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— by Karl Heitmueller
Cinema's most versatile actor returns to theaters this Christmas. No, it's not Al Pacino in "The Merchant of Venice" or Robert De Niro in "Meet the Fockers." Perhaps the greatest range in Hollywood today belongs to the man who made "So I got that going for me ... which is nice" an eternal catchphrase: Bill Murray.
Yes, the same Bill Murray who first came into the public eye when he joined the cast of "Saturday Night Live" in 1977. Murray was tapped to replace Chevy Chase, who left the show to pursue a movie career, perhaps prematurely. Murray quickly became an audience favorite, mostly playing snarky characters such as Nick the Lounge Singer, nerd supreme Todd DiLaMuca and Richard Dawson.
Murray's early film roles continued in that vein, as the camp counselor Tripper Harrison in 1979's "Meatballs," a bunny-toting homeless guy in "Mr. Mike's Mondo Video," and most famously, Carl the gopher-hating groundskeeper in "Caddyshack." But what most people forget is that, unlike his other "SNL" contemporaries, Murray almost immediately displayed a desire to do more than just one kind of role.
Throughout his career, he's gone back and forth between big mainstream comedies and smaller, independent films, both comedic and dramatic.
While everybody loved Carl in 1980's "Caddyshack," people were somewhat surprised by Murray's dark interpretation of Hunter S. Thompson in "Where the Buffalo Roam" that same year. Playing the chemically altered gonzo writer as less a cartoon than Johnny Depp would years later in "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas," Murray showed his capability for portraying complexity for the first time onscreen.
Still, nobody was prepared for his first full-on dramatic role in 1984's World War I picture, "The Razor's Edge." Murray's role of Larry Darrell, an ex-soldier in search of spiritual enlightenment left fans scratching their heads, especially in contrast with his more typical portrayal that same year of lovable lout Dr. Peter Venkman in the blockbuster "Ghostbusters."
In 1990, Murray reprised the role of Venkman in "Ghostbusters II," and again contrasted that mainstream film with a far more personal piece, the black comedy "Quick Change." Co-directed by Murray, it's the story of a trio of thieves who find robbing a bank far easier than making their escape from New York. Dealing with urban anxiety, issues of parenthood, fading youth and the crumbling of society, the film confused moviegoers expecting another "Ghostbusters"-like light comedy.
By 1993, people were finally starting to appreciate Murray as more than a one-trick pony. The romantic triangle film "Mad Dog and Glory" defied convention by making Robert De Niro play a sensitive photographer against Murray as a gangster (no, they didn't accidentally switch scripts) competing for the affections of Uma Thurman. That same year, Murray starred in "Groundhog Day," playing weatherman Phil Connors (who by film's end is everything that his "Mad Dog" character was not). It's a redemption tale that's lifted out of the ordinary by Murray's charm. Even at his most self-absorbed, he's likeable, so when he finally becomes the selfless good guy we knew was buried under the swagger, it makes for one of the happiest endings in film history.
Having secured leading-man status, Murray still chose to run the gamut of roles and projects. In 1996, he did the very kid-friendly "Larger Than Life" as a motivational speaker who inherits an elephant (don't ask us), and played to a much older crowd (hopefully) in the raunchy Farrelly Brothers Amish bowling comedy, "Kingpin."
Despite his stature, Murray was still willing to take supporting roles if they were meaty enough. In the campy 1998 steamer, "Wild Things," he chomps through his few scenes as an unscrupulous lawyer, almost making audiences forget the Neve Campbell/ Denise Richards coupling. But Murray's real breakthrough role came that same year in "Wild Things"' cinematic antithesis, Wes Anderson's "Rushmore." Playing steel magnate Herman Blume, a middle-aged man living out the lyrics to Talking Heads' "Once in a Lifetime" ("And you may ask yourself, 'Well, how did I get here?' "), he was simultaneously pitiable and endearing. He portrayed a mixture of sadness and longing with a dash of childlike exuberance that made you believe that a beautiful young woman (Olivia Williams) could fall in love with him despite herself. The film had Hollywood stammering at the use of the words "Bill Murray" and "Oscar" in the same sentence for the first (but not last) time.
