Paul Williams: Still Alive

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

Funny - 2012 must have been the year for depressing documentaries about aging great singer-songwriters.

Like the Neil Young Journeys fiasco, this film disappoints. It's not boring like Young's film, but it is sad, sad, sad!!!

And why did Stephen Kessler hound Williams until the end, with old video clips that only humiliated him and made him want to throw Kessler out of his house?

I was a writer for Downbeat magazine years ago and I profiled famous jazz musicians, some of whom had personal rough spots and most of whom had seen their careers die down with age. But I knew enough not to make them uncomfortable or embarrass them with insulting questions...and, in the telling, I didn't emphasize the darker side of things. Yes, tell the tale, but with giants like Paul Williams (those of you who weren't around might not know he was on the top of the world once, having written scores of great hit songs sung by many - including himself - and he rose to celebrityhood also on his wit and charm) need to be treated with a little more respect.

And PS Kessler, I - the grandson of a great songwriter and bandleader - can tell you that the music industry eats you up and spits you out. It's a rare person whose fame or popularity lasts a lifetime and it's no fault of the artist.

The Monkees' Davy Jones, may he rest in peace, had a career in later life much like Williams. This is what happens in the fickle music industry. Even Boston's lead singer, Brad Delp, who sadly took his own life not long ago, experienced disappointment after having been on top of the world in one of the best rock bands ever.

So...there's a bigger story here and it's not told.

Writer/director Stephen Kessler is a working filmmaker in Hollywood. He's a fan of songwriter celebrity Paul Williams. Assuming Paul is dead, he is surprised to find out that Paul is still alive and still working. It turns out that he is sober just recently. Paul Williams was a big songwriter of the '70s. After a good performance on The Tonight Show, he became somewhat of a celebrity. He became hooked on various substances and fame. However his fame fades.

Kessler is somewhat of a stalker. It gets awkward at times. Paul chaffs at Stephen's insinuation that something is pathetic about his later career. Sometimes he's treated like a family member. Other times, there is this weird tension. But Stephen always seems to be a fan, and that adds a sweet charming feel to the movie.

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.

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.