A Damn Fine Cup of Culture

Welcome to Six Damn Fine Degrees. These instalments will be inspired by the idea of six degrees of separation in the loosest sense. The only rule: it connects – in some way – to the previous instalment. So come join us on our weekly foray into interconnectedness!

If you were to ask me who my favourite actors are, I wouldn’t have a ready-made answer for you – though, after thinking about the question for a bit, I would probably say that, at this point in time, Jessie Buckley is one of my favourites. In her performances, she has an energy, a rawness which easily tips into vulnerability. In the performances that come to my mind, she doesn’t hold back, there’s nothing of the genteelness to her acting that some of the great thespians of a few decades ago had. Added to which: she has a great voice, and, oh, that crooked smile of hers…

There’s obviously a lot to like about Jessie Buckley – but then I look at her actual roles, and I find that I don’t actually love all that many of them.

Don’t get me wrong: Buckley was brilliant in Beast, one of her early films, and, more than her co-star Johnny Flynn, I’d argue that she carried that movie. I was a huge fan of her performance in I’m Thinking of Ending Things, a Charlie Kaufman headscratcher that certainly suffers when, in its final third it turns out that she, who had been central to the film up to that point, is actually not who the story is about. And she was a force of nature in Hamnet. Even in films that I enjoyed but didn’t love – Men, for instance, or the generic Wild Rose, a film that is definitely elevated by the performances -, Buckley is always a pretty good reason to keep watching.

But I wouldn’t go and see a film because of Jessie Buckley. And, come to think of it: I don’t think I’d go and see a film because of any particular actor, no matter how much I liked them in previous roles. The stage is different: if I get the chance to see, say, Sandra Oh or Cate Blanchett in a live performance, which I am hoping (fingers crossed) to do later this year, I will do so. But if I’m completely honest, it’s not even that much about the performances, though I’m hoping they’ll be great: it’s about seeing someone of that calibre live. (And, yes, quite possibly standing outside the stage exit for hours in the hope of exchanging a few words with them. I’m such a sucker for a certain kind of celeb.)

I would certainly say that there are actors who are good at elevating the material they’re in, and there’s certainly little that’s as immediately enjoyable as watching a great actor working with great material, with the two boosting one another and, sometimes, producing something unforgettable. So, if I have actors that I might consider favourites, why aren’t they enough to make me go and see a film?

The thing is this: when it comes to what makes me want to go and see a film, the director comes first, and quite possibly the writer – but, perhaps more than these, the vibe I get from a film. And while actors can contribute to vibes, I don’t think they’re the ones most responsible for a film’s vibe. Some directors have a very strong signature style, a voice of sorts, that I resonate with. Take Charlie Kaufman, since I mentioned him just a couple of paragraphs ago: I don’t love all of the films he’s written and directed, but many of them have proven to be more memorable to me than a number of movies I’d describe as better films. A few years ago (the internet says it was six years, but that’s a filthy lie, and I won’t hear any more of it), we did a podcast on Synecdoche, New York, perhaps the most Kaufmanesque film ever made – and when I rewatched it at the time, I found that there were quite a few elements in it that I don’t really think work. There are ideas that are dead on arrival, where, at best, I can say: I see what they were going for, even if they don’t really get there. But when I think of Synecdoche, New York, I remember the moments when it all falls into place for me. I remember the kernel that, for me, was perfect.

Obviously, I also remember Philip Seymour Hoffman, an actor that I would certainly have described as a favourite of mine, especially when he was still alive. If I saw that a film starred Hoffman, I took notice. Some of my favourite films have him in it, and some of my favourite scenes in these films are ones that feature Hoffman: take Magnolia, for instance. But, again: I wouldn’t have gone to see a film just because they featured Hoffman.

If anything, it may be that the collaboration of an actor and a director makes me more likely to put a film on my list: take Frances McDormand, a wonderful actor, and some of her most wonderful work was in films by the Coen Brothers. I would happily watch Fargo and The Man Who Wasn’t There any evening, and watch it again the next day. And, certainly, if you think about directors whose work carries a certain, highly specific vibe, the Coens are among the first that come to mind. And, more than a single actor, I can imagine getting excited about a movie based on its cast: an ensemble of actors carries more immediate interest to me than any individual actor, no matter how much I like them. There’s something about how certain actors interact and click, or about the tension they generate when they play off each other, that is electrifying. And the same is true, say, for Philip Seymour Hoffman and the fantastic work he did in Magnolia with Jason Robards and Tom Cruise, or in The Talented Mr Ripley in that scene with Matt Damon (you know which one), or with Anna Paquin in Spike Lee’s underrated 25^th Hour. Same with Jessie Buckley: part of why Hamnet worked so well for me was seeing her together with Paul Mescal, and one of the reasons why I wasn’t all that taken with The Bride! (a mess of a film, but one that nonetheless has something going for it) was that Buckley so much seems to be in her own world in that one, with her obviously more than capable co-stars acting more alongside her than with her.

But, altogether, I find that, even though my friends and colleagues know me as a fan of cinema to the point of nausea, I find it almost impossible to answer questions such as: who’s my favourite actor? Who’s my favourite director? What’s my favourite film? Ask me to come up with a list of films, actors, directors, writers, composers etc., no problem, as long as no one expects these lists to be exhaustive. (Exhausting, though? Certainly!) But none of these things finally determine whether I’ll like a film. It’s the interplay between them, and between them and me – the mood I’m in, what’s happening in my life, how tired I am, whether I’ve had a glass of alcohol or a cup of coffee, whether I’m feeling full or hungry or distracted or hyper-focused. Film, like all art, is like a meal, and a certain ingredient can certainly help, but it’s the overall recipe and its preparation that matter. Who’s my favourite actor? I have favourite actors everywhere.

Though, do ask me about my favourite editor, and the answer is easy: Thelma Schoonmaker.