Paul Williams: Still Alive

This film is not a traditional biopic, but rather the director's recounting of the role Paul Williams has played throughout his life. How he remembers him from his youth, and how he figures into his current life. There are touches of Paul's early career and life, but the primary focus is on the friendship which grew between him and the director throughout the years of filming.

Stephen Kessler, a once hopeful, now floundering director, had been a fan of Williams' work growing up, but lost track of him somewhere around the early 80's. Much to his surprise, he found out that the entertainer was not dead, as he had long assumed, and was still making public appearances. He then went on a journey to discover where Paul had disappeared to for all those absent years.

The only flaw with this idea is that, for many of us, Paul never disappeared. Sure, his presence wasn't as strongly felt as it may have been a few decades ago, but even with his struggles with drug and alcohol abuse (now clean for 20 years), Paul was still making music and appearing in several films and TV shows. While I realize that Paul may have been flying under the radar for many, he was far from underground.

Kessler ignores these recent efforts, leaving blank Paul's creative history between 1980 and the late 2000s when he started filming this documentary. When asked during a Q&A following a screening of this film if he was still writing music, Paul lovingly jokes that he is and he thinks Kessler would have been happier to have found him living a trailer and eating out of trashcans, as it would have been better for his movie.

This film is not really one about Paul Williams, per se, it seems more about Kessler's search to find out something about his past, about his own slipping into obscurity, and the ways in which filming Paul transforms from an idea, to a crutch, to a renewed hope in his own career...and a friendship between the two.

While I feel like some discredit was done to Paul by lacking to mention the full spectrum of his work, I am glad to have a film that can renew interest in him and his many talents. The film is fully entertaining and Williams is delightful, albeit not quite the focus that the title might lead one to believe.

Greetings again from the darkness. This documentary was recommended to me by Adam, a fellow movie and music lover. Without his urging, I probably would have never taken the time to watch this ultimately fascinating and intriguing look at Paul Williams. I say that after an extremely clunky first few minutes where director Stephen Kessler, a self-proclaimed childhood fan of Williams, displays his insecurities and lack of focus as a filmmaker.

The best stories have an abundance of conflict, and it turns out that the polar opposite goals of Williams and Kessler make for some spellbinding viewing. See, Kessler wants to figure out what happened to the 1970's icon and Williams simply wants to show how he has adjusted to a somewhat normal life. Kessler wants to look back, while Williams is living (happily) in the present.

If you don't recognize the name Paul Williams, then you probably didn't watch TV or listen to the radio in the 1970's. The guy was everywhere! Known mostly for his prolific songwriting, he also performed, appeared in movies, TV shows, game shows and talk shows. In fact, he was a favorite of Johnny Carson and appeared on The Tonight Show fifty times. And then ... just like that ... he was gone. Drugs and alcohol destroyed his career. Now twenty years sober, he still performs - just in much smaller venues. This is man who has spent much time soul-searching. His insight into being different (difficult) or special (addicting) makes for a chilling moment.

Kessler follows Williams around until he is forced to join him in front of the camera. Their strained relationship is painful to watch until things begin to turn during a long bus ride in the Phillipines. With so much of the focus on Kessler's attempt to connect with Williams, this is as much a personality analysis as it is a look at the history and current status of Williams.

The final act of the film seems a bit staged as Kessler finally gets the "sleepover" at Williams' house that he had been after for 2 plus years. Reviewing old TV clips does not get the desired reaction ... Kessler never seemed to grasp what he had with this film. It's obvious that the two men now have a connection, but if you are expecting a tribute film to the glory years of Paul Williams, you will be disappointed. If instead you embrace this unusual film, you will come away impressed with the man that Paul Williams has become. It's no "Rainbow Connection" but maybe it's even more.

The gist of "Paul Williams Still Alive" (which I caught at its final SXSW screening in Austin this March) is simply this: would-be feature film documentary maker Stephen Kessler was so obsessed with the way the AM-radio hits penned by diminutive 1970s entertainer Paul Williams had made his teen-aged heart go all a-flutter that he decided to make a documentary about Williams -- without even realizing that his "late, great" musical hero was still very much alive!

This is a cinematic concept that should'nt have worked -- but, thank the Pop Culture gods, it did!

Mind you, it never would have come close to passing muster if Williams hadn't kept a veritably complete reference library of his clips on every bad music, comedy, variety, game and chat show that existed during the 70s and 80s. Nor would it have worked if Williams hadn't allowed Kessler full use of that library to reveal the inevitable downhill slide that nearly all of Hollywood's denizens of that time period were prone to follow!

