My brother Brendan and I watched The Ten Commandments on the night before Easter, and expressed amazement, for the 100th time, how incredible Heston is, how inevitable. I mean, how silly could that entire undertaking have been? Come to think of it, there is something supremely silly about Edward G. Robinson running around in a toga. It’s awesome! But even today, lulled to sleep by CGI effects, there is something stunning and terrifying about the Red Sea parting, well done! – but none of it would matter a whit if it weren’t for Heston’s commanding (pun) performance. He had no fear. He embodied courage, and was able to portray it larger than life. This is something NO actors have today – NONE – it is no longer the “style” of acting, and no longer in vogue. And that’s fine. Things don’t have to stay the same forever. But at least we could look back at one of the greats and say, “Ah. There. That is how it was done. That is how it should have been done.” His performances do not date themselves. I also liked him very much in the otherwise somewhat ridiculous Any Given Sunday. Seeing him show up in that plush skybox, with his cynical mutterings, and leering undeniable gravitas – was like suddenly seeing reality show up in that over-produced mess. And watching Cameron Diaz try to act with the man was like watching a flea try to compete with a gorilla. Nice shot, dear. Try again. She wasn’t bad in that movie, she was perfectly cast, I thought … but Heston walking in that room made everyone around him seem transparent, insubstantial.
When Charlton Heston first announced that he had the onset of Alzheimer’s, an outpouring of tributes emerged. A wonderful thing – I do hope he read them, and got a chance to understand, before the disease got his brain, how much he still meant to so many.
The most stunning tribute of all, it takes my breath away to this day, is Richard Dreyfuss’ tribute. He wrote it for National Review – obviously a publication with political leanings that has nothing to do with who Richard Dreyfuss is, and how he votes. But, as I have said repeatedly on my blog, as I have chased people away from my site who seem constitutionally unable to play by my rules, as I have stated in my comment policy: when you are dealing with art, and the appreciation thereof, politics must take a backseat. At least if you want to have a worthwhile conversation. And then there are those who say, “I liked Charlton Heston’s acting BECAUSE of his politics” and that is just as idiotic. His work transcends. He was an actor, first and foremost, a “great pretender”. So talk about his work, please – there is plenty there to keep us chatting for 100 years at least! Nobody “owns” Charlton Heston. Nobody “owns” John Wayne. The most flaming liberal in the world could appreciate and love Red River, and those who put politics at the forefront are completely missing the point. What we are talking about here is love. And these actors who touch us, who get beneath our skins, who create something indelible … transcend all of that. The editors at National Review knew that, and so did Richard Dreyfuss.
His tribute of Charlton Heston is what I first ran to, today, when I heard the news that Charlton Heston had passed away. Bless Dreyfuss for putting it so eloquently into print.
And rest in peace, great American icon. You will not be forgotten.
Heâs Not Moses, but Heâs Something Else
My tribute to Charlton Heston.
By Richard Dreyfuss
I am shy around movie stars. True, if odd. My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth and all I can think to say is I loved you in … So it is with Charlton Heston.
In his presence I seem to nod idiotically like one of these doggies in the back of rear windows of cars. He always tries to make my agonies a bit smaller since he is such a gentleman. We’ve talked about children and gun control but usually it’s hopeless and I just end up trying not to stare.
It’s a serious and silly business, acting. Grown people running around pretending the clothes they’re wearing are their own, pretending the words they’re saying are their own, pretending that they’re not pretending. That stuff can really make you feel silly if you’re not careful. A thousand times more silly if you’re wearing a toga or staring offstage at a burning bush that isn’t there. But as silly as it might be at times, acting has awesome power to mirror our reality and give shape to our best and most noble pictures of ourselves.
When I was a kid and yearning to act, there were scads of actors whose work I admired and tried to emulate: (Spencer) Tracy and (Charles) Laughton, Paul Muni, Irene Dunne, and Jimmy Cagney. There were also Errol Flynn and John Wayne and Charlton Heston.
I thought, being cocky, that I could be something like Tracy, something like Cagney, something like Laughton (well maybe not Laughton). I watched them all. I knew I would never be as sexy as Flynn, never as heroic as Wayne, never as mythic as Heston. I never thought for a minute I could be like Heston.
