Bardem, Ledger and the truth about movie acting

I'm a film student at Clackamas Community College in Oregon City, going for a Transfer Degree to move to Portland State University, hopefully in a few months (!) to finish by majoring in film studies with a business minor.

I've made three short films on digital video and worked on a few super 8 and 16mm films up in Seattle a few years back or so, and I can attest to the remarkable arduousness and strain it takes to commit to one cut, let alone every single decision and, ultimately, finality of a completely edited work. You slave and slave and hope to hell you've gotten it somewhere approximating "right." I can only dream of the day I get to make such life or death decisions on a feature film as a writer/director/producer/ editor (?)... :)

As to what Nolan says, he's absolutely right. You're ultimately faced with making the best piece you can with what an actor has entrusted to you - their art and their time and their effort. It's clear to me now that I had that to learn in my short filmmaking, and I only hope I can be better in the future (in both short AND feature films!).

You might want to link to the discussion about Good Actors Spell Good Acting from last year to compliment this entry.

One of the questions this brings up though, is understanding that the actor and filmmaking go hand in hand in creating the performance, what does (or should) that mean for critics who like to say things like "the sole redeeming merit to this movie is the solid work by X", or "Morgan Freeman emerges unscathed from the mess." Can a critic reasonably say they disliked a movie's direction, but liked the performances, separating the two? Roger himself has said more than once "The only thing wrong with (his/her) performance is that it's in the wrong movie."

Well I am an actor and there is much truth in what you say oh wise one. I would also say, however, that throughout film history the greats that stand out don't stand out because they were always fortunate enough to have a great director. An actor may give many different readings but if they're good enough, all of those readings will work within the film. It's most evident when you have a great actor with a not so great in the same film and in scene after scene the great looks great and the not so great looks average - and editing had nothing to do with it.

But still you and Javier are wise men and I agree with the general idea. For a full confirmation of what you're saying listen to the Beatles anthology cds. They have multiple recorded versions of the same song and let me tell you, if George Martin had decided to go with some of their versions of Got to Get You Into My Life and Tomorrow Never Knows among others they might have gone down as a mediocre footnote. Selection of the right take, their anthology proves, made the difference (yeah, yeah I know it's music not acting but it's the same general idea.)

Eric, Dan, Jonathan: There's enough in your comments alone for another related post! (Dan: Thanks for the reminder -- I've linked to Kristin's post before, and I'm happy to do it again.)

Moviegoers often attribute intent or blame or credit to something in a film without really having any way of knowing how it came to be that way. All we can know for sure is that we can see it there on the screen. So, yes, you can say that an actor's performance holds up despite weaknesses in the script (though who knows how much of the script was used in the finished film -- or how many writers rewrote it), or misguided directorial or editorial choices. Obviously, some actors have charisma -- "the camera loves" them -- and that can come across even if the role or the movie doesn't amount to much.

So, Jonathan, you're right that "the greats" don't always need a great director. But a director can destroy a potentially great performance. Would Garbo or Dietrich be the legends they are if they didn't have directors and cinematographers who knew how to light them, shoot them in close-up, and hold those close ups in the final cut? Would Fred and Ginger be remembered as a great screen couple if their directors chopped them into bits and pieces instead of shooting them full-figure in long takes? What if a Marx Brothers director chose to concentrate on "punching up" the boys' performances with big reaction shots of Margaret Dumont or the "romantic leads" instead of letting the scenes play out in two-shots or three-shots? Or, even worse, directed the supporting actors to actually laugh at Groucho, Harpo and Chico's jokes? No matter how good the actors or the script, a movie is always a miracle or a disaster waiting to happen. (Though the odds of making a good movie are increased if you have good actors, a good script, and a good director -- that spells good movie! As Chris says to Pat [or is it the other way around?]: "You know what kind of movies I really like? Good movies.")

You're absolutely correct that actors (often with the full support of their directors) give different readings, any of which could work in the movie. Knowing how a scene should play is often a matter of assembling it in the cutting room. But if the director chooses various line readings from different takes that aren't compatible, it can make the actor(s) look terrible, like they're flailing away without any idea of what they're doing.

