Man on the Moon
Milos Forman’s best American films are about outsiders who pressed up against the worlds they existed in, and challenged the conventions. Such as it was with “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest,” “Amadeus” and “The People vs. Larry Flynt,” so it was with Andy Kaufman in “Man on the Moon.” When the film came out, I was not someone overly fascinated by Kaufman’s life- I knew of him through his reputation, and his role on “Taxi,” more than anything- but it was the collision of Forman and Jim Carrey, who played Kaufman in the film, that I was curious about, along with it being written by Scott Alexander and Larry Karaszewski (whom had written biopics for the equally odd Ed Wood and Larry Flynt). Almost 20 years later, it’s still a fascinating work from all of these collaborators.
If “Man on the Moon”- whose title comes from an R.E.M. song about Kaufman (and the band does a lovely score for the film, as well as writes a great new song in “The Great Beyond”)- does not bring Andy Kaufman to life in a particularly warm and fuzzy manner, it’s because Kaufman is something of an enigma, and those are not easy to bring to the screen in a particularly conventional way. It’s odd, but probably more accessible is 2017’s rich documentary, “Jim & Andy: The Great Beyond,” wherein Carrey presented, for the first time, behind-the-scenes footage of him as Kaufman, both when the cameras were rolling, and when they were not, with modern interviews of him reflecting on his work in the film. The two films compliment themselves exceptionally well, and they give us as clear a picture of who Andy was, and who Carrey was in 1999, as you could possibly hope for.
The film begins with a cold open of Carrey’s Kaufman as his Foreign Man character, apologizing for how bad the film we are about to watch is. It feels like a risky way to open a film, but honestly, given the type of performer Kaufman was, it’s the only way for the film to open. We then flashback to Andy as a boy, and his father trying to get him to play outside, or at least, to try and engage with other people. That’s a struggle that will continue to follow Andy as he starts out in improv clubs, and later, with the guidance of manager George Shapiro (Danny DeVito), television with appearances on “Saturday Night Live” and as a regular on “Taxi.” But the struggle between Andy’s humor, and it’s ability to connect to audiences, is largely just a outward one. For Andy and his friend and writing partner, Bob Zmuda (Paul Giamatti), they would rather just be allowed to do what they want, and let the audience catch up with them, as George does, and others around them. Kaufman isn’t interested in easy laughs- he hated doing “Taxi”- but he can also take rejection personally, as when he is voted off of “Saturday Night Live” by the audience after his “feud” with wrestler Jerry Lawler escalates, and shows a mean side to his humor that turns a lot of people off. In that way, he’s like any other artist, but Forman’s film, and Carrey’s performance, doesn’t really clue us in to some of the depths of Kaufman’s emotional world, and it’s likely because Kaufman didn’t really do that in his life, except for when he discovers he has lung cancer, and has to try and convince even his closest friends he’s not joking.
This film was made at a point when Jim Carrey was both at the height of his celebrity, and also at the peak of his comedic powers. “The Truman Show” and “Man on the Moon” represented his first attempts at “serious” films, but honestly, both films still fit within the wheelhouse of his work prior, and are only more serious because of the filmmakers he was working with. There is plenty of space in both films for Carrey to ply his craft, and both are wonderful performances from the actor, crafted with care, and showing of a side of his talents that, even later, few filmmakers exploited successfully. Thought Edward Norton was Forman’s preferred choice for Kaufman, Carrey proves himself more than worthy of the role, and a lot of that is because, as “Jim & Andy” showed, there’s a connection between the two in how they conducted themselves, and how they felt enigmatic, that made Carrey the only choice for the role. He makes each moment onscreen count in this film, and because of how much Kaufman obviously meant to Carrey, we feel connected to him, as well.
