The Screengrab : that guy

That Guy!: Laurence Fishburne

Leonard Pierce — Wed, 06 Feb 2008 22:30:00 GMT

February is Black History Month, and since we enjoyed combing through the stacks in preparation for last week's featured That Guy!, Yaphet Kotto, we figured we'd continue on in that vein and take a look at some of Hollywood's finest African-American character actors. We've discussed before how it's much harder for a woman to make a reputation playing character roles; actresses tend to be valued more for their looks than their acting skills, and women who aren't traditionally beautiful have far fewer opportunities to build a career based on their chops and personalities than do men who aren't conventionally handsome. Similarly, it may actually be easier for African-Americans to become character actors, for no other reason than for a very long time, leading man roles were generally denied to them. With his commanding demeanor, strong and handsome face and forceful personality, there's no reason that Larry Fishburne shouldn't have become one of Hollywood's biggest stars, and for a brief period in the early 1990s, it seemed like he would be — but for various reasons, it became clear that even at that late date, the movie business had only one opening for Serious Black Superstar, and it was already being filled by Denzel Washington. (It still is, for that matter.) So Fishburne — a rare black child star who became an even rarer black actor who never fell into stereotypical action or comedy roles — had to settle for nabbing some of the highest-profile second-banana roles available. Fishburne has always been a remarkably gifted actor, even as a child, and despite often being cast as a militant, a prophet, or some other variety of visionary, he's willing to take the piss on occasion (witness his almost satirically self-important voicing of the Silver Surfer in the recent Fantastic Four sequel), and is actually a lot more fun in light comic roles than anyone gives him credit for, as he showed when he played Cowboy Curtis on Pee Wee's Playhouse. Still not yet fifty years old, Fishburne has a lot of good roles ahead of him, if he doesn't give up acting altogether and move into writing, directing or producing — all areas at which he's shown talent. And if he never became America's next black superstar, he did get to marry the luscious Gina Torres, and that ain't bad as a second prize.

Where to see Laurence Fishburne at his best:

APOCALYPSE NOW (1979)

It wasn't his first movie — the former child star had already impressed audiences with his teenage turn in Cornbread, Earl and Me — but Francis Ford Coppola's Vietnam nightmare was certainly the film that put young Laurence Fishburne on the map. As Mr. Clean, he gives the purest and most human performance in the movie, and his death is the most touching and tragic. It's all the more astonishing that Larry (as he called himself at the time) was only fourteen years old when filming began, having fudged his age to get the part. Of course, the filming of Apocalypse Now took so long, he was approximately thirty-eight years old when it wrapped.

BOYZ N THE HOOD (1991)

This was the movie that seemed to predict superstardom for Fishburne; so successful and influential was it at the time of its release that it's also the film that inspired him to start going by Laurence instead of Larry. John Singleton's directorial debut, Boyz N the Hood is one of the first, and undoubtedly the best, of a mini-wave of ghetto-realist gangsta films, and despite heavy competition from pre-living-joke-status Cuba Gooding and Ice Cube (and Angela Bassett, with whom he would later shine as Ike Turner in What's Love Got to Do With It?), Fishburne anchors the cast as the morally complex, conflicted Furious Styles.

THE MATRIX (1999)

The Wachowski Brothers' high-toned blend of wire-fu, gunplay and slapdash philosophy holds up less well with each year that passes by. But at the time of its release, it perfectly synthesized a number of elements of the zeitgeist into an action movie that, if it wasn't as smart as it thought it was, at least wasn't dumb. Fishburne landed the role of a lifetime as the mystical hacker Morpheus, and it's a testament to his acting skills and more or less permanent sense of gravitas that he managed to avoid magical Negritude in a role that pretty much defines the magical Negro. It probably also managed to buy him a pretty nice house, so who's complaining?

