Cast:
Keir Dullea (David Clemens), Janet Margolin (Lisa Brandt), Howard Da Silva (Dr. Alan Swinford), Neva Patterson (Mrs. Clemens), Richard McMurray (Stewart Clemens), Clifton James (John), Nancy Nutter (Maureen), Matthew Anden (Simon), Jamie Sanchez (Carlos), Coni Hudak (Kate), and Karen Lynn Gorney (Josette) Directed by Frank Perry.
Review:
It should only be natural to cover a New York director. The son of a stockbroker and an Alcoholics Anonymous aide, he was interested in the theater from a young age, working as a parking lot attendant as a youth for the Westport Country Playhouse. He attended the University of Miami before studying under Lee Strasberg and going on to produce plays in Connecticut. He served in the Korean War and became involved with television in 1961 before making his first film with David and Lisa (1962). He would make a variety of films that were generally on the edge of the studio system. In total, Perry directed fourteen feature films, where he was known for films such as The Swimmer (1968), Diary of a Mad Housewife (1970), and Mommie Dearest (1981) before he died in 1995 at the age of 65, with his last directorial effort being a documentary in On the Bridge (1992) about his struggle with prostate cancer.
It is an adaptation of the novella of the same name by Theodore Isaac Rubin, a psychiatrist and author. It was Ann Perry (daughter to playwright Eleanor Perry) who brought the novella to the attention of the Perrys. Eleanor Perry wrote the film, the first of numerous collaborations as writer with F. Perry, who was enlisted to direct (their partnership dissolved in 1971 after they divorced). Each of the Perrys received an Academy Award nomination for their work, which is no small feat for a film made for roughly over $150,000. Admittedly, the premise does sound like a film that could have just been a cheap feature for the exploitation circuit, considering that the lead character is a kid who has an intense fear of being touched. But it is a quirky love story, one that isn't just a feature of sensationalism or goop for cheap tricks, one that asks what it means to help people not stay numb inside. Dullea got his start in acting in television in the 1960s, such as Route 66 (which got him his first film role with Hoodlum Priest (1961). Dullea received notice for this role, although he did grouse at the momentary idea of him being thought of as a troubled youth for typecasting (Dullea has been quoted as saying that his true preference is for the theater). In a role filled with compulsive tendencies that could make one not know where he might spring himself next, Dullea proves worthy to the challenge of making a compelling performance, one where we see the pain wrapped inside someone scared to let someone reach within. The scenes with his parents aren't too long, but they underlie the stark contrast between the perceived "normal" family members and how he was shaped by them. This was the film debut for Margolin, who had thought about being a doctor before being encouraged to give her other interest in acting a try; in 1961, she went from prop girl at the New York Shakespeare Festival to 18-year-old Tony Award nominee. She pulls a double act in self-realization, which means a good chunk of dialogue is short or in rhymes, but she handles it in a way that is warm without cloying that makes for compelling chemistry between Margolin and Dullea. Da Silva provides solid support in efficient timing (mostly spent with Dullea) that isn't there to wax poetically or grandstand in authoritative boredom. The movie is mostly kept inside the psychiatric center, with a few interesting exceptions, such as a sequence where the group is seen out in public and reacts to a rude sentence told to them by repeating it right as they are walking off, as if being in the same room as others a bit different than them is too much.
It is a tactful movie about people thought to be outside the margins: people who need psychiatric help. It doesn't do so by sugarcoating the leads or turning it into a simple black-and-white tale of treatment. It is the kind of movie where a simple gesture of togetherness in a film as well-executed as this makes the difference between ham-handedness and dynamite, for which the film rests in the latter category. It is a crushing tale of acceptance that makes a useful character study of two wayward souls finding some sort of path forward together. Quick to the point in 93 minutes without needing easy resolutions or cheap tricks, David and Lisa is a testament to the power of independent filmmaking and the potential it can bring thanks to the efforts of the Perrys and all involved.
Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.
