The film opens with the unmistakable clatter of typewriter keys. Champagne on ice, a cigarette and a match are ready by the desk. And on the keyboard: James Caan as Paul Sheldon, a famous writer who is about to experience the worst moment of his life.
Caan died on Wednesday at the age of 82. The Oscar, Emmy and Golden Globe nominated actor was known for his roles in The Godfather, Brian’s Song, The Thief and, in recent years, Elf. ” But to me, he will always be Paul, the writer in Stephen King’s best-selling book turned into the 1990 Oscar-winning film Misery. In a difficult, limited role, Caan brought his characteristic gruffness. As Paul Caan, he was tough and tender He also did the unthinkable: he made writers cool.
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Misery centers on Paul, a wildly successful novelist who has just finished the first draft of his latest book, a marked departure from his bestselling and very commercial-sounding Misery series, and Annie, his self-proclaimed No.1. fan’ (Kathy Bates). Paul has gone to a resort in the mountains of Colorado to finish his book, the same place he always goes. After the novel is finished and he celebrates briefly, he sets off in a snowstorm to turn it in and get back to his life.
Here’s the thing about models: stalkers can take advantage. When Paul crashes his sports car in the snow, Annie conveniently finds him, rescues him, and treats him in her remote farmhouse. But her breastfeeding comes at a price: total dedication and a brand new book.
Those were the heady days of an author photo taking up the entire back cover of a book. Who needs a synopsis or blurbs when you’ve got pulsating good looks?
The role of Paul was turned down by a who’s who of famous actors, including William Hurt, Richard Dreyfuss, Robert De Niro, Al Pacino, Harrison Ford and Robert Redford. “Misery” director Rob Reiner claims the many movie stars who turned down the role were “scared”. Warren Beatty was also earmarked for the role, but Reiner said, “When we got to the point where we were ready to do it, (Beatty) was too nervous. And he left.”
It’s not easy to spend the majority of a nearly two-hour film acting from a bed (which means 15 weeks of shooting on your back). Misery also marked the return of Caan, its future leading man, to Hollywood after taking some time off to deal with addiction. It made the film all the more perfect for him; writer King said the whole story was a metaphor for his own struggles with drugs.
Physically, Caan looked taller than he was, with broad shoulders, a chest, and an energy that leaped from his performances like sparks. The Hollywood Reporter, in its obituary, described him as “Hollywood’s leading macho.” Keeping this man in bed for weeks became a performance of barely contained madness.
Actor James Caan in a scene from the film Misery, 1990. (Stanley Bielecki Film Collection/Getty Images) Caan looked like Redford’s idol. His Paul is rich, successful. His books are profitable enough to have paid for two houses, his agent recalls.
The photo of the author in his books—of which Annie has a framed version in her living room at the writer’s temple—looks like a glamor shot, more like an actor’s headshot than a novelist’s. Those were the heady days of an author photo taking up the entire back cover of a book. Who needs a synopsis or blurbs when you’ve got pulsating good looks?
A cool writer needs a cool agent. And that’s Lauren Bacall, playing the world’s most glamorous literary agent with her smoky deep voice, padded shoulder suit with gold brooch, and ’90s feathered hair. They are having lunch in New York. She gives him heavy love speeches. It’s an elegant writing life!
Like any good artist, Paul wants more.
Paul drives a vintage Mustang, of course. And he drives the little sports car recklessly on Colorado’s snowy mountain roads. This is the confidence that Paul has, so confident that he will finish his book, that the holiday rituals are waiting for him next to him.
But like any good artist, Paul wants more. He has the kind of commercial approval most writers can only dream of, but he also wants literary approval. He wants rewards. He wants respect, not just money (in the way only someone with money can say). The same audacity that drives him to drive a sports car in a blizzard drives him to kill the main character of his popular series: the heroine Mercy, the moneymaker who has secured these two houses – and floor seats for the Knicks.
Paul occupies that rare stratum in the world of books: he’s really, really popular, but he’s also good. A good enough writer that the sheriff (Richard Farnsworth, always so heartbreakingly excellent) who picks up some of Paul’s books as research when the writer disappears, presumed dead, can’t let them go. He reads them all the time. He highlights and memorizes lines.
His Paul is funny, smart, but not cruel, even to Annie, who is very, very cruel to him. He kills her. He hurt her before. But he never makes fun of her.
Is this writer’s character a stand-in for King? Probably. King wrote screenwriters in many of his books, including The Shining and, in later years, Bag of Bones (which is a weird favorite of mine), but the year Misery came out, we didn’t have many examples of bards on screen . This was years before Forrester’s Quest or Henry the Fool; before Jughead the Scribe was conceived in “Riverdale” — even before “Poetic Justice” or “Mrs. Parker and the Vicious Circle.”
Paul falls into certain tropes of the writer’s character. He is neurotic and superstitious. He is male, white. “Misery” is not without misogyny. But Caan lifts the role off the page. His Paul is funny, smart, but not cruel. He is not cruel, even to Annie, who is very, very cruel to him. He kills her; he must survive. He hurt her before. But he never makes fun of her.
“Misery” was one of the first examples of toxic fan culture, a toxicity whose poisons we continue to reckon with in stronger doses today. In the upcoming novel Number One Fan, Meg Ellison spins this beautifully and chillingly into an updated Misery story full of sci-fi conventions, fan fiction, and a kidnapped female writer. How can you love something so much that you want to hurt it or keep it for yourself forever? If you can’t have it, no one can.
We believe this writer has demons. We believe this writer will always have demons.
But since Annie, who turns out to have a history of murder, holds a dark center, Paul also has an advantage over him. At the end of Misery, while having obsessive, post-traumatic flashbacks, Paul confesses to his glamorous agent, in a glamorous restaurant, where he’s wearing a glamorous suit, that he needs Annie.
Kaan’s inner darkness and energy sell this line. We believe this writer has demons. We believe that this writer will always have demons as he will always have goodness (he was trying to get home for his daughter’s birthday when he first got into the car accident, after all).
He is patient. He remains himself despite the captivity and the terrible things that have been done to him (you know the ones). He is not petting Annie’s pet pig when the friendly pig runs up to his bed. Paul is too cool for that. He keeps his cool as Kaan somehow keeps his energetic, kinetic self inside Paul’s injured body for weeks.
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Caan also kept the typewriter from the film as a souvenir. His co-star Bates, who won an Oscar for her role as Annie, recalled: “Working with him on ‘Misery’ was one of the most profound experiences of my career. When you watch his performance, his horror, it’s like watching a snake. Great.”
He kept the typewriter; she kept the hammer. In an interview the two did together in 2015, Caan asked her, “Do you want to trade?”
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