Acting in Film

take direction, and some who can't. The ones who succeed listen to the director and immediately translate what he says into their performances. They take his direction straight into their bloodstreams. Sometimes a director will hang in there with you, nursing you through every moment of a take. That's an actor's director. Others don't relate to actors at all; they almost dare you to give a good performance. In either case, don't expect any praise. If a director is satisfied with your work, he'll move on to the next shot; if not, he won't. That's the only signal you get. Joe Mankiewicz is bloody marvelous in that respect. He knows what you should want, he knows what you've got, and he also knows when you've got it. He's one of those directors who says nothing if he likes what he sees; but if he starts questioning you, watch out-you know you haven't got it. If he says anything, such as, "Why did you point to her on that line?" you're in trouble. Lucky trouble because he's spotted something in the gesture that's not quite real. Mankiewicz is with you until you're back on track. Don't rest. Don't fight it. Your craft has to be malleable enough to be shaped and shaped and shaped until the final take.

    But not all directors are Joe Mankiewicz. There are good directors and bad directors; you learn something from both. From a bad director you can learn the art of self-preservation-how to give and sustain a performance all from within. And this art, like most arts, is based on craft-the craft of being a real pro. Your self-reliance is just part of being a professional. For better or for worse, until the limo stops picking you up in the morning, you're married to that director. Either you learn to love him, or you fake it. If, however, as occasionally will happen, you've wound up with a complete dummy, you all walk back to the dressing room and say, "Let's do this ourselves." It happened to me in one picture (which I won't mention by name). The director was in the outer reaches of space-and it was clear he'd only bought a one way ticket. I think he might also have been partial to certain substances. Well, we read his altitude early on and quietly agreed to take care of ourselves. And he was credited with having directed a terrific film. On the other hand, I once worked with a director who was a complete and total alcoholic and perfectly competent at the same time. He was bombed all day, and none of us noticed it. Until he fell down a ditch. But these extremes are very rare since once the insurance people slip that little character trait into your dossier, you've had it. They don't write, "Great fun at parties," either. You're out. And "out" doesn't mean "around here" or "statewide." Out means worldwide. The insurance people in the film biz live in the global village; you're never out of sight.

    Naturally there will be times when actor and director are going to disagree. I compromise. I say, "Okay, we'll do it your way, but could we try it my way as well, and will you look at it in rushes?" An actor never gets to choose which take will finally be used, but he can ask for his choice to be printed so that you can all look at it. The director customarily says, "Yeah, sure, great idea," then usually forgets all about it. But if he doesn't forget, and it goes to rushes, chances are you'll find the director was right. You really can't judge yourself as clearly as the director can; his perception will usually prove sounder than your instinct. Anyway, he's the boss, and you might as well trust him. Some actors can't give in, can't compromise. Big rows take place. If you're a young actor or new to films, I suggest you let the director direct and get on with your job: following his direction.

    THE MAN WHO WOULD BE KING
    Directed by John Huston. Allied Artists, 1975.
    Pictured with Sean Cannery .

    Different directors call rehearsals for different reasons. Some arrange rehearsals for the benefit of the camera work, for shots that are technically difficult. Some actually call rehearsals for the actors! One director will rehearse a film for two weeks before you start shooting. Another director rehearses one scene and then- bam!-does the take. It's over.
    Woody Allen just puts it all on film right from the start, so that the rehearsal and the take become indistinguishable. He just keeps shooting and shooting it. Ile never covers in close-up. It's all one long shot. It goes on forever. In Hannah and Her Sisters, some of the takes involved