I've witnessed this first-hand. For example, sometimes you just can't cut together one piece of an angry take with another piece of a fearful take. If you don't properly orchestrate the tone of the relationships between characters in a scene, the audience won't get what's going on and the whole thing can just fall apart before your eyes.

Take some film of one of your own performances and then throw out your best takes, mix together inconsistent bits from various readings, chop the scene clumsily (by cutting on every line, like some sitcoms do), cut between close ups and master shots when you don't have the proper coverage, and insert random or inappropriate reaction shots. You'll look terrible in no time -- and I'm sure you're a terrific actor!

Maybe the idea of a performance existing outside the context of a movie is an illusion necessary for a moviegoer so you can accept the performance as the character, and I'm sure everyone likes to play with a character in their imagination after the movie is done, mashing them in their memories of other places and people on film.

There's a very cool documentary called "The Cutting Edge" about movie editing. In it there's a sequence where legendary editor Walter Murch talks about actors petitioning him to "use take 5 please, it's my best" and then seeing the finished product they say "Oh good you did use take 5", while he thinks "Well yeah that was take 5, then we cut away and then it's take 18, then we cut away and it's take 2, and so on." That was the first thing I thought of when I saw this post. If you haven't seen that doc, check it out. Good stuff.

I'm sorry, but I vehemently disagree with this argument. This notion that the director "elicits" performances and is at least as responsible for them as the actors who give them probably derives from the auteur theory's wish to lay all responsibility for a film at the feet of one person. As for the undoubtedly true points that performance is assembled from what the director perceives to be the best takes and that the actors try out various approaches to the scene when actually filming, a lot of that has to do with the fact that movies are barely and sometimes not at all rehearsed--actors wouldn't be trying out different ways of playing a scene on camera if movies were always made with substantial pre-shooting rehersal periods. (To the best of my knowledge, Lumet and Mike Nichols insist on having a two-week rehearsal, and their films are on average better acted than most.) And how do you know directors always choose the best takes? That supposes they're good judges of performance, and that ain't necessarily so--Sidney Lumet tells a story about how Brando would give two takes at the beginning of shooting a film, one in which he faked the scene, the other in which he played it for real, and would decide whether to give a good performance or a bad, sabotaging one on the basis of whether the director printed the phony take or the authentic one: I guess many directors couldn't tell the difference. And when I read interviews with actors, over and over again they say that film directors usually leave them to their own devices, and they prefer not to receive much in the way of instruction anyway; many of them also express the belief that movie directors by and large know nothing about acting--which isn't surprising if the directors are coming from a technical background.

There's a recent book of interviews with actors all of whom have both film and stage experience and most of whom also have experience in TV. John Lithgow's comments in it about film work are almost scathing. He says some filmmakers don't rehearse because they don't know how to, and that the crew on one of his films burst out laughing when he played his first scene because he actually knew his lines; and he explains (this is important to your argument about take selection) that he plays the master shot the same way that he played his best takes for the other shots, so that the director/editor is forced to select those takes in the editing.

Take also the question you bring up about how an actor can be so good in one film and so bad in another. I think you give too much credit to the director there. Isn't casting a bigger factor? John Gielgud as a horny redneck sounds like a recipe for disaster. And there's also technique to consider--many times, an actor is terrible because he or she simply lacks the skill needed for the role. No amount of editorial shaping can hide that fact, although the edited, assembled nature of movie performance that you talk about here can often conceal a film actor's technical shortcomings in movies where that actor seems excellent.

What did Peter O'Toole say in that campy flick from the 80s, My Favorite Year?
"I am not an actor...I am a movie star!"

In context, that says it all...

and I'm sure you're a terrific actor!

My god, I'm extraordinary! :)

Interesting sidenote: When I was reading a story on The Godfather Part II in an issue of Time from 74 (my memory of articles is extraordinary as well) there was a section where they spoke with Pacino about Strassberg and how no matter how many takes they did he (Lee) performed it the same exact way each time to Pacino's amazement. Lee explained that it was his way of ensuring the performance was consistent no matter what happened in the editing room.

dm494, Jonathan: And then there are the famous stories from the set of "One" ("Sopranos" reference!) about how Brando either could not or would not memorize his lines, so they used cue cards placed around the set -- and even on the backs of other actors. I've seen well-known film actors at work who can't remember more than a few lines at a time. They could never survive on the stage. Which isn't to say they're bad -- just that (unlike O'Toole's character in "My Favorite Year") what they do is specifically suited only to a medium that allows piecing together a performance from bits of recorded media.

