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It's doubtful that Ron Howard's name helped him when he was starting his directing career; in fact, if the stories of his begging Roger Corman to finance his first film when no one else would are to be believed, his name probably hurt him more than anything else. But his former life as a child star -- first as Opie in The Andy Griffith Show, then as Richie Cunningham in Happy Days -- has certainly engendered interest in his subsequent directing career. Some would say, undue interest. Us, for example.
Because Ron Howard has become a thing that is extremely rare in Hollywood: a name-brand director, along with such esteemed colleagues as Spielberg, Scorsese, and Oliver Stone. Does he belong in their company? Of course not. But he is there, nonetheless. He is a well-known director. He is a celebrity director. Which is a shame, because he is a bad director.
By "bad," we mean middling. Mediocre. Uninspired. Yes, his first three films -- Night Shift, Splash, and Cocoon -- were, at worst, competent and, at best, quite charming. And since then, to his credit, he has not delivered the one, Heaven's Gate-esque stinker that might jeopardize his perch in the middle of Hollywood's bell curve of quality. (Though Willow, which had George Lucas's name and huge expectations attached to it, came close, and Far and Away, one of the few movies in history that adjoins the words "Tom Cruise" and "flop" in the same sentence, came even closer.) Generally speaking, Howard does not overreach. He does not overextend. And he does not make good movies. In his post-Willow period, he's made Parenthood, Backdraft, the aforementioned Far and Away, The Paper, Apollo 13, Ransom, EdTV, and, now, the incompetent, uncharming mash of a film, The Grinch.
Does Hollywood need competent directors who can churn out profitable if forgettable star vehicles? Yes, it does. Does Ron Howard seem, by all accounts, like an affable, good-natured fellow? Yes, he does. Is it a miracle that, against all odds, he managed to grow up to be a seemingly well-adjusted adult who found success in his post-child-star career, rather than falling into a life of hard drugs, easy prurience, and straight-to-video National Lampoon Vacation movies? Yes, it is. Does the director of Parenthood, Backdraft, and EdTV deserve to be one of the half-dozen or so directors that everyone in America recognizes by name? No, he does not.
It all boils down to an issue of fairness. Think of all the other hack directors out there, toiling away on competent but uninspired films while America hasn't so much as an inkling as to their identities. How do you think Stephen Hopkins, director of Blown Away, The Ghost and the Darkness, and Lost in Space feels when he has to see Ron Howard doing press junkets for The Grinch? Or what about Simon Wincer, the very model of a Hollywood cog, who, in a six-year period, reeled off Quigley Down Under, Harley Davidson and the Marlboro Man, Free Willy, Lightning Jack, Operation Dumbo Drop, and The Phantom? He's slaving away, day in and day out, to provide movie theatres with competent Hollywood slop during the down weeks between event films like X-Men and A.I.. What are you going to tell Simon Wincer when he asks why his isn't a household name?
Ron Howard: we loved you as Richie, and you were darned cute as Opie. Splash was funny. Your other movies -- not so good. Especially Backdraft. So here's what we're proposing. Change your name. Grow a beard. Wear an eyepatch. When you make your dark, moving masterpiece about love and betrayal among Pinkerton agents breaking a strike in the mines of Tennessee, you can shave off the beard, rip off the eyepatch, and surprise us all, shouting, "Hey, it's me! Opie!" and we'll all stare at you in awe and wonder. In the meantime, go incognito. It's the best for everyone.
And take off that damned hat. We all know that you're bald.
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