MJ's View: The Legacy of Rob Reiner.

Director Rob Reiner during the filming of 1995's The American President.

"It's like, how much more black could this be? And the answer is none. None more black."

-Nigel Tufnel (Christopher Guest), This is Spinal Tap (1984) 

It is only fitting that an off-hand remark on a totally unrelated topic from his first directorial effort be used to describe Rob Reiner's (and wife Michele's) untimely death this past week. News of the couple's murder allegedly at the hand of their younger son Nick has generated multiple retrospectives on his career and even more theories about the gruesome circustances surrounding their passing.

I've thought more about Reiner's films this week than the details about his killing. Not that the apparent mental illness and substance abuse that plagued his son is insignificant. My husband lost one of his closest and dearest friends to a similar tragedy: Philip, a respected historian of the Italian Renaissance, was stabbed to death by his younger son, who had gone off his meds. Like Nick Reiner, he had been diagnosed with bipolar/schizophrenia. The endless speculation about how the Reiners' unconditional love ultimately led to their demise doesn't even begin to scratch the surface toward understanding the intricacies of the human brain or the profound darkness experienced by those afflicted by mental diseases.

Last weekend's double murder cut short two impressive careers: Michele as a successful photographer / film producer, and Rob as one of Hollywood's most beloved writer/directors. As the son of comedic icon Carl Reiner, "nepo baby" Rob never flaunted his celebrity genetics or claimed his hard-earned fame as a birthright. Instead, he learned from his father and the creative geniuses who populated his formative years, Mel Brooks and Norman Lear, taking cues from their style and approach to entertainment.

In the end, Reiner was a master storyteller. A mensch and a meathead. Activist and auteur. Satirist and smartass. And, ultimately, reluctant romantic.

Reiner movies were like healthy comfort food: funny, sad, touching, and always intelligent. They were typically a shade shy of artsy and a cut above popcorn fare. He was a revisionist of the first order, redefining everything from fantasy fairy tales (The Princess Bride) to courtroom drama (A Few Good Men) to romantic comedy (When Harry Met Sally) with a post-modern lens, a kind of late 20th century Frank Capra.

This is Spinal Tap, Reiner's first feature, captured the excitement and absurdity of being a rock star without the arguably pretentious artistic gravitas of, say Martin Scorsese's The Last Waltz (1978), Spinal Tap became is own statement/ homage, a sendup as substantive as its target. This year's long-awaited sequel, Spinal Tap II: The End Continues, revisits the band as they grapple with the now-ubiquotous "Farewell Tour" syndrome currently popular with many aging rock bands.

One of Reiner's signatures as a director was his ability to capture moments representative of a bigger issue or historic era. 1985's Stand By Me, based on Stephen King's short story, "The Body," begins in the present day, but quickly becomes a reflection on growing up in the late 1950s. Though at times clearly autobiographic, Reiner manages to let the authenticity of his young actors (including River Phoenix) shine, making this coming-of-age trifle more classic than cliché.

1989's When Harry Met Sally, which I often refer to as "Child of Annie Hall," continues Woody Allen's opining of the modern day romance, by re-imagining the classic Spencer Tracy/Katherine Hepburn verbal foreplay into something completely fresh and of-the-moment. Meg Ryan's now iconic faux-orgasm scene, punctuated by Reiner's mother quipping, "I'll have what she's having," became a kind of feminist touchstone with a bit of sardonic whimsy. Who knew - or had ever suggested - women may not be as easily satisfied as we thought?

I've seen all of Reiner's movies (many, more than once), but the one that kept coming back to me this week was 1995's The American President, a genial romantic drama of the Bill Clinton era, with President Andrew Shepherd (Michael Douglas), a liberal democrat and recent widower, being pushed to examine his politics and his heart by environmentalist Sydney Wade (Annette Bening). Touting a script (pre-West Wing) by Aaron Sorkin, The American President evoked the kind of Baby Boomer optimism associated with 1990s America, giving the movie a kind of nostalgic glow thirty years later, and maybe even a yearning for times less divisive and politically askew.

The American President was the last movie I saw together with my mom and aunt Helen. Aunt Helen died about a year later and, in the years that followed, I learned that my mom would watch the film whenever it came on TV (which was often). Though I knew my mom was a fan of Michael Douglas (from his "Streets of San Francisco" days), and Bill Clinton (as a new JFK), I also believed that the movie was also her last link to a happy time with my aunt. Since my my mom died, I find myself doing the same thing: watching bits and pieces of The American President on TV. Love and politics. And the power of film.

Despite a successful and even illustrious career, Rob Reiner was only nominated for one Oscar: as part of the producing team for A Few Good Men. He's not really made a memorable movie since 2007's The Bucket List, but leaves an impressive legacy nonetheless. His body of work, now bookended by the two Spinal Tap's - was equally always defined by a sense of honor and decency, and serve as a model for art as educator and uplifter. Reiner's personal impramatur of geniality, underscored by intelligence, have made his movies both provocative and watchable.

Rob Reiner may be one of the last directors to craft a dangerously waning style of filmmaking: commercial films with big themes that elevate the more ordinary circumstances of their characters. Filled with wit, sometimes a bit of sass, dramatic arcs and satisfying endings, Reiner's affability and his eternal optimism about human nature shone through. No wonder POTUS #47 thought he was "deranged." It's challenging to maintain positivity these days, especially if you're an American who believes in the essential principles of democracy, as Reiner clearly did.

Enough politics. A recent statement from several of Reiner's close friends, including the actors Billy Crystal, Martin Short and Curb Your Enthusiasm's Larry David, read thus: “There is a line from one of Rob’s favorite films, It’s a Wonderful Life: 'Each man’s life touches so many other lives, and when he isn’t around, he leaves an awful hole, doesn’t he?’ You have no idea.”

Indeed.

For all of us, may Reiner's memory be a blessing.

His movies most definitely were.