“Rain Man” has not aged well. It was revolutionary when it came out in 1988. Few movies were truly talking about disabilities, and few had as ambitious of a performance as Dustin Hoffman’s in portraying a character, let alone someone other than a background supporting character, with autism.
But since then, the culture has evolved in its awareness of disabilities. The best films about disabilities make their characters defined by things other than their afflictions. They show disabilities in everyday life.
Hoffman’s Raymond Babbitt is not precisely defined by his disability, but the film uses him as a means for a plot. “Rain Man” is entirely focused on whether or not autism has misconceptions surrounding it and if someone can form a relationship with a person who cannot express their feelings in the same way society understands. It uses him like a trick dog, testing his ability at the card table or with a calculator (now a cliche ripe for parody, along with him riding down the escalator in a suit) only for the payoff that “special people” aren’t just “bad special.”
What’s frustrating and trite about the movie is that the first hour is really only a variation on the road trip movie formula. One person has to get to the other side of the country for some general reason, they cannot fly, the one cannot abandon the other, and they travel in a vintage convertible. In this situation, Raymond is afraid of planes, his brother Charlie (Tom Cruise) is protecting him like an investment because he holds their late father’s inheritance of $3 million and must pay off a debt, and the car is a 1949 Buick Roadmaster Convertible. Naturally, the companion irritates the straight man along the road, and to see Charlie get flustered every time Raymond acts normally in a way he cannot control can get exhausting and somewhat hurtful.
But worse than its formula and its treatment of Raymond is that Tom Cruise’s character is just a giant cock. He’s a conceited, hotshot businessman, he hates his dead father because he wouldn’t let him drive the family car, he ignores his girlfriend, he’s rough, if not plain abusive around Raymond, and although he grows to bond with Raymond, he hardly grows when he acts like a loose cannon in front of the doctors deciding Raymond’s place. There’s no agreeing with his point of view when he plain kidnaps Raymond from the hospital, and I never cared how many times he screamed, “I should be in L.A.!”
Yet there’s still a lot to like in “Rain Man.” Hoffman’s performance is instantly infectious. You immediately get a sense of how he acts, what makes him tick and what we don’t fully understand about this disability. His portrayal of Raymond is blank, but not empty, and he conveys that emotion in the little ways he walks and controls the inflection of his voice. Watch Raymond walk side by side Charlie along the hospital’s massive driveway, and you can instantly note Hoffman’s subtle gifts in performance.
This and the “I Saw Her Standing There” scene are nothing short of beautiful. You watch Hoffman and know he deserved the Oscar, and you can see why so many riled around such a touching moment of bonding.
Nevertheless, “Rain Man” does not hold up well. On today’s standards, it feels a bit slow.