Category: Film/Book Analysis

Pantomime

Harold Lloyd, seen in his 1923 B/W classic “Safety Last” was a master pantomime actor/director who thrilled his audiences with his story scenarios and mind-blowing stunts (no green screen technology!)

“I’m a big fan of pantomime storytelling, being an animator.” — John Lasseter

Pantomime — the art or technique of conveying emotions, actions, and feelings by gestures without speech— is one of the oldest forms of entertainment in human history. For thousands of years, it has helped tell stories, build our imagination and make us laugh. It has made its home in family rooms and on Shakespearean stages. It has graced film and television since their inception. It’s the quintessence of visual storytelling.

“Pantomime is a big thing in the cultural calendar of my country…” — Alan Cumming

Alan Cumming (seen here with the late Natasha Richardson on the set of Cabaret) is an extraordinarily talented actor/singer/writer whose physical performances make him the star of any show or scene he’s in.

Unfortunately, with the dominance of quick access information, flashy action and snappy punchlines in entertainment today, this craft has lost a bit of its glamor and respect. Except on Broadway stages or standup comedy acts, directors and performers, both in live action and animation, are favoring stiffer choices complemented by dialogue heavy exposition and more extensive camera work (i.e. highly convoluted and often overlong action sequences). Times and tastes may have changed, but wordless performance still has its place in the craft of fine acting and storytelling. In fact, the best acting is often between the lines. Physical action, which constitutes both pose and movement, can sometimes convey ideas and emotions with even greater clarity and poignancy than any dialogue or close up shot. It would be a shame for any performer not to study the power of gesture.

Containing less than 1000 words of dialogue, Walt Disney’s iconic film “Bambi” is one of the quietest films in history. It’d be hard pressed for any modern day studio to create or even allow for the creation of a film told primarily through imagery, music and action, the original bread and butter of not just animated films but of all films.

To me, pantomime is a beautiful yet phenomenally difficult craft to learn; it requires very specific training and endless preparation. Not unlike animation, extensive exploration into character creation and intense imagination is required, as is patience, both on the part of the creators and the audience. It’s a form of acting that delivers ideas in a way that is both timeless and universal, a wordless language that represents 100,000 years of humanity in the making. It’s an illusion of life told through time, shape and space, and nothing else.

Rowan Atkinson is perhaps the finest pantomime actor working today. Originally designed to help him fine tune and explore the depths of acting, his creation “Mr. Bean” has become a worldwide sensation. Watch carefully how he always firmly establishes his character of “Bean” prior to any action or interaction with his environment. Story action and character formation are deeply intertwined and Atkinson, who sports one of the highest IQ’s in Hollywood (178), knows that that’s how we build interest. Executed with superb timing, gesture and clarity, Atkinson’s Bean is always fabulously entertaining.

The best and most iconic of comic pantomimes is Charlie Chaplin.  In “Modern Times” Chaplin creates a masterpiece of comedy and pathos as well as a prescient commentary of the social malaise caused by Taylorism — the economic theory of industrial production and practice that dominates the workplace to this very day. Chaplin’s little Tramp is so carefully constructed from his “stache” down to the flaps of his oversized shoes, that just one look at him tells us who he’s supposed to represent — namely us, the little people. But it’s the Tramp’s never-say-die spirit, inventive adaptability and relentless sense of hope that makes him so likeable and his antics so funny. Despite the fact that his creation is over 100 years old now, Chaplin’s pantomimes are perfectly written, staged and acted and should continue to be studied by actors and animators today.

When people think of pantomime, they usually think only of comedy or full-bodied, high-action performance. Al Pacino may be known predominantly for some of the loudest and most powerful screen characters, but here in Mike Newell’s excellent film “Donnie Brasco” he delivers a most sincere and sophisticated performance. In this last scene from the movie, both the events that are to unfold and the deep feelings inside the character are told with action — highly subdued action. In my humble opinion, Pacino’s portrayal of the aging Lefty, a respectfully loyal but out-of-luck gangster is one of the best and most underrated performances of his career.

