Apropos of nothing but affection, here are some snippets from “Cassavetes on Cassavetes,” a book about actor-filmmaker John Cassavetes by Boston University professor, graduate studies director and film historian Ray Carney. Despite the straightforward title, it's not a collection of transcripts and articles, but sort of a mosaic biography that fuses interviews from various sources (including Carney) with a candid assessment of Cassavetes the actor, writer, director, small businessman, theater impresario and barroom philosopher. Cassavetes' first feature, 1959's "Shadows" (see below) is generally thought of as the first modern American underground indie, a stateside cousin of such pioneering French New Wave features as "Hiroshima, Mon Amour" and Breathless." His filmography would grow to include "Faces," "A Woman Under the Influence," "Husbands," "The Killing of a Chinese Bookie" and "Gloria."
The following is drawn from Chapter 2, which covers Cassavetes’ transformation from rising theater turk to working film and TV actor and struggling filmmaker. He hadn't yet directed "Shadows," and he'd only recently married his favorite leading lady, Gena Rowlands (pictured at the end of this column; duck!). But even then, Cassavetes' hunger for significance was palpable, his confidence staggering. By the mid 1950s, Cassavetes had cofounded a theater workshop with his friend, theater director Burt Lane (future father of Diane Lane), called “The Cassavetes-Lane Drama Workshop." Thanks to Cassavetes’ disinterest in the day-to-day hassle of running a theater company, and his tendency to be clownish and disruptive during workshops, the experiment did not fulfill its original goal, which was to build a stable of new talent, put Cassavetes and Lane on the map as important theatrical figures and lure casting agents, directors and producers looking for fresh faces. (“So we said, all right, actors, come on in and work, do your scenes, and we’ll invite the casting directors, writers, producers and directors along to see you," Cassavetes said later. "But everybody wants to discover for himself, nobody takes anybody else’s word...Nobody showed up.”)
The workshop was successful in one respect, though: it helped Cassavetes work through his notion of good acting, and define it in opposition to other popular approaches, including The Method, which had only been well-known for about a decade but had already hardened into a formula. Carney writes: “To an interviewer who visited the workshop, Cassavetes somewhat vaguely tried to describe the classes as being designed to teach students to ‘act naturally,’ so that their work didn't look 'staged' or 'artificial.' He said his goal was to bring 'realism' back to acting, and that the highest compliment that could possibly be paid to one of his actors was to say that he or she didn't appear to be 'acting,' but simply 'living' his character. 
The journalist regarded the explanation as fairly trite until Cassavetes added that the 'artificiality' of the expression of emotion was more than a dramatic problem. It was a problem in life. The young actor argued that most lived experiences were as 'staged' and 'artificial' as most dramatic experiences, and that the real problem 'for modern man' (as Cassavetes inflatedly put it) was 'breaking free from conventions and learning how to really feel again.' It was a daring leap: lived experience could be as much a product of convention as dramatic experience, and in fact one sort of convention could be the subject of the other. it was the first and most succinct statement of the subject of 'Shadows' and of all Cassavetes' later work."
Among other things, Cassavetes hoped to offer young actors an alternative to the Method, a sensory- and memory-centered approach that was taught, in personalized form, by Actors Studio founder Lee Strasberg (whose students included James Dean, Robert Duvall, Robert DeNiro, Elia Kazan, Shelley Winters and many others). Variants of the Method encouraged actors to draw heavily on their own experiences and feelings, and to treat hesitancy and inarticulateness as gateways to truth rather than obstacles to clear expression. A number of Method actors personalized this approach and had great success. But Cassavetes felt that the Method, and Strasberg's Studio in particular, had become a different sort of factory, 
and he was "...resentful about the power the Studio exerted over casting directors, which he felt was what had held him back early in his career," Carney writes. "He was scornful of what he called the 'guru' aspects of the Studio and pointedly described his and Lane's school as 'anti-guru.' He felt that the Method was more a form of psychotherapy than acting, and believed that although figures like (Montgomery) Clift, (Marlon) Brando and Dean had had a salutary effect on acting in the late 40s and early 50s, by the mid-50s the Method had hardened into a received style that was as rigid, unimaginative and boring as the styles it had replaced ten years earlier. The slouch, shuffle, furrow and stammer had been turned into recipes for profundity. The actor filled the character up with his own self-indulgent emotions and narcissistic fantasies...Normal, healthy, extroverted social and sexual expression between men and women dropped out of drama. Inward-turning neuroticism became equated with truth. The result was lazy, sentimental acting."