That Guy!: Dan Hedaya

Leonard Pierce — Wed, 09 Jan 2008 16:30:00 GMT

You know, folks, it's really not my intention for this feature to just go through a list of everyone who's ever worked with the Coen Brothers or appeared in Buckaroo Banzai, but that's the way it seems to be shaking down. Some people just share my appreciation of freaky-looking middle-aged guys who behave eccentrically, I suppose. Anyway, Dan Hedaya's first movie role was in Myra Breckenridge, but don't hold that against him: not only did he go one to have a beloved television career, most prominently as the dull-witted Nick Tortelli on Cheers, but he's also appeared in nearly a hundred movies, usually as some variety of dolt or sleazebag. 1999 saw him combine the two, playing doltish sleazebag Richard M. Nixon in Dick and fulfilling a sort of physical destiny: with his weighty jowls, shifty eyes, and perpetual five-o'-clock shadow, he's a near spitting image of the Tricky One. Born to a family of Syrian Jews in Brooklyn, Hedaya taught junior high school science for a number of years before his acting career took off; his shuffling demeanor and absent-minded craziness is certainly reminiscient of more than a few science teachers we can remember from our own school years. Outside of television, the role which Hedaya made the biggest impact was that of Alicia Silverstone's wealthy father in Clueless; he also stole the show in the overblown, overpriced movie version of The Addams Family as Gomez's crooked, shiftless attorney, Tully Alford. Recently, as he closes out his sixties, he's specialized in playing the fathers of characters as eccentric as he is: he was Amy Sedaris' dad in the big-screen adaptation of Strangers with Candy, the patriarch of the Butabi Brothers in the dismal SNL spin-off A Night at the the Roxbury, and the father of the obsessive-compulsive detective played by Tony Shalhoub in Monk. His recent appearance in the controversial TV series The Book of Daniel shows that he won't stop shuffling into strange roles anytime soon.

Where to see Dan Hedaya at his best:

BLOOD SIMPLE (1984)

In their motion picture debut, Joel and Ethan Coen were already showing their deft touch with character actors, casting Dan Hedaya as Julian Marty, the possessive, sleazy strip club owner who stands between John Getz and Frances McDormand. Hedaya gets a rare opportunity to show off his capacity to express rage during his final confontation with Getz, and goes on to become the most persistent murder victim since Paul Meurisse in Diabolique. But all told, it's just one of the earliest examples of his long line of questionable scumbags, a man so dodgy that even ethics-deprived private dick M. Emmet Walsh finds him "disgustin'".

JOE VERSUS THE VOLCANO (1990)

John Patrick Shanley was one of Hollywood's hottest properties, coming off of a big hit with Moonstruck, when he made this rather strange little number, a suicidal romantic comedy starring Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan looking as uncomfortable as ever. But Dan Hedaya almost single-handedly salvages the movie with a brief but mercilessly hilarious cameo near the start of the film as the hapless, hopeless Hanks' boss. He vanishes from the movie early on and never has much impact on the plot, but he gets some of the greatest comic dialogue of any film of the year: "I know he can get the job. But can he do the job? I'm not arguing that with you!"

MUHOLLAND DRIVE (2001)

We have it on good authority that when David Lynch approached Dan Hedaya about appearing as enigmatic movie producer Vincenzo Castigliane in Mulholland Drive, he asked him: "Dan, we know you can do eccentric. We know you can do sleazy. We know you can even do creepy. But can you do completely bugshit insane?" (He can get the job, but can he do the job?) It turns out he can, and we were all rewarded with another small but scene-stealing performance in this perplexing surrealist masterpiece from a guy who knows good character actors almost as well as the Coens.

That Guy!: Stephen Root

Leonard Pierce — Wed, 02 Jan 2008 19:30:00 GMT

Okay, that's enough of the artsy-fartsy European creeps. Let's get back to America! And they don't come much American-er than Big Steve Root, one of the most prolific character actors in the business today. For a guy whose first film role featured him unseen in a toilet (although, considering the movie was Crocodile Dundee II, maybe it's just as well), Stephen Root has a rather highbrow acting background: for years prior to the kick-off of a remarkably rich film and television career, he was a respected member of the National Shakespeare Company. His first major recognition as an actor came when he portrayed the flighty, meddling billionaire Jimmy James as part of the high-powered cast of NewsRadio, and even with dozens of film roles to his credit, he's probably best-known -- and best-paid -- for that role and his voice-over work on King of the Hill, where he plays, among other roles, the hapless Bill Dauterive. A number of directors have enjoyed his work enough to make him a regular member of their repertory companies, particularly Mike Judge, Kevin Smith, and the Coen Brothers; Root's ability to play extremely eccentric roles while never giving the same characterization twice makes him especially sought-after by directors who specialize in character roles, and Root admitted in a recent interview that being killed by the Coens (as he, or at least his character, is in No Country for Old Men) has been the high point of his career to date. Having just celebrated his 56th birthday, Root -- who, to be perfectly honest, looks like he's been playing a 56-year-old for the lion's share of his career -- no doubt has plenty of years ahead of him both on the big screen, playing his specialty of suit-wearing middlemen who have something extremely wrong with them, and in voice-over, where he's proven to have exceptional talent. And with most of his comedic work for television widely available on DVD, a case can be made for Stephen Root as the preeminent comic character actor of the 1990s.

