Review of The Soloist (2009) by In Your D — 13 Jul 2012

A powerful and emotional film about the constant frustrations of life and art.

The story concerns a clever but desperate Los Angeles times columnist, Steve Lopez, fishing for a fresh story-- "and it has to be humorous. That's the point." Drawn to the melancholy sound of violin music drifting into his office from a busy underpass, he discovers a homeless man, Nathaniel Ayers, playing with only two strings next to a junk-filled shopping cart. Nate is a prodigy with classical instruments, kind, compassionate, but disastrously anti-social and unpredictable due to an untreated schizophrenic mental state. Steve is hesitant and impatient with the man's lack of focus, but takes a chance on the guy; Nate may be crazy, but he makes beautiful music that speaks to Steve's heart. Leaving him to rot might be robbing the world of someone truly special. And Steve really needs that story...

Wary viewers needn't be alarmed by the familiar premise, which has been plucked to various degrees of success over the years. What The Soloist really has going for it is that it manages to avoid most of the awkwardness inherent to the genre and manages to be a genuinely engaging film. This is mostly due to the tightly-wound performances of the two leads, Downey and Foxx, who resonate with fear and uncertainty as two strangers trying to make the best of their lives. I've never been a fan of Robert's but he seemed very authentic and compassionate here. Jamie brings a lot to the table. This is not his first role as a musically talented man with crippling drawbacks. The two have studied their craft and rather than setting up a series of contrived hoops for them to jump through, the screenplay makes the story feel like an organic extension of their choices and experiences, rather than an artificial situation with an agenda.

The movie is very inspirational in its use of sound and visuals to convey the power of music over the body and mind. Steve and Nate are both artists in their own way; the former has his words, and the latter has his innate knowledge of instruments. The two of them don't so much connect, as identify the richness of spirit in the other man, with dangerous and intoxicating results. The soundtrack is entirely composed of orchestral compositions, and there are several extended sequences where a live orchestra transforms the drama into a sound and light show as the two men become hypnotized by the bittersweet splendor of strings. Human instinct identifies some hidden truth in the mournful drone of the Cello, just as it perceives danger and hunger.

I applaud the film for being about individuals whose careers and lives revolve around their art, and the contrasting capacity for hope and despair that it has over their moods and personal relationships. At first Lopez exploits Ayers to meet a deadline, but as a commercial writer he has trained himself to romanticize the world to be more readable, leaving him vulnerable to a misguided sense of duty to an irreparably broken man. This is a frightening and unquantifiable experience for Lopez, and Downey shows it. Ayers, insanely paranoid, is exhausted and trapped in his private routine of running and hiding behind elaborate costumes and rambling words. But despite his handicap he is kind at heart and attempts to reciprocate Steve's compassion whenever he can, eventually going so far as to perceive the man as some kind of god. Lopez makes the fatal mistake of running with his trust, leading to one of the most intense and heartbreaking scenes in the movie.

Here is a film that isn't hung up on happy endings. It is less about finding an original message and more about bringing new feelings to an old message. It is more interested in the tiny details that effect and alter the course of human behavior, and decisions based on fear and regret. That is where the mettle is formed, where the magic happens. Flashbacks involving Nathaniel Ayers are something to behold; disjointed and hallucinogenic, filled with terrifying voices and an unnerving lack of context, we wonder if this might be what it's like to be a schizophrenic. The Soloist is one of the better portrayals of mental illness I have ever seen, or at least a better portrayal of how we always seem to mismanage it. Much reverence is expressed for the sick and homeless, and there are some title cards at the end that feel shoehorned in, but the overall tone is more of reprieve from hopelessness and anger through art and camaraderie in a world that is too busy texting for petty things like auditory poetry.

During the bombing of London one of Winston Churchill's advisers suggested cutting funding to the arts to help the war effort. Churchill is said to have responded: "Then, what the hell are we fighting for?" His gambit paid off, but small gems like The Soloist are still free to slip under the critical radar, never to be heard from again.