One Last Thing: Why the British outclass us in acting

By Jonathan Last

The Philadelphia Inquirer, March 4, 2007

 

Helen Mirren's much-deserved Oscar win last week prompted an interesting discussion around the office: Who are the greatest American movie actors?

Your list might differ around the margins, but there are a few names that go down in ink. Spencer Tracy. Robert De Niro. Jimmy Stewart. Jack Nicholson. Bogart. Those five are locks. I'd probably include James Cagney and Morgan Freeman, too. We can argue about the rest.

Now make a list of the great British movie actors, and you'll realize something startling - none of our American actors would even crack the British top 10, which could include, just for starters, John Gielgud, Laurence Olivier, Kenneth Branagh, Richard Harris, Michael Gambon, Ian McKellen, Alec Guinness, Jeremy Irons, Richard Burton and David Niven. (We'll leave Cary Grant to the side; born in England, he moved to America at 16 and never left, making him neither fish nor fowl for our purposes.)

It's worse for women. What American actresses belong in the same pantheon as Emma Thompson, Joan Hickson, Judi Dench, Helen Mirren and Maggie Smith? Probably none.

This disparity in elite talent is surprising, but perhaps not wholly unexpected.

There are important differences between the British and American entertainment industries. British actors are reared in the theater; they live and learn on stage. For many of them, television and movies are side gigs. Compared with American actors, whose careers usually are geared toward movies and TV, this gives Brits an enormous advantage, like the Kenyan distance runners who train at 6,000 feet above sea level.

Economics matter, too. The British film industry is not yoked to the special-effects blockbuster. With the exception of the Harry Potter series, there are no British Godzillas or Independence Days. Having limited means can be a blessing. Because British producers aren't given the money to make high-concept, high-popcorn movies, they're free to do small, character-driven pieces. Which is a boon to actors - just ask Natalie Portman how much she enjoyed standing in front of a green screen with George Lucas for three consecutive movies.

Then there's the matter of language. At least half (probably more) of the emotional and artistic effects an actor achieves is through the rendering of language, and English is the province of the English. The race, as Churchill might have put it, understands the language in ways most Americans simply can't. As the old joke goes, the average British writer can make the directions on the back of a box of condoms read like the Magna Carta. And the average British actor can recite them like they're an aside from A Midsummer Night's Dream.

The Brits take some pride in this mastery. As one wag once put it in the New Statesman, "The English language proper belongs to the people who dwell south of Hadrian's Wall, east of the Welsh hills, and north of the English Channel." The late Enoch Powell added, somewhat more sternly, "Others may speak and read English - more or less - but it is our language, not theirs. It was made in England by the English and it remains our distinctive property, however widely it is learnt or used."

Which attitude leads to the final factor: the British embrace of elitism and class. The English have a devastating sense of class, which is both born of, and a cause of, their historical record of greatness. To them, everything - people, ideas, things - has its place (whether they personally like the place it's assigned or not). The American cultural ideal is a noble egalitarianism. For the English, the ideal is nobility itself. They are not afraid of greatness or standards. They yearn for them.

So when British actors take a part in a contemporary movie, they want to create more than the stock silhouette. To take just one for-instance, consider the 1980s, when British actors (beginning with Alan Rickman in Die Hard) became the dastardly villains in many American action movies: They were so interesting that they created a new character archetype, which itself became clichéd.

Of course, one can be overly romantic about these things. The English gave us Shakespeare. They also gave us the Spice Girls. An honest accounting would admit that the Brits have been as susceptible to po-mo cultural relativism as the rest of us.

The difference is that when British elites roll their eyes at the canon, they know it's there. And they accept that they are planted in its shadow. An Anglophile friend who is a professor of English explains it so: "When teaching American students about aspects of culture, you need to teach them that a duke is addressed as 'Your Grace,' etc. English students mock these sorts of class differentiations - but they know them nonetheless." When it comes to culture, you don't have to believe in the system, though that helps. You just have to know it exists.

The British know it. They still read Sheridan and Congreve in school. Their actors still perform Marlowe and Wilde. The great canon is powerful enough to better even those who would reject it.

Meanwhile, American actors raised on the more meager menu of egalitarianism have been taught that "greatness" means playing a drug addict or a drunk. Most years, this means that the Oscar goes to Angelina Jolie or Halle Berry. I'll take Dame Mirren.

