A Lowly Shrug From a High Pedestal

- Mark Ruffalo's Terry, in You Can Count on Me (2000)

Ruffalo had alienated himself from his sister and his nephew, who worshipped him; here he reappears in their life by driving up unexpectedly, signalling a canceled fishing trip is back on. Sitting in the seat, just using his upper body and facial gestures (around 00:51), he effectively conveys his sense of contrition without speaking a word. He remains true to his lackadaisical nature while pushing himself past his comfort zone, back onto his nephew's pedestal and into his sister's good books. All by simply showing up, saying he's sorry with an off-handed shrug.

Six Degrees of The Big Lebowski (1998) - Part 2

What would Jesus do? - John Turturro as Jesus

Turturro is an absolute cartoon in this film, using his full body to accent his character's attitude of self-indulgence, at one point managing to fold his profile into a rubber band S. As in slime.


Also notice the three heroes looking on, and the way their facial expressions reveal as much about their own personalities as their opinions of Turturro's character.(Watch Steve Buscemi's Donny turn in a suitably slow, half-lidded, manner to further reinforce his character)
Filming that day must have surely been fun.

Six Degrees of The Big Lebowski (1998) - Part 1

I remember pitching the idea for this list of great acting moments to the legendary animator and all-round swell guy, Doug Dooley, soliciting his input on favourite films. He told me to check out The Big Lebowski, which had just had its theatrical release. I asked him to elaborate which scene/moment I should look for. He said the whole thing. The whole which scene?, I wondered. No, he said, the whole film is loaded with gems from start to finish! And you know, Doug was right!

Years later I discussed The Big Lebowski with some mates at CORE Feature Animation and we agreed that there was almost something for everyone in this film, and certainly we didn't have to look any further for great performances.

An example (more to follow) would be:

Sycophantic Antics - Philip Seymour Hoffman's Brandt

Watch Hoffman squirm in agony as he ushers Jeff Bridge's Dude through Mr. Lebowski's antechamber, urging him to not touch the wall-mounted souvenirs. Hoffman interrupts himself constantly as he tries in vain to get the oblivious Bridges to appreciate the importance of these articles. He uses his entire body to convey his sense of grave sincerity in the face of futility: pinching his lips, flapping his arms, smoothing his lapels, straightening his tie... he's on!
This stuff is solid gold.

Ben-Hur (1959) shenanigans

Less than four minutes long, this sequence gives me hours of pleasure, there's so much cinematic gold. First and foremost, a wonderfully-timed zig-zag of missed connections on the part of Tiberius Caesar, played by George Relph, and his aide, charmingly played by Ralph Truman. Watch how each character behaves around the 01:55 mark. Caesar's so into his power that he is focused outward, soaking up the pomp, the circumstance. His aide is likewise, but this means he falls short in his role. This tiny conflict, an inconvenience of the lowest order, reveals the extent of the pecking order that separates them. (It may have been carefully planned out, or else it's a happy accident, but even the soundtrack's cymbals seem in sync with the main beats of action in here.) Notice at the end of this exchange Caesar's indignant, relentless glare at his aide. As animators, we might be too tempted to rush out of a moment after we think the point's been made, without giving it time to really breathe the way this one does.

And as if this is not enough, Relph emphasizes the poor service he gets by gruffly re-gripping his sceptre, underlining how insufficiently close it was brought to him!

Framed in the act
In the early 01:20s, get a load of how Jack Hawkins' Quintus Arrius is framed against the immense stairs he's climbing. The overflowing background makes an almost abstract backdrop to his ascent, emphasizing the massive scale of the moment and location.

If only I had that power...
Can you imagine being able to immediately silence such a crowd the way Caesar does with a casual wrist flip at 02:22?! It's positively comical. Even Chuck Heston's Judah Ben-Hur can't believe it, judging by his look around a few seconds later. These are visual cues for us to appreciate the gravity of the moment. And in case any of us still doubted his power and influence, like a Hell's Angel revving his engine through a sleepy town on Sunday morning, Relph lets 'er rip with a couple of self-indulgent waves to the rabble at 02:43 and 03:18; the ensuing roars practically topple the walls.

Bonus marks for active listening:
Not wanting to take his eyes off the adulation of his assembled audience, Caesar spends large chunks of time talking with Quintus Arrius while looking away from him, at 02:53, for instance. This sequence feels very right played this way, and is yet another example of how, depending on the characters and their circumstances at the moment, there's hardly ever an obligation to make eye contact at any given moment. Don't be shy of "breaking the connection" if it breathes more believability into your characters.

Show it, don't say it - Take 2

I remember returning from an evening ski trip with my older son. We'd had a fine outing, though I was anxious about whether my wife was able to get outside with our younger boy, who was nursing a fairly rough cold through the day. All I wanted to do now was track him down to see if he'd managed a whiff of fresh air, maybe tossing a snowball or two.

On entering our home I didn't have to ask; there, over the heat register, sat a small pair of damp red mittens. The sight of them made me smile, and I was filled with a simple, vicarious contentment.

What about him?

1. - Bill Murray's Bob Wiley, in What About Bob? (1991)

Murray recounts his sailing exploits to Charlie Korsmo's Siggy, "...I sailed on my first try..." At this point watch for Murray's full-body wiggle of self-satisfaction before he continues, "...I just let the boat do the work..." It's sublime. It feels like we're watching the thrill of recounting the event and experiencing the memories of it, rather than merely witnessing an actor cook up some gesture to go along with a line of dialogue.


2. - Tom Aldredge's Mr. Guttman:

Aldredge radiates bottled up rage as he squirms at the mention of his nemesis, Richard Dreyfuss' Dr. Leo Marvin. His shoulders and neck pulse with adrenaline-fueled pressure as he hatches a scheme for revenge: "...He won't see you?...Well - we'll show you where he lives!"

Imagine being the towel he's twisting in his hands - it's great understated use of a prop in a totally believable context.

In the same segment, notice how Bill Murray's head moves almost without tilt-rotation when he says, "..d' you know him?". Whereas we normally rotate >1 axis on head moves, this one remains almost entirely on the left/right axis. Seems very likely that a guy like Bob would do a double take like that.

3. Pre-Roll is essential to rounding out a character.

This clip is solid gold. It contains numerous examples of great acting and heads-up film-making. Richard Dreyfus as Leo Marvin is alive in his character's skin at all times. Watch how when his wife calls him to the window to watch their son being taught to dive he first appears (about 00:32 in) with a smile on his face. He's not neutral, not default, the way middling animators might leave character's faces until their cue to speak comes up. Dreyfus is smiling. Why? Who cares? The filmmakers don't, and we shouldn't either - it's beside the point. What matters is he comes to the window fully alive, with the bonus that his face now has a greater range to sink when he realizes Bob Wiley is the one outside helping his son.