In Wong Kar-Wei’s visually sumptuous masterpiece “In The Mood For Love” Maggie Cheung and Tony Leung (who won Best Actor at the Cannes Film Festival for his contribution) deliver some of the most beautiful silent performances ever to grace the screen.  The story is one told with minimal dialogue, elegant framing and the most subtle of gestures and glances. Perfectly supported by Christopher Doyle’s gorgeous cinematography and Shigeru Umebayashi’s hypnotic score, the film is achingly beautiful in theme,  movement and performance. It’s one of my favorite films of all time.

A great tribute to the silent era, The Artist (2011) is a tastefully clever and heartwarming story of love and destiny. Starring Bérénice Bejo as Peppy Miller and the ever-charming Jean Dujardin as George Valentin, the movie displays all the joys and wonders of what silent acting can do to enchant the minds and hearts of viewers, even today.

“I like actors that are good with pantomime and that can transmit a lot by their presence and attitude more than through their dialogue.” — Guillermo del Toro

Shot Analysis: True Romance

Directed by Tony Scott, True Romance (1993) features a playful script, fun characters and a multitude of excellent scenes and acting performances.

Much has been said about True Romance already, this being Quentin Tarantino’s first ever full Hollywood script and how it made the world aware of his exciting new talent at the time of its debut. As a film, it pays tribute to my favorite genre, the gangster flick, which has always held a place in my heart as perhaps the funnest, most daring and dramatic playground for exploring humanity. History, culture, politics and the dominion of family are all deeply embedded in the classic gangster movie. I could watch great gangster films all day (and have).

Patricia Arquette and Christian Slater play lovers Alabama and Clarence, the main stars (and heroes) of Tony Scott’s True Romance.

The scene we’re about to look at is the most famous scene in the movie, one featuring the incredible talents of two real heavyweights in the acting world, Christopher Walken and Dennis Hopper. In fact, the scene is so good, it almost overpowers the movie itself; the directing, writing, acting and music here all work in picture-perfect unison. It’s almost ironic — and no one talks about this — but here we have one of the greatest scenes in film history and it doesn’t feature any of the main actors, as both Walken and Hopper only play very short supporting roles in the story (I believe each of the two actors have only one other scene that precedes this one). I don’t believe that has ever happened before. The only comparable actor making such an impact in such limited screen time would have to be Orson Welles in Carol Reed’s The Third Man; although in that film, Welle’s character, Harry Lime, is the title character talked about by the main characters throughout the film.

Orson Welles plays Harry Lime in the 1949 noir classic, The Third Man, directed by Carol Reed. Welles delivered one of the most magnetic screen performances in film history despite being in the film for only 15 minutes.

Although, the popularity of this scene is magnified due to the nature of the “content” discussed, this should not be a reason for it to be dismissed by anyone, especially not by any artist trying to learn more about the craft of acting or film-making in general.

The following breakdown of the scene are simply moments and characterizations I personally found intriguing in terms of story and acting performance.

The Scene: (please be warned that the scene contains coarse language, racial slurs and graphic violence)

Quentin Tarantino’s True Romance script really shines here in this magnificent scene starring Christopher Walken and Dennis Hopper. That said, I doubt even Tarantino himself could have envisioned such a powerful result.

The Breakdown:

In this opening shot, Worley (Dennis Hopper) is struck immediately upon entering the doorway. He will be struck again both midway during the scene and at the very end. The idea that violence is inevitable here is being sent loud and clear to both Worley and the audience, and because of his situation we empathize with this character almost immediately. His time on screen may be short but Worley will play the tragic character here in this story.

Next, we cut to the physical set up of this little cat and mouse game we are about to witness. In this section, the frankness of Walken’s character, Vincenzo Coccotti, is contrasted by Worley’s act of stupidity — a natural defense mechanism to parry way responsibility by pretending like he knows nothing — one that is seen right thru by Coccotti. The pronounced activity with the cigarette first, followed by his calm and direct expression of his intentions makes this character extremely frightening and real. He’s here for business. It’s an excellent use of the environment and props by Walken.

After hearing Coccotti confirm his greatest fears, Worley sits in a brief moment of realization. Look carefully and you’ll notice this beautiful moment of acting by Hopper, his eyes glancing to screen right momentarily, reflecting his awareness of the situation (i.e. he knows that he’s screwed). He sinks his head downwards. A deep breath and a series of fast blinks reveals the difficulty in accepting his current predicament and his concealed efforts to compose himself. The most compelling acting is often between the lines of dialogue where nothing is spoken.

