“A Beautiful Mind,”
released in 2001, stars Russell Crowe as Nash, and Jennifer Connelly as his late
wife, Alicia, who is pregnant with their son when the first signs of
schizophrenia became apparent. It tells the story of a man whose mind was a
huge help to society while at the same time torturing him with scary delusions.
Ebert said, “Crowe brings the character to life by sidestepping sensationalism
and building with small behavioral details.” He shows a man who falls into
insanity before, suddenly, bouncing back to work in the academic world. Nash
has been compared to Newton, Mendel and Darwin, but was also for many years
just a man talking to himself in the corner.
Director Ron Howard is
able to show an amount of goodness in Nash that inspired his wife and others to
stand by him, to keep hope and, in her words in his worst time, “to believe
that something extraordinary is possible.” The movie’s Nash begins as a quiet
but overconfident young man with a West Virginia accent, who slowly turns into
an afflicted, mysterious paranoid who believes he is a spy being followed by
government agents. Crowe, who has a mysterious way to change his look to fit a
role, always seems convincing as a man who ages 47 years during the film.
The young Nash, seen at
Princeton in the late 1940s, calmly tells a scholarship winner “there is not a
single seminal idea on either of your papers.” When he loses at a game of Go,
he explains: “I had the first move. My play was perfect. The game is flawed.”
He is aware of his impact on others (“I don’t much like people and they don’t
much like me”) and remembers that his first-grade teacher said he was “born
with two helpings of brain and a half-helping of heart.” It is Alicia who helps
him find the heart. She is a graduate student when they meet, falls in love to
his genius, feels for his loneliness, is able to accept his idea of marriage
when he tells her, “Ritual requires we proceed with a number of platonic activities
before he make love.” To the point that he can be touched, she touches him,
despite often he looks trapped inside himself. Ebert noted, “Sylvia Nasar, who
wrote the 1998 biography that informs Akiva Goldsman's screenplay, begins her
book by quoting Wordsworth about "a man forever voyaging through strange
seas of Thought, alone." Nash's schizophrenia takes a literal, visual
form.” He believes he is being chased by a federal agent, played by Ed Harris,
and imagines himself in chase scenes that resemble those from 1940s crime
movies. He begins to find patters where no patterns exist. One night he and
Alicia stand under the sky and he asks her to name any object, and then
connects stars to draw it. Romantic, but it’s not so romantic when she sees his
office heavily papered with many articles torn from newspapers and magazines
and connected by uptight lines into imaginary patters.
The movie follows his
treatment by an understanding psychiatrist, played by Christopher Plummer, and
his struggling courses of insulin shock therapy. Medication helps him improve a
bit – but only, obviously, when he takes the medication. Eventually newer drugs
are more powerful, and he begins a hesitant re-entry into the academic world at
Princeton.
Ebert said, “The movie
fascinated me about the life of this man, and I sought more information,
finding that for many years he was a recluse, wandering the campus, talking to
no one, drinking coffee, smoking cigarettes, paging through piles of newspapers
and magazines.” One day he paid a very ordinary compliment to a coworker about
his daughter, and it was noticed that Nash looked better.
There is a great scene
in the movie when a representative for the Nobel committee, played by Austin
Pendleton, comes visiting, and hints that he is being “considered” for the
prize. Nash sees that people are usually told they have won, not that they are
being considered: “You came here to find out if I am crazy and would screw
everything up if I won.” He did win, and did not screw everything up.
The movies have a way
of not focusing too much on mental illness. It is bizarre, sensational, cute,
funny, stubborn, tragic or wicked. Here it is simply a disease, which leaves
life almost but not quite impossible for Nash and his wife, before he comes one
of the lucky ones to pull out of the hole he falls in.
When he won the Nobel,
Nash was asked to write about his life, and he was honest enough to say his
recovery is “not entirely a matter of joy.” He sees: “Without his ‘madness,’
Zarathustra would necessarily have been only another of the millions or
billions of human individuals who have lived and then been forgotten.” Without his
madness, would Nash have also lived and then been forgotten? Did his ability to
enter the most difficult parts of mathematical thought somehow come with a
price to pay? The movie does not know and cannot say.
This is definitely one
of the best biographical films ever made. See it if you haven’t, especially to
those who have researched and know about the life of John Nash and his impact on
the mathematical and scientific society. Crowe and Connelly were great in this
role and I don’t know who else could have played these roles, but it was a job
well done. Like I said, don’t read this review, go out and see it because it
has to be seen to be believed and you’re missing out on a great biographical
movie.
Look out next week when
we look at another adaptation in “Russell Crowe Month.”
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