When Batman Begins wrapped with the Joker tease, I about giggled myself into a coma.  I wanted the next movie to start right then.  Cut to a few years later and I’m reading for a part in The Dark Knight… then getting the part… then finding out I get to be one of the Joker’s crew… then doing weapons training next to the Tumbler… then shooting Mike Stoyanov in the back and breaking into an electrified safe before catching a betrayal bullet in the gut.  Picture a retarded kitten with a ball of yarn, and you’ll have a good handle of my mindset during that time.

I thought I had got it all out of my system by the time the movie was released.  But when the lights went down and the movie started, my family, my girlfriend, and her mother surrounding me, I got butterflies that didn’t go away until several hours after we’d left the theatre.  It didn’t help that my guests burst into applause when my name scrolled by, leading to a rather awkward autograph signing with a 12 year old kid.

None of this is a review.  Like you need me to tell you the movie is beyond great.  Look anywhere.  I think I’ve read one negative review and the worst it had to dish out was that the guy didn’t think it was technically a masterpiece.  Well.  Fuck that guy.  Ledger is astounding.  Everyone else is great.  The story transcends its origins.  And it’s as pretty as shards of Tiffany crystal.

I’ve seen A Streetcar Named Desire, The Godfather, and On The Waterfront, as well as some of the crap he put out later in life (I’m looking at you, The Island of Dr. Moreau.)  I sincerely believe that his work in The Young Lions is better than all of them.  Not only does he blow Dean Martin (arguably the era’s king of charisma) off the fucking charm map whenever he’s in frame, he makes you forget that Montgomery Clift is even in the movie.  He’s that good.  That subtle.  That impossible to not watch.

And, I mean, it’s from the opening scene of the movie.  The film opens on Brando skiing down to a chalet with a young American woman (played by a brilliant and charming Barbara Rush.)  They collapse into the snow together in a heap, happy and exhausted, as if they’d just known each other biblically.  And well.  It is her last night in pre-war Germany and they have obviously been enjoying each other’s company.  He tries to convince her to come out with him for New Year’s Eve.  By the end of the scene, I would have slept with him.

In another scene, he ends up drunk in the apartment of his commanding officer’s wife.  Just the way that he prepares her a drink and gets her a cigarette should be the textbook tutorial for “how to play drunk.”  Nothing in excess.  Everything the most minor challenge, but still perfectly charming.

Now, the movie is not all about Brando.  He just dominates it from a performance standpoint.  Clift plays an astonishing, if difficult to fully comprehend, Jewish man from New York whose innocence charms a beautiful young WASP, then faces down anti-Semitism in his army barracks.  Dean, somehow playing both to and against type, turns in a cowardly lion version of himself. A pre-Judgment at Nuremberg (and The Black Hole) Maximillian Schell portrays Brando’s fervently committed, but ultimately inferior, superior.  And the aforementioned Barbara Rush goes toe to toe with both Brando and Martin and matches them, both as a character and as an actress.

If you’re an actor, watch this movie and study the dozen or so pitch-perfect performances.  If you’re a civilian, watch this movie because it is a damned fine way to spend 2 hours and 47 minutes.

I avoided watching The Deer Hunter for… my entire life… because I knew just enough about it to know that I was not going to walk out whistling a happy tune.  It takes a pretty big act of will for me to go into a theatre or sit down in front of the TV for three hours knowing that, in the end, no one really gets out alive.

I’m not stupid.  I’m just a pussy.  I know great art doesn’t have to have a happy ending, but if I have a choice between that which is billed as the end all be all of rip your heart out drama or a film that might make me smile just a little, I tend to go with the fluff.  However, as part of a long-standing effort to suck it up, I finally rented it last week.

