I like this story a lot. It’s one of those stories which may be a legend, may be an exaggeration … whatever, I don’t care. I like it anyway. I ran across it again this morning in the Goldwyn biography, and remembered how much I liked it.
Gary Cooper (I think his name was actually Frank) had grown up in Montana, on a ranch … but had also spent 10 years as a child in England … his formative years. Somehow, as a young man, he ended up in California. Perhaps looking for work? Not sure. If he had ambitions to be a great actor, he wasn’t behaving in that way. He met up with two good friends who were strolling down the street in full Western garb. They told him that you could make good money as an extra in cowboy movies. If you could ride a horse, looked good in chaps … you might make some cash, and you might get a shot at the big time!
This was in the early 1920s.
So I guess Cooper started being an extra on Westerns. A faceless nobody. Just the same as the tons of other young hopeful cowboy-types in Hollywood at the time. However, what made him different (in a way ) was that women fell over for him like ninepins. And very early on – a couple of different actresses noticed this tall lean very very shy cowboy-extra – and tried to help him out, tried to push his career along. They became patronesses, almost. All women. The dude had major sex appeal, and yet was often so shy he could barely get the words out, and he blushed like a schoolboy. (Of course, this made the women go even more nuts over him … and a couple of them became DETERMINED that even if they couldn’t get this guy into bed, they would try to advance his career.) One woman, in particular – who was an actress, very successful, had a huge crush on him – and basically forced directors to look at him, forced the publicity department of the studios to consider him … etc.
But still – he wasn’t an actor. He was a fill-in, a guy who looked good in chaps and a cowboy hat and could ride a horse.
In 1926, he was on location (as an extra) with The Winning of Barbara Worth – directed by Henry King. Again, he was an extra. He had no lines. He was one of the faceless ranch hands.
Meanwhile: some OTHER actor, a “real” actor, had been cast in a very small but very important part. He only had one scene. However, this actor (whoever he was) kept asking for more and more money, or something like that – maybe it was scheduling problems, not sure, but he was negotiating with the studio …
Henry King (the director), on location, finally decided he couldn’t wait any longer for this over-paid actor to show up, and offered the role to the untried Gary Cooper.
All Gary Cooper had to do was knock on the door of the cabin. The woman inside would open the door, and he would collapse inside, from exhaustion. That was the part.
Long afterwards, when he was asked about Cooper, Henry King would describe the first day of shooting with this unknown kid who had never acted before. It also just so happens that Sam Goldwyn himself had come out on location that day, to check up on how things were going.
Henry King said that, while the crew was setting up the lights, etc., he pulled Gary Cooper aside and kept saying to him: “Look, just remember that your character is tired … you are so tired … You have been riding for days … Tired, tired, tired … When that door opens, I need to see a man who is licked … who can barely stand … tired, tired, tired…”
King said that he OVER explained it to Gary Cooper (I mean, obviously, Gary Cooper knows what the word “tired” means), but King didn’t think Gary Cooper was an actor. Maybe Gary Cooper didn’t yet think that Gary Cooper was an actor. Who knows.
King said that whenever he had a 5 minute break, a 10 minute break, he’d come back over to Gary Cooper’s side, and whisper “Tired, tired, tired …”
Sam Goldwyn saw how much attention the director was giving this glorified EXTRA, and grumbled about it – “Am I paying you so that you can give an extra acting lessons?”
King protested, “The kid isn’t an actor … I’ve got to explain to him what he has to do …”
Anyway – finally the time came to shoot the scene. It was an interior shot – You would hear Gary Cooper’s knock on the door … the woman would open the door… and he would fall inside. A simple scene.
Action!
The scene began – a bit of dialogue – blah blah blah –
Then came, at the door, the TIREDEST most weary knock anyone had ever heard. King said that you could barely hear the knock. It was as though the person knocking did not even have the strength to lift his hand up high enough to knock properly. (Obviously … this “extra” knew how to act – he went for it, he went for tiredness 110%.)