No doubt his rave reviews for "Rushmore" gave Murray the confidence to take on the part of Polonius in the modern-day update of Shakespeare's "Hamlet" (2000). But that heady yin was again balanced by the trashy yang of that same year's adaptation of "Charlie's Angels," with Murray as John Bosley, a part originally created by ... David Doyle. Not exactly the Immortal Bard's material.
In 2001, Murray appeared in Wes Anderson's "The Royal Tenenbaums," but in a much smaller part this time. He plays research psychologist Raleigh Sinclair, one of the minor characters orbiting the film's center but adding to its storybook otherworldliness. But as critics raved about the rich tapestry of "Tenenbaums," there was Murray, three screens down in the same multiplex in the live action/animation combo "Osmosis Jones." Murray walks through the part of Frank, the ailing human whose internal struggles are animated as a cop film parody. This Farrelly Brothers misfire, contrasted with the smaller triumph of "Tenenbaums," may have pushed Murray more in the direction of the smaller, more complex projects.
In 2003, Murray finally earned Hollywood's official stamp of respect. His self-effacing, nuanced turn as Bob Harris, a superstar actor trapped in Tokyo and a midlife crisis in Sophia Coppola's haunting "Lost in Translation" earned him an Oscar nomination for Best Actor (an award he lost to Sean Penn for "Mystic River"). But, much like Steve Martin, Murray never lost his anarchic streak. He's still likely to make a fool out of himself on Letterman or return to "SNL" and perform a stupid sketch. Or, for instance, do the voice work for a cartoon cat ...
For those of you who blinked and missed it, this year's CGI "Garfield" was voiced by, yep, Bill Murray. At this point, we can only assume it was a quick and easy paycheck, because he doesn't have to beg for roles. And taking the part will certainly not harm his stature, because again there's a stark contrast. Playing the lead for Wes Anderson again in "The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou," Bill Murray again shows us a complexity that few would have predicted in 1977.
Many actors have undertaken a similar crossing of genres, budgets and salaries in their careers, but what makes Bill Murray stand out is that he never seems out of place. He's able to put forth a range and a depth that makes him equally believable as a hedonistic slob or a depressed movie star. As Murray's aged, he's developed the ability to portray more than one layer at a time, earning him reviews not generally bestowed upon ex-"SNL" stars.
Would John Belushi have matured as a performer if he'd lived? Possibly. Chevy Chase has never successfully played anything other than slight variations on himself. Adam Sandler and Jim Carrey have both made forays into deeper material, with moderate success (more for Carrey), but they both still feel like they're (cue Master Thespian impression) acting when they do a project like "Punch-Drunk Love" or "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind." Murray is a far more intuitive actor.
It's a sad truism that some of the greatest practitioners of any given artform are not appreciated until late in their life (or even after), their work gaining status only with time and perspective. Alfred Hitchcock was considered merely a serviceable mainstream director. Vincent Van Gogh killed himself partly because he wasn't recognized. Beethoven, Nick Drake, da Vinci, Jack Kirby, Bill Hicks — the list of artists who were ahead of their time goes on and on.
Maybe the speed with which our culture moves today will change the learning curve. With the benefit of home video (and DVD commentary to tell us how brilliant every performance is), smaller films have more time and the means to spread to a wider audience. Repeated viewings of films like "Rushmore" allow us to get deeper and deeper into the characters and to fully appreciate the ability of the actor to create that depth.
"The Life Aquatic" is another step in Murray's trek to icon status. It's another performance that's simultaneously silly and sublime. We can only hope (and we do assume) that even after that inevitable shiny gold guy is sitting on Murray's mantle, he'll continue to hold on to a bit of the spitting, speech-impedimented slob who taught us all what "Cinderella story" really means.
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Photo: Warner Bros.
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