Danny Collins is a thoroughly enjoyable comedy-drama made exceptional by a remarkably restrained performance by the usually over-the-top Al Pacino.
He plays an aging rock star whose style has become so outdated that his sellout audiences feature expanding waistlines, bald heads and grey hair, and at one point it is suggested that his audience is too old to be out as late as 9 p.m.
But on really inadequate grounds, he decides to try to recover his lost past, including a son he has neglected for 40 years. He's too much a dreamer to give up this quest, but too much an experienced realist to let his expectations get the best of him, so he tries to buy his way into the lives of his skeptical son, Bobby Cannavale; daughter-in-law Jennifer Garner, who seems hopeful; and granddaughter Giselle Eisenberg, a precocious tot who miraculously avoids being Hollywood cute. Christopher Plummer is along as a combination manager and general advisor who tries to keep Pacino aware of the realities of life, with marginal and sporadic success. All these characters are attractive, which is another novel feature of Danny Collins.
But there isn't a lot of drama here. Nobody really needs Pacino, and he doesn't really deserve anything he's after. Though there are a couple of plot elements I am leaving out, there isn't a strong effort to get us emotionally involved. Annette Bening is great as a woman who knows better than to get involved with Pacino, but finds him awfully good company.
I think that's about the way to feel about the movie Danny Collins as a whole.
