Ironweed (1987)

Brilliant and touching

Better Late Then Never

In truth, there is barely enough story here to make a film.

One of the film's great tricks is that, for a time, you think it will go down a rabbit hole of unrealistic glorification.

This story of a down-and-outer and his social world in 1938 is based on a novel by William Kennedy. Kennedy didn't make much money on the book but it was published and received plaudits and that satisfied him. Still, the plaudits can't reflect the amount of effort that went into constructing a world that was historical real. That world, the bums in upstate New York during the Great Depression, wasn't so long ago that a writer could feel free to invent habits, props, and language that didn't exist; and it was recent enough so that the picture presented had to be accurate -- the brand names, the streets, the fashions -- because, after all, some people could remember them. It must have taken a lot of research.But what a milieu! The icy breeze scatters dead leaves and detritus along the street at dawn, past a dark brick wall, and at the base of the wall a windrow of newspapers and rags stirs itself and out crawls Jack Nicholson, middle aged, flabby, filthy, in hand-me-downs. He can barely get it together enough to shuffle into the bleak streets of Albany. He sits and tries to use a piece of yarn as a shoelace but he loses the duel of wits and resignedly wraps the yarn haphazardly around his shoe and ankle.An acquaintance approaches, goofy and broke, and announces with a chuckle that he has cancer and the doctor just gave him six months live. "No kiddin'? Geeze, that's too bad, Rudy. Got enough for a jug?" The whole business of poverty, scratching, distaste for work, a liking for liquor, and dying drunk on the sidewalk to be gnawed at by wild dogs goes beyond Dickens into the worst of "Down and Out in Paris and London." The plot has something to do with the guilt Nicholson is carrying around for having dropped his baby on the floor and broken his neck. He wanders from saloon to Methodist soup kitchen, shuffling along aimlessly, forming temporary social bonds and discarding them. He looks like hell and he's magnificent.So is his poor man's inamorata, Meryl Streep, whose eyes are reddened and whose teeth are blackened. She adopts a husky emphatic voice that more or less animates her. She's hopeless but a lot livelier than Nicholson's road kill. There's genuine pathos in her character. She's cajoled into singing a song, "He's Me Pal," in the local tavern. She starts slowly but get into it and fills the song with élan, swinging her arms, kissing the customers, and booming out the high notes with a reasonable vibrato. Boistrous applause. But then she sings it again later, presumably drunk, and spoils it because she's unable to carry a note. The customers aren't scornful. Worse, they just ignore her. Nicholson and Streep were two of the best actors of their generation and they deliver the goods, although Nicholson is sometimes so sluggish that one wonder if the role is getting to him. It seems an effort for him to move at all.It's a gripping movie but, my God, it's tragic. I had to bleed myself with leeches to relieve the depression.

Jack Nicholson and Meryl Streep are reasons enough to watch this movie, but it's actually a wonderful film. Throw in a little of the weirdness/charm of Tom Waits and this instantly became one of my favorite films ever made.Nicholson and Streep are just living the bum life in 1938, while we slowly get bits of Nicholson's history, which is a tragic one. Revisiting his home town from 22 years ago makes him realize the whiskey didn't destroy nearly enough of his memory as he probably would have wanted. It's just such a joy to see these actors play these lovable weirdo's. I think some people expected a comedy out of this, but it's definitely more on the dramatic (sometimes even disturbing) side. Of course the craziness has a dark sense of humor to it, but it's played 100% serious. This could have failed miserably or at least have an entirely different tone if they didn't have such great actor's playing these bums. They really made the bums look realistically filthy in this movie, but for some reason on the poster Nicholson has perfectly white teeth... This is not the case in the movie so don't get fooled by that. Another minor complaint would be that Meryl Streep's character should have had just a little more screen time. Her character is just so much fun to watch. She does have a big and important part in the movie, but at a certain point in the movie the focus goes more to Nicholson. That said, Nicholson is as awesome as ever and ultimately this is his character's story. Great story, great cinematography, overall great look (costumes, make-up et cetera) and AMAZING casting and acting. Streep's "He's me Pal" song will never leave you. (You'll be looking it up on YouTube over and over and over again) Overall Great movie (9/10)Favorite Quote: Goddamn dead men, traveling around together...

Ironweed is the story of a drifter (Jack Nicholson), who spends Halloween in his hometown after not returning for more than a decade.Why did Francis Phelan (Nicholson), not return to his hometown? Well, year before he returned, he was holding his baby, and...he dropped it. Not really more is said, except that the baby died.Phelan's wife Helen Archer (Meryl Streep) isn't as angry that he's back as you'd think she'd be.The movie is really about the Halloween night between Helen, Francis, and others.If you like Nicholson, or Streep. You'll like this.

Does anyone else find odd the idea of a multi-million dollar, star-driven melodrama pretending to recreate the lives of penniless, alcoholic vagrants in the Great Depression? Judging from its subject matter (not to mention the punishing length and leisurely pace) this is clearly a film aspiring toward loftier goals than mere box office commerce. William Kennedy's screenplay, adapted from his own Pulitzer Prize winning novel, is perhaps too faithful to its source (the entire book could probably be read in less time than it takes to watch the film), and the dramatic impact of his story is handicapped by celebrity casting. Jack Nicholson and Meryl Streep both give (typically) vital performances, but our awareness of them as movie stars keeps the joyless reality of the scenario at arms length, where it's easy to admire their skill as actors without having to get involved in the plight of their characters. Some rich period detail, a lot of verbal exposition, and an atmosphere of despair so vivid you could slice it with a knife add up to a film with no shortage of prestige, but not much in the way of entertainment.