Henry Turner is a rich, successful Manhattan lawyer and a thorough sleaze ball. He speaks roughly to his little girl, but stops short of beating her when she sneezes, which may be the only decent thing that can be said for him.
He's ambitious and callous in his career. At home he's rudely outspoken, even about interior decoration. He loathes the new dining room table in his Fifth Avenue apartment, telling his wife that it looks like a turtle, which, in fact, it does.
When first seen in "Regarding Henry," the new Mike Nichols film, Henry is in court, doing what lawyers must do in movies of this sort to be rich and successful. He's defending a hospital against a malpractice suit brought by a frail man who is permanently confined to a wheelchair as a result of an incorrect diagnosis. Henry wins the case and another fat fee.

"Regarding Henry" is not, as might be expected from Mr. Nichols, a satire about the folkways of greedy Manhattan achievers. Instead, it's that old chestnut, the second-chance movie. It's about Henry's spiritual awakening as a good man after he has been shot in the head when he walks in on a candy store holdup. He wasn't buying candy but (in spite of the Surgeon General's warning) cigarettes.

Taking this not-promising premise of Jeffrey Abrams's screenplay, Mr. Nichols has made a movie that is a good deal more tolerable than any such gimmick movie has a right to be. Make no mistake about it, "Regarding Henry" is a gimmick movie, the kind that appears to have had its genesis in a very particular, not exactly commonplace situation, for which the characters were then cut to fit -- like wallpaper and as thin.
Because it's about redemption as the result of an accident, "Regarding Henry" invites the audience to enjoy a sudsy spectacle without being implicated in any disturbing way. Were Henry an alcoholic or a drug addict (he is as deeply afflicted), his salvation would be seen as too cheaply and superficially won.

Yet that perhaps is to load "Regarding Henry" with more freight than it was ever intended to carry. Here is a sentimental urban fairy tale that has been cast with actors from the A list, dressed and designed like a fashion layout and written and directed with such skill that its essential banality is often disguised.
Harrison Ford, who gave his best non-Indiana Jones performance in Mr. Nichols's "Working Girl," is Henry, Annette Bening is his wife, Sarah, and Mikki Allen, who has never acted before, appears as their troubled, enchantingly solemn child, Rachel.
Mr. Nichols sets up the gimmick as quickly as possible. Having established Henry as a perfectly tailored pirate and a thoughtless husband and father, the movie sends him out to his ill-fated rendezvous in the candy store. The rest of "Regarding Henry" details his lengthy recovery, first in a rehabilitation facility, then at home and, finally, back at his office.Yet that perhaps is to load "Regarding Henry" with more freight than it was ever intended to carry. Here is a sentimental urban fairy tale that has been cast with actors from the A list, dressed and designed like a fashion layout and written and directed with such skill that its essential banality is often disguised.

Harrison Ford, who gave his best non-Indiana Jones performance in Mr. Nichols's "Working Girl," is Henry, Annette Bening is his wife, Sarah, and Mikki Allen, who has never acted before, appears as their troubled, enchantingly solemn child, Rachel.
Mr. Nichols sets up the gimmick as quickly as possible. Having established Henry as a perfectly tailored pirate and a thoughtless husband and father, the movie sends him out to his ill-fated rendezvous in the candy store. The rest of "Regarding Henry" details his lengthy recovery, first in a rehabilitation facility, then at home and, finally, back at his office.

When Henry comes out of his coma, he is a blank slate. He has no memory, power of speech or control of his limbs. He must learn to live from scratch. Aside from the scar on his forehead, he is not impaired in any unsightly way. Or, as his doctor tells Sarah at one point, "If you're going to get shot in the head, that's the way to do it."
"Regarding Henry" actually has several plots. There's the triumph over physical disability as Henry, with the help of a tough but caring therapist (Bill Nunn), learns how to talk, walk, eat, dress and tie his shoes again.
There's the re-establishment of loving relations with Sarah and Rachel, who don't know what to make of the docile, possibly brain-damaged new Henry who suddenly admires the turtle-textured dining room table.When Henry comes out of his coma, he is a blank slate. He has no memory, power of speech or control of his limbs. He must learn to live from scratch. Aside from the scar on his forehead, he is not impaired in any unsightly way. Or, as his doctor tells Sarah at one point, "If you're going to get shot in the head, that's the way to do it."
"Regarding Henry" actually has several plots. There's the triumph over physical disability as Henry, with the help of a tough but caring therapist (Bill Nunn), learns how to talk, walk, eat, dress and tie his shoes again.
There's the re-establishment of loving relations with Sarah and Rachel, who don't know what to make of the docile, possibly brain-damaged new Henry who suddenly admires the turtle-textured dining room table.

