Michael Douglas in Solitary Man
Solitary Man
- Directed by Brian Koppelman and David Levien
- Written by Brian Koppelman
- Starring Michael Douglas, Jenna Fischer, Susan Sarandon
- Classification: 14A
Solitary Man makes too good on its title - it's a fascinating character study isolated within a mediocre film. Fascinating, because this is a rounded portrait of a specific type of aging alpha male, as reprehensible as he is charming, manipulative yet honest too, sadly lacking in moral fibre but admirably devoid of self-pity. With all his messy contradictions, the guy rings true. What doesn't, at least not always, is the plot attending his decline and fall. The result is a script that, like an unwise jeweller, sticks a pure gem inside a tarnished setting.
On camera almost continually, Michael Douglas commands the film's centre and navigates the character with the skill of someone who's been there before. He has. His Ben Kalmen is part Gordon Gekko from Wall Street and part Grady Tripp from Wonder Boys, with a dash of Willy Loman tossed in to keep us off balance. Indeed, Ben used to be a car salesman, rose to Fortune 500 heights with a nationwide string of luxury dealerships, and then, prompted by one of those dubious plot mechanisms, lost it all six years ago. Lost his empire courtesy of some shady business practices, lost his marriage thanks to many quickie affairs.
But his swagger has stayed intact, along with his confidence, and, in the early frames, Ben is on the move again, pushing 60 now yet still closing deals, including one guaranteed to restore his fortune. He's still chasing skirts too, charming them off women less than half his age. Of course, the young lovelies are his psychological Botox, smoothing out his wrinkled self-image, although he's fully aware of the cliché and unafraid to embrace it - after all, they're willing and he's able. Asked by his ex-wife Nancy (Susan Sarandon), "What does that get you?", Ben snaps back with unapologetic candour: "Plenty."
It's precisely such candour that makes him both appalling and appealing, nearly but never quite pathetic. Consider his relationship with his 30-something daughter. Happily married, Susan (Jenna Fischer) finds herself in the position of mothering not just her young son but her forever-young father too. He chats to her casually about his sexual escapades, bristles if she calls him "Dad" in public places, and brazenly borrows money whenever his wallet gets slim.
Through all this, with its creepy impropriety, Susan doubles as his fiercest critic and his willing accomplice. She sees right through him yet remains entranced by the sight. We do exactly the same. It's not often that a movie offers up a sinner who is fully aware of his sins and their corrosive consequences, yet is uncomplaining when they arrive because, on balance, he prefers the excitement of vice to the tedium of virtue.
Sure, his fall is inevitable. Yet its manner is not, and this is where Brian Koppelman's screenplay shows signs of contrivance. Although the supporting cast here is strong - not just Sarandon, but Mary-Louise Parker, Danny De Vito, Jesse Eisenberg - too many of them seem merely like convenient cogs in a narrative wheel designed to take Ben down. In that sense, our solitary man gets too much help moving through the arc of his story. Worse, the primary motivation for his behaviour (I shouldn't give it away) seems trite and unconvincing. This type of character doesn't need any further inducement to behave badly, not when vice is its own reward.
Ironically, then, the film may be a victim of its success. The gem at the centre is so multifaceted, so knowingly selfish yet incapable of self-deceit, that the movie resists a conventional plot's easy turns. We don't want him redeemed, nor do we need him punished beyond what he inflicts on himself: "At your highest moments, and your lowest, you're alone." His place is on that lonely island - ours is to watch him there from a safe distance, too intrigued to wave goodbye.