convinced that I would have found her sensational even if she hadn't been surrounded by so much dead air; the portrait was so vivid I could project a whole sequel with her character as the star.

That said I feel certain that I like Gentleman's Agreement more than either of you. It is too stuffy and predetermined by half, yes, but its professorial angst strikes me as borne from genuine soul searching. To me it doesn't feel much like the lazy self-congratulatory tone of today's message movies, which generally take on safer more distance "messages" and then excuse all the lead characters of any of their residual complicity in the problem. Gentleman's Agreement seems genuinely ashamed of itself and though that doesn't make the movie particularly fun or exciting to watch, it does grant it curio value.

NICK: That's a really interesting take on the pluses of Gentleman's Agreement—and not only because I am, incidentally, a Scientologist. (Anyone feeling uncomfortable?) Dorothy McGuire, who gives a much more interesting performance than I had remembered, definitely works hard to make her character seem truly chastened, even when she hasn't worked out exactly what she's supposed to be ashamed of, or how ashamed, or how annoyed she's allowed to be in the face of all these admonishments. I like her and Holm in the movie, especially in Holm's final scene, where she makes clear she's in the film to do more than provide charming, insouciant relief from all the patronizing solemnity.

I was also surprised to see that, in framing and blocking, Gentleman's Agreement is actually quite interested in deep space and complexity, even if the overall film, especially the script and the other aspects of the direction, keep wanting to flatten things down. Sad to say that I think Peck is a big disappointment in this movie, partly because I think he avoids that interesting sense of complicity you're talking about, Nathaniel. He refuses to play the gadfly, hectoring "cons" of his character; despite having played an exciting, atypical series of rogues and headcases in the years before this film, he seems too convinced of Philip's righteousness: good for politics, maybe, but bad for drama. Even the romanticized dad in The Yearling is much more shaded than this guy. All that stuff in the script suggesting that Philip is kind of a sexist? Which comes up as early as his first meeting with McGuire's Kathy, when he seems startled that a woman could have articulate opinions, and she calls him out on that? Peck stays miles away from that sort of contradiction in his liberal crusader, or else Kazan insists on steering clear of it. I'd understand it if Fox felt the essential point of the movie was too urgent to qualify with more layers of nuance, but even Kazan didn't feel he deserved an Oscar for this movie.

MIKE: Nathaniel, I was going to say that we had to come up with something to admire aside from Celeste Holm, but I was afraid the task might have been impossible. It's not, of course: like I said, I don't think it's a terrible film. But I'll join Nick in faulting Peck for failure to dig in to his crusader: for me, Peck's singlemindedness quickly becomes the only interesting thing about him. It never seems to occur to him that if all these people who he thought of as decent sorts secretly harbored antisemitic opinions, maybe he does too, without having really thought about it. Instead, it's as if he's never met a Jewish person before, or been in the company of a Jewish person out in public, or been in the room when the subject came up. Where has he been hiding? Who knows what evil lurks in the heart of P. Schuyler Green?

But I can't agree about Dorothy McGuire. There's something stiff and plastic about her, like the only difference between "chastened" and "blissful" is that she bares those scary little milk teeth in the latter. (I'm being horrible, I know.) She's an odd one, and I have liked her in smaller roles, playing characters with a little more complexity and a little less screen time.

Is it too early to turn to Rain Man? No? Good.

So postwar Hollywood definitely had the treatment of Jews on its mind in 1947, as Gentleman's Agreement was up against Crossfire, whose noirish murder mystery plot didn't leave quite as much time for speechifying and finger-pointing. What, exactly, did Hollywood have on its mind in 1988, when Rain Man was victorious over, among others, a Gentleman's Agreement-style crusading film in Mississippi Burning? Whither the Academy's social conscience?

NICK: You mean, besides Scientology, as represented by one of the leading members of our congregation? Well, one thing it can't hurt to remind people is that Rain Man really seemed to foment a national conversation about autism. The topic has pretty universal currency now, but the whole release of Rain Man (which was the #1 grossing movie of that year, ahead of Who Framed Roger Rabbit?) and the many awards-show speeches fostered in its wake were pretty saturated with Gregory Peck-style lectures about how We Really Need To Know About This Condition. Again, no reason to fault the intentions of the film's makers, and I'm sure the cause benefited in lots of ways from such wide, high-profile exposure. But it's hard not to pine for a better vehicle than Who Stole Raymond Babbitt? to shine a spotlight on the problem.

As it is, we learn that if you care too much about sports cars and don't communicate well with your girlfriend AND don't care about your autistic brother, you are Bad. But, if you agree to drive across country rather than fly, and you watch game shows at the times your brother demands and hook him up with good tapioca, and then make a totally unrealistic claim on being his primary caretaker, you have become Good, or at least closer to Good. Jury still out on whether using your autistic brother to count cards in Vegas counts as obscenely disgusting or rakishly ingenious.

To this day, I don't understand what got everyone so wrapped up in Rain Man, and I'm even more weirded out to remember that it copped the Golden Bear at Berlin. Admittedly, the Best Picture line-up and the Berlin competition slate were both pretty weak that year, but there were plenty of phenomenal movies in '88. Why THIS one? (I think we were maybe supposed to start with pluses again, and I effed up for a second time.)

MIKE: Here's a plus: it had people across the country shuffling along with their knees together, heads cocked to the side, saying "I'm an excellent driver" and "Definitely! Definitely!" And that was pretty funny. Did you notice how many times Raymond seems to vary his inflections to serve as the punchline to a scene? Dustin Hoffman gave us the world's first autistic stand-up comedian! I think this might be the absolute nadir of giving Oscars to people for playing characters with disabilities. But I think it's Nathaniel's turn. Definitely.