Of course if we take the anti-guru at his word, we cannot uncritically accept every unkind word Cassavetes said about the Method. Even he conceded that when absorbed by an imaginative, disciplined actor, Strasberg's techniques could be -- and still can be -- a springboard to brilliance, a theorem proved not just by Strasberg's own pupils, 
but by future generations of actors who learned the Method by watching Strasberg's pupils. But one of Cassavetes' gripes still has teeth: The Method encouraged actors to get lost in their own mental space, lose touch with their fellow castmembers and the audience, and turn acting into a kind of joyless private experiment. "The Studio's sense of acting was that it was something serious, labored and earnest," Carney writes. "Cassavetes' understanding was that acting was fun. It could be zany, comical and madcap. In Strasberg's vision, the theater was a church; in Cassavetes', it was a playground."
For more about John Cassavetes and Ray Carney, click here.
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
From the short stack: Ray Carney on John Cassavetes and The Method
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
38 comments:
"In Strasberg's vision, the theater was a church; in Cassavetes', it was a playground."
Goddamn, I love these fucking movies to death - particularly HUSBANDS, as I paid a friggin fortune on eBay for the original 1970 one-sheet that still hangs proudly above my bed. (How sad -- it's probably the the most expensive thing I own.)
John's movies aren't honest in any common-sense version of the word, but they're Honest in a hyberbolic-Capital-Letters sensibility, in the way we all like to imagine our lives are taking place on a bigger-than-life, grander-than-thou dramatic scale.
John was the first to validate suburban miasma, blowing it up into Ben Gazarra supernovas. The quiet suffering of the average working-stiff American man has never been so miserable... or so understandable.
Alongside THE WILD BUNCH and LA DOLCE VITA, HUSBANDS resides in a three-way tie as my favorite movie ever made, depending on what mood you happen to catch me in that day.
(And no, it has not escaped my notice that all three of these films are about sad, desperate men looking for some sort of contentment -- or maybe even a HOME-- that's never going to be found.)
Gawd, I love the bit in HUSBANDS when John finally bangs the young chick, which was suppposed to be his dream. In an airtight closeup he demands that she "just shut up --- and be charming!"
"You have long, lovely legs... like a horse," is the closest he can muster to a post-coital compliment, driving her away the moment he's done with her.
Damn, this rangy thing is a messy, ugly masterpiece, and I don't think I'll ever get over it.
Sean: More writing about Cassavetes, please. I don't think I realized how much affinity you have for his work until I read this amazing comment. You're right about so much, particularly when you say, "John was the first to validate suburban miasma, blowing it up into Ben Gazarra supernovas. The quiet suffering of the average working-stiff American man has never been so miserable... or so understandable." I'm as weary of the sick-soul-of-the-suburbs movie as anyone, but Cassavetes had the right idea. His movies weren't about little people living little lives, they were about gigantic theatrical life forces who were stuck in tiny boxes. When critics write that a movie reminds them of Cassavetes, they're often talking about the most superficially Cassavetes-like aspects of the work (a handheld camera, for instance, or elements of improvisation). The heart of Cassavetes is that quality you describe -- his knack for zeroing in on what's theatrical in life and drawing it out in an exaggerated but honest way.
Also, let's not forget that as a director, Cassavetes was a lot more sophisticated than he's often given credit for. He didn't just stick actors in front of a camera and follow them around. He put a lot of thought into the space, the lighting, the blocking and the distance between the actor and the lens. He wasn't a formalist -- he rebelled against that in a reflexive and often rather juvenile way, like a young artist who equates integrity with refusing to ever wear a suit -- but he could pull off some astonishing effects. To give just one example, in "Gloria," the death by gunfire of the boy's family is portrayed in long shot as seen from the street; you look up and see a shotgun flash in the window and hear a muffled pop. That's still one of the ugliest and most powerful killings I've ever seen, and it doesn't even give you any details.
SB: I love these fucking movies to death - particularly HUSBANDS, as I paid a friggin fortune on eBay for the original 1970 one-sheet that still hangs proudly above my bed. (How sad -- it's probably the the most expensive thing I own.)
The most expensive thing I own from 1970 is currently being used to write this response. No, not the computer.