Where to see Stephen Root at his best:

BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER (1992)

There are two kinds of Buffy fans in the world: those who liked the movie and wondered why the subsequent TV show took itself so damn seriously, and those who hated the movie and look at it as an embarrassing shell from whence the brilliant television series emerged. Unfortunately for those of us in the former camp, Joss Whedon -- who created both -- is in the latter camp and all but disowns the movie. But one thing cannot be disputed: the series would have been much improved if Whedon had seen fit to include Stephen Root as the rambling, hilariously clueless Principal Gary Murray, who made the end credits of the film so enjoyable.

OFFICE SPACE (1999)

Outside of NewsRadio and King of the Hill, Office Space forms the third jewel in Stephen Root's crown of 1990s comedy dominance. No performance of his is more memorable, more purely distilled, more quintessentially Root -- in fact, Mike Judge built the entire movie around Root's performance from a series of animated shorts he did years earlier for MTV. While there's plenty to love about this subversive take on the deadening grind of white-collar work, nothing holds the movie together like a single red stapler, and no character is more central to the plot, from beginning to end, than the psychotically ineffectual Milton Waddams. An all-time great comic role.

O BROTHER WHERE ART THOU? (2000)

We hate to keep bringing up members of the Coen Brothers Touring Company in this space, but what can we tell you? The boys know a good character actor when they see one. Stephen Root, in his first film with the Coens, has a small but unforgettable role: edging away from comedy and into (literal) tragedy, playing a variant on Tiresius as the recording studio operator and radio station man who first discovers the hidden genius of the Soggy Bottom Boys. Although Root has some funny lines in his scenes, it's his nearly-wordless performance in responding in a transport of bliss to "Man of Constant Sorrow" that is so astounding here.

That Guy!: Udo Kier

Leonard Pierce — Wed, 19 Dec 2007 20:15:00 GMT

After months of doing this feature, we started to wonder: are we being Europhobic? Are our America-centric viewing habits getting the best of us? Are countless Frenchmen, Germans, and Italians snubbing our film blog because of our unwillingness to feature beloved character actors from the Continent in That Guy!? Well, that ends today. For today we feature, as the lead singer of Korn gracefully put it, "the man with the fucked-up eyes": Mr. Udo Kier. Wherever he goes, Udo (as is befitting a man named Udo) is a candidate for the strangest man in the country. He has played a vampire or a zombie at least a dozen times, and he is likely the only actor in the history of the world to have appeared in films by Gus van Sant, Ranier Werner Fassbinder, Lars von Trier, Andy Warhol, and Rob Zombie. Resembling nothing so much as a Helmut Newton photograph come to some semblance of three-dimensional life, Udo Kier -- who was born in Germany and almost died hours later when Allied bombers pulverized the hospital in which he was born -- cannot rightly be called a character actor so much as he can a cult actor. Whether he's going to be a leader or a member of that cult depends on the role. Truth be told, Udo isn't even one of the finer actors we've featured in this space; his presence in a film isn't so much a promise of a gripping performance to come as it is a dire warning that something very, very fucked up is about to happen. He's appeared in a staggering number of films -- as many as 150 at last count -- and it is putting it extremely mildly to say that they range greatly in quality. He was in Berlin Alexanderplatz; he was also in Spermula, a movie that we assure you we are not making up. He was in Dogville; he was also in Barb Wire. He has worked with some of the most talented American and European directors of the last half-century; he also put on a spanking costume and posed in Madonna's "Sex" book, and smeared fresh animal offal over his face at the behest of Paul Morrisey. What will he do next? Believe us when we say that a man who has been directed by both Quentin Tarantino and Uwe Boll within the last year is capable of anything.

Where to see Udo Kier at his best:

ANDY WARHOL'S DRACULA (1974)

Nowadays, Udo's reputation as an actor hinges largely on showing up on set and, when someone points a camera at him, very quietly acting like a creepy weirdo who manages to freak you out just by standing there. Back in his early days, though, it hinged on getting in front of the camera and acting like a complete and utter lunatic, as he does in this campy, ridiculous, so-bad-it's-horrible Paul Morrissey production (the only thing Andy Warhol did for the movie was write a check). Listen to him intone "The blood of these whores is killing me!" and you'll begin to understand why Udo Kier, in the first of his many vampire roles, is a very odd person.

MY OWN PRIVATE IDAHO (1991)

As he often does when left to his own devices, Udo, like some sort of exotic species of spider crawling across your dinner plate, practically steals the show out from under such powerhouse hitters as River Phoenix and Keanu Reeves by doing little more than showing up. In Gus van Sant's daring modern-day quasi-Shakespearean drama of narcoleptic hustlers, Udo turns up essentially playing himself, a Euro-trash hustler who tools around town with his eyes bugging out and making bizarre things happen. Udo doesn't even really have to act here: he just appears on screen and the whole audience starts having a spasm.

