American SplendorNobody's life is perfect--it's often far from it--but at least it's real and your own. American Splendor is a biographical film about acclaimed underground comic book author--and Cleveland icon and iconoclast--Harvey Pekar, portrayed by Paul Giamatti. The film chronicles the turbulent yet poignant years for Harvey as he sought something everyone seeks yet doesn't always find--purpose in life. Harvey discovers a form of self-expression through writing about his personal experiences in the comic medium, offering profound insight about life, gleaned from the most mundane and even ugly aspects of our human existence.
|
|
I was reminded of Harvey Pekar last night when a couple of friends of mine and I went to see a concert at the Grog Shop in Coventry, Ohio. His name came up because Cleveland Heights--which Coventry is a part of--is where Harvey Pekar lived and wrote his series of underground comics called "American Splendor" which would make him into a cult celebrity. Watching American Splendor again, I recognized that desire to express myself and create in my own way (through my writing), and came away from this viewing with a renewed appreciation for Harvey's aspirations. One scene in particular stands out: Harvey had been contemplating the success of his friend, Robert Crumb (James Urbaniak)--who he met at a garage sale while perusing second-hand vinyls--and his success in the underground comic book scene (which thrived thanks in large part to Crumb himself). Harvey sits down at his cluttered table with nothing but a pad of blank paper and a pencil, and tries to teach himself how to create a comic from scratch; and as any writer can tell you, there are few things at once so full of possibility and dread as a blank page. Although he concludes that drawing is not his forte, he remains convinced that his stories are worth publishing; his friend Robert agrees and even offers to draw his comic for him. Harvey sits at his table all night developing his comic book, and is ultimately awakened after dozing off by the blaring sun. His labor is neither futile nor inept, but represents that great metaphorical mountain that each person must climb to discover what it is they truly wish to discover about themselves in life. For some it may resemble tilting at windmills, but that isn't really the point; finding that part of yourself to birth into the world--for yourself, for others, for whatever--is the defining characteristic of artistic expression.
The portrayal of Harvey Pekar during these formative years before he brought his comic into existence suggests an almost anti-social streak. His yelling--implied to have contributed to his two prior divorces--has actually damaged his vocal cords, necessitating a functional "vow of silence". The irony is that it necessitates moments of contemplation for Harvey, and its inclusion at the start of this odyssey is significant--walking through the Cleveland streets in his glued-up winter coat, grumbling to himself and rolling his eyes; but beneath this gruff exterior germinates a deeper existential need. Like Ebenezer Scrooge, his own mortality edges ever closer while he works his routine job as a file clerk for a hospital, especially when he files records for deceased patients. One file slips through his grasp and when he picks it up, he discovers that the dead man was a clerk like him, and lived and died in Cleveland, Ohio. The dread and disappointment is evident on Harvey's face at the revelation that some day, someone just like him might file his own medical records and have this very same experience. But the crucial difference here is that Harvey Pekar is remembered for giving something to the world, even if it was to make a living--a story that meant something to many people, even if it wasn't always flattering. One of his co-workers, Toby Radloff (Judah Friedlander), is a self-professed "nerd"; he tells Harvey that he's driving to Toledo to see Revenge of the Nerds because he identifies with the premise, and asks Harvey to come with him. Before this, Harvey shared his debut issue of "American Splendor" with his colleagues at the hospital--including Toby. It makes sense that Toby admires Harvey for his work which becomes a kind of affirmation for everyday people like him, giving them permission to feel that their everyday life experiences and interests don't brand them as outcasts--that they are as deserving of happiness as anyone else without fear of being alienated. It's wonderful that Harvey wrote about his friends and co-workers in his comic; but what lives on long afterward is how it makes them feel that they are included in something--and everyone wants to feel included.
Much of the first half of American Splendor concerns Harvey's anger--at the world and himself--and a deep loneliness that comes from having loved and lost. Despite the fame that came from his creation and its legacy, the most touching part of the film is found in the relationship that follows with Joyce Brabner (Hope Davis), who would become his third (and final) wife. Who could have anticipated that Harvey would the love of his life as a result of his self-deprecating (and even cynical) comic strip? But Joyce was apparently such a fan of it that when she missed the newest issue at the comic shop where she worked at in Delaware, it spurred her to write to Harvey directly, leading to a courtship by mail, phone, and ultimately in person when Harvey invites her to come to Cleveland to finally meet. Their awkward romance avoids Hollywood cliches, and often seems on the verge of imploding at any second; but they share interests and idiosyncrasies, qualities apparently lacking in their prior marriages. Joyce becomes as fundamental part of American Splendor from here on--a crucial counterbalance to Harvey's semi-caustic mania. Harvey experiences a spike in popularity after being invited onto "Late Night with David Letterman", and returns again and again for the money and recognition, despite Joyce describing its host as a "megalomaniac". During this time, Joyce decides to pursue her own means of self-expression and takes a month-long trip to Jerusalem for research; Harvey discovers a lump (that later proves to be lymphoma) in the interim. Harvey eventually grows weary of Letterman taking cheap shots at the seemingly oafish Clevelander, and unleashes a tirade that ensures that this will be his last appearance on the show. It is less likely that Harvey had a genuine political agenda, but that Joyce's long absence resurrected a void within him--one that he had long since taken for granted had been dispelled her presence. But what is important to remember is that Harvey himself was responsible for conjuring this love into his life, planting the seeds by embracing a part of himself that spoke to someone like Joyce. American Splendor posits that whether Harvey Pekar wrote the opus of his life just for "women, gigs, an' bein' creative" or not, he wound up with what was truly important in life by pursuing what he needed for his soul, and the rest follows naturally.