For all its "indie cred," HUSBANDS seems to have started the Hollywood genre of (cue voice of God) "buddies on a trip together, discovering life, each other and themselves." Whenever movies want men to bond, they send them on road trips or "adventures." The latest example of this is, dare I say, Transamerica.
Macho postering rarely works outside of film noir (and that's because the women are actually doing it). For every successful iteration of male bonding and growth in adventurous/road trip circumstances (Swingers, Stand By Me, Get on the Bus, Deliverance--hey, it applies), there are numerous that come off as grating and uninspired as the macho postering depicted. I felt that way watching HUSBANDS. Had it been my first Cassavettes, it would have been my last. (My first Cassavettes was actually Gloria, which I enjoyed despite being another movie that got me in trouble for dragging my cousins to it in 1980.) Perhaps a suave urbanite such as myself cannot identify with "suburban miasma."
What I admired about Cassavettes was how he used money from one side of the fence to finance his greener lawn on the other side. He took conventional (and often sick--The Incubus, anyone?) roles in studio movies so he could make the movies Hollywood didn't want to make. I have to respect that, even if I weren't always enamored with Cassavettes' product. Still, I acknowledge that his work was always different, and instantly recognizable in its flaws and strengths.
Numerous movies have been trashed (or hailed) for being "Cassavettes-like." But nobody gives credit to Cassavettes the actor for creating a long-lasting onscreen male cliche. How many movies have you seen with a character who is exactly like Cassavettes' Oscar-nominated turn in The Dirty Dozen? While you're counting, explain to me why he got nominated for that. Can they trade that in for a writing nod or something?
Lest I forget, Cassavettes still has the greatest cinematic exit in film-villain history.
For the record, I'm more of a Woman Under the Influence/Killing of a Chinese Bookie kinda guy.
You know, I should try writing these posts with my contacts in. I misspelled posturing in my post up there.
Odie: I hadn't thought of it that way, but I see your point. Creating a new archetype -- or if you prefer, a new cliche -- is quite an accomplishment. Better than recycling what's come before. Now that I think of it, Bruce Willis' screen persona draws heavily on that Cassavetes rueful macho vibe. He should be sending a percentage of his earnings to Gena Rowlands.
PS -- You just gave me an idea for another "5 for the day."
A certain buzz swarms around the head of filmmakers who hear the name Cassavetes. It's like some indie royalty, John and Gena (the kids are in the biz too, Nick is well-fed in Hollywoodland and I hear their daughter Zoe is doing the Sofia Coppola thing).
I have been amazed at the results of what he has done with actors in his films. I too was introduced to him with Gloria. Rough around the edges like the man himself. Even as an actor I found him to be that likable old world infantile tough-guy-turned-working-stiff. Part working class, part working actor, all auteur. A Woman Under The Influence shows this. Faces too. Husbands just meanders too much for me. If I ever felt he was teetering on the edge of self-indulgance it was with that film.
That said, he was an independent thinker that walked the walk. He was honest and passionate and he evoked that kind of emotion in his collaborators (I think there is a documentary called Anything For John which sounds appropriate). There is no doubt in my mind he has influenced my work as a filmmaker but at the same time I admit I'm not even near being as talented.
I've been spending so much time at Careny's site since the beginning of the year. The guys's changed the way I look at certain movies, especially the type made by Cassavetes and Leigh. Carney seems a little crazy at first, but nce you delve in enough he becomes more reasonable.
I saw A Woman Under the Influece for the first time a month ago. I'm still thinking about it. That final scene was pretty devastating.
William: I respect Nick Cassavetes a lot. He's a double threat -- a solid, versatile actor and a spirited director, too. "John Q" was a train wreck, but "She's So Lovely," based on one of his dad's unproduced scripts, is marvelous, with three lead performances (Sean Penn, Robin Wright Penn, John Travolta) that rival some of the best acting in his dad's movies. (It's got a meandering, boozy rhythm, too, which is probably to be expected.) "Unhook the Stars," while not quite fully realized, captures that John Cassavetes tone, by turns cruel and sweet. IMDB says he's directing a movie version of Marvel Comics' "Iron Man" next. Is it too much to hope that he'd do it Cassavetes style, the first handheld, down-and-dirty superhero psychodrama?
Nothing dates faster than cutting edge realism.
dave: I'd agree with you if Cassavetes were only going for realism, by I don't think that's all he was about. He wanted something more stylized and heightened, but still anchored in this world. Robert Altman, Spike Lee and Mike Leigh all draw from his well. Fifty years after SHADOWS, people are still making movies (and now TV series) that owe some debt to him. How can a style that remains so vital be written off as dated?
