At Large

You may have noticed. The proliferation of so-called “celebrity biopics” continues both in a movie theater near you or, more conveniently, on a streaming service inviting your homebound blitzing evenings and weekends.

When, a few years ago, Timothée Chalamet emerged as Bob Dylan in A Complete Unknown, theaters were filled and song downloads of “Tangled Up in Blue” and “Mr. Tambourine Man” skyrocketed. The Nobel Prize-winning poet moved into the spotlight once again, decades after Robert Zimmerman emerged from Hibbing, MN, and became Bob Dylan.

Something of a measured response greeted Bruce Springsteen: Deliver Me From Nowhere starring Jeremy Allen White when it got an early start to the year-end blitz of films offered by studios in anticipation of upcoming awards season. Thanks to both hype and a loyal “Boss” fan base, copious amounts of popcorn and giant sodas were sold and downloads of his pivotal album Nebraska rose precipitously.

Side bar: weekend fare

For those who prefer to avoid the weather, the crowds, and the need to warm up the car, Apple TV recently played to the cinematically conversant with a five-part documentary on the career of Martin Scorsese, the brilliant if sometimes controversial film director. If controversy piques your interest, set aside a weekend and cue up Taxi Driver, Raging Bull, The Last Temptation of Christ, Gangs of New York, and The Wolf of Wall Street. Then finish off with The Age of Innocence simply to keep your blood pressure within reasonable limits.  

If delicately tiptoeing through intense family history is more your “groove,” then keep the set tuned to Apple TV and watch Ben Stiller’s intensely personal and often difficult look at his parents, Jerry Stiller and Anne Meara, their careers, and the impact that celebrity has had on succeeding generations. Nothing is Lost is more than simply a clever title, it’s a plausible response to the documentary journey.

And, if you’d prefer reading to watching, we recommend Bread of Angels, Patti Smith’s lyrical memoir that allows the singer/poet/artist an invitation to who she is, and how she became that complex person.

The tape measure effect

The point, however, is less about catching up on some important films and “tell-alls” than it is to become immersed in the hurricane of creativity that inhabits some few … make that VERY few lives … and measure them against our own.

True, we may catch a glimpse of a celebrity standing near the deli counter at our local supermarket or buy a ticket for a fundraising evening hosted by someone of note, but for the great majority, lives lived are less likely spent making sure we hit our key light and more closely echoing Thoreau’s observation that “the mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.”  

Are the Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous (if you recall that painful television series hosted by Robin Leach) merely filled with cascading moments of joy, conspicuous consumption and heady celebrity? Or is it possible that the dark moments of depression, struggling with both care and confusion, and conflicts within families that punctuate our daily lives are theirs as well.

Countless posters, bumper stickers, key chain tags, and desktop signs have purportedly encouraged and celebrated the individual. From “Hang In there” to “Live Your Life Everywhere,” there seems to be no end to the vacuous encouragement. “Be your own best friend.” “I am loved and worthy.” The saccharine sweetness appears without warning. See too many, and we feel like we need either a shower or an injection of insulin.

Second sidebar: The spot-on sign

One sign we saw sitting on a boss’s desk during our formative “professional” years really hit home. It was not a flowery encouragement or some bromide to read and forget. “Nobody Cares. Work Harder.” Seemed to sum it up. Lesson learned. Words to live by.

Back to the point

For as much as Springsteen: Deliver Me From Nowhere elevates a moment of his towering career, it also shows the Boss to be a fragile, tormented, knowable human being.  Just like us.  

As jammed with celebrity interactions and towering cinematic achievements as Mr. Scorsese might be, his humanity shines through with the intensity of a 10,0000-watt stage light as he struggles with his faith, his failed relationships, and his all-consuming drive to deliver perfection. Just like us.

Reading biographies of notable world leaders and those who were instrumental in building empires and democracies is often as much about understanding the historic setting as it is about sensing the pulse of the subjects.  

Watching feature films or documentary series portraying the personal struggles and occasional triumphs of our pop culture heroes provides almost instant exposure to who these people really are … real people, with fears and aspirations, close friends and viperous enemies, alienated partners and disaffected children … all of the nuanced pieces that make up lives that in many ways, hold up a mirror to our own.

As is often the case, there is a soundtrack to this simple discovery.  Blues musician Keb’ Mo’ won the first of his five Grammy awards for his 1996 album Just Like You. Lyrics from the title song will take us home.

Well I feel just like you
And I cry just like you
But I heal just like you
And under my skin

I’m just like you
You gave your love and your innocence
And they took away your confidence

Well I’m not those women
I’m not those men
Put your arms around me
I am your friend •