From Shelley Duvall to Rick Moranis: When great actors go missing

Shelley Duvall

When this revealing interview with Rick Moranis went viral it got me thinking. He is just one of many beloved film actors who haven't exactly retired but just largely stopped working. Now, Moranis made a point to spend more time with his children after his wife died from breast cancer in 1997, an act that is both touching and inspiring.

But now that he appears eager to get back in the game, I hope Hollywood casting agents are listening. This man anchored some of the most beloved comedies of the 1980s, including Spaceballs, Parenthood and of course, the original Ghostbusters and its 1989 sequel.

He was more than just the nebbish nerd he frequently played -- if you don't believe me check out his tour de force one-take performance during the house party scene in Ghostbusters. Moranis delivers a mouthful of dialogue with such ease and nuanced personality -- it's a marvel to behold.

Recently, I've had similar recollections of Shelley Duvall. She was a standout in several of Robert Altman's great early films, including the creepy and fascinating 3 Women. In 1980, she reached the peak of her career, starring in both Altman's Popeye and Stanley Kubrick's classic The Shining.

Tom Berenger

Both films have grown in stature and critical acclaim since their mixed initial reception, but it seems as though the toll both lengthy productions had on Duvall was too much. She made a few small appearances in films after that but has since largely disappeared from the screen. She seems ripe for rediscovery.

Gene Wilder is another performer who just seemed to abruptly stop acting. Sure, I know he did a few episodes of television, but he was one of the great comic actors of the '70s -- does Hollywood have no use for him now?

Quentin Tarantino talked about actors like these when discussing his casting process for Jackie Brown.

He claims that the industry has a "list" of acceptable actors and actresses for any given role, and that it's a predictable and overused group of people. He sought out the likes of Robert Forster and Pam Grier, not only because he could but because he wanted to break the mold.

It's refreshing an exciting to see someone like Tom Berenger in Inception or Martin Short in Inherent Vice because these are talented, interesting people who you just don't get to see all that often anymore. And their presence in prestige pictures is like a nice surprise instead of an obvious cliche.

While some legends like Jack Nicholson, Gene Hackman and Sean Connery really do appear to be done with the business, there are a slew of actors who I wish would win one of those coveted "comeback roles" although none of them really went anywhere.

Imagine if Michael Keaton hadn't been cast in Birdman? He was not bankable anymore by any measure, and yet I can't think of anyone else who could have played that role. Now, Keaton is a household name again and got robbed of an Oscar earlier this year.

Lily Tomlin has already shined in the kind of role that might have normally gone to Meryl Streep in this year's Grandma. I'll be eager to see some more familiar faces this awards season that I haven't seen in a while. Here's hoping!

'Misery' at 25: A masterpiece of psychological scares

Last night I revisited the Rob Reiner classic Misery and it dawned on me that the movie came out 25 years ago at roughly this time of year. I was of course too young to see it in theaters but it did become a staple in my house once it came out on home video.

Although its got it's brutally violent moments, it's one of those movies my parents let slip through the cracks. So I saw it at probably an inappropriate age and it has always stuck with me.

After The Shining (which may be my new favorite movie of all time), The Shawshank Redemption, and Carrie -- it's one of the best adaptations of Stephen King's work ever put on screen.

I've never read the original King text, so I don't know how the film compares. But on its own terms this is a top-notch thriller, featuring extraordinary performances from Kathy Bates and James Caan.

It's sometimes classified as a horror film, and I guess in some ways it is. Although there isn't any supernatural element and the entire premise is plausible, which is one of the things I love about the movie.

Watching it in 2015, I was struck by how well it holds up and the reality that a movie like this could probably never get made today, let alone become a hit. Reiner took an aging former A-lister whose career was struggling after a series of flops and an unknown, not traditionally attractive Broadway actress and sold it to not just to studios, but audiences. Misery was a big, word-of-mouth hit.

Imagine if someone tried to make this movie today with say, Val Kilmer, and some nobody who could never make the pages of Maxim. It would probably be direct-to-video fodder. But in 1990, you could still make a psychological thriller without CGI and pyrotechnics. Just two actors giving tour-de-force performances under heightened circumstances.