Finally there is Henry at the office, where he finds that he has a mistress and a past as a lawyer who didn't hesitate to withhold evidence to win a case. Henry is shocked down to his toes. He doesn't like the man he once was.
It doesn't help the movie that Henry is less interesting as a good guy than he was as a rat, but whether this is the role or Mr. Ford's performance is unclear; maybe a combination of the two. Mr. Ford's rehabilitated Henry behaves like a cross between Tom Hanks in "Big" and Peter Sellers in "Being There," but with no sense of fun.
It's a ponderous, toned-down golly-gee-whiz performance. As the reborn Henry wanders around Manhattan, he answers a public telephone that happens to ring when he walks by. He goes to a porn movie and attends to it as if it were a training film. He buys a puppy. He's nice to doormen. He is a bore.Finally there is Henry at the office, where he finds that he has a mistress and a past as a lawyer who didn't hesitate to withhold evidence to win a case. Henry is shocked down to his toes. He doesn't like the man he once was.
It doesn't help the movie that Henry is less interesting as a good guy than he was as a rat, but whether this is the role or Mr. Ford's performance is unclear; maybe a combination of the two. Mr. Ford's rehabilitated Henry behaves like a cross between Tom Hanks in "Big" and Peter Sellers in "Being There," but with no sense of fun.
It's a ponderous, toned-down golly-gee-whiz performance. As the reborn Henry wanders around Manhattan, he answers a public telephone that happens to ring when he walks by. He goes to a porn movie and attends to it as if it were a training film. He buys a puppy. He's nice to doormen. He is a bore.

Definitely not a bore is Sarah who, as played by the miraculous Miss Bening, starts off as a pinched, tightly coiffed upper-middle-class Manhattan matron. As the movie progresses, she loosens up, evolving into a woman of such warmth and spirit that "Regarding Henry" seems to be more about her than about Henry.
Young Miss Allen is also surprisingly good as the forlorn little girl for whom her father's change of character is utterly bewildering. The first-rate supporting cast is headed by Mr. Nunn, Elizabeth Wilson as Henry's secretary, Rebecca Miller as the mistress and Bruce Altman as Henry's law partner.
"Regarding Henry" is a most uncharacteristic Nichols film. It is easy to take, but it succeeds neither as an all-out inspirational drama nor as a send-up of American manners. Though it looks classy and its dialogue often has bite, its center is as soft and sticky as those of the Mallomars Henry is said to adore.Definitely not a bore is Sarah who, as played by the miraculous Miss Bening, starts off as a pinched, tightly coiffed upper-middle-class Manhattan matron. As the movie progresses, she loosens up, evolving into a woman of such warmth and spirit that "Regarding Henry" seems to be more about her than about Henry.
Young Miss Allen is also surprisingly good as the forlorn little girl for whom her father's change of character is utterly bewildering. The first-rate supporting cast is headed by Mr. Nunn, Elizabeth Wilson as Henry's secretary, Rebecca Miller as the mistress and Bruce Altman as Henry's law partner.
"Regarding Henry" is a most uncharacteristic Nichols film. It is easy to take, but it succeeds neither as an all-out inspirational drama nor as a send-up of American manners. Though it looks classy and its dialogue often has bite, its center is as soft and sticky as those of the Mallomars Henry is said to adore.

By the final fadeout it seems as if Henry has been saved for a cookie.
"Regarding Henry," which has been rated PG-13 (Parents strongly cautioned), includes some vulgar language. Regarding Henry Directed by Mike Nichols; written by Jeffrey Abrams; director of photography, Giuseppe Rotunno; edited by Sam O'Steen; music by Hans Zimmer; production designer, Tony Walton; produced by Scott Rudin and Mr. Nichols; released by Paramount Pictures. Running time: 107 minutes. This film is rated PG-13. Henry . . . Harrison Ford Sarah . . . Annette Bening Rachel . . . Mikki Allen Bradley . . . Bill Nunn Rosella . . . Aida Linares Bruce . . . Bruce Altman Linda . . . Rebecca Miller Charlie . . . Donald Moffat Jessica . . . Elizabeth Wilson Dr. Sultan . . . James Rebhorn Julia . . . Mary Gilbert George . . . John MacKay

 

 

 

At the Bar; In "Regarding Henry," art imitated life. Or so say a couple who have lived the life.
By David Margolick
Feb. 18, 1994, NYTIMES

If there were an Academy Award for lawyer movies, the 1991 film "Regarding Henry," starring Harrison Ford, would garner few votes. But its premise, at least, was provocative. It is that an exceedingly obnoxious and dishonest lawyer can suddenly become a nice guy -- that he can stop philandering, swaggering, suppressing evidence, abusing his secretary and neglecting his family -- but only after his brains have been blown out by a robber.
The unconvincing nature of the transformation was only one of the film's many problems. But to at least one viewer, Joan Cox of Evansville, Ind., the story was all too painfully plausible. In fact, she had lived through it twice: first when her own husband, a lawyer, suffered brain damage in a traffic accident, and then when she turned their experience into a 325-page manuscript.