 

A Yankee’s Rebuttal, or, All That Glitters Is Not Shakespeare

by Joe Shannon

August, 2007

 

In February of 2007 Helen Mirren received the Academy Award, and rightfully so, for her marvelous portrayal of Queen Elizabeth II in the 2006 film The Queen. Shortly after the awards an article entitled Why the British Outclass Us in Acting by Jonathan V. Last appeared in Philadelphia Inquirer. In the article Mr. Last, after taking the position that British superiority in film acting is both incontrovertible and unchallengeable, proceeds to systematically examine what he regards as the four major factors that account for this talent rift between the Yanks and the Brits. However, before examining the factors in detail Mr. Last begins by comparing what he regards as the cream of the crop or “locks” of American and British film acting talent.

Upon reviewing Mr. Last list of “Locks” serious concerns immediately arise. For starters anyone purporting to be knowledgeable about American film to exclude Marlon Brando from a top ten list of American film actors is nothing less then remarkable. There seems to be only two possible explanations for such a unique oversight. One, that Mr. Last really doesn’t consider Brando’s body of work worthy of such a distinction or two, that he simply overlooked him. I am hard pressed to find a third possibility. If option number one is correct then it would have been appreciated if Mr. Last had clarified exactly what he meant by film acting excellence and if option number two is correct then it would be recommended that Mr. Last take a little more time studying the performers before rendering an opinion. Some other film actors that Mr. Last decided to exclude as “locks” include John & Lionel Barrymore, Henry Fonda, Frederic March, James Dean, Kirk Douglas, Burt Lancaster, Sidney Poitier, George C. Scott, Al Pacino, Rod Steiger, Robert Duvall, Dustin Hoffman, Philip Seymour Hoffman and Ed Norton to name but a few.

After devastating the American male actors Mr. Last then goes on to do even worse to the female actors. He begins by asking what American women can compare with Emma Thompson, Joan Hickson, Judi Dench, Helen Mirren and Maggie Smith and concludes “Probably none.” Thus quickly disregarding Katharine Hepburn (unless, of course, Mr. Last believes her to be British), Julie Harris, Jane Fonda, Louise Brooks, Joan Crawford, Faye Dunaway, Meryl Streep, and Bette Davis once again to name but a few.

After obliterating American film actors of both genders past and present Mr. Last proceeds to detail why there exists this acting talent disparity between the motherland and the colonies. He believes the first reason for this imbalance is that the Brits are reared in the theater and that for the Brits TV and movie opportunities are merely sidelines as opposed to American actors whose main focus is TV and movie careers. I hate to imagine the late Lee Strasberg’s response to Last’s failure to even make mention of the groundbreaking work done by the Actor’s Studio and the many graduates from that institution that went on to make more then respectable careers in both film and stage acting. This list would include among others Brando, James Dean, Al Pacino, Eli Wallach, Anne Bancroft, Ellen Burstyn, and Lee J. Cobb, Montgomery Cliff, Dustin Hoffman, Jane Fonda, Martin Landau, Karl Malden, Steve McQueen, Paul Newman, Geraldine Page, Estelle Parsons, Julia Roberts, Kim Stanley, Maureen Stapleton, Rod Steiger, Sidney Poitier, Christopher Walken, and Joanne Woodward among others.

Mr. Last’s second reason for the superiority of the Brits over the Americans is that the British studios just don’t have the kind of money that American studios have and this paucity of resources results in the Brits producing more creative and more worthwhile projects and less silly mega blockbusters than their American counterparts. Have to concede points to Mr. Last on this one. You need only sit through the trailers of up coming mainstream American films to realize the impact of the bottom line on the American film industry. Big mega blockbusters do have a tendency to deaden the sensibilities and conversely tight purse strings can foster creative excellence much in the same way as the censorship of the 1950s necessitated a certain amount of artistic and intellectual ingenuity to get the message through. However, if it is a question of selling out that is certainly not limited to the Yanks. Let’s not forget Laurence Olivier (The Jazz Singer), Ian McKellen (The Lord of the Rings), Jeremy Irons (Eragon), Richard Harris (Gladiator), Richard Burton (So many), and Alec Guiness (Star Wars).

Mr. Last’s third factor for British superiority is that of language. Last states that the Brits are so much better at using the language because it’s their language in the first place. The Brits “understand” the language in ways that we cannot. The problem is that Mr. Last never clarifies what he means by understanding the language. If he were inferring that there are particular nuances that American actors are failing to achieve then a few examples would be beneficial. Another possibility here is that Mr. Last, like so many of us, may have fallen under the spell of the English upper class accent. I don’t think it’s stretching the limits of credibility to state that most Americans possess a deep-seated inferiority response when coming in contact with the Queen’s English. I’ll gladly admit that I am no more immune to this inborn idiosyncrasy than most Yanks. I am aware, however, that the music and charm of upper class British articulation isn’t necessarily good acting. In fact our inherent American sensitivity to all things British makes it extremely difficult to be as objective as we should be when examining a Brit’s performance. Mr. Last may have fallen into this pitfall.