For the uninitiated: Caan plays a best selling author behind a series of cheesy romance novels looking to branch out of his comfort zone. After finishing an autobiographical novel about his youth he is in a terrible car crash amid a blizzard. He is "rescued" by his self-proclaimed number one fan -- a manic depressive (to say the least) ex-nurse played by Bates. Caan's character goes from being patient to captive as Bates drifts deeper into madness.

James Caan in Misery

This all could be silly (if not offensive) were it handled badly, but Reiner has the good sense to give both characters plenty of space to develop three-dimensional personalities. He also wisely avoids certain stock conventions of the genre. For instance, the Caan character is exceptionally bright. He recognizes quickly that he isn't safe and does what we'd all hope we'd do if we were in such a horrific situation.

Meanwhile, Bates won a rare Oscar for this type of film for a reason. She is both funny and scary as Annie Wilkes, a completely un-self-aware person who lives for Liberace, Love Connection and her pet pig (also named Misery). She does a brilliant job of conveying a sense of profound loneliness that may not make you pity Wilkes, but at least understand her.

There are over-the-top performances and then there are controlled over-the-top performances. Bates has always been a quality actress, I can't remember a movie I've ever seen her be bad in, and this role still resonates because she went to some pretty wild places but with an assurance of an actress who knows her craft and can ground extreme material in reality.

Even though I know the movie well, it has some jump scares that still get me. The infamous "hobbling" scene still makes me cringe. And Wilkes' turns of phrase ("Mr, Man," "all oogie," etc.) are fixed in my memory to this day.

If you haven't seen Misery, you should really check it out, because they don't make them like this anymore.

You call him Dr. Jones! My Indy movie marathon memories

Harrison Ford as Indiana Jones

This past weekend -- because my fiancee was feeling under the weather and I thought my city might be getting hit with a hurricane, I did something I've been meaning to do for a long time -- I watched all four Indiana Jones movies in a row.

This is one of the most successful and beloved franchises in movie history, which despite its flaws (some uncomfortable portrayals of foreign cultures, for instance) is the gold standard in terms of smart and engaging escapist action.

Back in 1981, George Lucas and Steven Spielberg did a brilliant job updating the adventure serials they adored in their youth, and created one of the most iconic characters ever.

Indiana Jones also helped Harrison Ford escape the shadow and stigma of Star Wars, showing he had more range and star appeal than the industry initially thought he did.

Here are my thoughts on the four Indy films after having watched them again with fresh eyes.

Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981): The original Indiana Jones movie is pretty much a perfect film. It was nominated for Best Picture and it's easy to see why. It's popcorn cinema at its finest. A fast-paced film that is lively, accessible and charming. I think a case could be made for it as the best action movie ever (although Die Hard fans would beg to differ). The mixture of live stunts and the mystical elements of the arc of the covenant are irresistible. Like most people -- probably -- this is my favorite
Indiana Jones movie.

Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom (1984): A much more relentless film than the original, which is not always a good thing. A darker, more gruesome entry that still has some incredible set pieces along the way. Its opening may be my favorite of the series and the moment where Indy cuts the drawbridge may its most badass. Still, it's story is lacking in comparison to the first and third entry, which makes it the weakest of the first three films -- but it's still a classic.

Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade (1989): In many ways this film is a return to the spirit of Raiders; the Nazis are the bad guys, the artifact he's chasing has biblical significance (this time the Holy Grail) and the emphasis is more on the Jones character than the pyrotechnics. The addition of Sean Connery as Jones' father was an inspired choice and although some of the FX hasn't held up quite so well, the finale provides the perfect capper to one of the best trilogies in movie history.

Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull (2008): And then there was this one. Now, here's the thing, I have always defended this movie. I liked it a lot when I first saw it in theaters and I have never considered it a total disaster on par with the Star Wars prequels.

In other words, I think it is a legit Indiana Jones film, just the worst one. I am not angry they made it nor do I think it was destined to be terrible. In fact, if you revisit it now I'd say it's hard to argue that the first 30 minutes or so aren't just good but great. Surehe CGI moles are little much but I liked the nuking of the fridge.