SHADOW OF THE VAMPIRE (2000)

Udo Kier, as previously mentioned, has spent an awful lot of time portraying vampires, for reasons known only to himself and probably best kept that way. In Elias Merhige's inventive retelling of the filming of F.W. Murnau's Nosferatu, Kier goes against type and actually plays off of the undead rather than playing them. Seeming to conjure up a bizarre mix of Renfield and Gollum with a hefty dose of nitrous poppers thrown in for an extra frisson, Udo actually manages in a minor role to throw in some acting chops the likes of which we hadn't seen since Europa, just to prove he could do it.

That Guy! Classic: Vincent Schiavelli

Peter Smith — Wed, 12 Dec 2007 21:00:00 GMT

Like his fellow New Yorker and paisan Joe Spinell, Vincent Schiavelli was a tremendous character actor with a distinctive appearance and a wide range who died far too young. Before succumbing to cancer in 2005 — complicated by a lifelong struggle with Marfan syndrome, which contributed to his distinctive appearance — Schiavelli was an incredibly prolific character actor who appeared in over a hundred films and nearly as many television shows over a thirty-year career. Easily remembered for his hangdog expressions, drooping eyes, frazzled hair and looming height, Schiavelli was also capable of playing a wide gamut of roles; though he was usually cast in comedies, he was equally adept with drama, action and even voice-over work, as his frequent appearance in video games and animation proved. Schiavelli was also renowned as a gourmet cook, writing three books on Italian cuisine and a number of articles in food magazines, all of which contributed to his winning a prestigious James Beard award in 2001. In his latter years, Schiavelli moved to Sicily, where he wrote, produced, directed and starred in a number of plays for the local theatre, and endeared himself to the locals in his father's homeland by speaking the native dialect to perfection. Even in his lesser roles, Schiavelli had always taken such a perfectionist approach, and it was always surprising, given his stretched-out, gangly appearance, how adeptly he played his roles physically — he was a master of inserting little bits of business with his hands, movements of his back and shoulders, and bobs and weaves of the head that helped him round out his character. Whether it was in his recurring TV roles (including a handful of memorable appearances opposite Andy Kaufman in Taxi, which were weirdly echoed when he played an executive in the Kaufman biopic Man on the Moon) or in one of the many movies that led Vanity Fair to call him one of the finest American character actors in history, Schiavelli had the ability to redeem a film just by his presence — perhaps the best compliment an actor can receive.

Where to see Vincent Schiavelli at his best:

FAST TIMES AT RIDGEMONT HIGH (1982)

Although it’s an extremely minor role, it's noteworthy for the success of the film and the impression it leaves on viewers. One of the first roles in which Schiavelli left a major mark on moviegoers was that of Mr. Vargas, the Ridgemont High School science teacher. Playing off Jeff Spicoli (played by Sean Penn, whose career would go on to take a decidedly different course), he takes his students on a field trip to the local morgue to get a glimpse at fresh cadavers — and inspires Spicoli to seek out an exciting new occupation.

THE ADVENTURES OF BUCKAROO BANZAI ACROSS THE 8th DIMENSION (1984)

Even more so than any of the films of the Coen Brothers, cult hit Buckaroo Banzai is a sort of perfect storm of well-regarded character actors. In addition to a baked ham of a performance as the lead villain by John Lithgow, beloved second-stringers like Christopher Lloyd, Clancy Brown, Carl Lumbly, Dan Hedaya and Matt Clark put in appearances, and Schiavelli — frighteningly little-changed by all the alien makeup he's wearing — gets in a handful of good scenes (including a memorable bird-flip) as John O'Connor, the toady to Lithgow’s insane alien overlord.

GHOST (1990)

Probably Vincent Schiavelli's biggest mainstream success came when he played the phantasmal remnant known as the "Subway Lord," a figure even more ghostly and spooky-looking than the actor himself. Scoring more laughs than Whoopi Goldberg as the spirit of a man pushed in front of an express train, Schiavelli gives one of cinema's most longing looks (to a pack of cigarettes) and fulfills many moviegoers' lifelong dream (telling Patrick Swayze to go fuck himself).