I'm not saying Cassavetes is God. He could be mannered, undisciplined and full of shit. But there was substance there, and his impact is still being felt.
IMDB says he's directing a movie version of Marvel Comics' "Iron Man" next. Is it too much to hope that he'd do it Cassavetes style, the first handheld, down-and-dirty superhero psychodrama?
Probably, but considering that Iron Man is an alcoholic, the potential is certainly there.
Man, now you got me daydreaming...
Sorry about that. I'm very tired. Maybe I should of put that in a fortune cookie. I was thinking more about method acting. Anyway, upon closer inspection, my little aphorism, like most aphorisms seems only half true. Your point is well taken. I need to bone up on my Cassavetes anyway.
dave: Don't worry about it. I wasn't offended, just curious. And I don't think you're wrong, I just wanted to hear your reasoning.
I don't think Cassavetes's realism has dated at all. All that brouhaha a few years ago about the "Dogme manifesto"...when Cassavetes had already done the same thing 30 years before and perhaps even better.
What I find a little irritating in the whole cassavetes worship thing is that how most of the talk always centers around how he is an inspiration for the independednt filmmakers, with boring discussions of film financing and distribution and how very few talk of actual films in question, the thematic and psychological questions that they ask about individuals and society.
Julien: That's true. I think it's probably related to the way "independent film" has been characterized by the media as more of a lifestyle and a path to celebrity than as an art/craft. A lot of Cassavetes' mystique is indeed based around what he did and how he did it rather than what he said and how he said it. But unfortunately that's true for filmmakers at all levels of the business, especially in the post-90s Sundance/Miramax period.
Alcoholic superheroes! A dark crowd in here indeed. I love it! I'm still waiting for someone to pull out all the stops and make a hyper-real comic book adaptation. Dial back the CGI and create a real anti-hero for our time. I won't hold my breath though.
I remember seeing A Woman Under The Influence and I was really taken back. I just couldn't believe that could be captured on screen in such a way. It's obvious that Cassavetes was about pulling the bandage off. He let his actors play and have their humanity though. They drink too much, they talk too much but it's their world.
Nick Cassavetes does have chops there's no doubt. You can see it in Unhook The Stars and She's So Lovely. Then I see a trailer for Alpha Dog and I just ask why but hey, I haven't seen the film so maybe I'm wrong.
It's true about the independent scene of today. Filmmakers are so self-conscious of the shock waves their film can send before they've even shot thirty seconds of footage.
William: You write, "I'm still waiting for someone to pull out all the stops and make a hyper-real comic book adaptation." Wasn't UNBREAKABLE that movie? It's not my favorite M. Night film -- it's too much buildup and no follow-through; it ended just when it was really building up a head of steam -- but it seems like it's in the ballpark of what you're describing. A very odd, in some ways eerily powerful movie, like something Alan Moore might have written for the page.
PS -- I know UNBREAKABLE was not an adaptation, but you get my drift.
Matt: Unbreakable is an interesting comic booky film. I think it got a lot of flack for being uneven and drawn out but I did like it. For the traditional hero, Batman Begins was pretty damn good. I have high hopes for V For Vendetta.
I guess I'm looking for something that is willing to lean on the conventions of the comic book world but at the same time throw them out the window. Way out the window. Really go to the edge and push itself over.
Odie, are you saying that we suburbanites can't be suave, too?
But seriously, I would argue that unlike the other road-trip bonding movies you mentioned, HUSBANDS is different because these guys only end up "on the road" because they're absolutely paralyzed with fear. Harry, Archie and Gus have just buried the fourth member of their gang - and they're having such intense mortality scares that they can't seem to bring themselves to go back home and pick up business as usual.
So they drink and sing and screw - and do anything they can to feel alive, and not to talk about their dead friend. All the blustery macho posturing and meandering is incredibly moving to me because it's so clearly coming from a place of unbelievable anxiety.
I'm happy to read nice things about SHE'S SO LOVELY. I don't recall it being warmly recieved upon release, but this was definately my "gateway drug" into Cassavetes. (I went to see it at the 2nd Ave sneak-in theater something like five or six times.) If I ran the world, John Travolta would've won an Oscar for his amazing, Gazzara-esque slow burns.
My favorite line in any movie that year was when he tells his ten year old daughter: "You haven't been alive long enough to argue with me... now shut up and drink your beer!"