It's when the movie really kicks into its plot that it badly loses its way. If there was ever a movie where the title spells out what's wrong with it, it's this one. It's too long and suffers from too many cooks. I loved the idea of transplanting the Indy character to the 1950s, the movie has a great look to it and I think the Communists could have provided Jones with a formidable foe. But the movie can't decide what it's about, so it throws in a bunch of stuff -- red scare, FBI agents, Marian and Mutt, aliens, backstabbing former allies -- and a babbling old kook played by John Hurt.

I actually had no problem with Crystal Skull being ultimately an alien movie but the aliens looked horrible and were sort of pointless. I had no problem with Shia LaBeouf playing Indy's estranged son but he's so perfunctory to the plot that I never really cared about him or their relationship. I thought Cate Blanchett could have played a good villain but her performance is pitched almost as parody, so I never really found her to be a legitimate threat as I did with the bad guys in previous films.

And then there's Marian Ravenwood, played by fan favorite Karen Allen. I thought it was cool that they brought her back, she was always the toughest and most fleshed out female lead in the series. But then they made her this conventional, sort of frumpy mom whose only function is to nag Jones and ultimately marry him. Couldn't they have given her a more fascinating back story or reveal.

I liked this fight scene.

Basically, there were a lot of missed opportunities. At 65, Ford not only looked great but was still plausible as Indiana Jones. He gives the character a gravitas and world weariness here that is terrific. It would have been interesting to see a film where Indy grapples with the inevitability of having to hang up his signature hat due to the arrival of his son and perhaps an adventure that could prove the most costly of his career.

Instead the stakes in this movie feel too low -- literally one character is killed on camera by Indy -- and the giant set pieces (like the awful, extended truck race through a forest) mostly fall flat. But again, I enjoyed some parts of this film and I think had director Steven Spielberg had complete creative control over the project (as opposed to collaborating with the tone deaf George Lucas) this could have been a better movie.

Now, there's talk of rebooting this franchise again because, you know, nothing is sacred in Hollywood. I am pretty vehemently opposed to this idea. For one thing, I just don't want to see anyone else as Indiana Jones but Harrison Ford. I'm biased because he's one of my favorite actors, but I also just think there's no one else out there who can bring more to the role than he did. I am not interested in seeing a brooding, millennial version of the iconic archaeologist but clearly money rules everything around me so you can't stop the inevitable.

So in the meantime, I will cherish the original three and tolerate the fourth. They were sometimes criticized upon initial release as being sort of soulless theme park rides but I think they are better than the sum of their set pieces.

Yes, they are examples of visual filmmaking of the highest order (especially the first film, which director Steven Soderbergh once recut as a silent black and white film, only highlighting its effectiveness), but they are also tributes to inquisitive minds with a sense of daring adventure. In this age of cynicism where characters are always one step ahead and speaking in pithy one liners, I admire the earnestness of these films and their sense of wonder.

Matt Damon cements his big screen persona in 'The Martian'

Matt Damon in 'The Martian'

A-list male movie stars usually have something akin to an established persona. Denzel Washington is fierce. Tom Hanks is noble. George Clooney is charming. Tom Cruise is driven.

But what is Matt Damon?

He's definitely got a presence about him. He's likable, and ingratiates himself with audiences with ease. But he has been a little bit harder to pin down during his career.

Even his signature role -- Jason Bourne -- is a bit of cypher. He's a man who doesn't even know who he is, so while Damon is dynamic in the part, it's largely physical.

That said, after watching his incredibly appealing turn in The Martian, I better understand his star identity -- he's the smart guy.

His breakout film featured him as an unassuming genius (Good Will Hunting), his next major role was the manipulative but undeniably bright lead of The Talented Mr. Ripley. And in role after role, he has mastered the art of making being smart look good. Even his role as the comic foil in the Ocean's movies played off of his upstart character being too ahead of the curve for his own good.

My favorite role of his to date was in The Departed. DiCaprio has the showier, more emotional role, but Damon was remarkable as a real weasel, remarkably adept at lying to everyone, including himself.

