I'm not a Salinger fan by any means, so if I loved this movie it must have something going for it. Danny Strong is one of the best writers in Hollywood, and he creates a fast-moving and compulsively watchable story about a young man burning with ambition. Only young J. D. Salinger's ambition is not for wealth and fame. He wants to write a great book, and he wants to do it his way.
Nothing is more boring than watching writers write in a movie. But Danny Strong manages to make it exciting because we actually see Salinger learning from his mistakes and even more tellingly, learning to accept criticism from his mentor, his agent, and his publisher. By the time he's come back from the war, badly shell-shocked, and has to literally learn how to write all over again, you're completely in his corner. And the movie feels more like ROCKY than SYLVIA.
So why didn't I give this movie ten stars? Well, for one thing, too many of the party scenes looked like advertisements for alcohol and tobacco products. Late in the film, Salinger finds a guru who tells him to give up all "distractions," but it's telling that they never discuss cigarettes and alcohol as problems in their own right. Because of course nobody ever heard of a great writer succumbing to alcoholism.
The other problem is the supporting cast. They're not bad, they're sensational. Kevin Spacey plays the Columbia writing professor like he's lovable old Mr. Chips. But it's a palpable schoolboy fantasy. I went to Columbia, and let me tell you, most English professors were closer to the Drill Instructor in Kubrick's FULL METAL JACKET. No matter what kind of work you turned in, they always made you feel like Private Pyle. Nobody was looking to uncover any geniuses when I was there, and nobody ever did!
Then there's Sarah Paulson as Dorothy, the world's most sultry and stunning literary agent. She's got the goods, all right. And she plays every scene like she's Lauren Bacall putting the moves on Bogart in TO HAVE AND HAVE NOT. The problem is, young J. D. Salinger is not Bogart. He's closer to Wilmer in THE MALTESE FALCON. So when Dorothy caresses him with casual endearments like "my darling," and "my love," you feel like it's either crude manipulation or writer Danny Strong giving in to his own teenage fantasies. It would have been nice to see Dorothy buttering up other writers, or maybe just making with the golf sticks, like the agent in SUNSET BOULEVARD.
So overall, a fun movie with a lot of excitement, but not really as hard hitting as it pretends to be. Holden saw phonies everywhere, but this movie pretends they don't exist. It's really pretty goddamn shallow, if you want to know the truth.
Nothing is more boring than watching writers write in a movie. But Danny Strong manages to make it exciting because we actually see Salinger learning from his mistakes and even more tellingly, learning to accept criticism from his mentor, his agent, and his publisher. By the time he's come back from the war, badly shell-shocked, and has to literally learn how to write all over again, you're completely in his corner. And the movie feels more like ROCKY than SYLVIA.
So why didn't I give this movie ten stars? Well, for one thing, too many of the party scenes looked like advertisements for alcohol and tobacco products. Late in the film, Salinger finds a guru who tells him to give up all "distractions," but it's telling that they never discuss cigarettes and alcohol as problems in their own right. Because of course nobody ever heard of a great writer succumbing to alcoholism.
The other problem is the supporting cast. They're not bad, they're sensational. Kevin Spacey plays the Columbia writing professor like he's lovable old Mr. Chips. But it's a palpable schoolboy fantasy. I went to Columbia, and let me tell you, most English professors were closer to the Drill Instructor in Kubrick's FULL METAL JACKET. No matter what kind of work you turned in, they always made you feel like Private Pyle. Nobody was looking to uncover any geniuses when I was there, and nobody ever did!
Then there's Sarah Paulson as Dorothy, the world's most sultry and stunning literary agent. She's got the goods, all right. And she plays every scene like she's Lauren Bacall putting the moves on Bogart in TO HAVE AND HAVE NOT. The problem is, young J. D. Salinger is not Bogart. He's closer to Wilmer in THE MALTESE FALCON. So when Dorothy caresses him with casual endearments like "my darling," and "my love," you feel like it's either crude manipulation or writer Danny Strong giving in to his own teenage fantasies. It would have been nice to see Dorothy buttering up other writers, or maybe just making with the golf sticks, like the agent in SUNSET BOULEVARD.
So overall, a fun movie with a lot of excitement, but not really as hard hitting as it pretends to be. Holden saw phonies everywhere, but this movie pretends they don't exist. It's really pretty goddamn shallow, if you want to know the truth.