For his part, Kessler reveals himself to be (potentially) the world's worst director of a film like this as well! It's only when he and his childhood hero miraculously find them-selves on "the same page" (courtesy of an encounter with third-world terrorism, of all things!) that the alchemy begins to take place and the hill of Tinseltown dross turns miraculously into a mountain of pure gold!!!

Fans of schlock will be delighted either way, as they roll about ecstatically in the slushy mounds of 70s celebrity offal expelled by the coked-up likes of Robert Blake, Karen Carpenter, Dick Clark, Kermit the Frog, Jack Klugman, Peter Lawford, Tony Randall, Burt Reynolds, Telly Savalas, Barbra Streisand, John Travolta and more!

But more sensitive viewers will find themselves fighting to hold back the tears as the characters refuse to merely remain the two-dimensional "stars" that we enjoyed chuckling derisively at on our little cathode-ray tubes.

Watch in stunned semi-silence as a slack-jawed star-gazer, obsessed with the tear-jerking tune-age that kept his appreciation of Paul Williams from advancing beyond the analytical level of a 12-year-old, metamorphoses into an insightful, savvy observer of character before your very eyes! Shudder in awe as the short-statured subject reveals himself to be more than worth the effort of analyzing!

Whether your personal reference point to Williams is The Muppets ("The Rainbow Connection"), The Carpenters (Rainy Days & Mondays"), or Brian DePalma's midnight movie cult classic "The Phantom of the Paradise", you can trust me at least on one thing about this film: it WILL make you glad that Paul Williams is still alive!

-- Kenneth W. Lieck

Whether realized or not, Paul Williams has had a tremendous musical impact on my generation. Easily the redeeming factor of this film are the juxtapositions of Williams in his heyday and Williams today.

The documentary is populated with gasp-inducing ("I remember that!" "I saw that when it aired!") moments, terrific vintage clips, and good interviews, especially with his long-time band leader.

Williams comes off completely accessible and a very self-aware guy. The tragedy of this entire project is the fact that the person at the film's helm is Stephen Kessler, who is intrusive, obnoxious, paranoid, xenophobic, and, most of all, so self-absorbed that every action Williams makes (a tour of Vegas, to the Philippines, etc.) is about him. Not 30 flippin' seconds go by in this documentary, where Kessler isn't self-referential.

Williams is shockingly gracious despite Kessler's repeated attempts at "gotcha" moments. Kessler is so arrogant that he actually interrupts Williams' poignant childhood memory. He's the kind of "reporter" (term used very loosely) who isn't listening to his subject. Kessler has an agenda, and no matter how many times he refers to Williams as his "idol," that agenda is a despicable one. Kessler's "fame" (Oscar for a short film) wasn't even a blip on the entertainment scene and he is determined to make this film about him.

If only Kessler had used this amazing opportunity to showcase Williams -- who is certainly as interesting and engaging as he'd been at the height of his fame -- this could have been a very remarkable film portrait. It wouldn't even have had to be a tribute; Williams shows moments of curmudgeonly behavior (and really, who wouldn't be, in Kessler's presence), but Williams' humor and undeniable talent deserve a showcase.

Kessler repeatedly (and cringing-ly) keeps asking questions that are the equivalent of "how does it feel to have been so famous and to become so irrelevant?" The truly horrible moment is when Kessler (who clearly has been chomping at the bit, stalking Williams for two years for this opportunity) makes Williams awkwardly and uncomfortably sit through a late 70s-vintage television clip of a clearly high, Williams hosting the "Mike Douglas Show."

Kessler wants to make a film about himself, and frame it with a compelling subject like Williams. For Williams -- who generously consented to Kessler's cameras AND provided him with boxes of videos for the documentary (without these contributions there would be absolutely no film) -- this film provides a reminder of Williams. But he deserves so much better.

It was only in the 1970s that Paul Williams could have occurred. Short, with curly lips that made him look like a smirky Little Lord Fauntleroy, he was a fixture on talk shows, a cheeseball actor, and a profoundly talented melancholy pop composer like "Rainy Days and Mondays." He's a humbled man in the doc of Stephen Kessler who regrets the spoiled child he once was.The film is fascinating, although it smacks a little too much of its own lips at the tackiness of the stardom of the freak seventies