The news hit everyone like an electric shock on Sunday night. Rob Reiner and his wife, photographer Michele Singer, were murdered in their California home. The 78-year-old Reiner had been directing films for more than 40 years, and before that, he was best known for playing Mike Stivic on the iconic sitcom All in the Family. His initial foray into directing with the iconic mockumentary This Is Spinal Tap (1984) could’ve been a one-off, a hilarious and pointed satire of rock star excess. However, Reiner continued directing films for decades, with a stylistic range that delighted audiences and critics alike.
Rob Reiner was born into Hollywood royalty. His father, Carl Reiner, was one of the preeminent American television and film humorists, whose collaborations with Sid Caesar, Mel Brooks, Dick Van Dyke, and Woody Allen, among many others, are the stuff of legend. Rob slid into his father’s showbusiness world with his iconic role as Mike “Meathead” Stivic, the liberal son-in-law to Carroll O’Connor’s bigoted Archie Bunker on the hit TV series All in the Family, joining a cast that examined social and political differences across generations in a meaningful and often hilarious way. If he did nothing else after that show, Reiner’s place in pop culture would still be secure.
Like his fellow 1970s TV actor Ron Howard, Rob Reiner largely ditched acting in the 1980s in favor of working behind the camera. In 1984, his directorial debut, This Is Spinal Tap, was released. While it didn’t invent the “mockumentary” genre – Jim McBride’s David Holzman’s Diary (1967) and Woody Allen’s Zelig (1983) are earlier examples – it helped revive and solidify that type of filmmaking, lovingly satirizing rock and roll and puncturing its pretense. It became an endlessly watchable (and quotable) cult classic, setting in motion the string of legendary mockumentaries directed by one of its co-stars, Christopher Guest.
Again, Rob Reiner could’ve rested on his laurels after that film, or even continued only to make those kinds of movies. However, This Is Spinal Tap began a years-long streak of movies that transcended genres. The Sure Thing (1985) was a charming, winning road movie starring John Cusack. Stand By Me (1986), based on Stephen King‘s novellaThe Body, was both a coming-of-age film and a love letter to baby-boomer childhoods. The Princess Bride (1987) was a humorous, star-studded comedy-fantasy instant classic. While When Harry Met Sally (1989) didn’t necessarily invent the romantic comedy, it certainly became something of an unofficial gold standard of the genre.
The string continued with another Stephen King adaptation,Misery(1990), which earned Kathy Bates an Oscar and is widely regarded as one of the best King novel-to-screen transformations, and A Few Good Men (1993), a rock-solid courtroom thriller that garnered four Oscar nominations. While that 1984 to 1992 span constitutes Rob Reiner‘s imperial, can’t-miss period of filmmaking, he continued directing films over the next 30-plus years, with works acclaimed by audiences and critics alike.
Even his one bona fide dud, North (1994), has an almost quaint charm tucked away in its occasional awfulness, and Roger Ebert’s infamous review includes a line – “I Hated, Hated, Hated This Move” – that became the title of one of Ebert’s books that compiled his most negative reviews. Yes, even in his less inspired moments, Reiner left his mark on popular culture.
Rob Reiner continued to act through the years, usually in small, supporting roles in other people’s films: Postcards from the Edge, Bullets Over Broadway, Primary Colors, The Wolf of Wall Street, and a minor but effective role in the latest season of the hit TV show The Bear. Those appearances were always a breath of fresh air. Seeing him on screen was a delightful little surprise in any film or TV show, a sort of collective relief among moviegoers or TV show viewers that Reiner was still keeping his acting chops up and entertaining audiences, no matter how minor the role.
Rob Reiner was also a humanitarian of the highest order. A well-known liberal who often raised the hackles of Donald Trump and his ilk, he was a co-founder of the American Foundation for Equal Rights, which initiated the challenge against California Proposition 8 that banned same-sex marriage in the state. He wasn’t just a voice for causes he believed in or a writer of big checks; he actively worked on exacting policy changes. He worked tirelessly to make the world a better place and supported causes long before it was fashionable to do so. He was also, judging by the online tributes that have poured in since his passing, a warm, gentle, kind, and deeply funny human being.
Rob Reiner wasn’t a groundbreaking craftsman on the level of Stanley Kubrick, Joel and Ethan Coen, or Quentin Tarantino. He didn’t make those kinds of movies. He made immensely enjoyable, expertly crafted films that were, above all, relatable. In a sense, his style – if you could actually pin a specific style on this cinematic chameleon – was along the lines of populist directors like Frank Capra or Preston Sturges: unassuming masterpieces for all of us.
Even if we didn’t relate to the characters or situations on the screen, we were entertained and thrilled, and we came back for more. Rob Reiner was the ultimate artist in that his art was intended for everyone, yet he still racked up the awards and accolades that even the fussiest directors strive for. There will never be another one like him.