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The Insanity of Brian Robbins, Who Will
Someday Accidentally Make a Genuinely Great Movie
The movie the Filmsnobs are asked about most is not The
Fellowship of the Ring, nor is it probable Oscar-winner
A Beautiful Mind. It's Hardball, the Filmsnobs'
choice for Film of Special Merit of 2001. "What's your
guys' f'n deal with Hardball?" they ask. The Filmsnobs
obsession with Hardball is quite complex, but if you've
actually seen it, you'll probably get exactly what we're talking
about.
The Robbins canon is defined by his takes on class and race
in America. He's gone behind-the-scenes with rappers in The
Show, and he's even been nominated for an Academy Award
for a documentary about the impact of Henry Aaron on the
African-American community. This doesn't sound so bad, but
Robbins is much like another favorite Filmsnobs Insane Genius—Robert
Altman. Altman and Robbins both try to integrate their ideas
on class into films that have no business with social commentary.
The results are just, well, bizarre. Robbins turns The Good
Burger franchise into a poor man's protest against corporate
globalization. Robbins gives Good Burger racial overtones,
like when Kenan, with a big Nickelodeon smile on his face,
asks Kel, "You didn't try to help me out with money just
because I'm black, did you?"
That's not as bizarre as Brian Robbins' notion of kids entertainment:
Abe Vigoda (!) and George Clinton funk dancing in an insane
asylum while the mental patients walk around like they're
sleepwalking in a "Scooby Doo" cartoon, then at
the order of the guards, they start dancing like the zombies
from "Thriller." With Abe Vigoda and George Clinton.
Do you see what we mean? Robbins is insane. Later this spring,
the Filmsnobs will hopefully present a long-planned feature,
"The Films of Brian Robbins" where you'll get our
take on the rest of the Robbins canon: Varsity Blues,
Ready to Rumble, and his Citizen Kane: Hardball.
Robbins and his screenwriter John Gatins provide two hours
of the very reason God made DVD: the filmmakers' commentary.
They talk about Keanu like he's Marlon Brando, Robbins calling
him "brave" for taking a role that other actors
turned down because "They couldn't overcome their ego
enough to be upstaged by ten black kids." They discuss
Matthew McConaghey's interest the role, to which Robbins responds,
"Can you imagine Matthew McConaghey in that scene, doing
what Keanu does?" "No." Gatins answers, point
blank. Actually, Keanu had plenty of brave moments during
the filming of Hardball. He needed stitches after punching
through a car window and was often startled by neighborhood
gunfire. Robbins also speaks of Keanu and Diane Lane's "chemistry."
"He's smitten with her," observes Gatins. "I've
been in love with her ever since The Outsiders,"
admits Robbins. They talk about Keanu showing up hungover
after the Oscars, but mostly, they talk about Keanu's "choices."
And the more I listened to them, I actually started to believe
that Keanu turned in a great performance. He's embarrassingly
clumsy, but Keanu is so dedicated to the role, he really means
it and wants it to be good, that he creates a character that's
an extension of himself: just a guy who really wants to do
right in the world but isn't talented enough to pull it off
with anything besides absolute conviction. Accidentally, Keanu
creates a good performance. And Brian Robbins convinced me
of it because he genuinely believes Keanu creates a good performance.
As for the Kekambas, Robbins talks a lot about the "methods"
he and his acting coaches used to get these "real kids"
to conjure the magic they do. Listening to him talk about
the Kekambas, Robbins reminds me of a Little League coach
who gives his all to his son's team, not for personal glory,
but because he really wants them to succeed. I am not so cynical
that I will mock his enthusiasm for these kids. Robbins is
insane, like when he says about the kid who plays G-Baby,
"During the shoot, he was the light of my life."
As a film critic, that's downright laughable, but goddamnit,
Brian Robbins genuinely loves these kids, and I admire that.
Robbins takes us through the method by which he provoked tears
in the scene where Keanu has to tell G-Baby he can't play
on the team: "Think of something really sad. What would
make you sad? If your Grandma got sick? Ok, think of that.
How does that make you feel?" Little G-Baby started crying
and Robbins flipped on the camera. Lee Strasberg, James Lipton,
let the Actors Studio eat your snobby little hearts out.
