The Great Acting Blog: "Closure Of Catharsis Q & A"

Closure Of Catharsis is a feature film I made with Rouzbeh Rashidi at the end of last year. It's about a man who wrestles with himself as he attempts to remember a trauma from his past, a trauma which has slipped from memory. The film is structured around a park bench monologue and intercut with mysterious imagery. It's visually poetic and possesses a dark brooding atmosphere. It's a film I'm immensely proud of, and have taken great delight in seeing it gradually accrue an audience over time (in the proper arthouse tradition); Closure Of Catharsis has so far played in Ireland, Croatia and will do so in Chile later this year. In addition, it has garnered very positive reviews, and is well on it's way to a having a sizeable following. The film was originally inspired by Jesse Richards' Remodernist Manifesto, which, broadly speaking, seeks a new spirituality in cinema, "concerned with humanity and an understanding of the simple truths and moments of humanity", and Closure Of Catharsis is full of such moments. Furthermore, and crucially for my own personal cinematic project, Closure Of Catharsis is a film for the cinephile for sure, however, it can also be viewed by those who might normally seek out more mainstream fare - infact, I screened the film for a group of such people and they were engrossed by it - in a cinema culture as soul-destroyingly conservative as Great Britain's, where most films are merely marketing paradigms (many of those going into filmmaking now, would have gone into advertising 20 years ago), this is important. "Audiences" are not the zombific drones we are lead to believe, quite the contrary infact, they long to enter into strange new worlds, and are compelled by the unusual, the individualistic, the provocative. My point is that the production of arthouse cinema among young filmmakers in my own city is non-existent, but it needn't be, and this has always been my conviction. Perhaps then, with films such as Closure Of Catharsis, it's maker, Rouzbeh Rashidi, is showing the way. While so many filmmakers spend their time moaning about "funding" (yawn) or begging us to "like" their Facebook page, Rashidi spends his time actually making films, making cinema, and in the process developing and refining his aesthetic and mode of production, thus arriving at a point where a film of Closure Of Catharsis' calibre can be produced. Rashidi has, in the corners of Dublin and Tehran, quietly rewritten the rules of the filmmaking game.

And so it is then, he and I will travel this week to Bristol, where Closure Of Catharsis will be screened at Cinekinosis, which is curated by acclaimed filmmaker, Juan Gabriel Gutierrez. Subsequent to the screening, there will be a question and answer session in which I am expected to participate in, and, having never done so before, I begin to think about how I can do it well and prepare correctly - this is especially important for somebody as beloved of speaking waffle as I am. I think it is particularly problematic for actors to speak about their work because inevitably it leads to speaking about themselves, which may in turn descend into solipsism. On the other hand, there is the loathsome false modesty, which seems to be the favoured tool for self-promotion among our leading  actors: pretending that they are clumsy and disorganised, cute and innocent (when we all know it takes aggression, ambition and hard work to build a career). Either of these routes is repulsive, and both help to foster the generally terrible image of actors as self-obsessed, trivial and phoney. When I think about those who speak about their work in a way that I find engaging, they tend to be honest and unpretentious, simple, and possessing a genuine desire to communicate something, and in a form which may be meaningful to the listener. In the end then, the same values which I aspire to in my actual work; truth, directness, generosity and strength, should also be present when speaking about my work - it's about taking responsibilty: audiences come to us artists in order to be delighted, and are willing to suspend their own self-consciousness and place their well being in our hands to obtain that delight. The artist, therefore, is in a hugely privileged position,  a position which should be cherished and handled with care, and those who would abuse it should be despised. The audience responds most strongly to the artists who take care of them.                                                         

The Homo Sapiens Project....More Stills

The Homo Sapiens Project is a series of personal, short video works by Rouzbeh Rashidi. I was asked to contribute to the project by speaking about myself for 40 minutes (few actors would pass on that opportunity), and duly obliged during a break in filming HE. The film quickly became about the blurring of the line between the real and the staged, an idea I explored further in my blog "Reality & Illusion".

 

Still by Rouzbeh Rashidi

Homo Sapiens Project

The Homo Sapiens Project is a series of short video works by Rouzbeh Rashidi, and I was asked to contribute by speaking about my acting career for 40 minutes (few actors need to be asked twice to do this). The project quickly became about the blurring of the lines between the real and the fictional, an idea which I explored further in my blog "Reality & Illusion". 

 

All stills by Rouzbeh Rashidi

Trailer For Bruno Dumont's Outside Satan

It looks immense and it's playing at The London Film Festival.