MZS: Now that I think of it, Bruce Willis' screen persona draws heavily on that Cassavetes rueful macho vibe.
Excellent call - I'd never put this together myself... it could also partially explain why Willis is the only actor who looks even cooler when smoking a cigarette than John Cassavetes himself.
SB: Odie, are you saying that we suburbanites can't be suave, too?
No, Lester Burnham. You can't.
Seriously, I was attempting to pay homage to Blazing Saddles with my "suave urbanite" quote, but I just verified that Gene Wilder says to Cleavon Little "What's a DAZZLING urbanite like you doing in a rustic setting such as this?"
So I retract my earlier statement. Suburbanites CAN be suave. They just can't be dazzling like us.
Sean, I lumped HUSBANDS with those other roadtrip movies because the guys are "on the road" examining (or in this case, running away from) a common theme. This is the underlying reason for a trip in any movie of this ilk.
I couldn't take those guys seriously, and I don't think Cassavettes could either. So, I can't share your feelings of being moved. Is it me or does he seem to write better women than men? Perhaps Gena Rowlands is more inspiring than Columbo. ("Just one more question, Mr. Cassavettes...")
She's So Lovely does have a decent (for a change) John Travolta performance in it, but there's something very off about that movie, as if the director knew the words but not the music. But it ties into MZS's last post because James Gandolfini is in it!
Vinny Barbarino/Vincent Vega would be happy if you ruled the world, but if I ruled it, I'd send my mother with a switch to whip fellow Joiseyite Travolta's ass for Moment By Moment and (said with Joisey accent) Battlefield Oith.
Damn you, Odie, for making me remember the sight of John Travolta and Forest Whitaker in dredlocks. I went to the trouble of going to a reputable hospital and undergoing an experimental operation to have the memory of BATTLEFIELD EARTH surgically removed from my memory, and now it's back, thanks to you.
I may have to return to the same hospital to have the memory removed again. And while I'm there, I'll have them extract my pledge to buy you dinner for kicking my ass at Oscar prognostication.
So now I'm loading up on John Cassavetes. Ever since I've been reading this blog, my Netflix queue has been expanding like crazy.
I'm in no position to talk about Cassavetes, but I would like to spout off about method actors. The only big one I completely love is Montgomery Clift. He was great, and it breaks my heart to watch him in The Misfits. His disfigured face only amplifies the pathos. The other big names, Brando, Dean, early Paul Newman, don't hold up so well. What seemed fresh and realistic yesterday, seems cloying, fussy, and overly mannered today. Leave it to a method actor to call undue attention to slinging a leg over a chair, opening a ketchup bottle, or grabbing the steering wheel of a car in some idiosyncratic way, and other bits of business. They have to fiddle with and own every prop. I guess the women fare better than the men, but don't test me on that.
It is difficult to judge Brando, his career was so bizarre. Maybe audiences in the future will see his performances on their merits and be able to ignore all the Brando baggage. With the exception of WATERFRONT, I can't think of a single Brando performance where I'm not distracted by it being Brando with his big bag of Brando tricks. I like The Godfather, but I can never stop thinking about those cotton balls in his cheeks. Somewhere I heard that Frank Sinatra was considered for the part. I can't help thinking he would have been a much better choice. Frank would have been awesome. Now THAT'S what Willis was talkin' about. The best I can say about Brando is he sure could take a beating. The pummelling he receives in THE CHASE is truly a sight to behold.
Here endeth the spout. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll go back to my Netflix queue while doing my Michael J. Pollard imitation.
MZS: Damn you, Odie, for making me remember the sight of John Travolta and Forest Whitaker in dredlocks.
HA-HA-HA-HAAAAA!!!
Remember how every line of dialogue out of Travolta's dredlock-surrounded mouth ended in "HA-HA-HA-HAAAAA!!?" John Cassavettes wouldn't have written dialogue like that. He most certainly would have said dialogue like that in someone else's movie though. HA-HA-HA-HAAAAA!
(I want to dig those Battlefield Oith memories deeper into your head, as they are on top of the reminder that says you owe me dinner.)