This brings us to the final factor, which Mr. Last refers to as the issue of class. Mr. Last points out regardless whether or not the individual Brit supports the class divide they never forget the importance of class in every day life and this constant reaffirmation of class leads inevitably to higher levels of performance. Last seems to be saying that intrinsic in the British tendency towards elitism is some type of natural superiority that places the British above the rest of the world. Are elitist themes by their very nature superior to egalitarian themes? Why exactly are upper class themes so much more honor worthy than egalitarian themes? Could it be once again because of our American built in inferiority regarding anything that hints or implies British superiority?

It seems that according to Mr. Last any play or role that deals with the upper classes starts with an advantage because of the class factor. Mr. Last seems to be saying that a work’s social hierarchical placement in some way determines its artistic value. This elitist standard could easily be applied to any art form. If we were to apply Last’s standard to painting for instance Van Gogh’s The Night Cafe or The Red Vines would immediately be regarded as having less merit then say Lawrence Alma-Tadema’s The Meeting of Antony and Cleopatra or Toulouse-Lautrec’s Admiral Viaud. Returning to film by Last’s standard John Ford’s The Grapes of Wrath, Elia Kazan’s Streetcar Named Desire, John Huston’s The Treasure of Sierra Madre, and Daniel Petrie’s A Raisin in the Sun would be written off immediately because neither the setting nor the characters weigh in strongly on the social economic scale. Is James Goldman’s marvelous The Lion in Winter unquestionably superior to Arthur Miller’s equally notable Death of a Salesman because the social strata of Goldman’s play is so much higher than Miller’s?

Mr. Last is correct when he implies that we shouldn’t assume a film has merit simply because it is about alcoholics or drug addicts but on the other hand such movies as The Lost Weekend, A Hatful of Rain, Days of Wine and Roses, and Requiem for a Dream would clearly illustrate that we shouldn’t disregard a film for the same reason.

It may be beneficial, at this juncture, to make an effort at defining what I mean by film acting excellence? First of all, its important to consider the challenge that the role presents to the actor, secondly how well the actor acquits him in regards to the challenge, and finally how strongly is the audience affected by the performance? Put simply does the actor deliver or not. Granted these are all intangibles, but at least it gives us a starting point for comparison and expression. Let’s take the case of the late actress Beatrice Straight. She plays the ill treated wife of William Holden in the 1976 film Network. She appears in only three brief scenes so time-wise her contribution to the film is very slight but the impact of her performance in her final scene is breathtaking. The scene begins where her husband, played by William Holden, has just informed her that he is having an affair with a producer played by Faye Dunaway. Straight’s explosive response runs an emotional gamut ranging from anger, frustration, hurt, age vulnerability and god knows what else all in the span of 5 to 7 minutes. Straight’s performance is so strongly realized that to describe the moment as brilliant and monumental would be a severe understatement. Another example would be Brando’s performance in the 1967 film Reflections in a Golden Eye. Brando plays an instructor at a southern Military Academy and because of his suppressed homosexuality is completely isolated not just from his domineering wife, played splendidly raunchy and fully voiced by Elizabeth Taylor, but from the rest of the community as well. Brando’s performance is consistently brilliant throughout the film but there is one scene in particular that brings out the true depth of his grasp of the character’s dilemma. He decides to take his wife’s horse for a ride. Now the horse is a symbol to Brando of unrealized manhood. Taylor points this out quite clearly when earlier in the film Brando remarks that Firebird, the horse is just a horse and Taylor smiles accusingly at Brando and says, “Firebird is a stallion.” Initially the horse is resistant to Brando’s attempts at speeding him on but eventually the horse is spurred once too often and charges off. Brando scraped and bruised holds on for dear life as the panic driven horse races through the thicket. Brando is finally thrown to the ground and his pent up anger, self loathing and rage boils over and he proceeds to beat the horse mercilessly with tree branches until both he and the horse collapse in utter exhaustion. It should come as no surprise to anyone familiar with Brando’s work that his performance at this point becomes completely unhinged. He not only cries out but actually squeals out in agony as the event forces him to face the utter hopelessness of his situation. Can’t remember a stronger depiction of a character’s inability to resist the power of suppressed emotions.

