Thanks, Rob

On what made Rob Reiner great

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We are a country that likes to fight about politics. Yet we are also a country that loves our movies. And our favorite movies, the ones we can quote in our sleep, are the ones made with so much love they temporarily make us all forget how much we hate each other.

This is why Trump’s bizarrely callous remarks on the recent murder of director Rob Reiner and his wife have escaped containment in a way his many other insults haven’t. For all his political opining, Reiner was first and foremost a cultural figure, not a political one. Culture, at its best, transcends. The culture Reiner made was so universally beloved that it transcended all politicking, even his own.

However, it’s been suggested that this will be a point better appreciated by those old enough to remember Reiner’s generational run, which had ended by the time I was born. I grew up with/memorized The Princess Bride, of course, my parents being hard-core fans of the book even before it was adapted. But I thought of it more as a William Goldman film than a Rob Reiner film. Like all great directors, Reiner disappeared behind the camera, as he would have wanted it. I would only discover later and gradually how much we had to thank him for.

Like many people this week, I’ve been watching various interview clips and making-of spots, reading different tributes. I re-read Cary Elwes’ warm and very funny book about the making of The Princess Bride. Certain themes recur fugue-like in the memories of these friends and colleagues, explaining exactly what made Reiner so great.