Adapted from John Updike’s
celebrated 1960 novel about an American everyman whose existential crisis leads him to flee the confines of an unsatisfactory domestic situation, Rabbit, Run is undoubtedly an example of
how things get lost in translation when a project leaps from one medium to
another. The filmmakers depict the protagonist’s irresponsible behavior without
clearly articulating the reasons why he can’t build lasting connections with
other people. (One presumes that Updike’s novel was more successful than the
film at delineating the leading character’s psyche.) When the movie begins,
Harry “Rabbit” Engstrom (James Caan) reaches a breaking point in his marriage
to alcoholic Janice (Carrie Snodgress), even though the couple has one child
and another is on the way. Following an argument, Harry leaves home and tracks
down his former coach, Marty (Jack Albertson), who is now a sad old drunk.
Marty introduces Harry to a hooker, Ruth (Anjanette Comer), with whom Harry
falls in love. Meanwhile, an overbearing priest, Rev. Eccles (Arthur Hill),
encourages Harry to return home. (Meandering subplots involve Harry’s golf
games with the priest, as well as Harry’s sexual tension with the priest’s
alluring wife.) Betrayals, tragedies, and twists ensue. By the end of it all,
Harry’s the same perplexed individual he was at the beginning of the story,
even though he’s caused and suffered a lot of pain.
Caan’s casting is a major
detriment. Although he looks the part of a former athlete and unquestionably
possess formidable dramatic abilities, his innately macho quality clashes with
the role of a sensitive character who is intimidated by life’s petty
humiliations. Caan excels at playing men who fight, which means that seeing him
portray a man who runs strikes a false chord. In fact, “false” is a suitable
adjective for most of this film’s content. From the stilted dialogue to the
weird sex scenes (in which footage is optically rocked back and forth while
fuzzy guitars and pounding drums reverberate on the soundtrack), nearly all of
the stylistic touches that producer/screenwriter Howard B. Kreitsek and
director Jack Smight employ are contrived and ineffective. Other than implying
that men are entitled to pursue anything they want in life, no matter the
circumstances, and that women who fail at motherhood are loathsome, it’s hard
to know what the filmmakers meant to say here. Worse, the way they chose to put
across their murky thematic statements isn’t especially compelling to watch.
Rabbit, Run: FUNKY
I've read a few of Updike's RABBIT novels; they are fundamentally *literary* in a way that makes for poor cinematic adaptations. THere is indeed much more about Rabbit's psyche detailed, altho' he is often a very unsympathetic character. Caan is definitely miscast--altho' I've never seen this movie!--and I wonder if someone like Richard Benjamin or Elliott Gould would have fared better in the role.
ReplyDeleteOdd thing happened, I was reading Will's comment above and George Segal sprang to mind, he was another unusual leading man who seemed active at that time. In any case, I'm dubious of the idea that all literature can or should be adapted. Fitzgerald's Great Gatsby should probably never have been filmed, not even once.
ReplyDeleteThose actors are too urban for this role. If the producers were actually going to film the story and characters in the book, Bruce Dern would have been very good as Rabbit. I have seen the movie and read the book; the movie complete misses everything but surface level details. Having said that, I enjoy this movie on its own terms, as it shows people and places not often covered in films of this period.
ReplyDeleteYou know... Bruce Dern *would* have been great! Good call.
ReplyDeleteThis film is a prime example of a very under-studied and fascinating period in Hollywood, that strange and awkward transition between the violent political and social upheavals of the late 60's into the early 70's and the collapse of the old studio system giving way to the era of the revolutionary "New Hollywood" renaissance which opened up the floodgates of previously taboo subject matter. It was briefly dominated by the culturally impactful, highly stylized, and critique-driven literary masterpieces of Phillip Roth, John Updike, and Saul Bellow which were suddenly being considered ripe for being turned into commercially viable films. Some were, very badly (Portnoy's Complaint, 1971) some excellently (Goodbye, Columbus, 1969) and some not at all (Bellow's "Seize the Day", not made until a 1986 TV adaptation for PBS's American Playhouse with a then-rare and first-time dramatic Robin Williams performance that was barely acknowledged by the public and shockingly blocked from theatrical distribution out of fear that no one wanted to see Robin Williams in anything other than a comedy). What is especially notable about these literary adaptations, either obscure in their lack of success or their well-known and profitable recognition, is a specific and very short-lived commonality of ethnic Jewish themes and sensibilities, deeply alienated and unforgiving portraits of American social experience, and profound existential crisis: "The Angel Levine" with the legendary Zero Mostel especially comes to mind in terms of very obscure or "unsuccessful" films of that period that are well worth rediscovering today, examined in both the historical and sociological context of their time.
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