Robert Altman always said casting was 90 percent of making a movie. Some directors let the actors create the performances and just do their best to capture them and shape/present them in the finished film. Others know specifically what they want and don't stop shooting until they get it. Still others take the "show me" approach: They don't know what they want and don't stop shooting until they recognize it.

So, the director may or may not directly "elicit" the performance from the actor in the sense that it has to be coaxed out of an actor, but (under DGA rules, anyway) the director is allowed a first cut at the raw production material and any performance is put together from that. The director picks and chooses only those parts of an actor's performance that he/she wants to use. The director may also affect performances just through his/her attitude or responsiveness to the actor (some feel they need more attention or approval than others) in order to establish "trust" or to give the actor the "freedom" to take risks or create. It all depends on the actor and the director. Some directors like to play psychological games with their actors (creating paranoia, or openly criticizing or withholding approval) in order to get the performance they're seeking. Actors sometimes ask directors to let them do something different in a take "just for me." Even if the director allows it, the decision to use it (or how much of it to use) -- or even whether it's "printed" for consideration in post-production -- is up to the director.

And then there are circumstances over which the director may or may not have some degree of control: rehearsal time, scheduling, re-casting of other roles, shooting conditions (including weather), locations, post-production deadlines, etc.... Entire scenes may be cut or re-arranged in the editing room, whole chunks of an actor's performance removed or re-shuffled. There's just so much on a film over which the actor has no say.

"My Favorite Year" . . . one of the consumate scathing Hollywood satires that goes so overlooked and underrated, and has my favorite quote on actors . . .

as Peter O'Toole hangs over the edge of a balcony, we hear the following exchange . . .

Stockbroker #1: [looking over the edge of the balcony] I think Alan Swann is beneath us!

Stockbroker #2: Of course he's beneath us. He's an actor!

and of course, Alfred Hitchcock:

"Actors are cattle."

which he then clarified:

"I never said all actors are cattle; what I said was all actors should be treated like cattle."

Jim, I agree with most of what you say in your reply, and the director-actor relationships you mention are familiar to me. Where I part ways with you is in your earlier suggestion that the director is AS MUCH responsible for the performance as the actor giving it. That's giving directors too much credit, although it's true there are a lot of limited film actors who depend on directors and editors to conceal their weak technique. That doesn't imply however that films can't expose weak technique: they do so all the time--or don't people remember Keanu Reeves trying to recite Christopher Hampton's dialogue in DANGEROUS LIAISONS? I also don't buy the idea that every actor would look really bad if the director selected his worst take. Do you think Gary Oldman looks really bad on his worst take? And even if he does, he's obviously not going to look bad to the same degree as, say, Gina Gershon on her worst take. And actors can also sabotage a director's vision and take his film in some other direction entirely, especially if they're difficult to control. As for the film actors who can't remember more than a few lines at a time, that's just a disgraceful lack of professionalism which is the product of contempt for acting in movies or of the laziness one acquires from being indulged all the time as a can-do-no-wrong celebrity. Anyone with normal intelligence and four weeks' time can memorize a lead in a classic play, so a lead in a typical film script should be no problem--assuming, as is seldom the case, that the actor actually has that kind of time to prepare for a movie. And let's remember that the two most notorious cue carders, Brando and Welles, were originally stage actors; and Welles in fact continued to have a stage career after becoming a filmmaker: you can't blame their slovenly memorizing habits on being professionally brought up in film.

dm494: First, let me say that, in general, I love actors. Some of my best friends... and all that. Yes, I wouldn't say the responsibility for a particular performance -- while obviously shared by the actor and the director -- is EQUALLY shared, because they're both bringing such different things to the film. Most obviously, one is in front of the camera and the other is behind it! But Bardem is right in saying the Coens -- as writers and directors -- are "ultimately responsible" for the "whole thing." That is, the entire movie. (There are creative as well as contractual reasons for that here, but that's not really what this post is about.)

