LYT's Weblog

Regardless, if Henry Moss itself were made into a movie starring these same actors, it would likely be a hit; the play, we are told, sold out its entire four-week run in winter 2000. But the movie at hand is no stage drama -- it’s the making of a drama, of a production we’ll never even get to see that closed nearly four years ago. If that turns you off, well, consider yourself warned. If you’re a fan of the theater and theatrical process, however, the rewards of Almereyda’s film are copious and very much worth your while.

Shepard isn’t always as articulate in person as he is on the page. The film opens with him being asked what the challenges of writing and directing are, and in response he hems and haws and basically says nothing. While directing Penn and Nolte, there often seems to be something psychic going on, as the actual words coming from his mouth can be extremely vague, yet the actors somehow comprehend what he means. It’s gotta be a method thing.

As the film continues, however, Shepard gradually opens up. We learn that a great deal of his plays are about his alcoholic father, and often feature two estranged brothers, representing the dueling sides of Shepard’s own personality. His real dad died in 1984, and Shepard expresses hope that The Late Henry Moss -- which he says is about 75% to 80% autobiographical -- will be his last word on the subject.

For the benefit of those of us unfamiliar with the play, a little bit of background is given, but nothing is spoon-fed to us. Therefore, the following description could be a little off, but it seems that the play deals with two conflicting brothers (Penn and Nolte) who come together down in Mexico when they hear that their father Henry (Gammon) has died there. In Act II we get a look back at Henry when he was alive, and in Act III Henry is forced to realize that, although we see him up and about on the stage, he is in fact dead.

Shepard’s parental issues may be coming to a form of closure, but for Nick Nolte, they take (metaphorical) center stage when his mother dies during the course of rehearsals, and he comes down with pneumonia. When he called Shepard to try to bow out of rehearsal the next day, Nolte remembers the director responding, “Why don’t we just pretend none of it happened?” Ever the method man, Nolte complied and the show went on.

Not everything is so somber, however, despite the inherent gravity of the material. Watching these great actors do a “speed-thru” in which they deliver their lines rapidly and occasionally with absurd inflection, feels like a treat. At another point, Penn mocks Woody Harrelson’s performance in White Men Can’t Jump, prompting the latter to respond by praising Penn’s acting in Shanghai Surprise. And Penn recalls that he was first inspired to become an actor when Anthony Zerbe visited his high school on career day -- Zerbe’s zip-up boots so impressed the youngster that he decided he wanted to be in the same line of work to score some for himself.

These are the kinds of casual recollections one doesn’t normally hear on run-of-the-mill television interviews, which are normally conducted en masse in some hotel with the stars answering the same questions over and over. Almereyda (and Shepard, who shoots some of the footage himself) are a part of the gang, and bring the viewer into the fold to get the goods that a no-name reporter would never be privy to.

The pleasure of seeing great actors prepare for a play may not be everybody’s cup of tea, but if you have any kind of interest in that sort of thing, it’s a thrill and a half. So why does the movie have the word “disaster” in the title?

You’ll find out at the very end. Until then, the preparation’s the thing.