Recommended for: Fans of an introspective biopic that--like Harvey and his work--breaks the mold of the genre by defiantly ripping away that artificial veneer so often found in biographical films. American Splendor offers an authentic portrayal of a man looking for more from life than the routine, and dealing with existential angst both outside of his comfort zone, and in the spaces in-between. As a writer and fellow Clevelander, Harvey Pekar is a tenacious role model, exemplifying the importance of creative self-expression for your own sake first and foremost.
The portrayal of Harvey Pekar during these formative years before he brought his comic into existence suggests an almost anti-social streak. His yelling--implied to have contributed to his two prior divorces--has actually damaged his vocal cords, necessitating a functional "vow of silence". The irony is that it necessitates moments of contemplation for Harvey, and its inclusion at the start of this odyssey is significant--walking through the Cleveland streets in his glued-up winter coat, grumbling to himself and rolling his eyes; but beneath this gruff exterior germinates a deeper existential need. Like Ebenezer Scrooge, his own mortality edges ever closer while he works his routine job as a file clerk for a hospital, especially when he files records for deceased patients. One file slips through his grasp and when he picks it up, he discovers that the dead man was a clerk like him, and lived and died in Cleveland, Ohio. The dread and disappointment is evident on Harvey's face at the revelation that some day, someone just like him might file his own medical records and have this very same experience. But the crucial difference here is that Harvey Pekar is remembered for giving something to the world, even if it was to make a living--a story that meant something to many people, even if it wasn't always flattering. One of his co-workers, Toby Radloff (Judah Friedlander), is a self-professed "nerd"; he tells Harvey that he's driving to Toledo to see Revenge of the Nerds because he identifies with the premise, and asks Harvey to come with him. Before this, Harvey shared his debut issue of "American Splendor" with his colleagues at the hospital--including Toby. It makes sense that Toby admires Harvey for his work which becomes a kind of affirmation for everyday people like him, giving them permission to feel that their everyday life experiences and interests don't brand them as outcasts--that they are as deserving of happiness as anyone else without fear of being alienated. It's wonderful that Harvey wrote about his friends and co-workers in his comic; but what lives on long afterward is how it makes them feel that they are included in something--and everyone wants to feel included.
Much of the first half of American Splendor concerns Harvey's anger--at the world and himself--and a deep loneliness that comes from having loved and lost. Despite the fame that came from his creation and its legacy, the most touching part of the film is found in the relationship that follows with Joyce Brabner (Hope Davis), who would become his third (and final) wife. Who could have anticipated that Harvey would the love of his life as a result of his self-deprecating (and even cynical) comic strip? But Joyce was apparently such a fan of it that when she missed the newest issue at the comic shop where she worked at in Delaware, it spurred her to write to Harvey directly, leading to a courtship by mail, phone, and ultimately in person when Harvey invites her to come to Cleveland to finally meet. Their awkward romance avoids Hollywood cliches, and often seems on the verge of imploding at any second; but they share interests and idiosyncrasies, qualities apparently lacking in their prior marriages. Joyce becomes as fundamental part of American Splendor from here on--a crucial counterbalance to Harvey's semi-caustic mania. Harvey experiences a spike in popularity after being invited onto "Late Night with David Letterman", and returns again and again for the money and recognition, despite Joyce describing its host as a "megalomaniac". During this time, Joyce decides to pursue her own means of self-expression and takes a month-long trip to Jerusalem for research; Harvey discovers a lump (that later proves to be lymphoma) in the interim. Harvey eventually grows weary of Letterman taking cheap shots at the seemingly oafish Clevelander, and unleashes a tirade that ensures that this will be his last appearance on the show. It is less likely that Harvey had a genuine political agenda, but that Joyce's long absence resurrected a void within him--one that he had long since taken for granted had been dispelled her presence. But what is important to remember is that Harvey himself was responsible for conjuring this love into his life, planting the seeds by embracing a part of himself that spoke to someone like Joyce. American Splendor posits that whether Harvey Pekar wrote the opus of his life just for "women, gigs, an' bein' creative" or not, he wound up with what was truly important in life by pursuing what he needed for his soul, and the rest follows naturally.
Recommended for: Fans of an introspective biopic that--like Harvey and his work--breaks the mold of the genre by defiantly ripping away that artificial veneer so often found in biographical films. American Splendor offers an authentic portrayal of a man looking for more from life than the routine, and dealing with existential angst both outside of his comfort zone, and in the spaces in-between. As a writer and fellow Clevelander, Harvey Pekar is a tenacious role model, exemplifying the importance of creative self-expression for your own sake first and foremost.