So, the issue isn't really whether Gary Oldman does bad work in a given take or not -- it's how a director (unsympathetic, inexperienced, inept, or just with bad taste) can cut together bits of Oldman's various takes and (intentionally or not) make him look terrible. Or, Oldman may deliver a take that doesn't work, but one line, or even just a few words, may be extracted and used because the director particularly likes them. (Or, part of an inferior take may be used simply because it offers a way to bridge two incompatible shots/takes. Or, the director may like something in a particular take even though it doesn't really work with the other readings the actor gave. Or...) Does the director prefer to do only a few takes, or a lot of them? If, say, he/she shoots at a 20 to 1 ratio (not uncommon -- 20 minutes of exposed film for every one minute used in the final movie) then you can imagine how much the director may have to work with. (Christopher Guest has said he can end up with six hours of film at the end of every DAY's shooting, because he and his actors develop so much through improvisation.) And, of course, if there is more than one actor involved, there's always the question of balance. One actor may be perfect in a particular take, while others may not be. The difficulty is in making the scene work, not just building one performance or another.

Also, some actors can't or won't or don't want to do anything quite the same way more than once. Or they simply can't recreate something they've already done, no matter how hard they try. Even experienced, professional stage actors inevitably have bad nights. (See "The TV Set" for a brilliant example of what can happen when an actor loses his bearings and can't even remember what he did in rehearsal, much less how to do it again.) As you point out, an inconsistent performance may be able to be "salvaged" in the cutting room. At any rate, rarely is a single, uninterrupted take of an entire scene used in a finished film. Only certain parts of the scene will be shot in close-ups of a particular actor, for example; and a master shot may only be filmed for the beginning of the scene. Various angles, often filmed at different times and even on different days, are ultimately intercut with one another. Timing can be destroyed (or even fixed) by eliminating or elongating pauses between lines, inserting cutaways, etc. The actor never gets to create an entire performance on his/her own, as he/she could once the curtain goes up on stage.

You're right: Film actors who can't (or, as I said of Brando, just don't) learn their lines are displaying unprofessionalism, or a lack of skill/discipline, or maybe a deficiency of talent. Depends of the actor and the circumstances. I don't blame a film background for their failure to memorize. It's not that working in film teaches them not to! But there are film actors who can't work in any "live" medium. (And there are stage actors whose presence and performances just don't translate to film -- the classic example being someone who's projecting to the balcony when the camera is only a few feet away. Doesn't work.)

Interesting sidenote to what Jim said about the necessity of learning the lines, and Jonathan Lapper's story about Strasberg. When Al Pacino was on The Actor's Studio, he said the most important lesson that Strassberg ever gave him was to learn the lines. They provide an indelible groundwork for the performance.

No one asked, and no one cares, but Strasberg's first scene with Al Pacino in two is my favourite in the entire movie (closely followed by Robert Duvall's scene near the end with Michael Gazzo).

Ali: You remind me of a technique some actors (and singers) find useful, which is to memorize all the words ("First you've got to get them all in the right order," as John Cleese once said) without any emotion or inflection at all. They may just learn to spit out the words as rapidly as they can -- without attention to meaning. This allows them to add the "music" later, in the performance itself. They know what they need to say, so they can concentrate on the spontaneous emotion "in the moment" (to use an Actors Studio phrase). Doesn't work for everybody, of course, but I remember teaching myself something similar in Junior High School when learning Poe's "The Raven" by heart. I knew nothing of Strasberg at the time!

Jim, and everyone else,

I happen to be an actor and an editor, and have been paid to do both, so I consider myself a professional at both.

Elicit is an inappropriate word I think, there certainly are directors that manipulate performances out of their actors. Kubrick is a grand example, especially when talking about his direction of George C. Scott in "Dr. Strangelove". Many actors when wishing to be tested will call upon certain directors to help push them and drive them to certain emotions. I know Sharon Stone asked Scorcese during "Casino" to visit her trailer every morning as he did De Niro's so they could discuss the scene - so she could work on the same playing field and stretch during the day.

I would say the better word is, and one that you touched upon Jim, is capture. To capture a performance is just as important as giving a performance. Visualize for a second the final moments of "The Truman Show". As Truman realizes it's all a sham and he beats on the cloud covered wall. The camera is pointed at his back, his shoulders slump in defeat, it's a powerful moment. Now imagine that scene pointed at Jim Carrey's face, sobbing and weeping and screaming...it's a completely different effect. In one we're left to imagine the performance based upon body language, on the other perhaps it would have been to much. Or in "Mr. Smith Goes to Washington", when we follow Jimmy Stewart's hat rather than staying on his face - it's capturing that performance in a way that suggests rather than shows.