— Leonard Pierce

That Gal!: Miriam Margolyes

Peter Smith — Wed, 05 Dec 2007 21:00:00 GMT

If Miriam Margolyes had never appeared in a single film, she would still have a special place in the history of British television. While attending Oxford University, she appeared on the game show University Challenge, and, after getting a question wrong during a live broadcast, had the dubious distinction of being the first person to say "fuck" on the British airwaves. Luckily for filmgoers, though, she didn't let the shame destroy her career, and has gone on to become one of the most sought-after character actresses in the English film industry. A veteran of a number of television gigs, like former That Gal! Natasha Richardson, she was a regular on The Black Adder (including a memorable portrayal of Queen Victoria), but it's on film where she's shone the brightest. The diminutive Margolyes stands only five feet tall, and doesn't have the toned body that would have made her a superstar, but her forceful personality, distinctively pitched voice (she was Fly the Sheepdog in the Babe films), and great versatility have secured her a place in British cinema history in a number of roles that it's hard to imagine anyone else doing. Equally at home with drama or comedy, and able to convey unladylike, rip-snorting hilarity with as much ease as she can towering rage or deep sympathy, the openly lesbian Margolyes got her start in theatre and is frequently cited by the gay press in the U.K. as one of the country's most prominent 'out' personalities. She's enjoyed success on both sides of the Atlantic among critics, even if her name isn't on the tip of every casting director's tongue; she's won Best Supporting Actress awards from both BAFTA and the Los Angeles Critics Circle. And while the public may not immediately be able to recall her name, her face, with its tight mouth and bulging eyes, is immediately memorable to everyone who sees her. Recently, Margolyes has announced her decision to become an Australian citizen; if she goes through with it, England will lose one its most talented actresses.

Where to see Miriam Margolyes at her best:

LITTLE DORRIT (1988)

Miriam Margolyes had already been acting for over twenty years, and making movies for a dozen, when Christine Edzard cast her as Flora Finching in her film adaptation of this Charles Dickens novel. It turned out to be her breakthrough role; she stole every scene she was in and won a Best Supporting Actress award from the L.A. Critics Circle. The part has stayed with her; she's currently touring in a one-woman show called Dickens' Women in which Flora has pride of place.

THE AGE OF INNOCENCE (1993)

When Martin Scorsese gave Margolyes the role of Mrs. Mingott in his Edith Wharton adaptation, she was fifty-two years old — the age at which an actress who'd worked as hard as she had should start to get the recognition she deserved. And as the sole comic character in the rather grim drama of manners, she finally did: it won her wide acclaim in the United States for the first time in her career, and back home, it netted her a Best Supporting Actress honor from BAFTA. Her terrific performance in The Age of Innocence signaled a career renaissance.

HARRY POTTER AND THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS (2002)

It's hardly the best of the Harry Potter films, but any role in the blockbuster franchise is a healthy paycheck, and Margoyles certainly deserved one when she took on the role of Hogwarts herbologist Prof. Pomona Sprout. It would have been easy enough to just cash the check and sleepwalk through the part, but Margoyles, as she does with her best comic roles, sinks her teeth into it, getting the most mileage she can out of every moment she's on screen as the dowdy witch.

— Leonard Pierce

That Guy!: Wallace Shawn

Peter Smith — Wed, 28 Nov 2007 21:00:00 GMT

"Squat", "toadlike" and "bespectacled" are not the first three adjectives you want on the list when you're building your movie star résumé. But That Guy! isn't about movie stars. It's about character actors, B-listers, stock-in-traders — and Wally Shawn is one of the best. Best imagined as the guy who gets parts for which Bob Balaban is simply too macho and charismatic, Shawn suffered perhaps the ultimate indignity when, playing Diane Keaton's ex in Manhattan (his movie debut), he was described as a "homunculus" by none other than Woody Allen, himself not entirely lacking in homuncular qualities. Still, the son of legendary New Yorker editor William Shawn has managed to carve out a decent Hollywood career playing nebbishes, losers and schnooks — while simultaneously building an eminently respectable career in New York as an insightful, volatile playwright whose work is intelligent, fiercely political and often controversial. Harvard-educated and terrifically well-informed, Shawn has written opinion pieces for The Nation, interviewed Noam Chomsky, and produced a widely-read translation of Bertolt Brecht's The Threepenny Opera, all while appearing in Hollywood fare ranging from Clueless to Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. His distinctively nasal, high-pitched voice has made him a natural for animation, and he's provided memorable voice-overs as Rex the dinosaur in the Toy Story franchise and Bob Parr's insufferable boss in The Incredibles. Only a few of Wallace Shawn's outstanding plays have made it to film; while a David Hare-directed version of The Designated Mourner (perhaps his finest work) was made in 1997, it was seen by precious few people, and his most popular script, Aunt Dan and Lemon, remains unfilmed. But as an actor, Shawn has endeared himself and his ungainly appearance to thousands of people who know nothing about his off-Broadway existence.

