Filmcraft: ACTING LESSON WITH NICOLE KIDMAN

As a director it is my responsibility to give my actors the best tools and information I can for them to make informed choices about their characters. There are several components to this- back story, spine, allegory, and relativity among others. A skilled actor has the intellectual and observational capacity to draw on their life experiences or the experiences of others to extract the truth of the moment from said information. It is a skill that requires courage and panache- the actor is baring her emotions and inner demons to the public, which is terrifying, and she must also deliver the truth in a way that is compelling. It's too easy to act through histrionics and hand gesticulation- the best actors make choices that are subtle, choices that don't involve dialogue, screaming or tears. They use the only instrument they have- their bodies- and they use it masterfully.

Now I've seen many great performances by many great actors who employ this art, but over and over again I return to this particular performance by Nicole Kidman in the film BIRTH as the paramount example of the actor's craft.

BIRTH, directed by Jonathan Glazer, was an uneven film and based on a wobbly script, but it is worth a watch for Kidman's performance. Hers is an exercise in subtlety, of demonstrating the small physical choices that an actor must make to tell a story in the most compelling and affecting way possible. It is an amazing performance, and worthy of our time and study.

Before you view this clip of the film, here's a little back story. Kidman plays Anna, a New York socialite who has been struck with a tremendous tragedy- her young husband, Sean, has died. Time passes, and Anna attempts to move on in a new life and love, when suddenly a mysterious young boy shows up and wishes to speak to Anna. He tells her that he is Sean. Naturally, Anna dismisses the boy, but the boy begins to reveal truths of her relationship with Sean that only she and her deceased husband would know. She still refuses to believe the boy, as she cannot accept whatever supernatural logic that may be at play.

In this scene Anna goes to the opera with her lover. She is still contemplating the boy, as to whether or not he is really her dead husband. Watch:



Quite an unusual shot, no?

If you have come this far, try watching the clip again, this time placing yourself within the mindset of the character. Look at the small, subtle choices that Kidman makes, and be aware that we are privy to the transition of her thoughts.

We begin with Anna's complete distraught and disbelief that her husband may very well be alive in the body of a child. She is confused, maligned, torn between reality and possibility.

We then see her move to reasoning, forcing logic to conform to what she wants most- for her beloved husband to be alive again. She is in the process of convincing herself, of rewriting science and philosophy.

Finally, we see acceptance- she is willing to believe her new logic. There is relief and anticipation- she wants to see Sean again. She looks off to the side, no longer interested in the opera or the company of her lover. She has found love again, and she wants to be there.

Imagine the complexity of piecing this performance together, of what Kidman had to draw upon to expose herself to such raw emotion with a camera right in her face, recording every tic and gesture. If you don't think this is difficult, stand in front of a mirror and try acting out the progression I've just described, without saying a word. It's frustrating as hell to pull it off successfully.

Kidman puts equity in small nuances because she understands the format. She is in extreme close-up with a wide lens, so she knows that even the smallest movement will translate huge on the screen. She shows remarkable restraint, limiting her movement to her mouth and eyes, conveying confusion and discovery with instinctual reactions.

And that's the key word here- reaction. Kidman is not acting out the process of information, she's reacting to it, just as you or I would were we to be in such a predicament in real life. She allows herself to be emotionally available to the information presented to her by the director and the script- she's not judging the information, rather she's allowing it to attack her. This requires tremendous vulnerability and trust, and is indicative of the bond between actor and director, and the actor and the material.

The lesson imparted here for both actors and directors is the faith in instincts, or the ability to react to information truthfully and honestly. One cannot argue with the truth, and when it is parlayed so convincingly and so naked, it speaks to all of us in a universal fashion. We cannot help but be moved by it. Once mastered and understood, it is an art whose power is rivaled by few.

Nicole Kidman won Oscar praise for her myriad other performances, but it is this performance that shows her skill. As a director I am humbled to see acting like this, and it gives me something to strive for. To me, there is no greater joy than seeing actors execute at the height of their powers. It is a rush unlike any other, both for the performer and we the audience. We need more of it.

CHOPPER

CHOPPER
Written and Directed by Andrew Dominik

I never killed anyone that didn't deserve it."
- Mark "Chopper" Read

There's justifiably been a lot of discussion about the nature of violence this week. We try to postulate the many causes of erratic and sociopath behaviour, and more times than not we come to a nebulous notion of hatred and fear. There is some inner demon that haunts these men and women who commit such violent crimes- the religious right would call it possession or sin, the scientists would call it the ego, the metaphysicians would call it a dark negative energy. I think there's an element to all of this that is universal, however, and that is the call for attention, which in turn is a function of loneliness.

In lieu of the Virginia Tech shootings- particularly the public release of videos, photos, and written screenplays by the gunman, I decided to revisit an old film that I thought might give me more clarity on the mindset of crime and publicity. I turned to Andrew Dominik's CHOPPER, a little-seen Australian film starring Eric Bana.

