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