The Sheila Variations

Obsession Central: Cary Grant - with a long diversion into the history of acting as a craft

Here we go. I was thinking about this this morning, and I want to analyze a couple of moments of Cary Grant's acting.

And so I will do so.

This post also has to do with acting styles, and how they develop, and how they are embodied in different actors at different times.

I popped in An Affair to Remember last night, basically so I could have a good long crying jag. The movie worked like a charm. Doesn't it always?

But now here comes the obsession:

One of the recognizable elements of the "Method" (popularized and institutionalized in America by Lee Strasberg - and embodied by actors such as Marlon Brando, James Dean, Robert De Niro) is that the actor is not just projecting emotions. He doesn't wear a mask, a "sad" mask, a "happy" mask, etc. The "Method" actor seems to be responding to internal stimuli, stuff that is unpredictable (but not unpredictable just for the sake of unpredictability) - and there is more going on within the actor than just what the lines say.

To give an obvious example:

The line may say, "God, I feel like crying." But because of something that happens within the actor, while saying the line, the actor bursts into hysterical laughter.

I might say this: this is closer to how people behave in real life. We aren't programmed, emotionally. You can have a fight with someone and not scream your head off through the whole thing. You might be kneeling at the coffin of a dearly beloved, and suddenly begin to laugh. Or suddenly start to rip up the flowers.

The Method was not "invented" by America. It's not like: Oh, actors were ONE way before the 1950s, and ANOTHER way after. That's missing the point.

Stanislavsky, the great Russian director, had realized, in observing actors - that some of them were better than others at seeming like they were having real experiences on stage. (This goes back to Hamlet's advice to the players. "What's Hecuba to him or he to Hecuba, That he should weep for her?" Hamlet here is pondering the essential mystery of acting. It is a complete fiction - and yet - actors since theatre has began have been crying real tears on stage, etc. One of the best definitions for acting I have ever heard is: "to come to life truthfully under imaginary circumstances". I think "truthfully" may be the key there.) Stanislavsky wanted to come up with a "system" that would help perhaps lesser actors to achieve what others did naturally, or with greater ease.

Also: If you'll notice, the best actors are the ones who don't know how to describe what it is that they do.

Spencer Tracy's advice to other actors? "Learn your lines and don't bump into the furniture."

Robert DeNiro is incredibly inarticulate when it comes to the craft of acting. "Oh... you know ... I do my homework ... I want to be truthful ..." etc.

Meryl Streep never talks about "how". The closest I've ever heard her come to describing how she does what she does is when she did a seminar at my school and said, "Acting, for me, is like going to church. When I'm praying at church, it's a private thing - I could never describe to you how I pray, or why I pray. I just do. And acting's the same way." Also implicit in that statement is the sacredness of it for her.

This has probably been the case with actors since the dawn of time. The ones who were the greats - Garrick, Sarah Siddons, Eleanora Duse, etc. - are the ones who had genius. Who could "weep for" Hecuba naturally, because their natural gifts always led them in the right direction. Hence: genius.

Stanislavsky began to experiment, at the Moscow Art Theatre, with training actors in a "system". A system designed to help actors relax, concentrate, and get to emotional truth. And not just once - it's easy to create a miracle of truth ONCE! That's why so many film stars fail miserably when they try to do Broadway. They are not used to re-creating. In the days of Stanislavsky, the main work an actor would get would be on stage, where you would be required to cry real tears for Hecuba night after night after night. What does one do when the well runs dry?

Stanislavsky's "system" (which is known, in America, as "the Method") was an answer to that problem. Or - ONE answer. Not THE answer.

There are funny stories from Chekhov about how Stanislavsky, when directing his plays, "ruined" them, made them all into tragedies, etc. This is all probably true.

But Stanislavsky's genius was: in addressing, for the first time really, the "problem" of the actor. The problem of the actor in the beginning stages of rehearsal - when you are trying to awaken your imagination, and dream yourself into the role. A genius like Marlon Brando, by all accounts, never needed any direction. His natural instincts were usually spot on (when he was cast well, I mean.) Elia Kazan talks about rehearsing with Brando for Streetcar Named Desire - and he described it as an ever-expanding process of just getting the hell out of the WAY.

Stella Adler, who had Marlon in her acting class, said, "Sending Marlon Brando to acting class was like sending a tiger to jungle school."

But most actors don't have the natural gut-level genius of a Brando, or a Duse. They need help, they need training, they need "a way in". Stanislavsky was the first to devote his life to addressing this issue.

Stanislavsky also addressed the problem of what you do when you're in a long long run of a show. How do you keep it fresh? How do you make every night feel like it's the first time? There's a craft to it. If you leave it up to magic (and your name isn't Eleanora Duse) - then you're gonna be in trouble. You need to get yourself some CRAFT.

