Joe Gould's Secret

This quiet and gentle movie sneaks up on you and by the end you are left with an appreciation of how little difference there is between the quite disparate lives of the two protagonists. With a few differemt turns, circumstances, and choices an intelligent man can easily become a bohemian. I think it is for this reason that Joseph Mitchell, a staff writer for "The New Yorker" magazine, became drawn to Joe Gould, a somewhat mad homeless man with occasional flashes of unique insight and a flare for histrionics. Gould claims to be writing an "Oral History of the World." Mitchell admits to sympathizing with Gould's statement that he is at home "among the cranks and the misfits and the one-lungers and the has beens and the would-bes and the never wills and the god knows whats." Indeed, how could you not be a little interested in a man who could write that? And Mitchell comes to identify with Gould in another significant way, and that way is in fact Joe Gould's secret.

In the process of writing a profile of Gould for his magazine Mitchell develops a relationship with Gould that results in Gould's ultimately becoming somewhat of a pest. As Gould says, "When you lie down with dogs, you have to live with fleas." In a dramatic scene Mitchell gives Gould an honest appraisal of the status of his "history" that creates a rift in their relationship. But the bond is never completely severed as some of the final scenes indicate.

The period setting of New York City in the early 1940s lends an air of nostalgia. This is a movie that Woody Allen could have made if he could ever dial his nervous anxiety back several notches. The music is suitably subdued and melancholic. The casting is perfect and the performances are excellent. Every aspect of the filming gives evidence to a loving commitment.

This is a movie about dreams realized and unrealized. In a letter to Mitchell, one of Gould's friends states that, "the City's unconscious may be trying to speak to us through Joe Gould. The people who have gone underground in the City, the City's living dead. People who never belonged any place from the beginning, people sitting in dark bar-rooms, the ones who are always left out, the ones who were never asked." Such words leave you with an unspecified yearning. Maybe a yearning to read Mitchell's original "New Yorker" articles "Professor Seagull" and "Joe Gould's Secret" upon which this movie was based.

With all the garbage that's been coming out in the theaters recently, I've taken to staying home and renting movies that never made a big splash at the box office. With Joe Gould's Secret, I lucked out and enjoyed a movie that was better than I could have imagined.

All the performances, most notably Ian Holm's, are stellar. The scenes of 1940's New York will fill you with nostalgia, even if (like me) you were born well after that time. Occasional appearances by the always wonderful Susan Sarandon and Steve Martin only heighten the pleasure of a perfectly-acted, -filmed, and -directed gem of a movie.

But, in the end, it is the character of Joe Gould -- brilliant, mad, heartbreaking -- that makes Joe Gould's Secret so perfect. He is the farthest thing imaginable from the "cute homeless guy" stock character of your typical insulting Hollywood script.

Do yourself a big favor and see this movie.

What a line that was.

Likely the best movie I've seen in ten years. Joe Mitchell's clear, lucid writing comes through so well one wonders why this hasn't been done before. Being familiar with the stories on which this film is based helped.

Ian Holm brings Gould to life, and Tucci plays the bemused, then overwhelmed journalist wonderfully well. (I could quibble about his "generic southern" rather than North Carolina accent, but that really is just a quibble.)

It made me think (always a sign of any good work of art) about the brief celebrity brought onto persons by well-meaning journalists. We see a slice of their lives, their 15 minutes of fame, but their lives continue on, following their daily routines, which may now be altered by their brush with fame.

It also brings out the dance between madness and genius. How many mumbling street people have we seen and passed, never realizing that there is a life, perhaps wisdom, lurking beneath the tattered clothes, sheltered in their cardboard boxes?

I like movies that are well-written, and this one certainly is. And the New York of the 40's and 50's is a character in the film to. To see the Village Vandguard's sign, knowing that beneath this sign passed Miles Davis, Charlie Parker, Coltrane...

Highly recommended.

Was he a brilliant and misunderstood bohemian, or merely a mentally deranged hobo with scant moments of lucidity? This is one of the questions broached by this thought provoking period piece based on a true story. Joe Gould (Ian Holm) became a local legend of sorts in the 1940's and ‘50's as he lived on the streets of Greenwich Village in Manhattan during that section's most outlandish and offbeat era. According to the legend, Gould was writing the `Oral History of the World' supposedly scratching down his thoughts and the conversations of common folks in composition books. This story follows the relationship developed between Joe Gould, a Harvard graduate cum decadent; and Joe Mitchell (Stanley Tucci), a prominent writer for New Yorker Magazine during the period, who wrote the book on which this film is based.

Gould was generally well liked, and he could be charming and engaging when doing his bohemian act for the locals, who were wont to enjoy the raw humanity of it. Thus, despite his disheveled and odoriferous attributes, he was often welcome at parties given by affluent socialites. He had a symbiosis with the neighborhood, a mutually parasitic relationship where he used them for their money and they used him to indulge their desire to consider themselves avant-garde by consorting with free spirits.

He easily manipulated various residents into contributing significant alms, which he would promptly squander on alcohol. This became even truer after Mitchell wrote an article about him in New Yorker Magazine and his celebrity mushroomed. The film tells his story without over-romanticizing him and unabashedly presents his dark side (bordering on sociopathic) marked by alcoholism, temper tantrums, belligerent outbursts and generally disturbed behavior.

Stanley Tucci's direction of this film again bears his trademark attention to human details, presenting a very perceptive look at the human condition. As always, his work with the actors to get the right feelings on film was excellent. He also captured the period precisely in his use of costumes, props and Greenwich Village locations, most of which are unchanged from 50 years ago. He does a good job of peeling away Gould's façade, which begins with a look at him as a colorful and interesting character and reveals him ultimately as grossly imbalanced.

If there were criticisms of Tucci's presentation, they would have to be about pace and content. The film isn't excessively long, but at times, it feels that way. Though this was a wonderfully in-depth character study, it trod over the same ground repeatedly, rather than offering an array of fresh perspectives.

The acting was exceptional. Ian Holm gives a brilliant performance as Gould. It is difficult to imagine a more complex and demanding character. Holm was engaging, charming, cantankerous, belligerent and occasionally insightfully deep. Holm was fully immersed in his character and he gave a truly inspired portrayal. Stanley Tucci was also very good as the sullen and impassive journalist. His southern accent was only passable, but his genteel southern style was excellent and his conflict and concern came across as genuine.

This film requires a patient and intelligent viewer. I rated it an 8/10 on the strength of the acting and the insightful character study, despite its sluggish pace. If you enjoy human-interest stories and probing character studies, I would recommend you try it.

This is one of those marvelous movies where almost nothing happens. Noone dies, noone gets blasted by aliens, noone get mushed by Bruce Willis or Harrison Ford. Just a quiet movie about an interesting guy (damn, Ian Holm is good) who doesn't do much. The scenography is awesome, and the details of the surroundings are pretty good. Anyone with an understanding of the pre-beat scene in NYC (or curiosity, ferchristssake) will love this quiet, interesting movie. Some of the characters could have been painted with a little more color. One becomes curious about the photographer-wife, the beat-artist (Saranden), and the sleazy publisher (Steve Martin, ferchristssake), but our questions remain questions.

If you like quiet movies, thoughtful movies, you'll thoroughly enjoy this one. Rent it.