A great director will realize that he needs another angle to capture something the actor is bringing to the performance, many directors overlook such moments and follow the scheduled shots. Of course, many great actors will give a performance based on where the camera is; angle, distance, close up, medium...every time the camera shifts it requires a subtle change in what tools the actor decides to use.

But the crafting, above all else is most important. Letting a shot hang two seconds too long will sometimes overstate a performance - hitting the audiences head repeatedly, whereas cutting it too short might leave the performance felling contrived and the audience empty handed, regardless of how much intensity is in the actors eyes. I recently had to reedit a film completely because the original editor had absolutely no idea how to create the tone of the film and the performances, how to fit those two elements together to create a whole.

You compare my cut to his and marvel at how much better the actors are doing. You cut around those moments in which the actor flickers their eyes a little too much. You use a moment from two completely separate takes, only because you have no idea what the actor was thinking the last half of the first take and the first half of the second take.

It's a give and take. That's why the best films are all about collaboration between actor/director and then director/editor. That's why each skill is a craft of it's own. A symbiotic relationship in which each individual relies on the next to bring to life their element for the sake of the whole.

That's why I love working in film.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that take selection and the facts of cutting and mise en scene brought up by Phillip Kelly aren't a substitute for performance. If they were, then (putting aside the balance problem) a good director's films would never be marred by bad performances. But that isn't so. Sidney Lumet and Ulu Grosbard are both obviously superb with actors, but neither of them was able to make Treat Williams a compelling performer. (And I say this as someone who even rather likes Williams.) I'm not just trying to give more credit to actors; this is also for the benefit of directors, who often get stuck with the title "bad with actors" because of the strange belief that they can do the actors' work for them. (I haven't noticed this attitude in theater circles, even though stage directors have much more time to work with their actors.) But a film director can no more make a bad actor great than a teacher can make a terrible student get As. In both cases, the most you can do is get someone to perform at peak capacity, which is always relative to the individual.

As for the audience following Jimmy Stewart's hat in MR SMITH--in that case I'd say it's entirely Capra and his editor who are responsible for Stewart's "performance". Do we even know if it's Stewart himself underneath the hat rather than his stand-in?

I've not been a critic professionally, so I might be way off (so please correct me if I'm wrong here, Jim.) Anyway:

Dan,

One thing to keep in mind is that reviews are not necessarily critiques. Roger has always stated that reviews 1. are the subjective opinion of the reviewer and 2. should be descriptive of the movie (thus, I can read Roger's review of a movie he hated and still know I'll love it and vice-versa.) In that light, a statement like "The only thing wrong with (his/her) performance is that it's in the wrong movie" reflects the critic's opinion and in the following sentences any good critic will cite examples of why. That paints a pretty vivid picture in my mind, and the review is effective.

Again, I'm not a critic by any means. I just know if I'm telling my friends about a movie, it's a very very different conversation than talking to the filmmaker directly. There'll be a number of similarities and parallels, but it is not the same conversation.

These are some interesting things to keep in mind when watching In The Actor's Studio. Everytime I watch that show, my bull$#@! detector goes off the charts.

dm494,

You're correct about the reference to "Mr. Smith", while I assume it's Jimmy Stewart, it very well could not be. The point is the director knew enough to capture the physicality of the performance, whether it was something Jimmy brought during a wide shot or Capra asked him to do. The nervous tension in the air is heightened, so when we see the reactions of the other actors and then Stewart's face again, that cut to following the hat has become a part of the rest of the performances. For all we know they could be looking at a giant red "X" where Stewart could be standing off camera.

Just to bring back contrarianism: Regarding Brando's "phony" and "authentic" takes, maybe it was Brando who couldn't tell the difference. All I know is that I find my favorite directors to be much more consistent than my favorite actors. That's probably because they have more control, but then do actors have to work so often? Though Daniel Day-Lewis is a recent example of a choosy actor, there seem to be more Terrence Malick types in the directing field. Whether these observations mean I'm an auteurist or says something else about the particularities of my taste, I don't know.

