RAIN MAN: 4K UHD Blu-ray (UA, Guber-Peters, 1988) MVD Entertainment

The movie that shattered the silent barrier of autism, Barry Levinson’s Rain Man (1988) is an unvarnished, tender, yet wholly adult glimpse into that isolated, and still largely unknown anomaly of the human mind. Those seeking an altogether legit take on the disease should seek their verisimilitude elsewhere. But the movie’s purpose is perhaps as divided between its desire to entertain and educate - an awkward construction built into Barry Morrow and Ronald Bass' screenplay, occasionally to become heavy-handed to the point of leaving the audience nonplussed. Nevertheless, the story is immeasurably blessed by Dustin Hoffman's front-and-center star turn as the savant, Raymond Babbitt. Hoffman's great gift to movies has always been his ability to get inside the head of a character and fully mine the possibilities, revealing subtle nuances and self-reflexive moments of introspection that are uncannily on point. So, how does any actor – even one of Hoffman’s extraordinary aptitude and dynamism – get inside the head of someone with an affliction that denies the rest of us the very access into their inability to articulate a clear sense of self?

In Hoffman’s case – fluently, as the character of Raymond Babbitt could have degenerated into mere caricature - an aping of the external traits of autism without understanding the humanity agonizing from within. Instead, Hoffman is never anything less than authentic, gently to peel back the layers into an astonishingly displaced genuineness lurking beneath Raymond's outwardly despondent façade. In a career of exquisitely hewn diversity and incredible depth, Raymond Babbitt is perhaps Hoffman’s most engrossing creation. When we laugh, it is not because Raymond seems ridiculous or easily made the figure of fun for our amusement, but rather, because Hoffman gets us to completely empathize with Raymond’s tortured reality, recognizing his similarities to us rather than his monumental differences. Our compassion is entirely with Hoffman who draws truth and clarity, even subtle wisdom, gently imparted by Raymond’s otherwise seemingly-distant compassion.

Rain Man ought never to have been made, except UA’s exec, Roger Birnbaum became almost immediately enamored with screenwriter, Barry Morrow’s story pitch. The creation of Raymond Babbitt was based on Kim Peek, a real savant; also, Bill Sackter, a good friend of Morrow’s who had earlier been the subject of Bill, the 1981, made-for-TV drama of an elderly/intellectually-disabled man, played by Mickey Rooney that Morrow had also written. In hindsight, Rain Man is one of those happy accidents that appears to have come together without much consternation or delays. Agents at CAA sent Morrow’s script to Dustin Hoffman and Bill Murray, envisioning Murray in the title role and Hoffman as Raymond’s enterprising brother, Charlie (eventually portrayed by Tom Cruise). Meanwhile, Ronald Bass was brought on board to polish the final draft. For a while, some of Hollywood’s heaviest hitters, including Martin Brest, Steven Spielberg, and Sydney Pollack were attached to the project.

At one point, Mickey Rourke was considered for the title role.  Aside: I cannot imagine how that would have played out. Mercifully, Rourke turned Morrow down. For one reason or another, all the aforementioned directors also moved on in their aspirations, paving the way for Barry Levinson to step in and assume the reins. Levinson’s ‘style’ here is unassuming. The picture is almost entirely driven by Hoffman and, to a lesser extent, in the oft tempestuous understanding between Hoffman’s Raymond and Cruise’s Charlie, to take on an uncharacteristically tender bent in the last act. So, Levinson and cinematographer, John Seale are contented with the most basic camera setups, remaining stationary to indulge in the afterglow of Hoffman’s scene-stealing antics. Virtually all of Rain Man’s principal photography was achieved during the 1988 Writer’s Guild of America strike, forcing Levinson into a corner as he had never found an adequate conclusion to his movie. In the eleventh hour before the strike, Bass had a spark of inspiration for the bittersweet finale, committing it to paper. Pronounced as superb by Levinson, he sojourned on to finish the project.

