In forging own path, he spoke to us all

AN APPRECIATION

- AMY NICHOLSON FILM CRITIC

HULTON ARCHIVE Getty Images

ROB REINER, left, during taping of the "When Harry Met Sally..." soundtrack.

Over his five-decade career, Rob Reiner — who was found dead Sunday at his Brentwood home along with his wife, Michele — never stayed put, roving from music spoofs (“This Is Spinal Tap”) to horror movies (“Misery”), political thrillers (“A Few Good Men”) to coming-of-age dramas (“Stand by Me”) and romantic comedies both glibly teenaged (“The Sure Thing”) and bracingly adult (“When Harry Met Sally…”).

Reiner bobbed and weaved and, in the process of entertaining himself, directed at least one of everyone's favorite movies.

If I were marooned on an island and could bring only one film from the entire history of Hollywood, I'd choose Reiner’s 1987 adventure “The Princess Bride.” That swashbuckler perfectly executes each of the above genres — and fantasy, too. It’s everything you’d want from the movies in one title, all in under 100 minutes.

And those are just Reiner’s first seven movies, a string of excellence that deserves a toast bigger than the 20 bottles of Beaujolais Nouveau he witnessed Andre the Giant drink in one day on the set of “The Princess Bride.”

More than Reiner’s success, however, I want to salute him as an artist who chose creative risks over easy money. He continually evaded expectations and the industry's attempts to trap him in a box.

Many tried, of course. As an unknown theater actor, Reiner recoiled when strangers pegged him merely as "Carl Reiner's son." His father, the multitalented comedian and creator of "The Dick Van Dyke Show," didn't think his boy had much talent and pressed him to be a ballplayer or a doctor. Norman Lear, a friend of the family, disagreed. Watching young Reiner play jacks in the living room, he thought the kid was hilarious.