Anyway. After this weary timid knock, the door was opened … and there was this kid – who right up to the moment before shooting the scene was a tall young lean handsome cowboy. But the door opened on an absolute wreck of a man. King said, “He had become, in the 30 seconds hidden behind that door, a completely different man. A sad sack.” Gary Cooper took one step forward, and then collapsed onto the floor … completely gracefully, completely naturally … It looked as though his legs just could not hold him up anymore. The cameraman, realizing that some DAMN FINE ACTING was going on, had the presence of mind to follow Cooper’s swoon down to the floor.
King said that 2 seconds after he called “Cut”, Sam Goldwyn called him over. Sam Goldwyn could be quite terrifying. Especially when he was really really calm. Which he was in this moment.
Goldwyn murmured, “You say that kid’s not an actor?”
King said, “He was an extra until this morning.”
Goldwyn replied, “Henry, that kid is the greatest goddamn actor I have ever seen in my life.”
Ever see Wings, Sheila? Two minutes–maybe (actually, probably not even)–on screen, and even a tyro like me could see that whatever it was, he had it.
As Marshal Will Kane, Gary Cooper was absolutely brilliant in High Noon. It was what he didn’t say in this morality play.
He most definitely had it. It can’t be defined – but it exists. Like the (paraphrased) definition of pornography:
“I can’t define it, but I know it when I see it.”
Acting like that has nothing intellectual about it. It crosses past the celluloid – grabs you by the throat – and insists: “What you are seeing is REAL.”
I couldn’t read the last few lines fast enough. The fact that they zoomed on his face….he drew them in. WAY in.
To me, that’s acting. Not reciting lines over and over again, but being the fool who seems to suffer delusions of arguments with people who aren’t there, and experiencing pains that don’t really exist. Feeling the role, and immersing oneself in it, instead of treating it like a job.
I know at different walks, the craft is a difference in extremes, but when I truly feel the role is when I feel like I’m acting. when I’m reciting dialogue, I’m practically just..reading.
uh oh…Rambled again, didn’t I?
Dude, ramble on. :)
Gary Cooper said he loved doing Westerns so much because they felt real, and not “actor-ish”. He was REALLY riding horses, REALLY running and jumping and hiding, etc. He liked that. He was a great actor but (like most of the greats) kind of embarrassed about being an actor. He would rather it be real.
Oh, and as a couple of epilogues to all of this:
1. Henry King ended up cutting the scene with Cooper out. Ronald Colman (the star of the movie) was huge at the time (but a very different kind of actor than Gary Cooper – he was much more stagey) – so King cut Cooper’s scene because he feared that Coop’s great acting in that one scene would over-shadow Ronald Colman.
2. Within a couple of years, Gary Cooper would become a huge star – and within 10 years he would be the highest paid movie star in the business. It would be years before Sam Goldwyn could even AFFORD Gary Cooper again.
Five words: For Whom the Bell Tolls.
Gary Cooper in his prime, in every sense of the word; and the newcomer, the very young Ingrid Bergman, beautiful beyond description: one of the greatest pairings in movie history. How could we not fall in love! With him, with her, with them.
Bud – so weird – I went out last night (before I read your comment) and rented For Whom the Bell Tolls.
HOLY SHITE!
That entire movie is fantastic – although Cooper is amazing, too. (Er … sexy as hell. Ahem.)
But that woman who played Pilar, the swarthy Spanish woman … she was so damn GOOD.
I need to own that movie. I loved every second. The love scenes are classics – but it’s also a great war movie, I think.
Sheila: Your movie rental choice = just another synchronous moment between you and yours!
Katina Paxinou (Pilar) won an Oscar and Golden Globe in ’44 for Bset Supporting Actress for that role. And how about Akim Tamaroff: “I will not be provoked, English.”
Your Cooper writings of late prompted me to add this film — of all his films — to my Netflix list. Thanks.