Where to see Wallace Shawn at his best:

MY DINNER WITH ANDRE (1981)

The movie that put Wally Shawn on the map — and gave him his first and last leading-man role to date — was made at a time when he was still known only as the author of some well-reviewed plays in New York. Louis Malle's filmed adaptation of a number of actual conversations Shawn had with his friend Andre Gregory, who has been the director of a number of Shawn's plays, turned out to be a surprise hit, proving that there was a bigger audience than previously suspected whose idea of a good time was watching two overeducated Manhattanites argue about whether or not an electric blanket is morally defensible.

THE PRINCESS BRIDE (1987)

Wallace Shawn's best-known role is as the not-so-masterful criminal mastermind Vizzini in Rob Reiner's beloved adaptation of William Goldman's The Princess Bride. It is here that he gives new meaning, or lack thereof, to the word "inconceivable," and gets to play straight man to Andre the Giant in one of Hollywood's oddest comic pairings. (Shawn claims that he played the role of Vizzini perfectly straight, since he lacks a sense of humor. That claim in and of itself would seem to suggest otherwise.)

VANYA ON 42nd STREET (1994)

A meta-referential film that is both an adaptation of Anton Chekov's Uncle Vanya and a movie about making that adaptation (and making the movie about making the adaptation), Vanya on 42nd Street is one of the most successful blends ever of film and theatre, thanks largely to its explosion of talent: aside from Wallace Shawn in the title role, it features great performances from Julianne Moore as Yelena and Brooke Smith as Sonya, a crackerjack script by David Mamet and tight, taut direction by Louis Malle, and a big-screen reunion of Shawn and Andre Gregory, again playing himself.

— Leonard Pierce

That Guy: Steve Park

Peter Smith — Wed, 21 Nov 2007 20:00:00 GMT

Korean-American actor Steve Park doesn't have the robust résumé that some of the people we've featured in this column can claim. Whose fault that is makes for a fascinating question — one that Park has had the courage to ask, which may in itself constitute the answer. Park is a gifted and emotionally open actor who's likewise a talented comedian; he was a series regular on In Living Color, where he met and married his wife, actress Kelly Coffield, and while the show didn't serve as a springboard to huge fame the way it did his fellow cast member Jim Carrey, he likewise didn't become synonymous with shrill, joke-free comedies, and got to ply his trade in a number of TV sitcoms without half the country cringing at the mere mention of his name. In 1996, coming off of his greatest screen performance, he was accorded the rare opportunity to become a guest star on Friends — at the time the highest-rated show on television, and one which, by no means coincidentally, was coming under some criticism for its portrayal of contemporary New York as a lily-white yuppie enclave no more ethnically robust than Omaha, Nebraska. While filming his episodes, Park witnessed an ugly racial incident involving the crew, and detected a certain callousness and arrogance in his fellow actors; and, rather than do what 99% of Hollywood would do in that situation — keep his mouth shut and collect his paycheck — he chose instead to pen a deeply felt and brutally honest article called "Struggling for Dignity," in which he attacked the industry for its retrograde views of Asian-Americans and its highest-paid stars for ignoring the often brutal and inhumane treatment of their lesser-known fellows. Since writing his 'mission statement,' Park has struggled to findfilm work. He turned in a memorable cameo as a villain on the clever Venture Brothers cartoon, and he's currently appearing in Rocket Science, his first big-screen role in a decade. It doesn't take much speculation to conclude that daring to call out the entertainment industry on its casual racism and failings of basic decency is the reason he hasn't gotten much work lately, but hopefully his own struggle for dignity is behind him, and enough producers and directors will see in him what the Coen brothers did in his most famous role.

Where to see Steve Park at his best:

DO THE RIGHT THING (1989)

In the late 1980s and early 1990s, tension between Korean-Americans and African-Americans was at an all-time high following a handful of violent confrontations. Ice Cube crudely dramatized it in his song "Black Korea," and when Spike Lee chose to make it a factor in his powerful drama of racial conflict in New York, he used Steve Park as the face of the Korean immigrant population. Park's role as Sonny was his big-screen debut, and it's also the first hint that he was a talented actor as well as a comic.

FALLING DOWN (1993)

Ironically, given his later role as a de facto spokeman against Hollywood's still-lingering racial prejudices and ethnic stereotyping, one of Steve Park's biggest movie roles was that of Detective Brian, a policeman assigned to the "D-FENS" case in Michael Douglas' 'angry white male' action-drama. Like many people who saw Falling Down, Park's character (and, without a doubt, the actor himself) must have had a pretty hard time figuring out what a guy like Douglas's peevish upper-middle-class defense contractor had to be pissed about in the first place.