By the way, I didn't say in my first comment but I disagree with this line, "How can Actor X be so good in one picture and so bad in another?" I've never seen X give a bad performance, in fact, he's an all time favorite of mine.

Re the Pacino story about Strasberg stressing to him to learn his lines: Most people completely misunderstand "The Method" because of the way it's been presented in film and the mainstream media.

When I was studying theatre we read all three of Constantin Stanislavski's books on acting in our advanced acting classes. They are An Actor Prepares, Building a Character and Creating a Role. Now, when people think of "the method" they think of the actor "feeling the character." This comes from the first book An Actor Prepares and unfortunately some acting teachers have decided to end the lesson there. Stanislavsky however wrote two further books detailing how an actor plays his role. First you prepare by trying to understand the character or feel what he would feel and think how he would think. Once you have done that you can now use your memory of those "experiences" to give weight to your performance - but, BUT - after that you're done with "feeling" the character. It's just a first step. The next two books detail the importance of learning lines, how to memorize, proper use of mannerisms and gestures, blocking and yes, even the proper make-up and costuming to fit your performance. To understand how badly the method has been misunderstood imagine someone thinking that with driving school they show you the car, let you sit in the driver's seat to get a feel for it and explain that a key turns it on. Then that person walks away thinking, "So that's how you teach someone to drive." No, it's not. That is but a first, albeit important step. Everything that follows, every minute detail, is much more important.

All that crap you see on tv and in movies where acting classes have people pretending to be a tree or forcing the students to "feel" raw emotions is the first year garbage. By the time you're in the upper level classes of study you're learning the proper cadence to use for Elizabethan Theatre, building skills for repetition and honing your inflections. And you learn to mimic the "feeling" experiences you went through when you first began preparing for the part - you don't feel them again, you mimic them. The "feeling" stuff is important, but it's only a first baby step.

Jonathan: It's all the fault of that damned song from "A Chorus Line" about the girl taking an acting class:

Second week, more advanced, and we had to
Be a table, be a sportscar...
Ice-cream cone.

Mister Karp, he would say,"Very good,
except Morales. Try, Morales,
All alone."

And I dug right down to the bottom of my soul
To see how an ice cream felt.
Yes, I dug right down to the bottom of my soul
And I tried to melt....

They all felt something,
But I felt nothing
Except the feeling
That this bullshit was absurd!

No, I didn't memorize that song as I did "The Raven." But I remembered enough to look it up in my substitute memory, the World Wide Internets!

P.S. Actor X is a fraud, I say -- a fraud! That isn't even his real name. He anglicized it from Rabinowitz.

Jonathan - Absolutely spot on! In fact, here is another anecdote from an Actors Studio episode, this one featuring Hugh Jackman. He stressed the importance of the first phase of the method, getting the "feelings" right, the inwards process. But then he talked about Stanislavski's "Creating a Role," where the actor approaches the part from the outside, and that the whole thing is exactly that: a process.

Phillip: Reminds me of seeing "Long Day's Journey Into Night" in Ashland years ago, where plays are performed in repertory. The great actor Denis Arndt, who played Jamie Tyrone, also played (a very physical) Mercutio in "Romeo & Juliet" -- almost back to back on some days. If he'd been actually re-experiencing the characters' emotions with every performance (rather than evoking them -- eliciting them? -- in the audience), he'd probably have been a dead man in less than a week.

As you know, performing (acting, singing, playing cello in a large orchestra or a quartet) can be physically and emotionally demanding. But reproducing the emotion in a piece of music and actually (re-)living it are different things entirely.

P.S. Actor X is a fraud, I say -- a fraud! That isn't even his real name. He anglicized it from Rabinowitz. - I must now re-examine everything I believe in. Thanks a lot.

Ali - I wish I'd seen that one with Hugh Jackman. Most people just discuss An Actor Prepares.

Ralph Rosenblum's When The Shooting Stops . . . the Cutting Begins argues as strongly as anyone the thesis that film is shot on the set but movies are made in the cutting room. Having started in documentaries and gone on to edit A Thousand Clowns, The Pawnbroker, The Producers and Woody Allen's pictures from Take the Money and Run through Annie Hall, he had a certain authority for his opinion. Rosenblum prided himself on his ability to salvage weak or formless material through editing and music, but he confessed that the director/editor is ultimately limited by the film, quoting one of his mentors to the effect "from crap you get crap."