For Robbins, this film is all about the kids. He tells us
that "the reason I made this film" is the scene
in which Miles explains to Miss Wilkes what he thinks of A
Wrinkle in Time. Again, Robbins is going after some big
statement about race and the American neglect of the African-American
community, but the line, "Where I come from, it's just
whacked" just doesn't quite sell it. No matter. Later,
he calls the scene with Miles dancing to "Big Poppa"
on the mound "brilliant." He never explains why
everyone is raising the roof if the music is only on his Walkman,
but Robbins doesn't care. It means something. He doesn't know
what, but it does. The song is about scorin' bitches and has
nothing to do with youth or baseball, but that doesn't stop
Robbins from getting Diane Lane to wave her hands around.
This song has nothing to do with oppression or youth, but
everyone in the stands starts singing, acapella, this six
year old hip-hop song about scorin' bitches, which inspires
this twelve year old kid to pitch better. What the hell is
Robbins thinking? It doesn't matter exactly what he's thinking
because he, and thus his cast and crew, believe it
means something. That's what separates Robbins from other
bad filmmakers: an admirable, misguided lack of cynicism.
Robbins talks of the difficulty of filming Hardball.
Robbins employed "real gang members" in some of
the scenes and filmed it in "real projects"—that's
right, Hardball was actually filmed in the 'hood. Robbins
even questions his own sanity: "What am I doing leading
a hundred people to one of the poorest parts of Chicago to
film this movie? But everyone was so dedicated to the project
that nobody complained." Not even when random gunfire
one hundred yards away startles Keanu. Not when gunfire sends
everyone ducking at a 3am shoot. Not when Robbins wouldn't
let his actors shoot blanks for fear of starting a riot. All
this for the artistic vision of Hardball.
And as for Robbins' other methods, he speaks of a scene filmed
with a handheld camera because the dugout was too small: "If
I had this project to do over again, I'd film the whole thing
on handheld." That's right, Robbins wants to film Hardball
like Steven Soderbergh or Lars von Trier. He also talks
about the genius idea of interspicing G-Baby's big hit with
the funeral footage, and the studio's insistence that he actually
film the championship game. But Robbins stood his ground:
"What they don't get is that it's not about winning,
it's about SHOWING UP!" It makes you wonder: Do these
big-time studio execs even know what the most important thing
in life is?
My favorite part is when Robbins TAKES ON THE CRITICS. Point
blank, he says, "Listen, critics: There is so much you
can do to make a team better other than playing baseball.
Conor gets them to SHOW UP, which is a big thing for these
kids." There it is! The secret to life: Showing Up. Robbins
continues, "Screw the critics. This is the first film
I've made that got applause at the audience screenings, so
screw the critics—except Gene Shalit. And stay
off the internet!" JimmyO and I have concluded that Brian
Robbins has seen the Filmsnobs
Hardball Archive and Reviews. Brian, we really do respect
you and your enthusiasm for film. I know you're pissed at
us—the ire unleashed on the DVD confirms it. With as
much hell as we gave this film, we're sure it came up on a
"Hardball" search. Mr. Robbins, in a time when filmmaking
is intentionally mediocre and cynicl, your unvarnished vision
inject life, a certain joie'de vive into the American
cinema. Seriously. This is our appeal to you: We know that
nobody will insure an Altman film without a back-up director
signed to finish the film in case Bob gets flow-cammed up
to heaven. Stephen Frears got the nod for Gosford Park,
and the Filmsnobs would like to use this platform to begin
campaigning for Brian Robbins as Robert Altman's back-up on
Voltage. It's Altman's next movie, and though we have
no idea what it's about, we know that Brian Robbins should
be the man for the job. They're kindred spirits, really. This
could be Robbins' masterpiece. Altman and Robbins have virtually
the same sensibilities of American capitalism, separated only
by: 1) Overlapping Conversations 2) Flow Cam 3) Big-Ass Ensembles.
If Bob dies, the second and third crew directors can step
in and show Brian those brilliant stylings from such masterpieces
as O.C. and Stiggs. And once Robbins proves that he
can master the Altman stylings, critics will be forced to
come on board, lest they defile the Altman name. Audiences
will follow, everybody will be making truckloads of cash,
and the awards will come rolling in. Alan Rudolph, if Altman
doesn't make it, take a chance and hire Brian Robbins. You
will be blown away by his ability to show up.
(Pictured Above: Keanu
and the Kekambas Celebrating Their
2001 Snobbies For Special
Merit in the Art of Film)
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