High Fidelity

In the opening speech of High Fidelity, record store owner and perrenial burnout Rob Gordon asks the audience, "Which came first: the music or the misery? Am I miserable because I listen to pop music, or do I listen to pop music because I'm miserable?"

A similar question could be asked of the film itself: is High Fidelity John Cusack, or is John Cusack High Fidelity? Was Rob Gordon always lurking within him, eager to escape onto the movie screen, and Nick Hornby's brilliant novel simply gave Cusack an excuse to set him free? Or did the film adaptation of the book inspire Cusack to become Rob so completely that there seems to be no border between actor and performance?

Whichever came first, High Fidelity belongs to Cusack. He carries the movie. He has to, since much of the action is told through Rob's first-person narration. Many of his speeches are even delivered directly into the camera, completely demolishing that fourth wall. At first, the fact that one of the characters onscreen is speaking to you feels odd, but you quickly grow used to it, thanks to Cusack's triumph of a performance. It's effortless--you accept Rob like he's your friend, and you gain a unique sense of intimacy with the character.

The first-person narration is just the biggest quirk in an exceedingly quirky romantic comedy. High Fidelity boasts as many twists and turns as the book on which it's based. It will careen headlong toward a hysterical punchline and then pivot into bitterness, or undercut moments of brutal honesty with huge laughs. It's as real as life, full of earthy sincerity and truth. It has real compassion for its characters, yet doesn't let them get away with anything. But more than anything else, it's Rob's story, and because you like Rob--in spite of the fact that even he himself admits he's a bit of an asshole--then you like High Fidelity.

There are a few big reasons why Rob's an asshole, probably enough to make one of his fabled "top five" lists. But those reasons don't slip out until you've had plenty of time to get to know Rob. You watch as he parades through the torment of life after a break-up, and you might even coo as you watch that pouting puppy-dog expression of Cusack's carry him through scene after scene of melancholy.

By the time the bomb drops and you realize that he's as much to blame for his mess as his ex-girlfriend is, you're already pals with him. It's just like a real friendship; you can't turn on the guy just because he's a jerk. So you stay with him and watch him fight change like it's the plague, until he realizes one day that love doesn't have to be all about what someone likes. You can like someone because they're amazing, and not even be bothered by the fact that they lump Art Garfunkel and Marvin Gaye into the same musical strata.

As I watched High Fidelity, I felt an acute intimacy with the film, brought on probably by the fact that I've read the book five or six times. As a big fan of the novel, I can honestly say that they've masterfully pulled off this adaptation. They alter some details, but then they also leave some alone. Best of all, they lift massive sections of narration and dialogue straight from the book, so that it's impossible for the film to escape Hornby's tone as a writer. High Fidelity succeeds on screen because it succeeds on paper; the similarities are that striking.

At the same time, there's a bravery about the film, because they do adhere so strictly to Hornby's book. I'm sure the temptation was great to soften the edges, especially considering that High Fidelity is being massively hyped by Touchstone Pictures as a great "romantic comedy." It is a romantic comedy, but the edges remain intact. They may sell the film as that wacky follow-up from the team that brought you Gross Pointe Blank, but this is a much darker and more complex film.

Cusack owns High Fidelity; it's completely his turf. He's backed up by some great supporting performances as well. Todd Louiso and Jack Black, as Dick and Barry respectively, steal many of their scenes. They're Rob's lone employees at Championship Vinyl and they're spinoffs of Rob's character, constant reminders of what he can easily become if he doesn't escape his own obsessions. They're also wickedly funny, especially Black, who storms around the shop like a vulgar tornado and leaves ugly little clouds of turmoil in his wake.

As Rob's ex-girlfriend Laura, Iben Hjejle projects a constant aura of stability, even when she becomes an emotional mess thanks to Rob's immature behavior. You can understand why a man so consumed by the mood roller coaster of pop music fandom would be alternately compelled and repulsed by such a rock of a woman. When he finally accepts that he loves her, that he's ready to get off the coaster for a while, you can also understand why they work so well together.

But the real great scene-stealer in Fidelity is Tim Robbins in a small supporting role as Ian, the man with whom Laura cheats on Rob and who Laura stays with in the wake of her break-up. Ian is simply a shallow asshole, and yet Robbins is so completely this asshole that his mere appearance in a scene elicits giggles. Funny, funny stuff.

Because I'm such a fan of Hornby's novel, I was somewhat apprehensive about High Fidelity the movie. In some ways, I feel like parts of me are in Rob, or that parts of Rob are in me. Like Rob, I don't know which came first; I'll never figure out whether I behaved like Rob before I read the book, or whether I adapted Rob's behavior as I grew to love the book. At any rate, the film High Fidelity is so great that it made me slightly uncomfortable to watch, because I felt like all my deepest secrets and fears were being splayed out on the theater screen. Whether you identify with Rob as passionately as I do or whether you observe his life from a detached distance, High Fidelity is still smart, funny entertainment, a loving look at one of the many lost music geeks trapped in their own rock soap operas.