The Caveman's Valentine

Hollywood has a difficult time with mental illness. Typically, delusional characters are shown from the outside, with only the actor's performance to give you a clue about what is going on inside.

This is a challenge that "The Caveman's Valentine" meets head-on. In addition to Samuel L. Jackson's fine portrayal, director Kasi Lemmons actually seeks to bring us into his world and show us the things that he sees. In most movies, this is a recipe for failure. Not here.

Samuel L. Jackson's Romulus Ledbetter is a schizophrenic Julliard-trained pianist who lives in a cave in a New York park. He hears music in his head, and is haunted by visions of "moth-seraphs", whom we see in striking surreal imagery that perhaps too much resembles last year's "The Cell" for its own good, but is effective nonetheless. Ledbetter believes in a sinister force which he calls "Cornelius Gould Stuyvesant" (a combination of the names of three significant figures in New York history), who lives atop the Chrysler Building and controls people's minds with "y-rays" and "z-rays." The scenes involving the unseen Stuyvesant are the movie's most effective. The Chrysler Building, itself a symbol of New York's wealth, towers over exterior shots, and shimmers with malevolent green light as traffic lights flash and Ledbetter looks on with horror. The sequences are mesmerizing.

Jackson's performance, too, is notable. Playing a schizophrenic homeless man seems like an opportunity to play big, ranting speeches, but Jackson plays it more subtly. Ledbetter is not a sugary stereotype or an object of pity. Jackson gives him some bite that often makes him unpleasant, but always believable.

Like the character in "Shine", it is implied that Ledbetter cracked under the pressures of genius, and in order to make it through the movie, he has to face the mind-breaking terror of performing on the piano. In one particularly affecting scene, a lawyer (played to smarmy perfection by Anthony Michael Hall; it's good to see him all grown up) asks Ledbetter to play a piece in exchange for the loan of a suit. Ledbetter plays something (which sounds like Donizetti by way of the "Blade Runner" soundtrack), and we can feel the twitchy stress as Ledbetter's fingers touch the keys. Jackson has made us believe.

There is also a vicious humor in the movie's idea that a delusional psychotic, with just a shave and a good suit, can without too much difficulty schmooze with New York art swells. I don't know if this joke is intentional, but it sure is funny.

So, what's wrong with all this? Unfortunately, "The Caveman's Valentine" takes this great, textured performance and this brilliant visual depiction of the landscape of madness and grafts it on to a clunky "Diagnosis Murder"-style plot. The clumsy story, about a death which Ledbetter becomes convinced has to do with a trendy Mapplethorpe-esque photographer, relies heavily on the three c's: coincidence, contrivance, and cliche. It's got more holes than the back wall of a firing range. In addition, Colm Feore is uninteresting as the photographer ("Wild envy surrounds me," he says at one point;) and makes a far less compelling villain than "Stuyvesant." Ann Magnuson is wasted as the photographer's sister.

Jackson is brilliant. Lemmons' visuals are brilliant. You may never look at the Chrysler Building quite the same way again. Unfortunately, there's an old saying in the military: when you mix good troops with bad, you get mediocre. And so it is with the movies, too.

The thin line between genius and insanity is examined in this story of a gifted man estranged from his family and separated from his vocation by his seemingly unfounded paranoia. `The Caveman's Valentine,' directed by Kasi Lemmons, stars Samuel L. Jackson as Romulus Ledbetter, a former Julliard student, talented composer and pianist who now lives in a cave near a park in New York City. Romulus treads that delicate line between reality and fantasy, his thought process interrupted by the `moth seraphs' that live within his head, but even during his most rational periods the demons of his delusions plague him incessantly. He alternately recoils from and stands boldly upright against the presence of the towering skyscraper (the Chrysler Building) wherein resides the `Big Brother' of his imagination, the man responsible for his present state of being, a man named `Stiverson.' But then again, is it really only in his imagination?

In his cave, Romulus has an unconnected television set he watches, which keeps him abreast of the latest `lies' concocted by those in power and foisted on an unsuspecting public. He lives alone, but is well known on the streets for his vociferous ranting and railings against Stiverson and those who seek to subjugate those like himself, those who haven't the strength or the power to stand up to them. Then one day, in the dead of winter, Romulus emerges one morning from his cave and finds something in a tree just outside. And what he finds sets him upon a quest that will prove to everyone once and for all that he is not crazy, that Stiverson and the others exist and are what he says they are, and if he is successful, he will finally have the proof. Now if he can but stave off his demons and maintain lucidity long enough to do what he must do; he is adamant, but just as he is beginning, `they' introduce their newest weapon which they wield in a soft, green light, the `Z-Rays.' Romulus, however, is frightened but not deterred, and more determined than ever to expose Stiverson for what he is.