This a nice moment by Walken, again using movement and props to give texture and rhythm to his acting.  After kindly offering Worley a cigarette, he gets up and takes off his coat signifying a character about to get down to work. His position is now physically higher and even more dominant over his adversary. The polite gesturing in his request for truth is balanced by his prepared position to act as needed. When Worley fails in his feeble attempt to fool someone higher up in the food chain, it is met with swift confirmation about who’s the boss here.

Here Walken’s character does a little exposition, reviewing the events of the story both for Worley and the audience, to make sure everything is absolutely crystal clear. He even has a little laugh at the expense of Worley’s son Clarence, for leaving his driver’s license at the scene of the crime (an important story point indicating the kind of stupidity and carelessness in the family genes which is later confirmed when we discover that his son also left his LA address on the fridge door). Writer Quentin Tarantino has sneakily introduced the element of humor here which will pair itself beautifully when Worley exacts the last laugh and punishing blow against Coccotti.

After another brave effort to stand up to his adversary and then having his palm sliced, Worley is left hopelessly digesting more of Coccotti’s demands and lecturing, this time with the counselor proudly informing him of his superiority and that it’s genetic. The small section showing Hopper tilting his head indicates he’s now tired of hearing more from Coccotti. It appears this is where Worely has decided what he’s gonna do despite the final threat of death, should he continue to be so uncooperative.

It’s obvious at this point that Worley knows for sure there is no hope, nor is there any point in delaying this any further. He agrees to be forthcoming by asking for that cigarette initially offered, a gesture that should confirm to Coccotti that this guy finally gets it and he’s gonna tell him everything. But Worley’s eyes reveal that he has not thrown in the towel — they are focused. Cocotti’s paused reaction before agreeing to give him that cigarette shows he’s not 100% convinced either, but he’s willing to let this play out. I really love the way Worley first asks for a match and then proceeds to pull out a lighter. It makes the scene feel so real and genuine — because that’s what real people do — acting instinctively and behaving according to habit. As the music slowly creeps into this transitional moment, we know we’re about to witness a change in the mood. We do, but it’s not what we nor Coccotti expects.

Trapped in a chair and surrounded by a handful of gangsters, the only weapon Worley’s got is his mind. You can see Coccotti lean back initially as Worley begins his tale and he’s uncertain where Worley is going with this. Then of course, comes the surprising first blow, one that not even someone as powerful as Vincenzo Coccotti can deflect.

What follows — the famous Moor/Sicilian fable portion of the scene — is really dynamite here. The dialogue is so fun and the actor’s expressions only magnify the playfulness of the scene. Thematically, here is where the tables are turned, Worley is now the storyteller, physical and animated as he gesticulates with his arms, cigarette in hand. Coccotti is now the passive listener, being toyed with by Worley who goes on and on with one insulting jab after another. Coccotti, aside from the odd smiles and glances backwards towards his posse, continues to sit mostly motionless as he’s stunned by the gall of this measly little foot soldier. Worley has caught Coccotti in unfamiliar territory and he’s got no prepared response to this except to laugh and reluctantly join in on the joke, even if it’s at his expense.

After begrudgingly laughing along with his adversary, Coccotti finally, and swiftly, acts out his anger in the most demonstrative fashion — issuing six bullets directly to the head of his victim. The inevitable ending doesn’t deny who the real victor is in this little game. The mouse may have been killed here — that was never in doubt — but the cat has been wounded in a battle that shouldn’t have been any contest. Coccotti’s very last words state as much as he wipes his hands and spits out his gum in frustration, emphatically closing out the scene.

Final Word:

Great lines and story are what give real meat for actors to hold on to and build from. Writing and story is first and foremost. Ideas matter. That said, its proven time and time again, that even though dialogued moments may be the most memorable ones of any movie, it’s the acting — the combination of verbal expression and the acting between the lines — that make them so convincing and powerful. Great actors, such as Christopher Walken and Dennis Hopper, clearly build their characters internally. But ultimately, that internal creation can only be communicated to the audience externally. How a character speaks and moves is everything; we can only comprehend what we see and hear. This is a lesson we, who are trying to deliver the best possible performances in film or animation, must continually be aware of.