When the news broke about the deaths of Rob Reiner and his wife, Michele, the outpouring of grief from the Hollywood community and beyond was instantaneous and overwhelming. But the grief was of a kind not usually associated with the passing of even the biggest movie icons. When a major star or filmmaker dies, we as moviegoers may feel the loss in ways that seem weirdly personal. We didn’t know Robert Redford, for example, or Robin Williams, and yet we felt as though we did because of their larger-than-life presence on the screen. We felt close to them because of what their movies meant to us.
In the case of Reiner, however, the closeness so many felt had an added dimension. It was not only the moments in his best movies – films like “This Is Spinal Tap,” “The Princess Bride,” and “When Harry Met Sally” – that resonated deeply with audiences. It was also the recognition for many of us that the man behind those movies was a crusader for decency in the public sphere. He wasn’t just a movie icon; he was a liberal icon for social justice.
The decency reflected in his films – the way the people in his movies, even at their worst, are not dismissively portrayed – was equally present in his public works. It would have been natural for him, especially when his directing career was on the wane, to run for political office in California. After all, Arnold Schwarzenegger did it. Reiner declined to do that. “I don’t want to be an elected official,” he once said. “I want to get things done.”
Why We Wrote This
Director Rob Reiner’s versatility spanned genres from the comedies “When Harry Met Sally” and “The Princess Bride” to the courtroom drama “A Few Good Men.” Moviegoers may be less familiar with his ongoing support of social justice and liberal political causes.
I met Reiner only once, more than two decades ago. I was hosting a movie series in Los Angeles where famous filmmakers were invited to discuss their favorite film, followed by a screening of the movie. It’s always dicey when critics meet filmmakers. You never know when the memory of some long-ago negative review is going to suddenly pop into the conversation and roil the waters. But Reiner was cordial enough and accommodating, and I felt at ease. I imagine this is how he worked with actors, too, and how he was able to elicit so many memorable performances.
And what was his favorite film? “On the Waterfront,” the 1954 Elia Kazan classic about New Jersey dockyard corruption starring Marlon Brando. To those who only knew Reiner from his long-running role as Archie Bunker’s beleaguered son-in-law, Michael “Meathead” Stivic, in the “All in the Family” TV series, this might have seemed an odd choice. But it fit perfectly with his sense of justice, of doing the right thing.
Reiner sometimes bemoaned the fact that, despite his vast accomplishments, he was still thought of, especially by an older generation, as Meathead. He once said: “I could win the Nobel Prize, and they’d write ‘Meathead wins the Nobel Prize.’” But his sense of humor, his welcoming acceptance of life’s absurdities, was equally a fixture of who he was. How could it not be? Growing up as the son of Carl Reiner, a bona fide comic genius, was, by the son’s own account, not easy.
And yet he staked out a similarly successful career path, first as a TV actor and writer, then as a director of two of the funniest films ever made. I can remember the first time I saw “This Is Spinal Tap,” his big-screen directorial debut, and literally collapsed with laughter. This mockumentary about a dreadful (fictional) British rock band was so irreverently on target that not a few viewers thought the group was real. The musical numbers the band executed, in more ways than one, were satiric gems. My favorite: “(Listen To The) Flower People.” Throughout it all, including the introduction of the famous line “Turn it up to 11,” Reiner and his amazing cast of improvisatory cutups manage to make these jokers seem sympathetic. There’s something touchingly valiant about their quest for stardom.
“The Princess Bride” is just as funny, but more fantastical. It began as a William Goldman novel based on fairy tales he wrote for his children. The book’s mythic gossamer atmosphere survives in the film, which is equal parts fantasia and burlesque, with dewy romance, fair maidens, villainous princes, six-fingered bullies, and swordplay. (Mandy Patinkin’s Inigo Montoya!) It’s all great fun, and if you saw it at a young enough age, it likely remains a cherished memory – and one happily revisited as an adult.
I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that the man who made this movie – or the nostalgic, melancholy, look-back about four journeying boys in “Stand by Me” – is all of a piece with the political activist. In 1998, in California, he successfully championed a proposition calling for a tax on tobacco products to be spent on early childhood programs. According to the Los Angeles Times, Proposition 10 pumped “more than $11 billion into preschools, teacher training and support for families struggling to raise their kids.” In 1999, he became chairman of the First 5 California Children and Families Commission, providing health and education services for children and their families. First 5 refers to the first five years of life.
He walked the walk.
One of the hallmarks of Reiner’s directorial career, especially in the 1980s and early ’90s, was his versatility. This, too, was, I think, an expression of his openness to experience. The genre-hopping was flabbergasting: “This Is Spinal Tap” was followed not long after by “Stand by Me” and “The Princess Bride.” Then came the Nora Ephron-scripted “When Harry Met Sally” (everybody’s favorite rom-com) and the ghoulishly comic Stephen King-inspired “Misery.” A couple of years later came the Aaron Sorkin courtroom drama “A Few Good Men,” which deserves to be remembered for more than Jack Nicholson shouting, “You can’t handle the truth!”
It was a career, and a life, that was a rarity in Hollywood. Reiner played by no one’s rules but his own. The integrity that shone forth, in those films, and in that life, is a legacy that won’t fade.
