Danny Collins
Danny Collins is a movie based on a true story, where an aging Rock Star was presented a previously unknown personal letter from John Lennon. This letter motivates him to try to change his life, write music, and reach out to his estranged son; a son sired with a nameless Groupie, backstage, after a performance, and in a moment of meaningless passion. Of course, the son is sick and brooding, and predictably hates his father and all that he stands for. I think you get the picture.
I won’t beat around the bush, this movie should have worked, but it just didn’t. Al Pacino turned in a great acting performance, as did Bobby Cannavale, but the movie was a real yawner. Pacino was in virtually every single scene in the movie and carried it on his back as you knew he would. This is the good news and is exactly why the movie was infuriating, that and the fact that Pacino is now 75 years old (today). Other than Pacino’s acting, it was a lazy effort, a half-baked attempt to produce a movie with a story that was predictable and boring. Also, it didn’t help that every single actor in the movie, with the exception of Cannavale, seemed to be horribly miscast, even Pacino.
Christopher Plummer was unwatchable, and I know that the part called for someone ancient, but really, that hat? In every scene? I guess I could forgive that, and the two retards that played Collin’s trophy wife and goofy houseboy that was fucking his trophy wife and yet, the Godfather does nothing about it? This was just not the Al Pacino that you want to see in a movie, this was not your Grandfather’s Ricky Roma, that’s for sure. I didn’t think that I really loathed this excuse for a film, but after thinking about the movie and deciding to write this review, I became even more despondent and angry over just the thought of it.
Anyway, the most squandered actor or actress in this movie was Annette Bening, and she was so bad that I started to ask for my money back on the way out of the movie, but just like this film, I’m gutless. Imagine your frumpy 2nd Grade Teacher, who plays the organ in Church, trying to act hip and throwing around F-bombs? It doesn’t quite work, does it? Every single scene with her was a failure and she is a great actress, so I don’t really blame her. I don’t know who in the hell Dan Fogelman is, but he can just eat a big plate of all that stuff in the videos in my previous review. The angle with John Lennon was not exploited in the least, and that was tragic. What Fogelman left the viewers with was a lame attempt at a family drama movie. Yes, we had a very pregnant mom, an ADD kid who never shut up, a sick and blue-collar husband and a neighbor watering his lawn. All we needed was a puppy, but instead we got a coked-up rock star who sought redemption. The only thing that might have made this steaming mess worse would have been a religious angle, but we were thankfully spared that.
The ending was excruciating, not because it was sad or profound, but that it was just so damn predictable. Credits finally rolled, TTFC, it was over. We were treated to frontal nudity, multiple F-bombs (big deal), and what seemed to be endless servings of syrupy niceness. This movie couldn’t decide between naughty or nice, so it settled for mostly nothing for 106 phony and boring ass minutes. My advice? Avoid.