I always have, and will, promptly reply to the question, ‘Who’s your favourite actor?’ This is not a question that demands objective analysis – it’s about my favourite. So I am allowed to take any considerations I want into account, relevant or irrelevant. They can, and in this case do include, a pleasant quality in the actor’s face, a human vulnerability that is relatable, and above all, an intensity that blurs the background. And for me, Pacino checks all the boxes.
It’s very hard for me to write dispassionately about Alfredo James Pacino. The very first movie of his that I remember watching was And Justice For All… and it was a most emotional experience. That scene right after his innocent client’s suicide, when he finally loses his shit and goes, “I CAN’T APPEAL IT, HE’S DEAD! HE’S DEAD! HALF HOUR AFTER THEY PUT HIM IN THE LOCKUP, HE HANGED HIMSELF!”, made me bawl like a baby. Then, I remember him in Dog Day Afternoon – an all time Lumet-favourite. His performance was immensely nuanced and layered, and I think deserves more discourse. But of course, the crème de la crème, the pièce de résistance in his extraordinary career is the role of Michael Corleone. It’s his most scrutinized, most hyped part, but it has aged brilliantly and remains his best. The very final shot in The Godfather, when he lies very unequivocally to Diane Keaton, before the door shuts with him officially taking up his father’s place still brings chills to my spine. (It’s my second-most loved ending – with the first being that in Bourne Ultimatum).
One may make a very valid case for De Niro being the ‘better’ actor – becoming the character in his trademark transformative manner is remarkable – but he appeals less to me. Acting is not just about technique, it’s also about the emotions you evoke in your audience. Now this is purely subjective. But as Pacino is so well-liked, and so often forgiven for chewing the scenery, I’m guessing that virtually everyone who’s an untrained, amateur movie-watcher values the emotional component over everything else.
The genesis of my rave lies in Carlito’s Way, which I watched yesterday. It’s a riveting flick and a DePalma masterclass, but it was criticized heavily upon its release. It was far too similar to the previous DePalma/Pacino outing, some said. Others tore apart Pacino’s performance to shreds – criticizing his accent as tawdry. He had, in the past year, won an Oscar for Scent of a Woman (which is easily my least favourite Pacino), and critics said that his Southern drawl leaked into Carlito’s supposed Puerto-Rican accent. It did, and this is obvious even to the untrained ear. But purely in the context of Carlito’s Way, you’re willing to look past that given the constantly eventful story.
It’s not like Scarface, which I referred to above, which was a movie that belonged out-and-out to Tony Montana. Secondary characters and plots do take center stage here. It’s a denser narrative, and the set-pieces – especially the initial nightclub sequence (which reminded me of the Goodfellas tracking shot) and the climactic escalator-shootout – are sheer genius. The latter presented quite a few problems for the editors Kristina Boden and Bill Pankow as it was too long and they had to cut it in a way so as to detract the audience’s attention from how long the escalator was taking to complete a full turn. And it was admirable work, I must say.
The movie got me hungrier for more of Pacino’s work and I resolved to watch ‘Panic in Needle Park’ and ‘Scarecrow’ – two of his lesser known films later. I was under the impression that Pacino has and always will enjoy demi-god status, but then I stumbled across this article.
“This year, Pacino will turn 74. He seems resigned to the idea that his best performances are behind him. In an endearingly honest 2005 interview, he told his biographer Lawrence Grobell that, “Acting comes more naturally to me [than conversation]. Or used to. I don’t know… now bullshitting comes more natural to me.”
The piece goes on to say how uncomfortable Pacino is with being a movie-star, and for every movie that brings him fame, he feels obligated to “swerve away from mainstream films in order to direct sweetly eccentric docudramas about Shakespeare and Oscar Wilde.” The characters he has played in the 2000s, with the exception of one or two, have largely been self-parodies. He has lent his services to cringe-worthy films like Righteous Kill, Stand-up Guys, and the unpardonable Jack and Jill. Sigh. Men need to earn their meat, but Gods shouldn’t.
The thing is, the real Al Pacino is as far removed from the characters he plays as possible. Watch his AFI Award Acceptance Speech. He is not a witty and articulate speaker. He is saccharine sweet, and a man who has trouble figuring out what to say for himself. Throughout the clumsy speech, he keeps repeating, “God, I can’t do this, I need a character.” That was maddeningly sad for me to watch. After all these years of watching him inhabit fascinating persons with elan, it’s hard to watch him be so unsure in his own skin. I have revered Pacino all this while and therefore having to contend with just Al now is troubling!
But he’s not sad. He’s not the actor who would commit suicide after bouts of depression resulting from fallen grace and infamy. The real Al is easygoing, self-deprecating, with very few close friends that he’s not let go of since he was 20 (including the person responsible for everything he’s achieved – Charlie Laughton). He knows that his real calling was never one of a movie-star – that was incidental. He is an actor, first and foremost, and to lose himself in roles is his respite. His friends and family prevent him from getting lost in those roles, and he is intelligent enough to be able to channel personal emotions for dialogues, without making an absolute getaway into his past. For him, the ‘method‘ isn’t like the limbo in Inception – it’s a dream he can wake up from anytime he wants to.
The point is that he’s quite ordinary. But watching him trying to play himself makes me wonder about the unhealthiness of such reverence to actors, and how it must ruin their expectations of themselves, and thus, their lives. It is perhaps best to take it just like any other job – which it is. The real Al understands this.
Movies that Move 