Now what do you say about that movie? Talking about the performances would be silly; they’re obviously great. Robert DeNiro, Christopher Walken, John Cazale, and Meryl Streep just to start.  Who’s gonna’ argue with that kind of firepower?  The only place you could go wrong is with the story.  And it was great.  Riveting.  Three hours and I never got up to get a drink of water or take a leak.  But that last scene…

I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I live in a time when I feel like my country’s flag is a little torn up.  Maybe it’s because I don’t carry the psychic wounds from Vietnam that needed tending, but went unacknowledged for so long.  Maybe I’m more cynical than I would like to believe.   Or maybe I was just worn out. Whatever the case may be, the end of The Deer Hunter, with its ham-fisted round-table sing-along, sort of left me cold.  And, I guess, maybe that was the point.

In addition to providing some of the most memorable moments in recent film history (including the T-shirt destined “I drink your milkshake! I drink it up!” and one of the best final shots/lines I’ve ever seen), this movie is a friggin’ masterpiece of storytelling beginning to end.  And that’s actually a major point; this movie is all about the story.

Daniel Day-Lewis is a phenomenon, but that’s old news.  Paul Thomas Anderson is a great director, I’m sure you’ll be shocked to hear.  Turns out Jonny Greenwood can write music pretty well.  All stop-the-presses bulletins, to be sure.

The beauty of this movie is that it is all about the story.  Everything serves it beautifully.  On the surface, Daniel Day-Lewis steals the show, but afterwards I realized that my willingness to embrace his teeth-gnashing performance was fundamentally tied in to the way the plot line and pacing made me need to watch him.  And that’s a credit to Paul Thomas Anderson’s writing and directing.  I reckon Upton Sinclair deserves some credit as well, though I will admit to not having read Oil!, the book on which the movie is based.

Just so this review doesn’t turn into a gushfest, let me talk about the few things that crept into my head while I was watching.  I’m not a big continuity hawk.  I could care less if a clock reads the wrong time in two different shots unless it really drags me out of the story.  However, there was a scene where DDL and son have lunch in what appears to be a big city restaurant and bump into some big oil company execs.  The thing about it that bugged me is that both before and after the scene, the impression is that DDL and son are out in the boonies somewhere on site at an oil strike.  It’s not a big deal, and the scene was worth leaving in, it just pulled me out a little bit.

The other point is not really a point against, it’s just an observation.  Paul Dano is great, but he just paled in comparison.  Now, I can’t imagine trying to go one on one with Daniel Day-Lewis, even on his worst day, so I give the kid props.  The thing is that he never seemed as fully realized as he should have.  My girlfriend pretty much nailed it when she said that he always seemed to be playing the character instead of playing the moment.  A useful lesson.

No Country For Old Men is the second best movie I’ve seen this year, There Will Be Blood (also a Paramount Vantage release) being the best.  But man, it’s by a hair.  A split hair.  I’m actually kind of looking forward to reviewing a movie that I don’t like, only because I’m afraid I’m going to start sounding like a cheerleader for the film industry as a whole.  Shitting on a film will have to wait, however, since this movie is a gem.

The Brothers Coen have once again knocked a film out of the park based almost entirely on pitch-perfect casting. They’re great directors, they choose great stories, and the visual character of their movies is always somehow subtle and powerful at the same time, but above it all… honey-child!, those motherfuckers can cast them some actors!

Seriously… they have a talent for picking skilled, resumed actors who are drifting just outside of the public eye and giving them star turns.  Josh Brolin, Javier Bardem, Kelly MacDonald.  Not exactly names that leap to mind when you’re thinking of movie stars or great actors.  But they’ve been around.  And I’m certainly not saying that they’re not great actors.  I mean that their status as such has, until now, flown under the radar.

Let me put it to you this way.  If you get cast in a Coen Brothers film in a lead or supporting role, there’s a fair chance that you can say that you’ve made it.  It must be like the last generation catching a role in a Coppola or Scorsese or Linklater film.  Between the Coen Brothers, Paul Thomas Anderson, Steven Soderbergh (and to a lesser extent Quentin Tarantino), we have our generation’s stable of ridiculously talented directors.

Well.  I’ve managed to get through another review without really talking about the movie.  But what the hell.  You want a book report, go somewhere else.  Or go to the movie theatre where, for the time being, you can still see No Country For Old Men.  Go bathe in it.  It’s the only movie about murder that will leave you with a wistful smile on your face.