Nuts4R2 Reviews Lars Von Trier's Melancholia

Melancholia Baby Melancholia 2011 Denmark/Sweden/France/Germany Directed by Lars Von Trier Screening at UK cinemas. Warning: Earth shattering spoilers ensue! Melancholia is, quite simply, one of the most visually beautiful films of 2011. It’s no surprise to me in the slightest, though I’ve only seen a few of his films, that Von Trier can deliver such beautiful and meticulous work... but to people who associate him with the Dogme ‘95 movement, the sheer artificial beauty of his creations may come as a bit of a surprise. But like I said... not to me. I first became aware of Von Trier back in 1991 (wow, I’ve been watching this guy on and off for 20 years?) when I went to the old Lumiere cinema in St. Martin’s Lane to see his brilliant movie Europa (aka Zentropa in some countries). It was the first film I remember seeing which relly wallowed in it’s own artificial construction to create elaborate effects on screen. The first movie I could remember, specifically, barring minor moments like a single shot in Rumblefish, where both colour and black & white photography collided on screen in beautifully surreal moments where they would bleed into each other’s separate elements like a mixed media collage. And when I say bleed, it really did in certain scenes... I remember well, one character slashing his wrists into a bowl of water in black and white and the blood flowing into the water as a bright red element. Backgrounds could be changed too like an old 50's Hollywood rear projection shot... except here the technique was almost flawless and a character could be interacting in a real environment which could suddenly turn into a visual metaphor in the background. It came as a bit of a shock, I would have to say, when Von Trier founded the Dogme ‘95 group with their pledge to remove pretty much all artificality from film. This never stood well with me and I was quite vocal at the time because it’s pretty obvious to me that you can’t make a movie without at least lighting or tweaking or positioning some element of a shot... the very act of which surely renders void the entire exercise in the first place. It was not that unexpected when even the first film that came out of the gate of this experimental style broke it’s own rules and many followed suit (is my understanding) in this lack of rigidity to contribute to a pretty much impossible, idealistic concept. I remember seeing Von Trier’s Dogville (and getting bored about a half of the way through the movie), a film clearly named after the manifesto of its creator, and thinking to myself that the act of stripping down a whole community to invisible rooms marked out with white lines and labels was far more artifical in its nature than just filming in such a community could ever be. I got back into Von Trier when his last movie, Antichrist, came out and thought this movie was pretty okay and it certainly shares the same sheer visual beauty as his new movie Melancholia... so he’s definitely back into a new phase of his work, now free to embrace the artifice of his craft once more. Melancholia starts off with some surreal and occasionally confusing imagery... some of which I believe is based on a group of paintings that one of the two lead protagonists, Justine (played by Kirsten Dunst) puts out on display in one of her “funny spells”. Definitely spotted a nod to that Pre-Raphaelite painting of the girl in the lake which was responsible for the death of the model (no, I’m sorry, I don’t remember the name of this famous painting). The other main protagonist, her sister Claire (played by Charlotte Gainsbourg), has some very heavy footsteps in a field in this sequence which remind me of another painting, the title of which also escapes me (Not doing very well on the art front am I? Sorry people). After some 5 or 10 minutes of beautiful imagery, the earth is destroyed as it collides with another planet and, all through the film we are encouraged to assume that this is how the movie will end (although the giveaway clue here is Dunst seen in two different dresses). After the title card immediately following the destruction of the earth, the film is then split into two parts seemingly set before the events just depicted have taken place...each part named after their central characters. The first part deals with Justine who is going to her own wedding reception at claire’s mansion house. Over the course of this fairly gruelling sequence (if, like me, you are not a social animal) we see her wreck both her marriage and her career in an uncomfortable haze of aggressive depression, possibly manifested by the newly discovered planet Melancholia which appears to be on a collision course with earth, in front of a whole host of big name supporting cast (such as Charlotte Rampling, John Hurt, Stellan Skaarsgard and even Claire’s husband played by Kiefer Sutherland). The second part, named after Claire, is set some time after (a few months perhaps) when Justine is so depressed she can’t even get out of bed without major coaxing by her sister (yeah, did this stuff remind me big time of my ex-girlfriend) and tells of Claire’s fear of her belief that the earth will be pulverised by Melancholia, her husband’s certainty that it won’t and, their son who is getting as excited as his dad by this rare astronomical discovery. It also shows Justine in sharp contrast still to her sister, with whom she doesn’t share much in common. However, it also becomes apparent that Justine can see things that are going to happen and she believes Melancholia will be the death of them all (even when it seems to be receding) and is not frightened by it but is happy to embrace the peace that death will bring to her. It has to be said at this point that nothing really happens in terms of story (except for, you know, the destruction of the entire planet). It is a beautifully framed and never boring study of the thoughts and actions of two diametrically opposed sisters who are anticipating the approaching end of the world. In this way, it perhaps shares a commonality with Andrei Tarkovsky’s The Sacrifice or Akira Kurosawa’s I Live In Fear (aka Record Of A Living Being) but the film is very much its own thing and is an absolute joy to watch... although be warned it is quite bleak in some ways. If I had one complaint about the film in general it’s that we didn’t need to see the destruction of the world at the end... we know it’s inevitable, leave it unsaid and end the movie half a day before it occurs maybe? However, having said that, the shot of the death of the world at the end does elaborate the point that the imagery at the start of the film was actually nothing more than a visionary “premonition of events” by Justine and not a fixed point we’ve flashed back too... there are clues in the dialogue which may lead you to this conclusion that the opening is not actually a flashback but something else entirely... but the end shot certainly leaves no doubt in the mind of the viewer about the nature of the movie’s prologue. As I’ve implied, I would have expected and liked to have seen a more ambiguous ending to this movie in terms of the sometimes surreal opening montage, but maybe I just prefer less clarity and room to speculate with works like this. And, anyway, Kirsten Dunst does have scenes where she takes her clothes off... so that more than outweighs the slight dissatisfaction with the last minute or two of the movie. Don’t miss Melancholia. A beautiful film made by an artist with a sure, steady and confident hand as befitting the longevity of his career. It probably won’t be playing for long so catch this visual magic while it’s still playing on the big screen! Read more by Nuts4R2 at www.Nuts4R2.blogspot.com