In The Martian, he plays it safer, in part because it's a more conventional film. It's a lot of fun, don't get me wrong, and deserves to be the hit it will most likely be. But, it is not a game-changer like say Gravity (with its visionary storytelling) or even Interstellar (which was both more flawed and ambitious). It's just a terrific mainstream movie, that succeeds largely because of Damon's humane intelligence.

Damon looks great, can play light comedy and he never, ever comes across as smug (you can't say the same about his close friend and former co-star Ben Affleck.)

That persona extends off-screen too. It's not lost on audiences that Damon has been happily married to years to a "regular" person. And with the exception of a minor whitesplaining controversy, he has largely avoided tabloid controversy or gaffes.

He has also shown pretty impeccable taste. Damon's box office track record isn't flawless, but he usually makes quality films with solid filmmakers. At 44 he has reached a stage of career where he has earned audiences' trust him as a real talent.

The Martian should only enhance his stature as one of Hollywood's good guys.

Paying my respects to Robert Redford's essential roles

Robert Redford

Following a critically acclaimed turn in All Is Lost and a very commercially successful villainous role in the blockbuster Captain America: The Winter Solider, Hollywood legend Robert Redford is enjoying something akin to a career renaissance as he approaches the age of 80.

He's been revered for his creation of the Sundance Film Festival, which has become a safe space for generations of burgeoning independent filmmakers, and he is also gets kudos for being the industry's golden boy leading man heartthrob of the 1970s. And on a personal note he gave the commencement address at my graduation ceremony at Bard College in 2004.

What is often overlooked is that besides being an accomplished filmmaker (his Ordinary People won best picture in 1980) he is also a terrific actor, who has done consistently strong work for six decades now.

As I did with his famous co-star Paul Newman, I wanted to look back on my favorite performances of his, in an attempt to put his considerable achievements in context.

The Chase (1966): Although he later became the most sought after leading man in Hollywood, most of his early films, like this ahead-of-its-time character study of a southern town awash in corruption and bigotry, were flops. Redford plays an escaped convict on the lam. He holds his own in a film dominated by star Marlon Brando and shows flashes of the charisma that made him an icon.

Downhill Racer (1969): A rare glimpse of the darker side of Redford's range is this fascinating, experimental film which takes a no-holds-barred look at the world of athletics (in this case Olympic level skiing) and the sometimes narcissistic athletes that inhabit it. As the film progresses Redford's character get progressively less likable which adds a wonderful ambiguity to the finale.

Butch Cassidy & the Sundance Kid (1969): This was the film that made Redford a household name and established his classic big screen partnership with Newman. Their chemistry can't be invented, they are the most roguish and handsome cowboys in movie history. Interestingly, Redford largely plays the reserved, monosyllabic character here -- but his appeal comes across.

The Candidate (1972): One of Redford's most fascinating early roles takes a prescient look at how our political process has become more and more about marketing and media. He plays a liberal idealist recruited to essentially lose a race respectably. But when his character starts to capture the voting public's imagination, the money people rush in to make sure he doesn't become too much of a change agent. A film that still holds up today.

Redford with his Best Director Oscar

The Sting (1973): The biggest hit of Redford's early career and the one time he was ever recognized by the Academy Awards for his acting. He's teamed up with Newman again, but this time he is the real protagonist of this highly influential caper film. Every heist movie since owes a debt to this film and it's given real heft thanks to Redford's physical and earnest performance in it.

Three Days of the Condor (1975): The kind of taut, paranoid thriller that became some of a calling card for Redford in his career. He plays an unwitting CIA analyst who is drawn into a murderous plot and forced to pick up a gun. I'm actually shocked that Hollywood has never remade this film; it has a rapid fire pace and a killer ending.

All the President's Men (1976): Quite possibly the best film of Redford's career and one of his greatest all around success stories. Against most studio's judgement, he saw the commercial and storytelling value in bringing Washington Post reporters Carl Berstein and Bob Woodward's investigation into the Watergate break-in and cover-up to the big screen. It now stands as one of the all-time great journalism movies.

The Natural (1984): After 1980, Redford took a surprisingly long self-imposed break from acting. This heroic baseball movie was his triumphant return. The movie works in part because it is shamelessly hokey and understands the allure of the Redford mystique. It's plot doesn't make a ton of sense but it makes up for any shortcomings with some truly magical, awe-inspiring moments.