Rain Man begins in earnest with Raymond's brother, Charlie (Tom Cruise), a con artist, looking to unload some snazzy Lamborghinis on unsuspecting buyers without first passing California’s stringent emissions tests. According the world at large, Charlie is ‘normal’ – a slick and stylish player, handsome yet ruthless, and desperate to make good on his investment…or else face personal bankruptcy. Charlie’s currently girlfriend, Susanna (the sublime Valerie Golino) is sympathetic to his predicament. Moreover, she genuinely loves this man who is strangely detached from everything and everyone, except his own ego.  In short order, Charlie receives word his father, Sanford has died. As far as Charlie is concerned, this is all to the good. He and Sanford never got along, their estrangement stemming from Charlie’s teenage joyride in Sanford’s prized 1949’s vintage Buick Roadmaster. Charlie never needed Sanford and, truth be told, Sanford did not have much use for his son either. Alas, the reading of Sanford's will leaves more questions than answers. Stemming from their long-standing rift, Sanford has left his entire estate in trust to Charlie's brother - Raymond - a sibling Charlie did not even know he had.

Journeying to the sanitarium to be reunited with Raymond, Charlie learns from Dr. Bruner (Jerry Molen) Raymond has autism. Self-serving and impatient for Raymond's inheritance - the birthright he feels he is being unfairly denied - Charlie decides to kidnap his brother to extort part of the money from Dr. Bruner. Charlie is materialistic and hardhearted. These vices Susanna eventually decides are deal breakers in their relationship. She leaves Charlie to look after Raymond by himself. But this proves to be a full-time job. And Charlie is ill-prepared.  Begun in abject frustration, and due to Raymond's aversion to flying, Charlie is forced to drive cross country to meet his deadline. At first, this leads to many a one-sided contemplation to test Charlie’s already short fuse. After all, why do they always have to pause to catch the latest episode of The People’s Court? And underwear is underwear wherever you buy it. So, forget Kmart! 

Gradually, and very begrudgingly, Charlie begins to recognize Raymond's uniqueness and special skill set - chiefly, his ability to count cards. Landing on an idea rife for even more exploitation, Charlie takes Raymond to Las Vegas. The boys hit the casinos dressed like twins and easily rake in the big bucks at the blackjack tables. Their instant profitability is not lost on the pit bosses who request, after the brothers have collected their winnings, that they quietly get out of town…or else. Raymond has won Charlie an awful lot of money. Now, Charlie decides there might be other ways to exploit Raymond's talents. Maybe he can predict the horse races or even the right numbers in the national lottery. So, Charlie decides to take his brother back to his bungalow with plans for a fruitful future.

Alas, an autistic savant’s world is all about regimented order; a quality sorely lacking in Charlie’s lifestyle. Raymond's confusion results in a small toaster fire that almost burns Charlie’s place down. Moreover, his seemingly unprovoked emotional meltdowns terrify Charlie, who now comes to the realization he loves his brother just enough to return him to the sanitarium – the only place where he will be truly receive the care he requires. Contacting Dr. Bruner, Charlie is reunited with Susanna. After all this time, he has learned to love, even if the object of his affection – Raymond – is incapable of reciprocating it in return. “I really would have wanted you for my brother,” Charlie bitterly acknowledges, before allowing Dr. Bruner to take Raymond away. As their train pulls out of station, Charlie is aware Raymond likely does not even know he is alive. Their grand adventure has ended abruptly. This is as close as these two brothers will ever be.

Rain Man is all about bittersweet realizations. Referenced as the 'loneliest' of human conditions, Levinson treats autism from its incomprehensible double-edged sword, attempting to get under the skin of a savant - who exists, but cannot judge loneliness as such – and, from the isolation endured by those who struggle to care for such a brilliantly encapsulated mind, without ever to know the depth of its uniquely formulated intelligence, or even if their love for them is understood. Depending on the vantage, autism is either a very cruel and debilitating mental disease or a miraculous gift of quantitative clarity. Both perspectives are on display in Rain Man and miraculously void of the usual clichĂ©s associated with Hollywood’s approach to the 'medical' drama. Dustin Hoffman’s ability to immerse himself into this character is startlingly effective. Raymond is a deeply felt, finely wrought and multi-dimensional creation.

