Harry and Tonto

My praise and criticism of Harry and Tonto reside in the same place: Art Carney’s central performance. At once, Carney pulls this film away from generic TV Movie of the Week platitudes through sheer force of will, but it’s not a performance of transcendence. His Oscar win feels like a “Give it to the veteran” moment when compared to the career-defining work of Al Pacino in The Godfather Part II, Jack Nicholson in Chinatown, or Dustin Hoffman in Lenny, all of whom he beat out.

I didn’t really know what to expect from Harry and Tonto going in, and I was greeted with a pleasant but forgettable story about an elderly man going across country with his pet cat. As the film went along, it never felt palatable or emotionally strong enough to make a lasting impression. It was too satisfied with its own minor accomplishments, but nicely sincere in many moments. At times, the film dipped too far into generic territory, never truly establishing many of the motivations or giving its characters terribly interesting things to say or do. It makes the central character a bit of a crank, and surrounds him with colorful archetypes posing on his children and long-lost lovers. These characters only come across as ungrateful, and this doesn’t feel true. There has to be a reason that Harry’s been thrust into isolation and estrangement, but the film never bothers to explore this.

Luckily, Harry and Tonto has Art Carney trying to lead the way. He’s most engaging in the very beginning, which sees him essaying a portrait on old age’s painful emotional isolation. Once we hit the road, he begins to take a more supporting role to the cavalcade of colorful people he meets along the way. It’s commendable work, and a solid performance, yet it feels to be missing a certain spark that makes the leap between a solid performance and one that feels award-worthy. I never felt that same spark of life in this performance that I felt from Pacino in The Godfather Part II, as one example from the pool of nominees.