Kasi Lemmons, who made an auspicious directorial debut in 1997 with `Eve's Bayou,' presents this complex story with a stylistic and artistic touch that at times evokes the spirit of Fellini (as with the `moth seraphs' sequences which she uses to great effect). She quickly establishes the character of Romulus and sets a pace that allows the mystery to escalate as the story unfolds. Her approach succinctly captures the paranoid world inhabited by Romulus in his own mind, and she plays on his sudden erratic behavior and the unexpected turn in the middle of a scene to build an underlying tension that makes the drama all the more riveting. Most importantly, she manages to go beyond what is happening in the film to convey the true essence of what this story is all about, with insight and an obvious and incisive grasp of human nature.

Samuel L. Jackson gives a dynamic performance as Romulus, who has a tendency to lapse into quiet moments, but guards against them as if they were a threat to his safety. Afraid to let his guard down, he fights his fears with anger and bravura, but clearly that's not who this man really is, which Jackson communicates quite effectively. There's nothing feigned or pretentious about this character, and Jackson takes him from a rational moment into madness seamlessly, which adds to the credibility of not only Romulus, but the entire film. This is not a man to whom you will be able to relate directly, but there are certainly elements of his situation to which you will readily be able to sympathize. Romulus is a thoroughly complex character, and Jackson realizes those complexities with insight and realism.

Also outstanding in one of the smaller, but pivotal supporting roles in Anthony Michael Hall as Bob, the bankruptcy lawyer who encounters Romulus and somewhat indirectly facilitates his mission. Hall has matured as an actor, and this is probably one of the best roles he's had since his youthful efforts in such films as `National Lampoon's Vacation,' and `The Breakfast Club.' Ann Magnuson also gives a noteworthy performance as Moria Leppenraub, the sister of artist David Leppenraub (Colm Feore), who is something of a free spirit and becomes involved with Romulus when certain circumstances lead him to David. Magnuson has a certain charismatic, Shirley MacLaine-like quality about her that makes her accessible and easy to watch, and she is very believable here as Moria.

Rounding out the supporting cast are Tamara Tunie (Shelia), Damir Andrei (Arnold), Aunjanue Ellis (Lulu), Peter MacNeill (Cork), Jay Rodan (Joey), Rodney Eastman (Matthew) and Kate McNeil (Betty). A thought provoking, emotionally involving film that is exceptionally well presented and acted, `The Caveman's Valentine' has something to say about the diversity of a society in which everyone has a place, no matter what they may appear to be, and the fact that absolutely no one should ever be dismissed out-of-hand. It says that there are no `throw-away' people; that the value of an individual often cannot be measured until confronted with extraordinary circumstances, for it is that which brings out the best and drives someone like Romulus to exercise the latent capacity which lies within. One of life's lessons, told here with a profound clarity by Lemmons, through a medium that is the magic of the movies. I rate this one 9/10.

The reviews are up and down for this one, and it may be because of the psycho scenes. As the first reviewer noted, it does a good job of getting the viewer inside the psycho's head, but if you aren't into strange scenes with psychotic visions, confusing sequences, etc you might find it tedious. These aren't the crisp psycho scene like in The Cell, but more like visions. The plot is good, and the supporting acting is adequate. But watching this nut stumble around trying to catch a crook might be too off the wall for some people. I'd give it a 6.5/10.

I shall not review the story. I've read all the submitted reviews. I am an MD and as such see this picture from a different standpoint than that of a movie-goer. I think it is the best acting from the standpoint of being INSIDE of a paranoid schiz I'm aware of because you can see and feel the confusion. If you are confused by the jumping around so too is the poor psycotic. His superior mentality is used as a pianist as well as a caring person for others. He fights to maintain reality but "where is it" or "which is it?" Of course there is no clearing up at the end as there seldom is. But that is the beauty of this film. Feel and understand the plight of such a victim? Now maybe see it again.

I would have to agree with the review of PC Dean. It seems that Hollywood felt that they had to generate a reason to make this film. I have these horrible visions of a production meeting with people trying to figure out how they were going to be able to make a quality film and still dupe the public into going to see it. Then deciding the solution was writing in a half hearted mystery theme. Though I do applaud most of the performances in this film, Jackson shining wonderfully, I get the impression that there wasn't enough effort put into the other characters (scriptwise), just throwing talented actors/actresses into thin air won't suddenly make your characters fly. Overall I liked the movie and applaud it's approaching the subject of mental illness. I just wonder about the attempts at main stream "popularizing" that went along with it.