I *finally* saw this movie. I'd been putting it off because I feared I would walk in expecting too much of it and I'd be disappointed. My fears were without merit.
First, I need to explain that Steve Lopez is a personal hero, a role model. He was the best reporter for the Philadelphia Inquirer when it was the best newspaper on the planet. When I say best reporter, I mean that in its fullest since. There are three skills that make a reporter, and I can count on both hands the number of reporters I've come across that have all three: Identifying a legitimate story; asking the right questions; and writing it in a forceful, graceful way. Lopez is a triple threat, the veritable 5-tool right fielder of journalism.
However, I was not much aware of his work with the Times other than the few moments I would take every now and then to indulge myself with one of his columns. I had never heard of Nathaniel Ayers until this movie came out. It was all fresh, which makes for the proper set up to enjoy a movie.
Allow me to be so bold as to suggest there are no real mysteries in movies these days. By that, I mean every movie that gets Hollywood funding has three acts, and everything fits neatly into genres that everyone understands ... comedy, drama, dramedy, horror, action, etc. etc. The Soloist does not break new ground in this area, nor did I expect it to. It's a drama and its form is familiar.
What I didn't expect and what this movie excels at is telling the truth.
There is no glorious, magical ending. Instead of attempting to re-write history for the poignant moment, it simply revels in the poignancy of the truth -- you can't fix people.
I can't think of two better actors than Robert Downey Jr. and Jamie Foxx. I don't think that's hyperbole. Lesser actors could not have resisted the temptation to overact these roles for Academy voters. Downey Jr. and Foxx, instead, respected the story and gave us something that felt far more real and plausible. The screenwriter and director avoided glorifying homelessness and even steered away from the soapbox somehow. They just told a story, remained faithful to it.
There are so many modern morales to gleam from this movie, but my favorite was a message that's so hard to get across to the iPod generation: Music is its own reward. I've often felt three generations of Americans have been robbed of a diverse music sensibility, never exposed to the beauty of ALL music, because marketers have figured out how to cram cheap crap down the throats of young people and convince them this lower standard was somehow genius. This movie finally provides insight into true music passion. It explains things in a visual way that I've never been able to put into words.
I thought I would go into this movie identifying with Lopez. Instead I found myself in some strange cathartic attachment to Ayers. I totally connect with his passion for music. I've obsessed over my instrument of choice the way he did. I know what it's like to hide away in music as a musician as a coping device. I felt maybe for the first time I could point to a character in a movie and say, "That's what it's like to be a musician in love with music." I could say, "That's very much what it's like to be inside my head."
Of course, I'm lucky enough to not suffer from schizophrenia, but I found myself jealous of Ayers ability to live his music, not just have it for a hobby. I can't tell you how many times I've wanted to pack it all up and just play my instrument 16 hours a day for the rest of my life, because when you get that urge you're never truly satiated. You either learn how to ignore it and move on (as I ultimately did) or, I suppose, it consumes you.
This is not the greatest movie every made. You're not going to walk away with an impossible hope that you can beat all odds. You probably won't even shed a tear. But you will remember this movie and you will feel good about yourself for watching it, because it's honest and because it showed the world is not completely without value, and the soul of humanity is not totally lost.