P.S.  If you like this movie, go buy a copy of Cormac McCarthy’s book, The Road.  It’ll blow you away.

That’s what they told you, right?  Or, “Get used to waiting tables.”  Yeah, fuck that… The subtextual implication of the statement, “Learn to type,” is that in order to pursue your acting career, you have to scrape by with a low-wage, dead-end job.  That, my friends, is a great big pile of horseshit.

What those well-intentioned folks are actually telling you is that, no matter what, you need to make money.  They’re also saying that you’re going to need a job that’s flexible so that you can go to auditions and perform in shows every now and then, God willing.  Right on both counts.  But here’s what I’m saying:

Don’t settle.  Don’t tell yourself that the thing you do to make money while you’re not acting is “just your day job.” The reality is that you will likely be spending a hell of a lot more time at that day job than you will on the boards or in front of a camera.  If you hate what you do during the day, it will effect what you do at night.   You’ll become increasingly discouraged about everything, you’ll feel much more tired than you actually are, you’ll still be fucking poor, and your craft will suffer because of it.

So what’s the solution?  Learn a real skill.  A skill that will get you a job that earns you good money. And make it a skill that you really kind of geek out on.   I’m not saying go back to college and get an MBA.  I’m not saying start a new career.  I’m saying go take a class in something that really, genuinely interests you, whether it’s computer repair or real estate or veterinary assistance or whatever.  Just make sure it interests you.

And if you can’t afford a class (been there), find a company that does what you want to do and take the best paying job you can land with what you know now.  Then learn.  Investigate.  Ask people how it’s done.  Do it on your own time, if you can.  Teach yourself.  The Internet (which you obviously have access to) is LOADED with free tutorials on any number of things.  It’s not as cut and dried as a class, but if you have the patience you can learn anything you want to with free resources.  I mean there are free instructions for making a nuclear bomb out there.  You don’t think someone is giving away lessons on horticulture?

Once you know how to do the job, find an employer who understands the concept of part time.  It may take a while, but they’re out there, I promise.  Temping is a good way to find them, if that’s an option for you.

If you’ve found the right job and you’re good at it, you can make enough money to get by working 25-30 hours a week.  This will give you the time you need to go to daytime auditions.  The added bonus is that if you don’t have any auditions that week, you may actually have some time for yourself.

Make the choice to find a better way forward for yourself.  Don’t keep trudging along waiting to get cast in a series or hit the lottery.  Your life is happening now and until a new economic system is created, you’re going to need a little scratch to make the time a bit more pleasant.

In the case of my friends, they have to get up and go to the office. Or the construction site. Or the school (God save our youth). In my case, I have to get up and go out on auditions.

Normally, none of this presents a problem. We’re all adults and generally know how to put the glass down when it’s time. And even if we imbibe a bit too much, we normally head home with enough time to get at least a handful of hours of sleep. We may not be on the top of our game the next day, but we can function.

Normally.

Cut to: three Fridays ago.

When I was finally able to peel my eyes open, I could just make out the clock through the film covering my eyes. Plenty of time. My audition for the new Johnny Depp flick, Public Enemies was at 12:00 PM and it was only… awesome…

I leapt out of bed, scaring the living daylights out of my two sleeping dogs. Reliably, they reacted as they normally do when I’m in a hurry: they dove for my feet and remained underneath them until I managed to make it to the shower.

Alternating between scalding and freezing myself solid due to my inability to muster the fine motor skills required to tune my apartment’s plumbing, I rushed through the process of bathing. It was about this time that I actually started to wake up. Not coincidentally, it was also around this time that I started to feel like I was going to vomit up my lungs.

I managed to keep my insides in, and get my outside covered in something approximating audition-worthy clothes. I gathered my headshots, the sides, my keys and out the door I went. It was not until I reached my van that I remembered that my dogs had not been walked in close to 14 hours. I threw my gear in the car and then, as if leaning into a strong wind, made my way back home.