Bana (in one of the best performances you'll ever see, seriously) plays the real-life Mark "Chopper" Read, a hardened criminal serving seventeen years in the slammer for a variety of crimes from drug dealing, extortion, and attempted murder. An endlessly charismatic man, Chopper is also a man prone to violence stemming from a deep distrust of his fellow human being. He is a short fuse, an otherwise intelligent man whose literacy is shunned in the face of jealously and mistrust.

The film opens in a maximum security prison in Tasmania, and the clear divide between cliques of prisoners is established from the outset. Blurring the lines sits Chopper, shit-eating grin on his face, a man who defies categorization and doesn't care for it. To be given an archetype would be to meld in, and Chopper's thirst for attention drives him to acts of insane violence within the prison walls (including a scene involving self-mutilation that makes "Reservoir Dog" seem tame). He is determined to make sure that in whatever space he occupies, his name will be the one in the spotlight. Even when other inmates assault him, he is the one who gets more press then the assailant. From the moment we meet him, we know that Chopper has one goal in mind: to be the most notorious man in all of Australia.

But as bizarrely magnanimous as Chopper is, he is also the most hated man in Australia. Every other bloke has a contract out on him, and once released from prison, Chopper's life is one consumed by looking over his shoulder. Self-preservation becomes paramount, although the drive for attention follows close behind.

But it's not like the cops would let a nutcase like Chopper out on the streets and simply let him roam free. A relationship is established between Chopper and the fuzz, and we're never truly clear as to who in this relationship has the upper hand. Because of his history, the police know that Chopper will have the top criminals after his head, and that he is the bait they so desperately need. Conversely, Chopper uses the relationship with the police to carry out his dual plan to eliminate his enemies, and to make sure he gets some good press out of it. It is the most unholy of unions, to say the least.

Armed to the neck, Chopper traverses across Sydney and proceeds to harass, instigate and eventually murder those who seek him harm. These are not simple acts of vengeance, however, as they are coolly calculated- Chopper knows who should be maimed, and who should die. While Chopper himself comes off as a ranting, raving bulldog, we never lose sight of the fact that this is an intelligent man, one who has lucid vision in terms of the (literal) execution of his goals. Chopper's actions take him to the front page of media, when he is accused of killing a man in cold blood. He is acquitted of the murder, but is sent to serve time for a previous attempt of murder. With his face on the front page of papers all over Australia, Chopper couldn't be more happy with the verdict. He even proceeds to write a book in prison, and riding the notoriety of his reputation, the book becomes a bestseller and makes Chopper a very wealthy, and more importantly, very popular man.

Bu it's the final scene in the film that delivers the most poignant message, and its relevance to the recent events at Virginia Tech is revealing and bone-chilling. The film ends with Chopper in his cell, watching television with a pair of prison guards. The program is a news interview with Chopper, a tell-all about his new book. On television, Chopper is in fine form, cracking jokes, flirting with the newswoman, and exuding panache and cool. Watching the program, Chopper is in awe of himself, paying more attention however to the reactions of the prison guards, who treat him with the kindness and privilege of a celebrity client. The program ends, and the guards inform Chopper that it's time to lock up. They leave the cell, and shut the heavy metal door. We see Chopper alone in his cell, quiet. All he can do is stare at the wall. He no longer has an audience. He's back to being a loner. And for the first time in the film, we see some hint of sadness. The film ends.

It's one of the most poignant scenes I've ever seen, and the message it implies about the quest for attention rings true in every facet. Chopper got his fifteen minutes of fame, he rebuked his naysayers, and he was, for that moment, the ruler of his domain. But in one moment- the shutting of a door- he was alone again, back to where he started. Nothing gained, but much irreversible damage done. I see the same in Cho Seung-hui, the shooter at Virgina Tech. Why make a video? Why mail it to the local news media? It's a bitter indicative of a man seeking an audience, and like Mark "Chopper" Read, he was willing to do it at the maximum expense of others. Cho Seung-hui has successfully grabbed our attention, and he will be written in the history books, but his legacy as a man is already forgotten. He died a sad, lonely death. Like Chopper, I feel little sympathy for him, if anything I feel great pity for them. I feel like all that a normal person- a friend and not a doctor- could have done for people like Cho Seung-hui or Chopper was to simply ask them "how's your life going" and just listen to what they had to say.

And maybe that's the problem. A person who seeks attention never has an audience, because the audience has already judged them as not worthy their time. Cho Seung-hui probably wanted to be seen as a normal Joe. But he wasn't a normal Joe, he was a troubled man, who refused the help of others. He denied his audience by himself insisting that his behaviour was normal. He denied he needed help when a doctor told him he was a danger to himself. He saw himself as someone the world didn't understand, a tortured soul who stood for something true in a world full of falsities. But his truth was demented and flawed- he just could not accept that. It reminds me of a dialogue from the film, when Chopper makes the odd declaration:

"I'm just a bloody normal bloke. A normal bloke who likes a bit of torture."

So sad is the denial of truth, and the embracing of the absurd.