Tom Cruise's performance is oft misjudged as ‘second best.’ Undeniably, it remains the less evolved of the two.  As Cruise, at this juncture in his long career was likely enamored with his own galvanized screen image and classification as one of the 80’s stud du jour, he really does come across as something of a dashing second-fiddle in this movie. And Cruise’s career has held tight to this very limited range, mined it for all its worth in films like Tom Gun (1986), Cocktail (1988), Days of Thunder (1990) and, of course, the Mission Impossible (1996 – present) franchise. Cruise is, in fact, very good at what he does. But in Rain Man his Charlie Babbitt is expected to undergo a conversion – acquiring a real human heart where only days before, only a competitive streak of emptiness existed. Yet, Cruise here is incapable of building up to that big moment of realization. Instead, he portrays the sullen arrogance of an unscrupulous player, right up to the moment where Raymond suffers his manic mental implosion. Only then, does Cruise allow Charlie his moment of disbelief, a flicker of genuine humanity shining through.

Rain Man can survive Cruise’s shortcomings because Levinson’s focus never leaves Hoffman for a second. The director is also immeasurably blessed to have Valerie Golino, in her all-too-brief scenes, emanating inimitable warmth outside of Hoffman's sympathetic turn. It is no surprise Hoffman won the Best Actor Academy Award (his second) for Rain Man. Raymond is a mesmeric figure with no hint of the actor behind it. Hoffman simply is Raymond Babbitt. Few actors possess the powerhouse, chutzpah or the incredible lack of ego to completely vanish into a part. While the Oscar for Hoffman is well-deserved, the one for Best Picture takes some getting used to, particularly in a year with such incredibly diverse offerings as Mississippi Burning, Bull Durham, Working Girl, and, Tucker: The Man and His Dream. Levinson's direction on Rain Man is pedestrian at best. Both he and John Seale rely almost exclusively on Hoffman to dictate their visuals – some, better suited for a made-for-TV movie than a major motion picture featuring two of Hollywood’s heaviest hitters. While this is, undeniably, a character-driven tale, visually, Rain Man is little more than a postcard to big screen entertainments; not a movie, so much as Hoffman’s one-man show of shows. That said: permit us to worship a monumentally gifted actor at play and work in his invisible craft.

Rain Man arrives in 4K via MVD Entertainment, culling from a 2023 UHD restoration off an original camera negative, supervised by Barry Levinson. The palette here is subdued, with only a few opportunities to create the sort of ‘wow’ factor we have become used to seeing in 4K UHD. That said, this ultra-hi-def transfer appears to be indigenous to its source. It’s been a while since I saw Rain Man in a theater, but I do not recall being all that impressed with color saturation or vibrancy then. What is here favors a cool palette with naturalistic sky blues, lush greens and straw-colored backroads, drenched in earth tones.  The red Lamborghini lowered from a freighter during the credit sequence shows off the richness of those conservatively-used pops of color. And much improved are flesh tones throughout this presentation. Previously, flesh leaned toward piggy pink.  

Owing to optical printing methods of the time, we get some thick grain. It’s actually quite distracting during the main titles. Brightly lit sequences show off some gorgeous detail. Scenes shot under lower light conditions amplify grain, marginally to obscure finer details. Contrast is solid. Age-related artifacts are gone. The DTS 5.1 appears to be identical to the previously issued Blu-rays. Is it good enough? Arguably, yes. Could it have been better? Hmmm. Not sure. Hans Zimmer’s score would be the only real benefactor here as this is primarily a dialogue-driven movie. The 4K offers three audio commentaries. None are new: the first, featuring Levinson, the second, writer, Barry Morrow, and the third, with writer, Ronald Bass. The accompanying 1080p standard Blu-ray sports the same extras, and adds The Journey of Rain Man, a nearly half-hour retrospective chocked full of cast and crew interviews. Also, just under a half-hour is Lifting the Fog: A Look at the Mysteries of Autism. Again, neither is new. Last, and least of all – barely 2 minutes of deleted scenes and a trailer. Bottom line: Rain Man is not an altogether factual look at autism. Personally, I never go to the movies to be educated…only to be entertained, and Rain Man does that! The picture is an intelligently made, and introspective entertainment, imbued with one of the greatest screen performances of all time.  The Blu-ray, though solid, is not reference quality – a shame.  Judge and buy accordingly.

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

4

VIDEO/AUDIO

3.5

EXTRAS

3.5

 

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