Is Jon Favreau the most underrated filmmaker in America?
Can we climb out on that limb? Can we consider the possibility that Favreau is the modest heir to a modest tradition: the great Hollywood craftsman, who toils on seemingly disposable genre pictures and whose artistry bears so little pretense that his signature remains invisible? The director of “Elf” and “Iron Man,” the little-seen “Zathura,” and not much else? The egg-shaped actor from “Swingers”? Former Chicagoan and FOVV (Friend of Vince Vaughn)?
Or should a filmmaker show more ambition before “most underrated” applies? At the moment, Favreau is deep into “Iron Man 2,” which, considering the unadorned title and contractual obligation, may sound like studio hack work.
It is his fifth film.
But then consider the reason Favreau will be placing aside that Robert Downey Jr. sequel this week to come back to Chicago.
“It is hard to drop everything when you’re on a film this big,” he said when we spoke by phone the other day. “But the Art Institute asked me to fly to Chicago for George. Nothing short of the death of a close relative would stop me from boarding that plane.”
George, as in Lucas.
Favreau will be interviewing the fan-boy deity Saturday at the Four Seasons Hotel, presenting the filmmaker with the Gene Siskel Film Center Visionary Award for Innovation in Filmmaking. (Chances are, you’re not attending; tickets are $400, with proceeds going to the Film Center, which is run by the School of the Art Institute of Chicago — this sentence as published has been corrected in this text). Asked about his connection to Lucas, Favreau said he had none, then went into a common childhood remembrance for a guy of 42: His youth was defined by Lucas; he was the right age to catch the “Star Wars” bug, and so on.
But here’s the thing: Come Saturday, what probably will be lost amid the flood of affection for the guest of honor is that the young guy fawning over that guest of honor has the potential to equal or surpass the senior filmmaker in craftsmanship and even storytelling ability. Lucas himself might agree with that; he handpicked Favreau to interview him, and Lucas would know that the kind of huge success Favreau has enjoyed does not necessarily mean respect.
Favreau is a shrewd choice. With only a few films behind him, he already has the breezy charm of “American Graffiti”-“Star Wars”-era Lucas, without (so far) the fists of ham. Indeed, his touch is as light as Lucas’ touch has grown leaden. At its best, “Iron Man” strikes a balance between the rakish irony of Han Solo and the gee-whiz of Luke Skywalker, wearing decades of Marvel mythology loosely, without the suffocating overthought you expect from studio superhero pictures. Likewise, “Elf” is so sure of small moments that big ones feel unneeded. “Zathura”? So committed to its young actors it has the confidence to let a giant robot look like what it is: a giant toy.
“Made,” his first film? So certain of the rapport between himself and Vince Vaughn it sits there a long while, comfortable not to overreach.
I asked if he thinks he has a signature. “I’m a tone guy. My films are completely different, but hopefully if you know the same guy was involved, it’s that playful tone. I rarely want you to be aware of the camera. The camera is not the character for me that it is for the Coen brothers or a David Fincher. I am not that kind of director. I like flexibility.”
And that flexibility seems to translate into trust with the people he hires. Favreau is not a control-freak filmmaker.
“Industrial Light & Magic and Skywalker Sound have had the good fortune of working with Jon [on the ‘Iron Man’ films],” Lucas said. “I know firsthand that he is the type of filmmaker that crews here love to work with, because he always gives them the opportunity to break new ground.”
Favreau would never agree he is Lucas’ equal, but asked what he admires of the filmmaker, Favreau pointed to a parallel: “What I always loved is he lived through a period when films were nihilistic. The ’70s could be subversive, and I love those films, but he brought a sincere storytelling to what may seem like throwaway popcorn movies, and that hit the bull’s-eye for me.”
Favreau, likewise, is making the most casually assured big pictures of the moment, as if in reaction to a blockbuster landscape in which the average weekend special-effects extravaganza regards itself with extreme seriousness, quality be damned.
The difference between the two men? Chicago.
Lucas came out of the experimental film scene of San Francisco’s ’60s and early ’70s — by definition, a scene not prone to simplicity of purpose, or lacking in pretense. (And to be fair, Lucas’ drift toward nostalgia and adventure films was partly in reaction to that.) But in 1988, after leaving Queens College in New York without a degree, Favreau moved to Chicago and spent his next six years or so in the comedy and improv scene, never considering himself a filmmaker but, in hindsight, acquiring the perfect toolbox of skills it takes to make a gigantic special-effects studio production.
“There is a lot of opportunity in Chicago,” Favreau said. “You’re just always focused on where the opportunity will come from, but in that struggle, when there is a lot of anxiety, you’re figuring stuff out. … Making movies, for me anyway, is like that. It’s like a long-form improvisation.”
Which frankly sounds improbable — it takes years to piece together the working parts in a film such as “Zathura,” a 2005 charmer about kids who play a board game and end up in deep space, or a franchise like “Iron Man.” But Favreau said the playful, laid-back feeling he has become known for is achieved by focusing on the moments when planning falls apart:
“That comes out of improv too. Flexibility is demanded. There is a certain recklessness you hope for, without losing sight of what you’re doing. It’s like when you hear a great guitar solo — there’s always a moment when the guitarist doesn’t seem to know where he is going. But if you listen for that moment, and if you can capture it, that becomes what’s exhilarating about the film.
“See, the kind of films I make can be confining — explosions happen when they happen, things take years. On ‘Iron Man,’ the studio expectations revolved around the action, and when it comes to big set pieces, it’s definitely film by committee. But stuff in between — characters, comedy, even casting — you have tremendous freedom, because the studio is not as interested. And that’s where I focus. With the first film, the thought was that the star would be the Iron Man suit anyway — so it was very fulfilling when you start to realize that this suit is going to be upstaged by Robert Downey. And then that ends up defining the franchise.”
If there’s a glaring flaw in Favreau’s films, it’s that he’s afflicted by the opposite of what directors of blockbusters tend to be afflicted with — his characters are so singular and charming, the big moments can feel unnecessary, disruptive. It’s an unusual problem. But Favreau is self-deprecating enough to recognize it: “One of the frustrations is we start backward — the last thing you get right is the script, because so much is placed on the effects at the start. But again, that kind of forces you to think on your feet and react, to let a film emerge from a few set pieces. It really is Chicago improv; you cannot be precious. Acknowledge the reality of what you’ve got, don’t stick to a plan that has long gone out the window. That’s the key.
“The ship has sailed, and your job, if you want it come off like a breeze, is to make sure everyone is focused on the same horizon.”
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cborrelli@tribune.com
See related story, “Where you’ve seen him onscreen,” Arts & Entertainment section, Page 14
