moonspinner55
Stephen Kessler, filmmaker and devout Paul Williams fan, says at the beginning of this would-be documentary that he didn't know singer/songwriter/actor Paul Williams was still alive. That's about as unbelievable as what follows. Kessler and his cameraman trail Williams around for two years, getting snippets of conversation on tape but mostly relying on TV clips. It seems Paul Williams, who was everywhere at once throughout the 1970s, is uninterested in talking about his past; 20 years sober by the end of filming, Williams is described by Kessler as one who looks forward and not back. That's fine, but there's no feeling for the crying fans in the audience who still hold Williams' music sacred, and there's no love from Williams over his achievements (he's a different person now). The subject is so petulant and uncommunicative that to say he's been changed for the better through sobriety is like a slap in the face. Williams is so much more alive--colorful and outrageous and funny--in those old variety show segues that one has to ask: is getting sober such a strain that it drains the life out of a person? **1/2 from **** (mainly for the music, and the brief on-camera interviews with Williams' long-time band leader, who seems like a genuinely nice person).
MartinHafer
The reason I was interested in seeing "Paul Williams Still Alive" is because of his recent and entirely unexpected entrance into the limelight at the Grammy Awards. When the enigmatic French band Daft Punk won the award for Best Album, folks were wondering how they'd accept the award. After all, this group's members are anonymous-- wearing strange getup that conceal who they are. So their representative to speak for them was Paul Williams, as he'd produced some of their music. Imagine...a European electro-pop group whose front man is the 1970s TV and recording icon Paul Williams. His tragically unhip songs today (such as "Rainy Days and Mondays" and "Rainbow Connection") are not the sort of stuff you could imagine Daft Punk listening to, that's for sure! To me, THIS makes for a great story...and isn't even mentioned in any way, as the documentary came out just before his work with Daft Punk.As for the documentary, I have very mixed feelings about it. On the positive side, it celebrates the huge number of hit songs he gave us in the 70s and 80s--song you heard all the time during that era. It also gives you a nice portrait of the man today--having worked on his substance abuse recovery to create a nice, but busy, life for himself. All this is great. But, the film also has a huge distraction--the filmmaker, Stephen Kessler. He is much of the film--as unlike many documentaries where you don't see or even hear from the filmmakers themselves (my favorites, by the way), much of the film is Kessler talking about himself and insinuating himself into Williams' life. And I didn't care that Kessler was like a proverbial 'ugly American' in that he refused to eat the local food when he was traveling in the Philippines...who cares if he's like this or not since the film is NOT supposed to be about him!?! Maybe I am reading something into it, but he just seemed annoying (his interviewing style was obnoxious at times) and I didn't want to hear about him and his love for Williams. I just wanted to see and hear Williams. As for Williams, he seemed like a nice guy--and put up with a lot and seemed to roll with what came. All in all, it was nice to see that he is a happy guy who isn't spending his time looking back but without Kessler's ever-present presence, i think it would have been a much better film.To any filmmaker out there reading this, why don't YOU make a good documentary about Paul Williams? He's very interesting and a worthy topic for a film...and you couldn't possibly do a worse job than this mess!!
katholiday
I saw this last night at about 3:00 AM. As a songwriter, as a Carpenters fan, you'll see the self destruction the drug use and ultimately the salvation of one the most poignant songwriters of the 1970's. I was one of the many that thought Paul Williams was actually dead. To see him moving on in life... Still writing, performing, and honored... It gives one hope that in the end, if one stays true to themselves, their craft and the people that they love, it'll all work out in the end.There's a couple of times that you get to see him with his dander up. But mostly, you get to understand the killer instinct that inhabits every songwriter in their quest to write that perfect tune. A take no prisoners attitude. He's moving forward, and if you just wanna look back in anger or regret, then don't come a callin'!Yes Paul, we all will be remembered for the things that we say and do, ...and you haven't done so bad yourself.Kat Holiday
Ben Alba
Earlier this summer, I had the unexpected pleasure of seeing Paul Williams. Yes, THAT Paul Williams. The prolific, Oscar- and Grammy-winning '70s pop composer ("We've Only Just Begun," "Evergreen," "You and Me Against the World," "Rainbow Connection," "Theme from 'The Love Boat," and many more). His name caught my attention in eighth grade, when I was starting to discover songwriters and learned that it was he who had written hits by different performers I liked. I even bought one of his albums. But then he embarked on a singing and acting career and became one of the most ubiquitous personalities on '70s TV, appearing on the Carson "Tonight Show" nearly 50 times, numerous other talk shows (Mike Douglas, Dinah Shore), game shows ("Hollywood Squares"), crime dramas (he got into a shooting match with Angie Dickinson), sitcoms, and even "Circus of the Stars" (where he jumped out of a plane). I'm sorry, but this was just too much Paul for me, and I started to tune him out.Until seeing this documentary, I never paid much attention to the person behind the stocky, five-foot-two frame, shaggy hair, tinted aviator specs, glib personality, and warbly voice. His story has the usual elements: childhood loneliness, need for acceptance, rise to A-list fame and fortune, fading star, descent into alcohol and drugs, rehab, triumph (he has been sober for 25 years), and contentment upon finally finding and accepting his place in the world.But what makes this film so compelling is that it was made by a fan of my generation who became a successful director. Although it breaks the rule that a documentarian should not inject himself into his work, the developing bond between filmmaker and subject (Stephen Kessler followed Williams, his childhood hero, for three years) proved to be a worthy secondary story. That Williams would open himself up to a stranger, and the warm friendship that developed, give the documentary a more informal, personal dimension than Ken Burns' best work, without Michael Moore-style political messages. Kessler admits to once wanting to be Paul Williams, and I found myself wanting to be Kessler — to follow a childhood hero and become buddies with him. How cool is that! "Still Alive" is a serious work, but neither Williams nor Kessler takes himself seriously, resulting in candid, funny, heartwarming moments, not to mention the film's self-deprecating title.I was intrigued by the coverage of Williams' acceptance of an invitation to perform in, of all places, the province of Mindanao in the southern Philippines — the notorious part of the country that American tourists are urged to avoid because of Al Qaeda threats. Fortunately, not only did the 8,000-mile trek proceed terror-free (including the six-hour bus ride through a jungle), but Williams felt much love from throngs of fans in this far-off land, known for its affinity for sweet, sentimental music. He had flown back to the '70s.As if the film weren't remarkable enough, what followed was a live Q&A with Williams himself, now a fit 71, and director Kessler. The audience at the Gene Siskel Film Center in Chicago was mostly middle-aged, but there were also seniors and kids, including an 11-year-old who asked the diminutive composer whom he admired growing up (Paul's answer: Mickey Rooney, because he was short, famous, and still got the girl). The graciousness, honesty, humor, wisdom, dignity, and warmth emanating from the stage exceeded my expectations. I learned that Williams' lyrics about loneliness, heartache, and hope really did come from his heart, and that he continues to be gratified by the connection that millions feel to his songs.In just two hours, I grew from simply enjoying Williams' work to admiring him, and in some ways even identifying with him. Before I go to bed tonight, I think I'll play my piano-bar rendition of "Rainy Days and Mondays." There's still hope for me yet.
