Danny Collins

Danny Collins is the directorial début of Dan Fogelman (screenwriter of the Disney films Cars, Bolt, and Tangled, and the mid-level, feel-good, comedic dramas Crazy Stupid Love, The Guilt Trip, and Last Vegas). The movie draws inspiration from the true story of folk singer Steve Tilston, who late in life discovered that John Lennon had written him a letter of encouragement after reading a 1971 magazine interview with the then 21 year-old singer/songwriter. In the interview, Tilston spoke of his fears that wealth and fame could negatively affect his creative abilities, which Lennon wanted to assuage. Lennon and Yoko Ono went as far as giving Tilson their personal phone number and offer of further advice, but Tilson never learned of the letter until a collector contacted him in 2005 to verify its authenticity.

Fogelman uses this unusual anecdote as the jumping off place for a by-the-numbers movie about an aging, washed-up rock star hoping to connect with his family, experience real love, and find deeper meaning in a long delayed second act. Al Pacino (in yet another late-career not-quite-comeback role) plays the title character Danny, a hard living Neil Diamond style rocker whose manager (Christopher Plummer) surprises him with a forty-year-old letter from John Lennon. Reading the letter causes Collins to wonder how his life might have turned out if he’d gotten the letter when it was sent, and been able to meet with Lennon; would he have ended up as a genuine artist rather than the shallow showman he is? 

Danny sets himself a difficult challenge in trying to reconnect with his grown son who wants nothing to do with him. Fortunately, Danny’s money and fame make the task far less impossible than it would otherwise be. Though Danny knows in his heart that “you can’t buy redemption,” buying redemption is essentially what this movie is about.  Danny is a familiar Hollywood archetype, a comically lovable rich and famous screw-up who uses his celebrity and wealth to curry favor.  The film works because it never tries to be more than it is—an extremely simple, well-cast, under-played, sentimental drama that doesn’t lay on the schmaltz of its emotional rebirth narrative too thickly.

The always-terrific Bobby Cannavale (The Station Agent, Win Win, Blue Jasmine) delivers one of his most restrained performances as Danny’s son. Christopher Plummer also resists the temptation to overplay his part, which teeters on the edge of a British Alan Arkin clone. Annette Bening creates a truly original character from what could have been an utterly generic role—the reluctant object of Danny’s amorous attention. In a refreshing change from typical Hollywood, Bening also looks appropriately unglamorous as the manager of a New Jersey Hilton.  Even the frequently saccharine Jennifer Garner doesn’t sink this picture. Each actor has a complete understanding of their function in the story and finds ways to shine by embracing the formulaic narrative instead of trying to circumvent it. This commitment, and Fogelman’s better-than-average writing, gives the film a welcome old-fashioned quality. Much like his Crazy Stupid Love and The Guilt Trip, the movie feels like it could have been made in the 1980s. 

I would give Danny Collins a higher rating were it not for the fact that a key scene, in which Danny books a gig at a small club to try out new material, rings false. While I think there could have been a way to make the scene work if the perspective was more focused on Danny’s internal process, as directed, this major scene (practically the film’s climax) doesn’t feel credible. It’s the one time the actors must strain to fulfill the needs of the narrative, rather than effortlessly exist within its limitations. Fortunately, the film’s conclusion goes a long way towards compensating for this critical flaw. I can’t quite recommend Danny Collins, but I still enjoyed the picture.