Paul Williams: Still Alive

As many others my age, I just assumed that Paul Williams had passed away since he was no longer in the public eye. He was everywhere in the 70's. A truly talented songwriter, with a self aware wit, he was an excellent talk show guest. Then he disappeared.

Netflix showed this documentary as a recommendation after I watch the Glen Campbell documentary and I actually think I enjoyed this documentary more.

At first, it was hard to watch as the director came off as stalker-ish and often seemed disinterested when Williams was sharing more poignant aspects of his upbringing, but as the documentary progressed, Wllliams story of addiction, recovery and the discovery of true happiness shone through.

I highly recommend this to anyone who has fond memories of Paul Williams in his hey day. This documentary really shows an interesting perspective on celebrity and what truly brings happiness.

The reason I was interested in seeing "Paul Williams Still Alive" is because of his recent and entirely unexpected entrance into the limelight at the Grammy Awards. When the enigmatic French band Daft Punk won the award for Best Album, folks were wondering how they'd accept the award. After all, this group's members are anonymous-- wearing strange getup that conceal who they are. So their representative to speak for them was Paul Williams, as he'd produced some of their music. Imagine...a European electro-pop group whose front man is the 1970s TV and recording icon Paul Williams. His tragically unhip songs today (such as "Rainy Days and Mondays" and "Rainbow Connection") are not the sort of stuff you could imagine Daft Punk listening to, that's for sure! To me, THIS makes for a great story...and isn't even mentioned in any way, as the documentary came out just before his work with Daft Punk.

As for the documentary, I have very mixed feelings about it. On the positive side, it celebrates the huge number of hit songs he gave us in the 70s and 80s--song you heard all the time during that era. It also gives you a nice portrait of the man today--having worked on his substance abuse recovery to create a nice, but busy, life for himself. All this is great. But, the film also has a huge distraction--the filmmaker, Stephen Kessler. He is much of the film--as unlike many documentaries where you don't see or even hear from the filmmakers themselves (my favorites, by the way), much of the film is Kessler talking about himself and insinuating himself into Williams' life. And I didn't care that Kessler was like a proverbial 'ugly American' in that he refused to eat the local food when he was traveling in the Philippines...who cares if he's like this or not since the film is NOT supposed to be about him!?! Maybe I am reading something into it, but he just seemed annoying (his interviewing style was obnoxious at times) and I didn't want to hear about him and his love for Williams. I just wanted to see and hear Williams. As for Williams, he seemed like a nice guy--and put up with a lot and seemed to roll with what came. All in all, it was nice to see that he is a happy guy who isn't spending his time looking back but without Kessler's ever-present presence, i think it would have been a much better film.

To any filmmaker out there reading this, why don't YOU make a good documentary about Paul Williams? He's very interesting and a worthy topic for a film...and you couldn't possibly do a worse job than this mess!!

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.

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

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.