Not exactly a festive start to the holiday season. First the
horrific first-night-of-Hanukkah shootings on Bondi Beach in Sydney, and then
the news of the murder of actor/director Rob Reiner and wife Michele in
Brentwood, California. Frankly, I can’t wait for 2025 to be over.
All I can do (and it certainly isn’t much) is to remember
Reiner and the joy he’s given me over the decades. I never met him, though we
had some extremely remote connections, like the fact that (in the course of my
very first summer job) I presided over
the bus on which his little brother rode to day camp back in the 1960s. In
about that same era, as a theatre writer for the UCLA Daily Bruin, I was
sent to a local theatre to review a short play called The Howie Rubin Story.
This one-person playlet, written by Reiner and his longtime creative partner,
featured Rob as a naïve high school kid who dreams of Hollywood stardom. At
that point I’d never heard of Rob Reiner, though I certainly knew about the
career of his talented father Carl. The younger Reiner’s on-stage charm and
always-helpful family connections seemed to promise that he was on the brink of
a great career. And so it went.
Most fans associate Rob Reiner with the role of Archie
Bunker’s left-leaning son-in-law, not so affectionately nicknamed Meathead, om All
in the Family (1971-1979). Somewhere in that era, Reiner participated in a
prank I still remember with great amusement. At the time he was married to the
late Penny Marshall, who was featured on a sitcom version of Neil Simon’s The
Odd Couple as Myrna, a particularly hangdog secretary with bad posture and
an excruciatingly nasal voice. She’s pining for her lost beau. Naturally, Tony
Randall’s character (the fastidious Felix Unger) tries to remake her into a
more suitable love object for the fickle Sheldn (whose name was misspelled on
his birth certificate). When Sheldn finally shows up to encounter the remade
Myrna, it’s Rob Reiner in a really bad wig. Clearly Penny Marshall was not
expecting to see her hubby in this scene: the studio audience laughed in
delight at her desperate attempts to keep a straight face, and at home I
laughed too. For me this was one of the most delightful live TV moments of all
time.
Everyone who loves movies knows the great films that Reiner
so lovingly directed: romcoms like When Harry Met Sally and The
American President, dramas like Misery and A Few Good Men. His
debut film as a director, This is Spinal Tap (1984) was such a memorable
mockumentary of a British rock group that lines like “up to eleven” have
entered our daily lingo, and a sequel was released just this past year. I think
a lot of us have a special affection for The Princess Bride, a blend of
fairytale romance and adventure fable that is also a tribute to the bonds of
familial love. In the original film a modern kid (Fred Savage) is read the
story of the Princess Bride by his grandpa (Peter Falk) when he’s sick in bed.
At the end, the film becomes a sweet tribute to their intergenerational affection.
In the dark days of the pandemic, Hollywood performers amused themselves by
re-enacting scenes from The Princess Bride and posting on YouTube.
Ultimately Rob Reiner himself played the kid and his father Carl had the
grandpa role. The on-camera tenderness between them was deeply touching, and
I’d like to remember Reiner like that, not for family relationships that apparently
went horribly wrong.
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