'I was the real thing once," opines Al Pacino's rock star protagonist Danny Collins in a moment of late-in-life crisis.
It's true; the movie, also called Danny Collins, opens with a 1971-set prologue where a young, Panic in Needle Park-era Pacino lookalike sits, trembling, for what looks like his first interview. Having just released the perfect Bob Dylan-meets-Tim Buckley folk album, Danny tells the reporter that John Lennon is his real hero and worries that fame and wealth will change him as an artist.
Cut to the present, and Collins is a human jukebox with a stadium-size audience of gray-haired men and women. His guitar and his soulful folk warbling have been replaced by a fake tan, shoe-polish hair, jazzy backup singers and a flashy production that's dripping with cheese as he belts out one of his biggest hits, "Hey Baby Doll" - an anthem that's distractingly similar to "Sweet Caroline."
He's not happy, though. He has fame, fortune, an infinite supply of cocaine and shirts that button up only halfway and a fiancée who's about half his age, but something is missing. When his longtime manager (Christopher Plummer in a perfect sidekick role) presents him with a long-lost letter from John Lennon (and Yoko), telling him that fame doesn't have to destroy a person and to call him sometime, Danny goes off in search of his essence in earnest.
Pacino is warm, goofy and full of life as he flirts with women 20 years his junior (an enchanting Annette Bening as a standoffish hotel manager) and tries to charm his way back into the life of his grown son (Bobby Cannavale, excellent), his pregnant daughter- in-law (Jennifer Garner) and their precocious kid (Giselle Eisenberg).
Writer-director Dan Fogelman (in his directorial debut) was inspired by the seeds of a true story after reading about an under-the-radar British folk singer, Steve Tilston.
Fogelman, who also wrote Crazy, Stupid, Love. and Last Vegas, takes Tilston's tale to Hollywood extremes. It's the kind of midbudget dramedy that has become increasingly rare in theaters. Despite some preposterous plot contrivances, Danny Collins coasts along with just the right mix of charisma, schlock and genuine humor - much of which comes from Pacino and Plummer.
Pacino, in particular, is terrific, giving his all without resorting to "Hoo-ah!" excess or self-parody. This might not be that Oscar-worthy return to his gritty independent roots, but it does reiterate that at 74, Pacino is still very much the real thing.
By Lindsey Bahr/The Associated Press
DANNY COLLINS (B)
Directed by Dan Fogelman. R (violence, some nudity and language). 106 mins. At the Angelika Dallas and Cinemark West Plano.
