In 1902, audiences the world over were able to watch the coronation of King Edward VII of England thanks to the enterprising filmmakers Georges Melies and Charles Urban. It was a reenactment of the actual coronation, but audiences seemed to enjoy it. King Edward was certainly pleased -- perhaps because the actor Melies engaged to portray him on screen was taller and slimmer than the King himself.
Film has been simultaneously telling the truth and lying to audiences since its inception. Perhaps its most seductive power comes in the nexus of Jean-luc Godard's assertion that cinema is "truth at 24 frames per second" and Ken Burns' rejoinder that it is also "lying at 24 frames per second." 89 years after Melies showed the world a celebrated coronation, Oliver Stone gave us JFK, sparking outrage and debate.
I'm thinking about Melies and Stone, and all the others who have taken a stab at true stories in the wake of James Ponsoldt's new movie The End of the Tour. The film, based on the story by David Lipsky, is a remembrance of several days Lipsky, then a writer for Rolling Stone Magazine, spent with author David Foster Wallace, as Wallace finished up a promotional tour for his highly successful book "Infinite Jest." Though not anywhere near the level of JFK, the movie has also sparked outrage amongst some of the late Wallace's friends and family.
Ponsoldt is barely concerned with traditional narrative. He manages to hold our attention with two strong actors essentially debating writing, culture, and Alanis Morissette, for about 100 minutes. In this regard, it is a reminder more than anything else that good conversation is one of the most genuine of pleasures in which humans can engage.
The two principal actors -- Jesse Eisenberg as Lipsky and Jason Segel as Wallace -- are both outstanding. Eisenberg, when not miscast in roles like his brash magician in Now You See Me, is very skilled at being both sweet and prickly, and this may be the first time that he has played a verifiable adult. Segel, who has spent most of his career as a comic actor in the Judd Apatow stable, is revelatory -- significantly more accomplished in my mind than the Oscar-nominated performance by fellow comic actor Steve Carell in 2014's Foxcatcher.
But though largely praised for his performance, Segel has also been the focal point of a small but vocal group criticizing the movie. Glenn Kenny, writing in The Guardian, called the film "risible" and referred to Segel's performance as "ghoulish self-aggrandisement." Kenny, as the headline in The Guardian reminds us, was Wallace's friend and found the onscreen character to be nothing like the man he knew.
I did not know David Foster Wallace. I imagine that is the case for 99.9% of the people who will see this film. Kenny's opinion, which is echoed by others, does make me consider my own reaction. I admit I am confused because the Wallace I saw on screen was a sensitive, friendly, deep-thinking man. Contrary to what Kenny says, I did see a sense of humor, though perhaps not the same sense of humor his friends had known. I also saw a lonely man who was very frightened of how his sudden fame might change him. In short, I saw a fascinating, complex, human being -- one whom I liked very much.
The simplest counter argument to Kenny and others who complain about Ponsoldt's movie is that it is not in fact about David Foster Wallace. It is about David Lipsky and the effect that his encounter with Wallace had upon him. It is not surprising that the Wallace we see on screen is not the same man his friends knew. This entire movie is based on the persona Wallace revealed during a very brief relationship with a stranger.
The End of the Tour is often shot in tight close up with a very shallow depth of field. Ponsoldt relies on that device too much for my liking. But there are also three virtually silent sequences that I found brilliant. Early on, while going to bed in Wallace's cluttered guest room, Lipsky stares up at the towers of books that surround him. Later, after returning from their trip, Lipsky and Wallace wander the bleak airport parking lot in search of Lipsky's rental car. Finally, toward the end, as Lipsky records a quick catalogue of the rooms in Wallace's home, he comes into the writer's office. It is pitch black. Lipsky records nothing on his tape player. He just pulls open a shade, letting in a blinding light. The light does not illuminate. It merely adds contrast to the dark image. Those three scenes comprise the story of The End of the Tour and one writer's search for the unknowable secret hidden in another writer's soul.
Of course, it is not enough of an answer to say that this movie is about Lipsky. Wallace was famous. Wallace sold books. The movie would not have been made if Lipsky had a similarly interesting conversation with a total unknown. So what responsibility do filmmakers have when telling the stories of real people? I don't know any writers who seek to get it wrong. They all want to capture the truth of their subjects. But there are a lot of truths out there and it's not so hard to believe that a man as complex as David Foster Wallace would have many sides. Ideally, audiences will watch any fiction with the understanding that it is in fact fiction. If The End of the Tour encourages some people to dive into "Infinite Jest," so much the better. If it doesn't, I think that's OK too. I understand where Kenny and many of Wallace's friends are coming from, but I can assure them that the Jason Segel-created character I saw on screen filled me with admiration for and interest in a writer and a man I never knew. Surely that has some merit.