The "Method" is a version of Stanislavsky's "system". It's what I'm trained in. I devoted myself to the whole thing long ago, because my idols (James Dean, Marlon Brando, Al Pacino) were all "Method" actors. I saw Dog Day Afternoon when I was 11, and thought, "I need to learn how to do what he does."

I mean, in general - the "Method" so overhauled what people expected of actors that it's hard to remember how revolutionary it was at the time. It raised the bar. And pretty much ... it's the style of acting which everyone does now. When you see old movies, and certain performances seem stage-y, or "dated" - that's really what you're seeing. That the styles have changed.

Now - there are those actors who didn't "need no Method" - and who actually scorned it - but these people, in general, are those whom I would call geniuses. Their acting has nothing to do with a specific time and place - their work would seem timely and fresh no matter WHEN it is seen.

James Cagney. Spencer Tracy. Gents like that. Their talent was so fluid, so flexible, so real - their imaginations were so engaged - they had no trouble relaxing - or Listening (the most important thing an actor can do.) You watch pretty much anything Spencer Tracy does - and one of my impressions of it is: you almost cannot imagine that the words he is saying were actually ever on a printed page. They seem improvisational. As though he is making them up as he goes along. I love him.

But all the greats - all the ones who STILL seem great today - and whose acting "style" has weathered the test of time - are ones who have that capability. Naturally.

It's good to have training as an actor. On-the-job training is the best. You have to have a flexible voice. You have to be able to relax your body, and relax your throat - so your voice can do whatever you want it to. You have to be able to concentrate in the middle of chaos - and sometimes that takes training. But training to become a genius like Spencer Tracy? No. Not possible. All you can do with someone like Tracy is WATCH him and try to LEARN from watching.

Actors like Humphrey Bogart, Spencer Tracy, James Cagney, Deborah Kerr - they stand out in the films they are in. They seem to be emissaries from REALITY, as opposed to actors playing parts. Their acting transcends "style". They could fit in today. Their work isn't dated. It's in a continuum. But then - there are plenty of those old-school actors whose work just doesn't withstand the test of time.

Now. Onto Cary Grant.

I watched Affair to Remember last night, yes, to have a nice big cry. But also - cause I wanted to study him. Watch him like a hawk. Deborah Kerr is so marvelous, so funny, so beautiful - that it is very easy for me to only watch her face during their scenes. So I watched him instead.

(This kind of behavior is extremely fun for me. I love good actors. Gee, can you tell?)

All of this "Method" preface was just to say that one of the things that Cary Grant does - and what he does so well - almost better than anybody else - is listen. He is always listening. Bad actors do not listen. They are consumed with self, they are thinking about their own experience, and not listening to the other actor. Listening is the most important thing.

Cary Grant is, to my taste, one of the best examples of it.

Because what happens is - is if you are really listening to the other person in the scene with you - then they won't always say things the way you might expect them to say it - and you'll have to react. But you'll only be able to react if you notice them in the first place.

Humphrey Bogart. To me, he is most interesting when he's listening to someone else talk. Watch his face. Watch him take the other person in, have internal responses to things - you can see all the stuff he isn't saying. Great stuff.

The scenes in Affair to Remember are such a TREAT because the two of them are such good listeners. It's hard to even know who to look at - you could watch each scene twice - just to make sure you catch all the little moments.

Beautiful.

The film also addresses that thing that happens between two people who fall in love in that particular way: you can read each other's thoughts. You can hear the unspoken.

I love those moments. Deborah Kerr will be talking on about her life to him, then turn to him and say, "Hm?" Grant will say, "What?" Kerr will say, "Did you say something?" Grant says, "I didn't say anything." A smile crosses Kerr's face and she'll say, "Yes you did."

Grant is NEVER just playing the surface of the scene. There's always more going on. You know? He's always holding back, or he's thinking something he's afraid to say, or he's not sure how to find the words ... And the thing is - it all looks kind of improvisational. Like he didn't plan out his responses beforehand.

I've worked with very very "heady" actors. That's what I call them. No matter WHAT I do - their response will not vary. They have planned the whole scene out in their head beforehand. Sometimes it's fun to mess with that, especially if I'm annoyed. I'll change blocking. Just to mess up their little program in their head. I will randomly burst into laughter whereas the day before I hadn't laughed - just to see if they respond.

There is nothing better than acting with someone who is also listening to you - and who is also responding to internal cues - and so that means you do not know what they will do next. You start to feel like it's not acting - you are actually ALIVE. The two of you are "coming to life truthfully under imaginary circumstances".

Here are a couple of Cary Grant's moments I'll point out from Affair to Remember - but I'll do it in the next post. I think what I have babbled about here is WAY MORE THAN ENOUGH for now.

The moments:

1. One of their last nights on the boat, when he comes to her room, saying they need to talk because "we have created quite a problem here"

2. When he returns to his grandmother's villa, after she has died, and walks through the empty living room

3. The last scene - when he realizes that she is crippled

Thoughts on this breathlessly important topic to come shortly ...

Posted by sheila