FARGO (1996)

As Mike Yanagita, Steve Park can fairly be said to play perhaps the key role in the Coen brothers' brilliant portrayal of small-town crime gone bad. The appearance of the character skews the entire movie, and plays a key role in determining the character of Marge Gunderson; Park took a great deal of heat from certain quarters of the Asian-American community for taking the role, which was short-sightedly perceived as stereotypical by some who missed the deep irony contained in the character. Time will tell if it turns out to be the first of many great performances by Park, or simply an unforgettable role of a lifetime.

— Leonard Pierce

That Guy!: Philip Baker Hall

Peter Smith — Thu, 15 Nov 2007 19:00:00 GMT

It's no secret that the selection of a That Guy! is a highly personal thing. I play favorites in this space, and make no apologies. There's nothing objective about why I'll pick a Tom Atkins but eschew a Burt Young — it's as simple as one appealing to me on a certain level and the other leaving me as cold as a glass of raw eggs. Everyone has their preferences when it comes to character actors, and finding agreement on the subject is harder than getting a group of a dozen movie critics to agree on a Coen Brothers film. Of course, every rule has its exceptions, and if there's ever been anyone with a bad word to say about Philip Baker Hall, I've never met them (and they better hope I don't, particularly in a dark alley, and with a couple of boxes of Sno-Caps in me). It's astonishing to consider that Hall is seventy-six years old — not because he doesn't look it, with his worn, lined face, perpetually plastered-down hair and eyes that droop with a combination of sadness and intelligence — but because he's looked that way for at least twenty years. The common perception that he sprung into the world fully formed, like Athena, from the imagination of Paul Thomas Anderson, ignores a film career that goes back almost five decades — not that it wasn't largely worth ignoring before he crossed paths with Robert Altman, who gave him a role that would forever grant him one of the all-time great film performances in history even if he'd never made another movie. But until Anderson made him the patriarch of his own personal stock company of actors, the bleary, wise Ohioan's bread and butter was in television. Putting in competent, bill-paying performances in everything from M*A*S*H and The Jeffersons to Family Ties to L.A. Law, he reached his greatest heights on the small screen as the absurdly overblown Lt. Bookman on Seinfeld, a library cop ripped from the pages of Mike Hammer and put to work in service of chasing down delinquent fines. It showed off Hall's considerable comic — indeed, self-parodic — skills, but he's still at his best as a tragic figure who has seen just a little too much of the world and is always waiting for a final moment of grace that may never come.

Where to see Philip Baker Hall at his best:

SECRET HONOR (1984)

One of the towering performances not just in his career but in all of American cinema, Hall's turn as a fictionalized Richard Milhaus Nixon is gripping enough to carry the entire film — and it does: he's the only person on screen during the entire hour-and-a-half runtime. Director Robert Altman, who knew Hall from television work, had seen him perform as Nixon in the stage version of Secret Honor, and trusted that he was enough of an actor to carry it over to film; the gamble paid off in spades, as the audience is held spellbound during the entire stunning performance.

HARD EIGHT (1996)

Sixty-five is the age at which you're supposed to retire, not the age at which you have your first real breakout performance. But Paul Thomas Anderson, who'd selected Hall based largely on the strength of his work in Secret Honor, chose him to play the tormented professional gambler Sydney in his full-length directorial debut. Watching the aging Hall play off of promising young character actor (and friend of this program) John C. Reilly is like watching an aging gunslinger trade shots with an up-and-comer, a dynamic which perfectly plays into their respective characters.

DOGVILLE (2003)

Philip Baker Hall's performance as Tom Edison Sr. in Lars Von Trier's controversial and daring story of degradation and evil served not only to record another terrific performance in his portfolio, but to put the critical establishment on notice that he wasn't a wholly owned subsidiary of Paul Thomas Anderson, Inc. Hall brings entirely new dimensions and depths to his performance as Dogville's patriarch, while never sacrificing his greatest asset: the ability to convey the weight of a man whose eyes have seen more than they should.