P.S. HA-HA-HA-HAAAAA!
dave writes, "The other big names, Brando, Dean, early Paul Newman, don't hold up so well. What seemed fresh and realistic yesterday, seems cloying, fussy, and overly mannered today." I vehemently disagree, except in the case of Newman, who I think became a truly distinctive actor once he grew a gut, left the silver in his hair and started to not give a shit whether he was getting the hot leading man parts anymore. ("Butch Cassidy" was the first appearance of the new, improved Newman.) But I still love Dean in "Rebel" (a performance as rich, and as hysterical, as the film which encloses it) and in "Giant" (a performance way more interesting than the movie, I am sorry to say -- and I'm from Texas!) And I hate to even start on Brando because I'd be here all night and I have to pack for a trip tomorrow. Suffice to say he's the Miles Davis of acting. Whatever ensemble he's in, it's his project. The best films he appeared in are richer for his participation ("Waterfront," "One Eyed Jacks," "The Men," "Streetcar," "The Godfather," "The Freshman," "Don Juan de Marco" "Last Tango" and let's not forget "Apocalypse Now,' a movie with no set script and an essentially unplayable role that somehow he made play!). And the crappy or just passable Brando films -- there are a lot; his batting average at picking good projects is about a .25) -- are often bearable, even fun, because he's in there noodling around. How much fun would "The Chase" be without him? Or "The Ugly American"? Or "Viva Zapata?" Sometimes the only thing standing between a movie and historical oblivion is Brando.
Plus, check out Brando in "The Island of Dr. Moreau," acting with guys in ape makeup, playing classical piano live, and improvising dialogue. Brando refused to color within the lines, and then he ate the crayons. What's not to love?
Matt asks "What's not to love?"
Well, I love the quite funny image I now have of Brando in a giant Baby Huey diaper eating the crayons. Why does it seem so natural? I'm sure Brando was a hoot in Dr. Moreau, but doesn't some of this depend on where we are placing the bar for artistic achievement? Sure, I'll take my laughs anywhere I can get'em, but the method schoolers were nothing if not seriously ambitious. But you're right, Brando does deserve his own thread.
I think we agree on Newman, so I'll focus on Dean. I'll narrow it down further and leave aside "East of Eden" because it's been so long since I've seen it. Maybe it is his best. The most enamored I've been with Dean was while watching his episode on Biography. From everything I've heard and read he sounded like a pretty cool cat. Cut down so young and full of promise, it's tragic. I would never argue that he didn't have loads of talent, far from it. But what do we have left? Two performances that are parody rich, which in itself is sort of a compliment. With GIANT, I still have to go with "overly mannered." We might agree that the movie is only so so (I think it has some good things in it, worth stealing even) but I think it is Liz Taylor who owns that movie, and barring a couple of outstanding exceptions, I'm not a big believer in Taylor's acting ability. For such a great beauty (and she was) she has an ugly rasping voice. Part of my problem with GIANT is that the movie assumes too much unearned good will toward the Benedicts from the audience. At least I wasn't charmed by them. But I'm losing focus. I think Dean's makeup is ridiculous. Is it fair to blame him? I dunno. I admit it is tricky to do a multi-generational timespan with such young actors, but the way Dean looks on screen is laughable. I wish I could figure out how to spell "I'm a rich one" the way Dean says it.
With REBEL, it has some classic Nicholas Ray images, but no sir, I'll have to stick to my guns. Dean's acting dates poorly. Parody material. And lest you think I have no affection for the movie, I'll add that it was only last summer that my wife and I visited Griffith observatory (which is being remodelled) and we reenacted the knife fight on home video.
One last thing, I wish you luck on your screening in S.C. and hope it goes over well. I've been meaning to thank you somehow for your generosity when you sent that extra screener to Ed Copeland since I goaded him to ask for one. I very much liked your film and it now sits proudly on my select shelf of DVDs. I also enjoyed shopping it around to my friends. Thanks.
Thanks, Wagstaff. Tonight's screening went well. It sold out and people seemed to dig it. The real test will come Sunday, a 10 AM screening in what I'm told is the festival's biggest house. Hopefully people will turn out that early for an elliptical, artsy-fartsy ensemble piece with no sex or violence. We shall see.
I can see I won't be able to convert you to the cult of Jimmy Dean. You're in stalwart company, though, so no biggie. Dean's acting is a big sedan with tailfins, no doubt. It's of its era, but still bold and beautiful.
Brando does deserve his own thread. Maybe his own blog-a-thon.
Wow, you almost converted me with that "big sedan with tailfins" line. Very nice.
Hey-
Just a small point: Brando never studied with Strasberg. His guru was Stella Adler, a very different acting teacher who was against sense memory, private moments, and other Lee nonsense.