"It was devastating to sit there and watch this thing," she said, recalling the night she and her husband played "Regarding Henry" on their videocassette recorder. "At first I thought all the similarities were just a coincidence. But pretty soon I was pacing around and saying, 'There's that scene!' And my husband was saying, 'There's another scene!' We turned it off and looked at each other and thought, 'This is just unreal.' "
So last fall, long after it had been relegated to the back shelves of Blockbuster Video, "Regarding Henry" began a run in Federal District Court in New York. Mrs. Cox and her husband, John, had sued the film's screenwriter, Jeffrey Abrams, along with its producers, Mike Nichols and Scott Rudin, and Paramount Pictures on grounds of copyright infringement, misappropriation and assorted other infractions."It was devastating to sit there and watch this thing," she said, recalling the night she and her husband played "Regarding Henry" on their videocassette recorder. "At first I thought all the similarities were just a coincidence. But pretty soon I was pacing around and saying, 'There's that scene!' And my husband was saying, 'There's another scene!' We turned it off and looked at each other and thought, 'This is just unreal.' "

So last fall, long after it had been relegated to the back shelves of Blockbuster Video, "Regarding Henry" began a run in Federal District Court in New York. Mrs. Cox and her husband, John, had sued the film's screenwriter, Jeffrey Abrams, along with its producers, Mike Nichols and Scott Rudin, and Paramount Pictures on grounds of copyright infringement, misappropriation and assorted other infractions.

In their suit, the plaintiffs list 112 ways in which the stories of the fictional Henry Turner and the real-life John Cox coincide. Many concern the nature of the injury and the symptoms afterward -- drooling out of the left side of their mouths, dragging their left legs, failing to recognize their wives or remember what was where in their old closets, acting oddly enough that people who had once held them in awe now dismissed them as "retards."
Each man's law firm is depicted as similarly treacherous, demoting him to a smaller office, denying him access to his old files. Professional colleagues, too, are similar: in the words of the complaint, "unscrupulous, want to win at all costs and avaricious." And each man undergoes the same involuntary metamorphosis. "Unlikable pre-trauma and becomes very likable by end," says No. 45 on the Coxes' list of similarities.

The Coxes face a problem: They cannot explain how the manuscript found its way into the hands of Mr. Abrams, the film's screenwriter. But Carl Person of New York, who is representing the couple, says copyright law holds that if the similarities between two products are striking, then access to the original can be inferred. "If you don't think these similarities are 'striking,' " he said, "then I don't know what 'striking' means."
Fifteen years ago, Mr. Cox, then 36, was flying high. A handsome and charismatic man, he had put together a successful law practice, had served in the Indiana Legislature and, a few years earlier, had been named corporation counsel of Evansville. As a result of all that, he was a fixture on local television. And all the success, his wife says, went to his head. "My husband was an arrogant ass," she recalled. "He was kind of on an ego trip."The Coxes face a problem: They cannot explain how the manuscript found its way into the hands of Mr. Abrams, the film's screenwriter. But Carl Person of New York, who is representing the couple, says copyright law holds that if the similarities between two products are striking, then access to the original can be inferred. "If you don't think these similarities are 'striking,' " he said, "then I don't know what 'striking' means."
Fifteen years ago, Mr. Cox, then 36, was flying high. A handsome and charismatic man, he had put together a successful law practice, had served in the Indiana Legislature and, a few years earlier, had been named corporation counsel of Evansville. As a result of all that, he was a fixture on local television. And all the success, his wife says, went to his head. "My husband was an arrogant ass," she recalled. "He was kind of on an ego trip."

But things changed on July 2, 1979, when a car hit his motorcycle, throwing him 28 feet. For a month he was unconscious. When he came to, he was paralyzed and could not speak. It took him nearly two years, filled with various therapies and constant ministration by his wife, to get him back to his law office. Now he has a practice of his own, negotiating his way around by walker and wheelchair. "A movie ought to be made about your life," Mrs. Cox says she once told her husband.
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And so one was. Or so she claims.
For solace and catharsis, Mrs. Cox had recorded her thoughts during her husband's rehabilitation. "I was writing a page a night," she said, "while taking care of four kids, helping start his law practice and stirring the chicken noodle soup with my left foot." After three years, she sent off to various publishers a manuscript that she called "Breaking the Tape." All rejected it.

In 1989, she says, she tried again, sending the manuscript this time to Daphne Merkin, then an associate publisher at Harcourt, Brace, Jovanovich. This time it took 15 months for the rejection to arrive. Ms. Merkin, the Coxes' suit says, "had frequent contact with movie producers seeking properties upon which to base a movie or screenplay." During those 15 months, the Coxes surmise, the book found its way to Mr. Abrams, and a real-life lawyer redeemed by brain damage became the basis for a fictional one.
Ms. Merkin says she does not even remember "Breaking the Tape," and laughs off the suggestion that she forwarded it to friends in Hollywood. "If I had the access to these movie producers that this woman delusionally imagines," she said, "my whole life would be different."

None of the defendants would comment on the case. But their lawyer, Les Fagen of Paul, Weiss, Rifkind, Wharton & Garrison in New York, called the suit "meritless" and said he would soon ask the court to dismiss it. "Nobody connected with this motion picture ever heard of the Coxes before this lawsuit was brought," he said.