Having indulged the dogs, I finally piled into my car and set out for Tenner Pascal Rudnicke. I remember two things clearly. First, my van was conspiring against me by putting a marvelous little car-sickness spin on my hangover. Second, I had no idea what my lines were. I rummaged through my bag to find the sides I’d stashed there earlier and split my attention between keeping the van on the road, keeping my stomach in my torso, and keeping the lines in my head.

I found parking and stole into TPR, miraculously on time, and settled onto one of their benches. With an unsteady hand, I filled out the audition form and settled down to squeeze as much of the scene as I could into my shattered brain. A few minutes later, they called me in.

Here are the lines, as written:

Wait, wait…! Hold it! Federal Agent! Department of Justice. Bureau of Investigation! We’re on a federal stakeout! Put that gun down and back those cars out of the alley. But stay close because we may need you.

Here is what I said:

Take One - “Wait, wait….! Hold it! Federal Agents. Bureau of… Department of Justice. Bureau of… I’m sorry. I’m going to try that again.”

Take Two – “Wait, wait…! Hang on! Federal Bureau of Justice. We’re on a stakeout… a federal stakeout! …so put those guns down and… and stick around… here.”

Take Three - “Wait, wait…! Hold on. Federal Agents! Department of Justice. Bureau of Investigation. We’re on a stakeout so… your guns, put them away and move your cars because we might need you.”

And that was as close as I got. Also, all of these takes were delivered with a level of intensity similar to that with which you might read the back of a cereal box. Which was all I could muster.

I was unprepared. I was incapable of concentration. I was embarrassed. I was a mess. They knew it. I knew it. And in a few days, quite rightly, my agent would know it.

What’s the moral of the story?  Only go out and get stupid when you are reading for a part for which I am also auditioning.

You can’t effect whether or not someone likes the way you look.  You can’t do a thing about it if your style of acting is not what someone else prefers.  The shitstorm of a relationship your director is in the process of ending is completely outside of your ability to control.  But you can be pleasant to be around.  If you just make it a point to bring your best self to the show every time, you should be fine.

You don’t have to be everybody’s best friend or the life of the dressing room.  You don’t have to try that hard.  In fact, it’s probably better if you don’t try at all.  All you have to do is be a reliable, enjoyable compatriot and you’ll make out like a bandit.

Some folks, however, just never seem to learn.  When viewed from a distance, these folks are a constant source of amusement.  Up close and personal they can make an eight week run feel like a lifetime contract.  Ladies and gentlemen… I give you… the Theatrical Tool.

There are various sub-species of the Theatrical Tool, all of them are equally annoying and all ultimately doomed to be relegated to the status of also-rans.  Let’s play our game…

• The Diva – A classic stereotype who sincerely believes that he or she is a classic original. These princes and princesses in eternal waiting tend to make the dressing room their private fiefdom, littering every available space with their belongings.  They also have a propensity for wasting everyone’s time by forcing the director into marathon, semi-private assurances of their greatness.

• The Gossipmonger – No news is old news with this little treasure.  Everybody likes a good story, but this chatterbox is adept at knowing the worst things about everyone in the cast and making sure that everyone else gets in on the fun.  Did you, many years ago, have sex with a member of your current cast?  The Gossipmonger will be sure to tell your new girlfriend.  You’re welcome.

• The Incompetent – Technically, this isn’t a behavior thing, but it’s my web site. Anyway, someone got something wrong somewhere.  A call didn’t get returned or a resume was forged or someone thought the director was talking about the other Mordecai Nathaniel Fucksmith.  Whatever the reason, you are now contractually bound to play opposite a guy who couldn’t act his way out of a wet paper bowl. Take heart. You won’t see him again until you go work with a road company.

• The Angriest Actor in the World – Fuck you, pal.

• The Playbill – Not meaning to interrupt whatever it was you were talking about, but The Playbill has worked with Warren.  And you know what?  He really is a big sweetheart.  Not as big a teddy bear as John, but sweet.  Unlike Tom.  Man, that guy is focused, but if he doesn’t get his bottled water the way he likes it… look out!  Which is funny because Katie is so kind and…

There are others, but I’m getting depressed.  My point is, don’t be a Tool.  Be yourself.  Well… be yourself if you are someone who is thoughtful, professional, and reliable.  If you’re not… well hey, you’re an actor.  Try it out for a while.