Giving credit to the other side of the Atlantic lets examine one of Peter O’Toole’s final scenes in the film Becket. Henry II, played by O’Toole, is tormented by his inability to cope with his love/hate relationship with Becket, played by Richard Burton. While he is carousing with his knights all his conflicts regarding the archbishop erupt in one cataclysmic moment so overpowering that O’Toole is forced to grasp his chest in an effort to stop his heart from exploding. The authenticity that O’Toole brings to the scene leaves the audience literally gasping for breath. Not recommended for anyone with cardiac related issues.

Another example of a British moment of excellence would be Robert Shaw’s brief but pivotal moment in the 1966 film A Man for All Seasons where he plays King Henry VIII to Paul Scofield’s Sir Thomas More. Shaw has only one major scene in the film but it is the type of screen moment that leaves a strong and lasting impression. In the scene the King attempts to cajole More into supporting the King’s attempt to divorce his wife Katherine and marry his mistress Anne Boleyn. In our modern day parlance it would be described as Henry’s attempt to have More “join the team.” During the stormy interaction Shaw successfully portrays a character responding to dark and tempestuous mood swings ranging from severely tyrannical to softly reflective. Shaw’s rendering of Henry’s labile megalomania is incisive and razor-sharp, a definitive example of a performer’s impact overshadowing a performer’s time on the playing field.

The next example unlike the four above illustrates a films ability, because of the intimacy of a close-up, to exploit the more subtle facets of a performance. Robert Redford in Out of Africa presented some problems during the performance not the least of which was his inability to maintain a consistent accent. But there is one moment in the film that illustrates Redford’s ability to tap into the more delicate aspects of a screen moment. His best friend Berkeley Cole, played by Michael Kitchen, has just told Redford, who plays Denis Finch Hatton, that he, Cole, is dying of Black Water Fever. During this painful interaction Kitchen also informs Redford that he is living with a native woman. Redford more shocked by the subterfuge than by the act itself says to Kitchen: “Why didn’t you tell me?” His best friend smiles sadly and says, “I thought I didn’t know you well enough.” Unable to express his hurt verbally Redford’s facial muscles deflate in a brief moment of pain and inner examination. The moment is very faint and easily missed but a strong illustration of Redford’s ability to evoke an emotion in an effective albeit understated fashion.

Another example of subtlety in film acting would be a moment in the 1967 film In Cold Blood. Robert Blake plays Perry Smith who along with Dick Hickock, played by Scott Wilson, was eventually executed for the infamous Clutter family killings of November of 1959. After Smith and Hickock break-in to the Clutter home they tie up the family members and place them in separate rooms as they proceed to search the house for a safe that doesn’t exist. At one point during the search Perry Smith intervenes to frustrate Hickock’s attempt to rape 16 year-old Nancy Clutter played with heartbreaking realism by Brenda Currin. After the attempted rape a conversation ensues between Smith and Nancy as Smith is fingering Nancy’s childhood mementoes on her dresser. Nancy discloses that she is entering college in the coming year to study art and music. As Smith is looking at a photograph on Nancy’s dresser he responds, “I play the guitar and draw some too” and then turning towards her in a hangdog manner says “I only got as far as the third grade.” He attempts to take the sting out of this admission with a failed attempt at a smile. In that moment Blake captures the character’s realization regarding the distance between his world and Nancy’s world and his regret for missed opportunities. In some ways it is one of the most touching moments in the film.

These are just a few of my personal choices for moments in film that would comply with the above definition of film acting excellence. Needless to add there are thousands more examples on both sides of the Atlantic.

Allegedly during the filming of The Marathon Man Dustin Hoffman, a student of The Method, was performing exercises so that he could tap into his emotional arsenal in an effort to achieve a greater level of realism in an upcoming scene. Finally, according to the story, his exasperated costar Sir Laurence Olivier commented “Dustin my boy why don’t you try acting.” The story, whether true or not, is certainly very helpful in illustrating the differences between the “Traditional” and the “Method” school of acting. Olivier coming from the traditional British school obviously had issue with the gut level visceral approach to acting as exemplified by the “Method” school. I propose that both methods (small m) are valid and one is not necessarily better than the other. Or to put it more pragmatically “Whatever works is true.”

Returning to the initial impetus for the above examination. Ms. Mirren’s performance in The Queen isn’t great because it is about Queen Elizabeth and it isn’t great because Ms. Mirren has a wonderful accent. It is great and worthy of all the accolades because it was a marvelously executed and hewed performance by an awe-inspiring performer.

Mr. Last’s article can be accessed at the following site: http://www.mywire.com/pubs/PhiladelphiaInquirer/2007/03/04/2946914?extID=10037&oliID=229