Goodfellas - Morrie's Wigs Scene

The Great Acting Blog: "Delphine Seyrig In Chantal Akerman's Jeanne Dielman"

 

“there is nothing so interesting on stage as a man trying to get a knot out of his shoelaces.” - Bertolt Brecht

 

Chantal Akerman's “Jeanne Dielman, 23 Quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles” is a three and a half hour masterpiece about the meticulous domestic routine of a respectable middle aged woman, who occasionally receives “gentleman callers” in order to earn a little bit of extra cash. The film is constructed around Delphine Seyrig's performance in the title role, who is in every scene of the film, and it's a performance which really embodies many of the qualities I have been trying to articulate in this blog over the last year, which I think are needed to give great performances. It's true some may find her performance a little bit extreme – it possesses an austerity so severe it would make even George Osborne wince - however, it may infact be one of the purest performances I have ever seen on screen just because it is so extreme.

 

In a film largely made up of quotidian moments: Seyrig making the bed, Seyrig polishing her son's shoes, Seyrig peeling potatoes, to name but a few, Seyrig's performance is disciplined to such a degree that she only includes those actions which are absolutely necessary. There is no narration on her part, no characterization, no explanation, none of contemporary acting's naturalistic waffle, infact, there are little or no facial expressions throughout her performance, she remains very still, she is Stoical, and the net effect is to render everything she does meaningful, and especially her daily routine, to the extent that any disruption to it becomes an immensely powerful moment, as when she is polishing her son's shoe, she loses grip of the brush, causing it suddenly to fly out of her hand and onto the floor – it becomes an almost supernatural moment. Of course, all of this austerity is to serve the director's vision and fulfill the intentions of the script. The film is primarily constructed using frontal, symmetrical compositions, the camera is static, and the scenes are played out in real time, there are no close-ups, reverse shots, or point-of-view shots. This unblinking camerawork is a relentless examination of Delphine Seyrig herself and all that she is, the actress is under the microscopic here, as is her technique – there is no place to hide – however, she gives us a near flawless performance of awesome attention to detail, self-control, and self-denial, and you can't just magic this stuff out of thin air, you can't fake it, this kind intensity and precision can only be delivered after years of arduous application of craft, it requires enormous mental strength and an intense imagination. In this sense, Seyrig's performance is a real tour de force, not to say utterly inspiring.

Jeanne Dielman is a great film for showing how powerful can be the handling of objects as a means of expression for the actor. Seyrig is inscrutable in this role, she is enigmatic, she reveals no emotion, we learn nothing about her this way. However, when we see her pick-up a broom intent on using it but only to replace it a moment later, we witness indecision. Or when Seyrig forgets to replace the lid on the dish where she stashes her money, we witness distraction  – this is how Seyrig's interior life is revealed to us. The film has many such moments, and they are a joy for the actor because they are things he can actually do, and so help to render his performance truthful. They are also a joy for the audience because of the graphic and economic way they express the complex internal movements of the character.

Jeanne Dielmann really is one of the most distilled examples of a film which is simultaneously real and illusory. In her essay on the film, A Matter Of Time, Ivone Margulies writes that it crosses “the line between literal and acted scenes” - it is a product of Seyrig's performance of simple tasks and director Akerman's staging and design, or, put another way: a product of the filmmaker's fantasy and the truthful actions of the actor. It is not the actor's job to create the imaginary world of the film then, but the filmmaker's. It's the actor's job to be truthful within that world. The actor is a sort of Alice in the filmmaker's Wonderland. The actor represents the dreamer in a dream.