An examined life: How a file clerk turned everyday life into an American Splendor

By Matt Kelemen

Tell me the truth," Harvey Pekar once asked of his wife, Joyce Brabner. "Am I some guy who writes about himself in a comic book called American Splendor Š or am I just some character in that book?"

Brabner captured the scene for posterity in Our Cancer Year, her own contribution (detailing Pekar's 1990 bout with testicular cancer) to the continuing illustrated autobiography of file clerk cum comic-book writer Pekar. And the answer to his question is both and more. Harvey Pekar is a seething, self-absorbed Clevelander who worked at a V.A. hospital until his recent retirement, and dispensed his own confrontational version of the Socratic method to the people in his life. He's a jazz-loving critic and essayist who's as proud of his many published articles as he is of comic-book series for which he is semi-famous. He's the guy that made numerous appearances on "Late Night with David Letterman" in the late '80s and early '90s, often inadvertently putting Letterman in his place and trading barbs as he plugged American Splendor.

That comic-book series, first published in 1974 and illustrated by Robert Crumb, draws the reader in to the minutiae of Pekar's daily life. Sometimes the stories were scenes from a grocery line, sometimes a complaint-of-the-day monologue with Crumb drawing a series of head shots, sometimes a flashback to a youthful incident, sometimes a confrontation with another character in which Pekar tries to cut through what he perceives as layers of ignorance and prejudice.

At heart, Pekar is a humanist who doesn't suffer fools gladly. So it was surprising at all to find him participating in the publicity process for the film version of American Splendor. "Well, y'know. It's all right," says Pekar by phone from Manhattan. "I actually met a lot of nice interviewers, and they all seem to be full of good will toward me. You can't fight that. I'm not going to get thrown out of joint because somebody asks the same question the one before did."

He's also in good voice and seems mellow, a contrast to the Pekar known to television audiences that that used to tune into his appearance on Letterman. That Pekar came off as a cranky curmudgeon, trying to stay afloat as Letterman's waves of patronizing attitude crashed over him. But Pekar, setting a precedent for later guests to follow, gave it right back to Letterman and often gained the audience's sympathy. He was eventually banned for wearing an "On Strike Against G.E." T-shirt and haranguing Letterman on air for being an NBC/G.E. employee.

It's that same ability to create empathy while maintaining an anti-social attitude that directors Shari Springer Berman and Robert Pulcini capture on film. The duo created a multi-level, complex structure that flashes forward and back, and switches from realism to surrealism. Actor Paul Giamatti (Big Fat Liar, Saving Private Ryan) shines center stage as Pekar, with a voice that sounds like he gargled with glass after a lifetime or unrestrained yelling and shouting. But quickly the film changes direction, cutting to an interview of the real Pekar shot against a bleached-out background as he details how he met Crumb. The sequence gives way to animations inspired by the various artists that Pekar has worked with over the years as Giamatti spells out the philosophy that will later serve as the basis for Splendor. ("There is no idealized shit, no phony bullshit!") The scene segues to a montage of real life scenes and their illustrated versions as Marvin Gaye's "Ain't That Peculiar" plays in the background.

It's an inspired, unconventional approach to a film. "Yeah. That's something I was pleasantly surprised by," says Pekar. "The innovativeness of the whole thing, the mixing of the different types of film: documentary, narrative, animated, still shots of cartoons, and the double and triple casting of everybody."

Brabner, along with Pekar, also appears in the film as herself and is portrayed as a fictional character by the great Hope Davis. Davis and Giamatti attend a theatrical version of American Splendor in the film, and witness themselves portrayed onstage (by Donal Logue and Molly Shannon). But it's during the scene where Pekar and Brabner first meet where the comic book persona and the real persona are brought together most effectively. Davis' Brabner scans the Cleveland bus station where she has just arrived to meet Pekar for the first time and imagines the various comic versions of him, from the "Brando" version to Crumb's "hairy ape" interpretation. Luckily, Giamatti's Pekar swaggers onscreen just in time to say "Before we get started I oughtta let you know right off the bat I had a vasectomy."

Giamatti nailed down the character long before he met the real-life inspiration. He had read the entire collection of comics, and absorbed Pekar's personality via osmosis. "That was the best way to prepare for this," he says. "The drawings were actually pretty helpful too. The Crumb ones are great, but there's this guy called Gerry Shamray who did these photo-realism things that was kind of like a cheat sheet or flip book. I could actually just look through it and look at his physical gestures and stuff."

Pekar was born in 1939, and was an unspectacular albeit intelligent student. But jazz gave him direction in life. "I read a book about the history of jazz when I was about 16 years old," he says. "At that time it seemed like there were so many colorful characters that were connected with jazz. I was reading it for that reason, not for the music. Just out of curiosity, I bought a record called Jazz in Two Decades. I listened to that, and I actually gave a speech on it in my English class. It went over well, and I really dug the music, so I began collecting jazz records. Š In 1959 I started writing about it for Jazz Review, which is probably the greatest magazine I ever wrote for."

Aimless after high school and possessing no marketable skills, he found solace by cruising thrift stores and garage sales. It was during this period that he met Crumb, a gangly but supremely talented artist who shared his taste in arcane jazz records. Crumb would later open the doors of his own perception with acid and gain fame as a seminal psychedelic comic and album cover artist, and provided the inspiration for Pekar to create his own comic.

Pekar collaborated with Crumb often, but increasingly used a variety of artists as the years went by. As his notoriety increased, the idea of a film based on his life became an increasingly realistic possibility. "I was always hard up for money and was always willing to listen to anyone who would talk to me. I got some free money from options, when I would sign an option agreement and they'd have two years to try and place the movie. Then the option would run out. That went on for while and I got a few thousand bucks that way. But [producer] Ted Post really knew what he was doing. He got me hooked up great. I couldn't have dreamed of anybody better than Ted and the people he got together."

Now retired and living off of a government pension, Pekar was free to witness the filming. Giamatti jokes that Pekar just showed up for the catering. "The first thing he'll tell you was that the food was really good on the movie. But he was really interested in the process of it. He was really interested in talking to the electricians and the grips and stuff like that. He was just having a good time."

"Yeah, that's true," Pekar says, laughing. "I spent a lot of time eating on the set and socializing. I really didn't bother anybody about making the movie, you know? Like seeing how they were shooting and running in and saying 'No, no. You got that wrong.' I left them alone, for which they thanked me profusely afterward. I guess most authors aren't like that, but I had a lot of confidence in the people making the film. I figured they would do me right."