Post by Doghouse6 on Sept 13, 2017 16:27:57 GMT
I wonder if I'll get pilloried for this.
Make no mistake: I love watching Stanwyck. She was a magnetic, forceful and entertaining screen presence; skillful and versatile, she knew exactly what she was doing every minute and I'll watch her in just about anything. And yet I never quite believe her.
That's my simplest and highest gauge of screen acting: do I believe it? Do I forget that I'm hearing memorized dialogue and watching scripted action written by someone else, and instead buy into the idea that the thoughts and emotions being expressed are genuinely occurring in the moment?
Some actors accomplish this by becoming the character: your Meryl Streeps, Paul Munis and Marlon Brandos, for instance. Others do it by making the character become them: Spencer Tracy, Peter O'Toole, Katherine Hepburn, James Garner and Clark Gable are examples; they never need to be anyone other than who they are, and can convince me they're not acting. Sill others manage to somehow absorb and internalize the character, and what emerges is someone who's recognizably them, and yet someone else: Edward G. Robinson, Claude Rains, Montgomery Clift, Ingrid Bergman, Mary Astor, to name some; you always know what the character rather than the actor is thinking and feeling, and the machinery never shows.
Stanwyck is among those I call great performers, wearing a character like a costume, either simple or elaborate: the majority of Bette Davis's work falls into this category; Kirk Douglas, Susan Hayward and William Holden are others. There are some who spent the first decade or two of their careers doing this, and then in the final decade or so matured from performer into actor: Cagney, Bogart and Lancaster come to mind. There were some who reversed the process, exhibiting vitality and sincerity that seemed instinctive in their early years, then becoming mannered and calculated in later ones, as in the acute cases of Joan Crawford, Loretta Young and Ginger Rogers.
Stanwyck never fell into that trap. There was probably no more remarkably consistent performer in films: she seemed to burst forth fully formed in her very earliest roles, always giving her committed best and with the solidity of her work never wavering or slipping even in lower quality projects. I never saw her give a bad performance, nor ever felt she was wrong for a part. So I don't mean to be harsh in assessing her as "performer" rather than "actor," or even that I never quite believe her. There are all kinds of compelling screen performance, each requiring skills of one sort or another, and that kind of reliability counts for a great deal, no doubt contributing to the longevity of her career and the enduring enjoyment to be found in it.
Well, that's how I see it. Hope I didn't offend anyone.
Oh, and I meant to include this: there was one special performance of Stanwyck's I found truly transcendent, and I consider it her finest hour: Stella Dallas. That one really grabs you in the gut.
Over and out.
Make no mistake: I love watching Stanwyck. She was a magnetic, forceful and entertaining screen presence; skillful and versatile, she knew exactly what she was doing every minute and I'll watch her in just about anything. And yet I never quite believe her.
That's my simplest and highest gauge of screen acting: do I believe it? Do I forget that I'm hearing memorized dialogue and watching scripted action written by someone else, and instead buy into the idea that the thoughts and emotions being expressed are genuinely occurring in the moment?
Some actors accomplish this by becoming the character: your Meryl Streeps, Paul Munis and Marlon Brandos, for instance. Others do it by making the character become them: Spencer Tracy, Peter O'Toole, Katherine Hepburn, James Garner and Clark Gable are examples; they never need to be anyone other than who they are, and can convince me they're not acting. Sill others manage to somehow absorb and internalize the character, and what emerges is someone who's recognizably them, and yet someone else: Edward G. Robinson, Claude Rains, Montgomery Clift, Ingrid Bergman, Mary Astor, to name some; you always know what the character rather than the actor is thinking and feeling, and the machinery never shows.
Stanwyck is among those I call great performers, wearing a character like a costume, either simple or elaborate: the majority of Bette Davis's work falls into this category; Kirk Douglas, Susan Hayward and William Holden are others. There are some who spent the first decade or two of their careers doing this, and then in the final decade or so matured from performer into actor: Cagney, Bogart and Lancaster come to mind. There were some who reversed the process, exhibiting vitality and sincerity that seemed instinctive in their early years, then becoming mannered and calculated in later ones, as in the acute cases of Joan Crawford, Loretta Young and Ginger Rogers.
Stanwyck never fell into that trap. There was probably no more remarkably consistent performer in films: she seemed to burst forth fully formed in her very earliest roles, always giving her committed best and with the solidity of her work never wavering or slipping even in lower quality projects. I never saw her give a bad performance, nor ever felt she was wrong for a part. So I don't mean to be harsh in assessing her as "performer" rather than "actor," or even that I never quite believe her. There are all kinds of compelling screen performance, each requiring skills of one sort or another, and that kind of reliability counts for a great deal, no doubt contributing to the longevity of her career and the enduring enjoyment to be found in it.
Well, that's how I see it. Hope I didn't offend anyone.
Oh, and I meant to include this: there was one special performance of Stanwyck's I found truly transcendent, and I consider it her finest hour: Stella Dallas. That one really grabs you in the gut.
Over and out.