Hollywoodland (R; 2006) is a good movie, and it is not about Hollywood. Ostensibly, it is about the life and death of George Reeves (Ben Affleck), the actor who became famous playing Superman on television in the 1950s. But, appropriately, he is not introduced until quite a few minutes into the film, because the film’s focus is on a desperate and deluded private investigator, Louis Simo (Adrien Brody). The film cuts back and forth between Reeves’ career in the early 1950s and Simo’s investigation of the apparent suicide in 1959. In the process of investigating the case, Simo grows up some. Maybe he sees the parallels between Reeves and himself. Both at one time had things pretty good, but they would not accept the hand that life dealt them, and, consequently, they were both unhappy and making some bad decisions.
This movie is not about Hollywood and how evil it is. The original title gives an indication of the scope of the movie: Truth, Justice, and the American Way. While this is part of the quotation that started every episode of “Superman,” it has wider implications. I wonder if the truth came out and justice was done concerning Reeves’ death. In Reeves’ bedroom, where he supposedly shot himself, there was a bullet hole in the floor and another in the ceiling. So he shot down and missed himself, shot up and missed himself, and then finally got it right? His fiancé(Robin Tunney), whom he had decided not to marry, and a few friends waited 45 minutes until they called the police. They were deciding on the truth? But this is not a movie that tries to solve the mystery of how Reeves died. The detective imagines three scenarios: a fight with the girlfriend in which Reeves is accidentally shot; a hit by the MGM mogul whose wife Reeves had been involved with; or a suicide. The movie does not come down in favour of one answer, for that is not its purpose.
Rather the movie focuses on the American Way, or, more accurately, a common trait in people which is heightened in America, the land of opportunity, and heightened further in Hollywood, where dreams supposedly come true. When DC Comics refused to allow the movie to use Superman’s slogan about defending “truth, justice, and the American way,” the director had to settle for Hollywoodland (the name on the Los Angeles hillside before the “land” part disappeared in 1949). This title, unfortunately, leads lazy viewers astray. The film examines two themes that are so intertwined they are inseparable, although made clearer by stating separately. Fame. It is a trap. Reeves is famous as Superman, but he is still unhappy, because he never wanted the role, did not respect television, and wanted to be famous as a movie star or movie director. Ironically, his fame as Superman typecast him and made it difficult to establish a more serious acting career. When a screening test audience sees him in From Here to Eternity, all they can think about is Superman jokes. Simo, on the other hand, is a low-life private investigator who wants desperately to be “a player,” one of the big boys, a man of consequence. But he doesn’t care how he gets it: A few newspaper headlines based on nothing will suffice. The other theme asks, When is enough enough? When should we accept what life has dealt us? When will ambition do more harm than good? The American Way is to never stop struggling. But what might be called “blind ambition” hurts Reeves and Simo, as the latter slowly comes to realize. Reeves has a successful television series and a mistress (Diane Lane) who lavishes him with comforts and love, yet he is unhappy because he is not in pictures and she is getting older. Simo had a intelligent and energetic wife (Molly Parker) and a son he adored, but we find him separated and living with a young actress (Caroline Dhavernas) in a second-rate apartment. He combs his hair like James Dean, puts Ridgid pin-ups on his living room wall, and plays at being a private eye, refusing to grow up.
The last three scenes of the movie encapsulate the theme. First, Simo watches the demonstration footage that Reeves made at the end of his career to prove to the wrestling federation that he had the physical ability to be a wrestler. It is pathetic. Next, Simo watches his old home movies of him teasing his wife as she hangs out clothes and of him giving his young son airplane rides. It is what he lost, although he still has visitation rights with his son. The movie ends with him, dressed neatly for a change, pulling up in front of his former residence, his son comes out the front door a bit hesitantly, and Simo gets out of the car. The end. Partial redemption.
The movie raises an excellent question, one that comes up for most people every day, one that our culture gives an easy and misleading answer for. The question has some impact because the acting in this movie is terrific, the direction is top notch, and the period detail is perfect and unobtrusive (not bad for a movie that was shot largely in Toronto on a budget of 20 million dollars.
This film is not an expose of Hollywood, not a bio-pic of George “Superman” Reeves, not a mystery solved by proving how Reeves died, and not a film noir. If you want it to be any of these things, you will be disappointed. This film is a character study (of Simo) portrayed through another character study (of Reeves), and both characters’ lives raise substantial questions about fame and ambition.
Jim Bell