There are some performances that could not possibly be acted by anyone other than who played them. Even though we hear stories about (Ronald) Reagan being cast in Casablanca, we know in our gut it just couldn’t be right, couldn’t happen. God gave Bogart the role. God gave John Wayne Red River. And God cast Charlton Heston as Moses. And Ben Hur. God I think cast Heston as God, because (if I’m not mistaken) his voice is the voice of God in the Ten Commandments, playing against himself. They say Cecil B. DeMille did the voice, but it sounds like Heston to me. I believe it anyway. Makes a better story.
Millions of Jewish kids grew up with the confusion that A) Charlton Heston was Moses B) Charlton Heston was not Jewish. I believe that films like Ben Hur were conceived because Heston was there to make them. He allowed these stories to be told because he was there to play the parts. Ben Hur starring Robert Montgomery. (Please.) Tyrone Power as Moses. (I don’t think so.) With all due respect, and I have loads of that, Heston is inescapable. He was necessary. There would be no Chariot Race worth its salt without him. I would never watch Heston on TV because he was too big. It would be like watching the promos to the Incredible Hulk, with the giant bursting through his shirt. He was too big for television. TV is small, it’s manageable, it’s less. Heston was almost too big for the 20th century, let alone TV. But in the darkened mysterioso of the movie theatre, Charlton Heston was “just right.”
When I saw Charlton Heston as a kid, he took me far, far away, to places few actors could go. The only other American actor so comfortable outside of this era was Wayne, and Heston could time travel farther. Both held the magical alchemy that made me forget the commonplace of here and now completely. John Wayne allowed us into our American past. Heston, because of his perfectly male face, the depth of his voice, the measured almost antique rhythm of his speech, the oddly innocent commitment that allowed him to dive without looking into the role, took me farther, before the common era, as they say.
Somehow he was able to cut the myriad strings that connect us to our current lives, so he could inhabit our imagined past and imagined future so perfectly. So well did he do this that his discomfort was obvious when he played in the Now (actually, make that my discomfort, because he more than likely had a ball in the rare instances when he played something current). If it wasn’t the past it was the future. I could never have gotten to Ancient Rome without him, nor Ape City.
Is so and so a great actor? A good actor? A bad actor? Speaking as an expert it’s a stupid question. The actor either gets you to where you have to go, or not. Heston did; priceless. He could portray greatness, which is no longer an artistic goal; he could portray a grandeur that was so satisfying. What he was able to personify so perfectly for us was a vision of ourselves called heroic. Is this out of favor? Out of step? Antique? Yes, antique as in gorgeous, incredibly valuable, and not produced anymore but this is a critique of the world, not him (hopefully we will one day come back to all that).
As someone who has seen Ben Hur two million times I am totally grateful.
Self-consciousness is the anticipation of being silly and often is the spoiler for many actors. Charlton Heston had no such problem. He would dive into the story with what I can only call measured abandon and make me believe. And it was fun watching him.
It has become fashionable to characterize his politics; almost as if his politics were a separate thing, like Diana’s popularity. People are either defensive or patronizing (if not contemptuous). I can only say I wish all the liberals and all the conservatives I knew had the class and forbearance he has. Would I be as patient or serene when so many had showed me such contempt, or tried to make me feel stupid or small? I doubt it, truly I do. This is dignity, simply and completely. A much more important quality than political passion at the end of the day, and far more lacking, don’t you think?
It is a terrible, terrible, terrible thing that Charlton Heston is going through this (earlier this month, Heston announced he had been diagnosed with symptoms consistent with Alzheimer’s disease), but I confess that there is a part of my heart where I am grateful for the opportunity to let him know what he’s meant to me.
It will make him smile that I’m writing this on National Review’s website (among other publications). Come to think of it, it is kind of funny.
And here’s a nice tribute from The Onion’s AV Club. I particularly liked this part:
Above all, Heston was an actor. His performances never let viewers forget this. He had little use for subtlety but a great flair for operatic emotions. Few have equaled him for this. Heston was already a man out of time in an era that had begun to favor the nuance of Method performers but he had a gift for command that made the shift in fashion seem irrelevant, if not wrongheaded. Other actors could have cursed the skies and damned mankind for destroying itself at the end of Planet Of The Apes. But try to picture anyone else bringing Heston’s ferocity and conviction to the moment and you’ll probably draw a blank.
Amen. Rest in peace.