Legal Eagles (1986): A largely forgotten little romantic comedy, this film isn't going to make many top 10 lists (it was originally intended for Bill Murray, oddly enough) but it's a pleasant '80s diversion and it provides ample evidence that Redford had a knack for light laughs. He is lovable enough that you forgive him for romancing two leading ladies (Darryl Hannah and Debra Winger) at the same time.

Sneakers (1992): One of my personal favorites ever since I was kid, this all-star film about quirky schemers who break in and out of elaborate locales is a lot of fun and criminally underrated. The movie was a modest hit, but I think it deserved to be a big one. The actors elevate the material and there are some truly great suspenseful sequences throughout.

The Horse Whisperer (1998): Some may snicker at this film as a weepie romantic drama, but Redford (directing himself for the first time) brings real grit and gravitas to the material. The romance element may be too chaste for modern tastes, but I think it's a touching little story told on an epic scale, with beautiful use of its rustic locations.

All Is Lost (2013): For a little over a decade, Redford appeared to be falling off a bit. He was no longer a significant draw at the box office and he seemed to be struggling to find the right material to match his talents. Then out of nowhere came this blast of cinematic originality. Redford holds the screen alone and gives a nearly wordless performance for the ages. It's mind blowing that he didn't get nominated for this stunning, emotional turn. Still, it reminded a whole new audience of what a great actor he is.

'Goodnight Mommy': More evidence of a horror movie renaissance

Even though I am fan of the horror genre I find that very few "scary" movies are very good. Some people use the barometer "did it scare me?" -- I don't -- I'm more interested in whether a horror film is actually cinematically strong.

There have been plenty of very good films that creeped me out but didn't exactly give me nightmares. And, of course, there is also a lot of junk out there.

There are the gimmicky ghost stories, the gruesome slasher films, the torture porn and most nauseating recently -- the possession retreads -- none of whom come close to the impact of the 1973 original The Exorcist.

And yet in the past year I have seen three horror films I would unabashedly call masterpieces. Yes, they all scared me, but more importantly -- like the best films in the genre -- they made me think, were open to interpretation and could be enjoyed on multiple levels on repeat viewings.

It Follows, The Babadook and now Goodnight Mommy all suggest that we may be on the cusp of a golden age of horror films, which would be nice since there have been very few original movies in the world of terror cinema in the last few years.

Goodnight Mommy, an Austrian film which is currently in theaters, has a dynamite trailer that brilliantly manipulates your expectations when you enter the film. It's a very dark and disturbing film, without really a single traditional "scare" in it. I'm not even entirely sure it's a horror film, although horrible, unsettling things happen in it.

Both It Follows and The Babadook deal with supernatural entities, but wisely keep them largely unseen. The genius of these movies -- as well as my all-time favorite horror film The Shining -- is that the terror is within the mind. It's less about what you see than what you can imagine.

The Babadook

Each film has virtuoso filmmaking -- they are beautifully shot, staged and acted, which shouldn't be remarkable, but stands out in a genre that has become infamous for either wooden or hackneyed acting.

These are also films that are not preoccupied with gore. Although Goodnight Mommy has its share of grisly moments, they serve the story and never feel like exploitation for exploitation's sake.

What is unique about scary movies is that when they work they can be effective in a way that is entirely singular. It's already a somewhat inherently spooky experience sitting in a darkened theaters with a bunch of strangers. And when a film really takes hold of you with its pacing and purposefulness, as these three films do, you find yourself totally surrendering to the world up on the big screen.

All three of these films don't go for typical jump scares that you can see coming from a mile away. Instead they are all about throwing you off their scent. I never saw where any of these films were going and that rollercoaster ride was both terrifying and exhilarating.

I don't want to spoil these films, and to say that their plots twist is really an understatement. I will say this, each of them would be a decent start for someone who thinks they are averse to horror in general.

They are not relentlessly horrifying or disgusting. But they do create a general discomfort and unease that really shook me after I left the theater.

