Man on the Moon Review
by Jon Popick (jpopick AT sick-boy DOT com)December 11th, 1999
PLANET SICK-BOY: http://www.sick-boy.com
Milos Forman’s long-awaited biopic on the life of the late Andy Kaufman begins hysterically. A black-and-white clip of Andy tells the audience that the movie isn’t really that funny. In fact, Andy explains, since they edited out all of the unfunny moments, the movie is actually over. The credits start to roll and the screen fades to black for several seconds, while viewers shift around in their seats, unsure if the projector blew a bulb. Then Andy pokes his head into the frame, stating that the whole intro was a ploy to make people that didn’t get his humor to leave the theater.
This opening bit perfectly captures Andy’s career. His performances seemed geared more to pleasing himself than his audience, with his career (and possibly his life) a huge inside joke that nobody was a part of except Andy. After this brilliant start, Man on the Moon lays out Andy’s life, from his childhood in Great Neck, Long Island, where he performed to an invisible audience contained within his bedroom wall, to his death from a rare form of lung cancer. The title of the film is taken from R.E.M.’s homage to the ultra-talented performer (they also provide the score to the picture).
The first half of Man focuses on Andy’s (Jim Carrey, The Truman Show) rise to stardom. He never thought of himself as a comedian, but more of a “song-and-dance” man. Actually, performance art is probably a more accurate description. Andy’s legendary stage performances, which usually involved shocking his audience into various states of discomfort, landed the entertainer on the ABC sitcom Taxi, despite his reluctance to be tied down creatively. He only accepted after quickly conjuring up a list of crazy demands, one of which guaranteed that his alter ego, Tony Clifton (also played by Carrey), would appear in four episodes of the popular television show. The brash, offensive Clifton was, in my opinion, the greatest comedy bit since “Who’s on first?”
Moon’s second half concentrates on the established comedian’s fall from grace. As far as his audience was concerned, Andy began to take things a little too far. His involvement in wrestling, which is probably the greatest entertainment hoax of the decade, seemed to turn off what few people still enjoyed the performer. The film also shows Andy as an obsessive-compulsive that practiced holistic medicine (this probably sounds familiar to Howard Stern fans).
His illness and death are probably the most ironic story to come out of Hollywood. When Andy announced that he had cancer, nobody believed it, thinking it was just another one of his practical jokes. When he died, people though that was a stunt, too. Later, when a television special honoring his career was broadcast, people actually expected him to show up and pull off the greatest showbiz prank ever. I know – I was one of them. Even when the special is re-aired, I still watch, hoping that Andy will pop out and yell “Surprise!”
Carrey’s performance is electrifying, capturing not only Andy’s physical appearance but his spirit as well. There are times you will forget that you aren’t watching clips of the real Andy. He nails the mannerisms (especially the eyes), the voices and even Andy’s nuts-on impression of Elvis. Paul Giamatti (The Negotiator) is terrific as Bob Zmuda, Andy’s friend and cohort, and executive producer Danny DeVito (Living Out Loud) capably plays George Shapiro, the talent agent that “discovered” Andy. It’s strange that DeVito, who played opposite the real Andy on Taxi, was the only cast member that didn’t portray him or herself in the film. Well, except Tony Danza, but who will really miss him? The film also features cameos by David Letterman, Jerry Lawler, Lorne Michaels and the real Bob Zmuda, who I always figured was just spelling his last name backwards.
There seems to be huge chunks missing from the film, especially revolving around Courtney Love’s role as Andy’s girlfriend Lynne, which isn’t really too much of a surprise. Her Lynne seems relegated to looks of astonishment during crowd shots at Andy’s appearances. The rock star doesn’t appear until sixty minutes into the film, and even then she’s kind of abruptly crammed in without much explanation. I have a feeling that many of her scenes ended up on the cutting room floor (which is where most of her last album should be laying). Forman’s (The People vs. Larry Flynt) films are usually much longer than 120 minutes.
Also lacking was Andy’s rise to fame, which was brushed over in minutes. The film gave the impression that Andy went from struggling at an improv club, to SNL, to Taxi in the same week. And his childhood, which I was the most curious about seeing, was condensed into about ninety seconds. As a side note, Bobby Boriello plays the young Andy - he’s the same kid that played Howard Stern in Private Parts and now has the unique distinction of portraying two of the funniest people in the last half of this century. What does this poor kid do with his career now?
Moon does spend a great deal of time on the downfall of Andy’s career, skipping from his banishment from SNL, to the cancellation of Taxi, to being kicked out of his transcendental meditation group. This brings up an interesting point – who is going to pay to see this movie? Most people disliked Kaufmann, so count them out. Die-hard fans may go, but they’ll be disappointed that the film consists mostly of bits that you can watch three times a week on Comedy Central. Other than Andy’s wonderful bits and Carrey’s performance, there isn’t really much else to this film. But those two factors are almost all it needs.
2:00 - R for adult language and mild violence
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