Then, there’s the time I’ve been spending on the train watching other people. While I’m sure I’m getting some of the fine details wrong, I’ve been fashioning little day or life stories for these unknowing commuters simply from watching their body language. Just this week, I’ve racked up a bad breakup, a great job interview, and a lifetime of hard drinking.

Another (minor) contributing factor drawing me into writing this article: I watched The City of Lost Children a couple of days ago. While the movie itself was so-so, it helped me realize that I really enjoy the French pronunciation of the word “silence”.

Finally, listening to NPR on the way home tonight, Bob Mondello did a truly excellent piece on the nature of Charlie Chaplin’s signature character, The Little Tramp. If you get a chance, give it a listen.

Anyway, what all of these things have been leading me towards is a need to discuss the power there can be in silence. When done right, silence and stillness can be one of the actor’s greatest tools.

Too often, actors seem compelled (or are directed) to “fill in the gaps” or “take out the air”. To be fair, sometimes they’re right. ”Move it along, already” is rarely a bad direction. The thing is, silence is only a “gap” when it’s devoid of anything useful. There are plenty of examples of completely riveting silence. In the spirit of show don’t tell, let me refer you to the final scene of Big Night, which is an absolute gem. Or try the opening sequence from Once Upon a Time in the West. Perhaps something more recent? How about the first, say, ten or fifteen minutes of There Will Be Blood? All of these examples feature minutes of silence and oodles of useful character work.

As an actor, the trick is finding and showing that which is useful. Whether on screen or on stage, the only way you’re going to be able to effectively fill a silence is by experiencing the silence as your character would. If the silence is the result of someone having just dropped a conversational bomb, you have to take the time to listen and digest what was just said. If the silence comes from there being no one else in the scene with you, you have to fill it with your reason for being there to begin with.

To be able to convincingly pull off silence as an actor, I believe you need to know how a human being actually operates in a similar, real-world silence. It’s easier to get an honest picture of how silence operates by watching others. You can try observing yourself, but the acting version of physics’ observer effect really gets in the way. Basically, it’s difficult to truly observe your own actions without having an effect on them. In other words, self-consciousness is a pretty tricky thing to get around. Plus, by watching others, you can get yourself a great little toolbox of alternate takes on the same thing.

So, as an exercise in actIng, spend some time unobtrusively watching others. As far as I’m concerned, this is the best way to learn about acting period, but let’s focus on silence for this. The train, the park, the office. These are all easy to access places where people are constantly dealing with their circumstances silently. Watch how they react when things go wrong. Watch how they react when things go right. Learn to discern what is on their mind, or at least what you think is on their mind.

The thing is, you don’t have to know what’s going on with them. The goal is to recognize the way they are behaving and how it makes you feel. The actual reason behind their actions doesn’t matter at all. If a person’s body language makes you feel like they’ve just, say, heard some really amazing news, that’s the body language you should remember for the next time you need to silently portray Really Great News.

And here’s part two: once you know how a real person reacts, internalize it and play that reaction only – nothing more. If there is one thing in this world I can’t stand, it’s mugging. When you overplay a reaction, that’s exactly what you’re doing.

If I drop my change at the store, I may be exasperated by it, but I don’t throw my hands up in the air, let out a big sigh, and then reach down and get my change. I don’t even let out a little sigh. At most, I look down for a second and then go get the fucking change. I don’t physically or vocally announce that I’m pissed about dropping it or in any way make it clear to all around that I Am About To Go Get My Wayward And Unruly Change. However, if you watched me do it, you would likely know exactly what was on my mind because my body would tell you.

Basically, the reason you should observe others is to keep your actions honest. By taking note of how others really behave, you give yourself a gauge for what real people do in real situations. Take the time to listen to the silence around you. You’ll be amazed by what it will tell you.