No. I didn’t go to watch Danny Collins. I don’t even know who the fuck he was. Maybe he was real, like the movie declares right in the beginning ‘This is a true story…ok a little bit of it’. That intro was just like in the movie ‘Salim langde pe mat ro’, where right in the beginning Salim says “ye apun ka story hai…beech beech mein thoda bandal merega…chalega na”….something like that. You know right then and there, that this is unlike any other. Yes…I was there to watch Al Pacino do something, some role of Danny Collins, Steve Jobs, Albert Einstein…..whoever..I don’t know and I don’t care. I’m sure everyone in the theatre, though it was a few of them…were here for the same reason. To watch one man. Not Danny Collins. The movie began, and Al Pacino came. Just like how Al Pacino needs to make an entry. Under the arch lights with a thousand fans screaming for Danny Collins, a rockstar. And Al came in with a swagger, as the camera follows him from behind and enters a deafening stage. And outstretches his arms. And the crowd roars. And the popcorn stops. The man is back. That was Al Pacino making an entry. Not some Danny Collins. Then Al Pacino performs for about 3 minutes. And Al Pacino exits the stage. And then suddenly it is Danny Collins who exits the stage. I forgot I was watching Al Pacino. No, it wasn’t The Godfather, The Scarface, Lt. Frank Slade…not any one of them. Who exited that stage was Danny Collins. I then realize that I am not supposed to be here to watch Al Pacino. I am supposed to be here to watch the story of Danny Collins. A rockstar who is in his sixties or seventies, who has lost the plot some 30 years ago. And still living off his past glory. And he drew me in, and got me engrossed about some fucking Danny Collins who till then I didn’t give a fuck about. No, I wasn’t here to watch a movie on Steve Jobs, or Maragaret Thatcher or Gandhi or characters who I wanted to know more about. I was here singularly to watch one man, and that man vanished. Al Pacino made me forget Al Pacino. He made me notice every other character in the film. His manager. His wife. His son. His daughter-in-law, his granddaughter, the manager of the hotel he stayed in, the valet parking guy, the receptionist. And everyone else who were a part of Danny Collins’ story. He made me watch the story of a failing rockstar who is going through an existential crisis. It was just last night where I watched on youtube, legends like Robin Williams, Andy Garcia, Sean Connery, Oliver Stone, talking about the kickassness of this one man, at the AFI ceremony where they gave him the lifetime achievement award. I never saw that man in the movie. I saw Danny Collins. All I saw was an aging rockstar. A drunk drug addict trying hard to connect with his estranged son. Hitting on a middle aged hotel manager (played amazingly by Annette Bening), and trying hard to get her to agree for a dinner date with him. Saying some of the cheesiest lines like ‘I’ll check you out while you check me in’, delivered in such a sexy charming and funny manner, like he knows he’s being absolutely lame in his attempt. A superstar’s story narrated in the most human manner possible. I don’t know what the oscar boys are really looking for. But all I know is that in one scene in this movie, Al Pacino feels shit nervous about a new song he’s written, a song that he’s composed after 30 bloody years. that he’s about to perform to a small audience. And that small audience has his family in it. I can bet that every single person sitting in that theatre was feeling equally nervous. Like as if they were going to perform themselves. If someone can make you feel so much, like you are that person himself, I really don’t know what can be better than that for an actor. The best part of Al Pacino is that he doesn’t know and act like he’s Al Fucking Pacino.