Thanks for the correction. Will fix right now.
I'd say that Strasberg's two biggest star students, who worked with him very closely, were Al Pacino and Ellen Burstyn. Both fine actors...but if you look at their performances closely, they do draw on the same emotions again and again, unlike a Brando, or a Bette Davis, or an Olivier, or a Streep.
I studied at Stella Adler for a while. The big difference between Adler and Strasberg is that she actually went to talk to Stanislavsky, who had completely repudiated his earlier "sense memory/private moment" exercises in favor of a technique based on imagination and close textual analysis. Strasberg held onto Stanislavky's earlier teachings, and he did a lot of damage. Not least to poor Marilyn Monroe.
The archetypal Strasberg performer is Kim Stanley. She only made a few movies, and she's still revered in older theater circles. In her extant film work she has no connection with her characters. All she does is "private moments"---she goes deep into herself to think about how her cat died, or whatever. It's compelling, for about five minutes, but it's pretty dreadful after a while.
Brando would have been wonderful in a Cassavetes movie. Then again, he was in one, and it was called "Last Tango in Paris."
That last post was mine--(danc)sorry
I love that LAST TANGO reference. You're right, it's the best Cassavetes movie Cassavetes never made. Only it has sumptuous and meaningful visuals, an aspect Cassavetes often downplayed in his own movies so as not to detract from the acting.
Brando is playing...and exposing himself, so to speak, in "Last Tango," just the way Rowlands, Gazzara and the other Cassavetes regulars do. That Bertolucci provides a very stylized framework only enhances what Brando is doing.
To me, Cassavetes indulges his actors far too much. In pursuit of "the truth," he usually just finds new and often bizarre levels of fakeness. Strip the tinsel away, and you find smelly tinsel underneath. Whereas an attention to style and control can set you free.
I think that Cassavetes notion that we "perform" artificially in our lives, however, is an important, even staggering insight. Why do we do this? Because we've watched actors constantly from the time we were kids. Bad actors, too, a lot of the time.
We can judge the people in our lives from an acting standpoint. How well do they present themselves? Are they sincere? Does it matter? I think the best actors, like the best people, are master technicians who back up their technique with brains and heart, when needed. Brando is the archetype, as an actor. As a person, he was a pig (that enormous Manso bio was grim reading).
Off topic, maybe: did you know that Brando saved Wally Cox's ashes for 30 years, and when he died he had his own ashes co-mingled with his former roommate? Brando slept with every woman on earth, but I'd say he loved Mr. Peepers best.
Danc: You say, "Strip the tinsel away, and you find smelly tinsel underneath." I agree Cassavetes' movies fall apart as often as they cohere (probably more often) but I think he achieves things that can only be approached via an intuitive, fundamentally unstable, hit-and-miss method. What makes LAST TANGO superior to all but a handful of Cassavetes films is the subtextual structure, the sense that Bertolucci and Brando created a series of dramatic rooms, so to speak, in which Brando and his costars could roam, secure in the knowledge that they were always serving the movie's larger themes, advancing the ball so to speak.
Although Cassavetes was much more of a writer than he's given credit for -- Carney's books demolish the myth that he and his actors were just winging it, and point out that much of the improvisation had to do with word choice rather than specific actions or moments -- he was definitely a freewheeling adventurer, more so than almost anyone making movies now; wilder than Bertolucci, wilder, in a deep sense, than even Spike Lee, who often devises entire scenes on the fly and shoots them like live news moments. Most importantly, though, Cassavetes saw through the lie of actorly "authenticity," a word that should probably be placed in quote marks nearly every time it's brought up in relation to acting. I think your observation about the tinsel could be a compliment as well as a criticism. In fact, I think when Cassavetes talked about the inauthentic way we relate to each other in real life -- the way we instinctively gravitate toward kiss-off lines and cathartic moments, as if we're starring in our own little soap opera -- he was talking about stripping away the tinsel to reveal more (and smellier) tinsel.
I could talk about Brando all day, though. Don't get me started. Then again, do. I'll take Brando in a bad movie over most so-called good movies any day. The man was a pig, but he was also a genius. Sixty years after his public breakthrough, we still have not come up with the vocabulary to properly describe the techniques he used and the effects he achieved.
PS -- I did hear that Wally Cox story, and it makes me love Brando even more. When it came to picking friends, he never made obvious choices.
Post a Comment