The best even the most talented actor can do is give the person with the final cut good raw material to work with. How it comes together is entirely beyond the performer's control. We the audience will never know what's in the trim barrel, and we rarely find out even how the final product compares to the shooting script.

Jim,

It can get very frustrating on stage as you go into your 10th, 11th performance and you realize you're not feeling anything internally anymore. You think you're giving the worst performance of your life. Confusion abounds when you're approached afterwards by audience members who thought you were the best thing ever!!!

Repertory is tough.

That's why I think the things actors do in front of the camera can be less emotionally taxing, or at least you're able with only a few takes (a hundred if you're being directed by Fincher) to consistently hit the raw emotion as it's happening in the moment and not let it consume you over the course of months.

Just talking about acting, I love how the world of theatre is portrayed in "Opening Night". How the insecurities of an actor can allow what their character is going through to overwhelm their emotional state in real life.

And of course the performances you can truly count on are the ones in which their are no edits involved, which is why I'm really upset that neither of the girls from "4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days" were nominated.

Great thread, as it gets to the very heart of filmaking in general, and acting in particular.

The best book I've read about making movies is called, cleverly enough, "Making Movies" by Sidney Lumet. He refutes the aeutor theory, instead saying as director he is very reliant on not just the actors, but also the writers, cinemetographers, set designers, line producers, make-up and wardrobe people, editors, and so forth. He even talks about the logistical problems of getting everone fed.

I think a sports analogy fits, and the director might be the head coach. He can put together the gameplan and call the plays and motivate the troops, but ultimately he's relying on the professional execution of others. The end result is only as strong as the weakest link.

Yet, this isn't to say certain directors don't seem to "elicit" better performances than others. I remember John Leguizamo talking about Spike Lee (Summer of Sam), and noting that Spike is very careful not to position or move the camera in the actors sightlines, which he (Leguizamo) said can be distracting. I quote, "He knows how to make an actor look great."

Oliver Stone had a run from 1986-1991 where he "elicited" career defining performances from Charlie Sheen, Tom Berenger, Willem Dafoe (Platoon), Val Kilmer (The Doors), Tom Cruise (Born on the 4th of July), Michael Douglas and Sheen again (Wall Street), and Kevin Costner (JFK).

And getting back to Lumet, I must disagree with dm494, because I thought he "elicited" one of the greatest performances I've ever seen, and I'm talking about Treat Williams in Prince of the City. I don't usually care much for this actor, but boy what a role. You can practically feel him coming apart at the seams.

I suppose to each his own. I loved Anthony Hopkins as Lector, and he did win the Oscar, but I've read a vocal minority of critiques that talk about the "haminess" of the performance. Kind of like Jack Nicholson in The Departed. So I suppose it's important not to overlook the subjective nature of all of this.

Keep up the great work Jim.

I think Phillip Kelly hit on the heart of the matter: most performance is entirely subjective, even as a performer.

I am a huge Deadhead and the music of the Grateful Dead has a profound influence in my life. Yet, there are performances I find deep and masterful that my wife finds boring and painful. LOL!

I've read interviews with Jerry Garcia and Bob Weir where they have felt shameful and unprofessional after a particular concert, only to have members of the audience claim it was "the greatest show of their lives."

All fiction and all performance art is ultimately a pact between the performer and the audience, and sometimes the gap in perception of a particular performace is enormous between the two.

Our 16 year old son has aspirations to be an actor/director. He completely idolizes Quentin Tarantino. There are elements of his work I find inspiring, and other elements I find to be self-aggrandizing tripe. We tend to argue about which is which.

I try to watch films with my son that illustrate "great acting", or "great directing", but we ultimately enjoyed watching RAMBO last week because it was pure escapist entertainment.

Did Stallone assemble a masterful movie? It's pretty subjective. We certainly enjoyed it from start to finish. Maybe not the way one could enjoy 2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY or SILENCE OF THE LAMBS, but we didn't demand a refund.

All: Be sure to check out this later post if you haven't already: 1 Julianne Moore + 1 Mark Ruffalo + 1 movie: Putting them all together".