NICK: I agree, and that final "K-Mart SUCKS!" is sort of the ne plus ultra of the pattern you're talking about. But I promise to count toothpicks till it really is my turn again.

MIKE: The word "Jew" is used in the Gentleman's Agreement script 472 times. Definitely.

NATHANIEL, after a long pause: I think what you're both forgetting when wondering why Rain Man caught fire is the near-universal love of the catchphrase in the 1980s. I'm not saying that previous decades didn't love a good quotable but in many ways the 80s were all about preparing the world for internet and then for twitter and soundbytes and reductive conversations where opposing parties just shout talking points at each other while no one actually communicates. Where's the beef in conversations? Politically speaking, at least, aren't we experiencing communal autism today?

I don't know for sure but I feel certain that whoever invented Twitter was born in that decade and was maybe experiencing a particularly unruly hormonal surge during puberty when someone shouted SHOW ME THE MONEY at them in late '96/early '97 when another ubiquitous Best Tom Cruise Picture catchphrase was all over the Oscars. Tom Cruise was once the king of catchphrases rather than the brunt of punchlines.

I don't love Rain Man as a film, but I think I have to admit that I do love it a little bit as an 80s time capsule: the tone, the 'tude, the Tom. And I do think it's handsomely shot (god, I miss film grain) particularly when it comes to the color palette which is just something you don't see anymore: neons, pinks, purples, golds. Movies right now seem to have only two color options: steel blue or peagreen filters (serious and/or genre stuff) or lit too bright without any discernible palette as if they're made for television (lighter fare).

MIKE: Weird thought: Rain Man came in the middle of Tom Cruise's transition from savant-like characters into more adult roles. He was always a guy with serious social difficulties but kickass skills at some limited thing: flying a plane (Top Gun), using a pool cue (The Color of Money), mixing a drink (Cocktail), driving a racecar (Days of Thunder). Maybe that's why he bonded so well with Raymond. Anyway.

I actually enjoy large sections of the film: those popping colors you mentioned, even if I often disagreed with the location of the camera or the timing of a cut; Tom Cruise's performance, even though it's more of a "most improved" mention than a Best Actor award; Hans Zimmer's score is a solid example of a certain kind of film score, that sort of "we haven't quite given up on synthesizers but we're recognizing their limitations" late-1980s sound I associate with Michael Mann productions. (Speaking of things associated with the late 1980s and early 1990s: Valeria Golino. What was up with her brief but undeniable popularity? Nick, you like actresses. Explain.)

NICK: Camera location and timing of cuts are problems throughout Rain Man for me, too, and I have to say, I really don't like the score. Inexplicable didgeridoos. Heavy Graceland residues (as in Paul Simon, not Elvis Presley). The unholy coming together of autism and 80s-era "world music," as if Raymond hails from some far-off place we don't really know anything about, preferring a weird sheen of pre-packaged mystique. Zimmer actually did the score for the other BP winner we just covered, Driving Miss Daisy, which I think boasted the first all-Casio movie score, though it doesn't sound as much like it as Rain Man's does.

I think Golino has some low-key charisma going for her in this part, but maybe I just appreciate the relative breath of fresh air away from the pair of very earnest performances at the center of the movie. Cruise does take some steps forward here; his onetime agent and later producing partner Paula Wagner had to lobby hard to get him this part, not least because Charlie was originally written to be older than Raymond. He repays her trust, but too many scenes catch Hoffman doing transparently unscripted things so as to get a rise out of Cruise/Charlie and teach him something about "being in the moment." Sometimes Charlie's confusion just plays to me as Cruise being unwilling or disinclined to hide how much he is suddenly learning about acting, amidst what he clearly perceives as a promotion to the big leagues. It's touching but also exasperating, like watching a tee-ball player grow thrilled and awestruck at suddenly pitching for the Mets, not realizing he's omitting a huge step and is actually still in the minor leagues, still susceptible delusions of grandeur. But give it up to Rain Man for seducing so many people into sharing its view of itself.

Now I'm thinking about minor-league baseball, dim and erratic upstarts, and slumming older pros, and I'm realizing all over again that the magnificent Bull Durham didn't even get a chance to take the AMPAS World Series away from this peculiar pishtosh.

Oh, and one more thing—I'm not a Scientologist! Ha HA! But did everyone learn a lot by my pretending to be? What should I wear to accept my Pulitzer?

MIKE: You know, I totally forgot about that didgeridoo. I went back to look at my notes, and the first thing I wrote down was "Digiridoo? Come on!" Misspelling and everything. And yeah, of course it's there and doesn't belong, but it's almost like this film contains some kind of subconscious coding that makes the bad parts fade from my memory faster than the good parts. I still like the score, despite the didgeridoo, and my overall feeling toward the film is a sort of condescending affection, even though it was so galling to watch.

NATHANIEL: Your scientology masqueraded reminded me that if a movie is not enough on its own we must project entertainment on to it! And aren't Best Picture winners generally the kinds of movies that are fully able to accept these projections?

Whether that "empty vessel" effect is achieved through spectacular engineering (Casablanca et al.) or reductions of shared history (Forrest Gump et al.) or magical inversions of intensely personal issues (American Beauty et al.) or plain ol' dumb luck (Rain Man?) aren't most Oscar winners basically successful at being all things to all people?

Rain Man is a trifle, but at least it plays like a "light" movie, particularly in comparison to Gentleman's Agreement's more familiar heavy sobriety. Since Rain Man isn't trying to be a grand statement but an entertainment, albeit stitched together with Serious Issue thread, it saves itself from the Emperor's New Clothes critique that's so easy to level against Important Movies.

But it's definitely not wearing any underpants.