After watching Goodnight Mommy, I found myself just saying over and over again -- "that was just unsettling." and in the weirdest way, that can sometimes be a very gratifying feeling. Movies, at their best should keep us from being complacent and unless they're a light comedy, I don't want to just be amused for a couple hours. I want something I can feast on.

And these three stellar films are delicious.

Are the 'Star Wars' prequels the worst movies of all time?

Revenge of the Sith

I am a fan of great bad movies. Films like Showgirls and The Room are in a class by themselves. And these films have a certain charm because the filmmakers were earnestly trying to make something great and just failed miserably. George Lucas' Star Wars prequels constitute a very different kind of colossal failure. They are the results of thousands of craftspeople and man hours to be sure, but they are also some of the most cynical and soulless movies ever produced.

I used to try to convince myself that Revenge of the Sith was a good film and that Attack of the Clones at least had a few dazzling moments, but after repeatedly watching the brilliantly subversive online reviews of "Mr. Plinkett", I have begun to think that all three films, especially the reviled Phantom Menace are cinematic atrocities of the highest order.

And I say this as an enormous, unabashed fan of the original Star Wars trilogy (who is cautiously optimistic about the J.J. Abrams film coming this December, which aims to continue the saga). Those films, all three of them, are cohesive, emotionally-fulfilling and funny. I would go so far as to argue that they rank among (if not at the top) of the greatest cinematic trilogies of all time.

So what went so horribly wrong? Documentaries like The People vs. George Lucas and Mr. Plinkett's YouTube reviews explain the prequels' deficiencies at great length and excruciating detail. I will add my voice to the chorus, and will make the point that what makes the films so galling is that they could have been great, and yet so many poor decisions were made during the filmmaking process that we are now stuck with them. That is, of course, unless somebody at Disney or whichever studio owns the rights decides to remake them -- which I actually hope they do, because these three films can only be improved upon.

Anakin Skywalker evolution into Darth Vader could have been compelling, it was a story that Star Wars fans wanted to see, but for reasons that can largely be attributed to greed, Lucas put an emphasis on "stuff" instead of substance.

Now, we're stuck with three films that not only pilfer (in some cases full scenes) what we loved from the originals, it almost deliberately detracts from their magic and originality.

Essentially these films rank among the worst for me because they were a vehicle to sell merchandise. And yes, while most modern commercial movie-making has similar goals, there has been at least enough creative spark in products like the Avengers films to suggest that the people behind the camera wanted to actually tell stories as opposed to just make money.

The last film of the prequel trilogy came out 10 years ago, which I guess it what motivated me to look back on these disappointments now.

Again, I used to defend these movies, out of affection for the Star Wars universe, but also because as a fan you almost wanted to will yourself to like them, because they were the only Star Wars game in town.

The trailers always looked phenomenal and you'd get excited for a moment of cinematic bliss, like when Yoda lifted Luke's X-wing out of the swamp in Dagobah in Empire Strikes Back (still one of my favorite moments in movies). And yet, even as I write that I can barely recall a single memorable moment from any of the prequels.

The two moments that come to mind as even remotely noteworthy are Yoda fighting with a lightsaber, which really was gimmicky in retrospect and the scene where Anakin is burned alive and transitions to become Vader (which, I will admit, was pretty cool). Everything else is a talky, poorly acted blur.

Speaking of a blur -- the visual effects which overwhelm all three of these movies, don't even look good now. They are the worst kind of rubbery CGI. Entire sets for the most part were shot on soundstages with blue screens, so no one appears to be really interacting with the space they're in or the people they're talking to.

The worst part of it all is -- that each one of them was an enormous hit. In fact, the worst one of them all -- the inert and culturally tone deaf Phantom Menace -- still ranks among the most financially successful films of all time. So Lucas won and we, the fans, lost.

Still, nothing can diminish the impact of the original trilogy, in fact the prequels only enhanced how great the storytelling, characters and action was in those movies.

And I may get duped again. The Force Awakens has a similar vibe to the prequels in some ways. A title that invites more derision than excitement and a trailer that is eye popping but short on actual story. Yet, my love for this universe is so strong I am willing to take a chance on it.

I just hope the force is with me.