Man on the Moon (Miloš Forman, 1999)

An autobiographical drama about the performance artist Andy Kaufman (1949-1984), from his beginnings through TV stardom on the TV show Taxi, his career as a professional wrestler, and his tragic death.

I grew up with Jim Carrey. I loved his gurning, his wild shifts in energy and gonzo energy.

I only became familiar with Andy Kaufman in my twenties, through clips of his routines.  

I recently started watching the sitcom Taxi, which was the first sustained dose of Kaufman I had imbibed.

Curiosity led me down a rabbit hole of Kaufman’s biography, his interviews and wrestling promos.

While far from complete, I think I had a pretty solid working knowledge of Kaufman’s persona going into this movie.

Written by the same team who wrote Ed Wood, and directed by Milos Forman, my expectations were high.

The opening scene - in which Kaufman/Carrey talks directly to camera - feels like the filmmakers are establishing a perspective similar to Kaufman in his stage performances, a deadpan presentation of something familiar (a birth-to-grave biopic), without any clues to nudge the viewer in a specific direction. 

Perhaps the film is a brilliant example of non-winking satire, but I do not think the film follows through on the promise of this introduction.

Despite its pedigree, ​​Man on the Moon is a failure.

And the film’s key failure is shared in its perspective on Kaufman, and the key difference between Kaufman and Carrey as performers.

The film positions Kaufman as someone who yearns for attention, and is constantly trying to provoke in order to boost some internal sense of worth and validation.

Carrey’s persona, that combination of motor-mouth inanity, noise and rubbery physicality, is fundamentally based on a need to please, a desire to make you laugh.

That quality works for the script’s conception of Kaufman, to an extent, but it feels like a failure to capture the essence of the real man.

Watching Kaufman’s onstage acts, and Carrey’s impersonations, the key difference is that the key to Kaufman is his lack of signifiers - he is not presenting jokes, he is not presenting anything, he is not just impervious to the audience, he is a blank slate. 

His eyes shine blankly - there is a reflective quality to Kaufman’s gaze, a sense that he is more interested in provocation than whatever reaction he receives.

Take the Mighty Mouse routine - Kaufman moves stiffly and when he mouths the words he does so with a blank face.

It is the juxtaposition, and the surprise of his responding to the recording, which is the essential parts of the gag.

When Carrey performs the same routine, he cannot help but bring some histrionics to the mouthing - his posture shifts, his eyebrows arch and his mouth moves exaggeratedly. 

He is amping up the humour of the bit - and it is funny, but it is completely different from Kaufman. 

Carrey fundamentally wants to be liked and acknowledged - Kaufman does not.

And this is proved by the only time in the film where Carrey connects with anything related to Kaufman: the character of failed comedian-singer Tony Clifton.

One of Kaufman’s key creations, Clifton is perfect for Carrey because he is his mirror image. He is someone who wants to be a star, but lacks the talent to achieve his dreams. Clifton is the dark side of any artist - he is the spectre of failure. 

There is something inherently simplistic about the biopic - the few examples that seem to work are the films where the focus is limited to a key moment, a dramatic vignette that allows for an exploration of character.

The attempt to chronicle an entire life can feel reductive - as creators try to manipulate the events of a life into a dramatic shape, with a sense of cohesion and internal meaning.

Biopics can often feel like simple math equations - so-so-so’s life was a combination of trauma + drugs = death, or in the film’s version of Kaufman, need for attention + love of magic = a crumbling career and an early demise.

I enjoyed the film - there are funny sequences, some good performances and a certain meta-textual thrill from seeing the real Kaufman’s friends and collaborators in scenes with Carrey. 

But it still feels like an idiosyncratic individual is being put in a box.

And no matter what the film’s bookends may try to suggest, this film is too earnest  in its flawed portrayal of Kaufman.