— Leonard Pierce

That Guy! Classic: Joe Spinell

Peter Smith — Wed, 07 Nov 2007 21:00:00 GMT

It’s easy to pick legendary character actors of Hollywood’s Golden Age to profile in this feature; much harder is selecting actors who died too young and who, by all rights, should still be with us, making movies. Joe Spinell is one of those. Born Joseph Spagnuolo in 1936, the burly Manhattanite changed his name to make things easy on the casting directors who called him all too infrequently, making him reliant on low-paying night jobs like driving a taxi or working the counter at a seedy liquor store. There was nothing calculated or contrived about his Spinell’s frequent portrayals of tough-guy New Yorkers; he grew up hard and worked for a decade with the Theater of the Forgotten, a troupe that performed exclusively for prison inmates. Spinell’s first big break came in 1972, when he was cast (based almost exclusively on his thuggish looks and his inimitable accent) in a very minor role in Francis Ford Coppola’s The Godfather. Coppola liked him so much that he specifically expanded the role of Willie Cicci to give Spinell more screen time in the sequel. A few years later, Spinell landed one of his most memorable roles, playing opposite his good friend Sylvester Stallone in Rocky as Tony Gazzo, the two-bit loan shark who employs Rocky Balboa as a legbreaker. Never a big star, even by the diminished standards of character actors, Spinell was a working actor his entire life, constantly struggling to support a large family by taking whatever roles came his way; while the gems in his catalog are broken up by a great deal of dross, when he was on screen in a good role, it was easy to see why talented directors like Coppola and Martin Scorsese took to him. He had a lazy, insouciant delivery that could turn on a dime into violent intensity, and he had a particular way of making even the simplest lines entirely his own. Towards the end of his career, Spinell was financing horror movies (exemplified by the grotesque but successful Maniac) that he wrote and directed himself, and had the dubious honor of being John Wayne Gacy’s personal choice to play the serial killer in a movie. Unfortunately, we’d never have the opportunity to see how he’d do in the role, or where else his career might take him: Joe Spinell died in 1989 of a heart attack, not yet fifty-two years old.

Where to see Joe Spinell at his best:

THE GODFATHER, PART II (1974)

The minor character of Willie Cicci, Frankie Pentangeli’s bodyguard, was never meant as anything more than a bit part. But Francis Ford Coppola liked Joe Spinell enough to expand the role into a Joe Valachi-type character in the sequel to The Godfather, and Spinell paid him back by turning in a fantastic, scene-stealing performance. Cicci brings down the house at a Senate committee investigation into organized crime, explaining to the movie’s fuddled stand-in for Estes Kefauver that the Corleone family "had a lot of buttons."

TAXI DRIVER (1976)

Francis Ford Coppola wasn’t the only Italian-American director from New York who took a shine to the louche, dangerous Spinell. Martin Scorsese also found his demeanor and delivery worth showcasing, and gave him a small but key role in his 1976 masterpiece of New York as a lower circle of Hell. Here, Spinell plays the dispatcher who makes the mistake of giving Travis Bickle a job driving a hack; suspecting (not unjustly) that Bickle has a bit of an attitude problem, he unfortunately gives him the job anyway. Probably because he’ll work Jewish holidays.

THE NINTH CONFIGURATION (1980)

Joe Spinell didn’t often have the chance to show off any comedic chops, but when it did, it could be devastatingly effective. In William Peter Blatty’s remarkable film about a military psychiatrist assigned to rehabilitate officers suspected of faking insanity, he plays the cleverly named Lt. Spinell, casting director to Jason Miller’s Lt. Reno, who is adapting Shakespeare’s plays for dogs. In one of the movie’s most memorable, and hilarious, scenes, Spinell offers deadpan, and devastating, opinions on Reno’s casting choices.

— Leonard Pierce

That Gal!: Linda Hunt

Peter Smith — Wed, 31 Oct 2007 20:00:00 GMT

We’ve discussed in this space before the fact that it’s a lot easier to build a career as a character actor if you’re a man than it is if you’re a woman. Even in today’s Hollywood — or should I say, especially in today’s Hollywood — men are allowed to be quirky, unattractive, unconventionally charismatic; while women are allowed to be beautiful. It’s hard to develop a reputation for playing smart, idiosyncratic characters with unusual looks in a town where Britney Spears and Kate Winslet are considered grotesquely overweight. Still, you really don’t appreciate how bad things can be until you consider the fact that one of the movie business’ most talented actresses won her only Academy Award. . . for playing a man. Diminutive, husky-voiced New Jersey native Linda Hunt was clearly never going to be a big-screen superstar; her throaty, almost masculine vocal tone and 4'9" frame seemed to guarantee that if she got work it all, it would be in gimmick roles and stunt casting. But director Peter Weir saw enough genuine talent in her to give her the role of guide and photographer Billy Kwan in his 1982 political drama The Year of Living Dangerously; her towering performance was enough to get her an Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress. Unlike other pieces of gender-bending casting trickery like Hilary Swank in Boys Don’t Cry or Felicity Huffman in TransAmerica, there was nothing artificial or calculating in the role: Hunt took a professional approach towards playing a man, and fully inhabited the part in a way that continues to impress twenty-five years after it was filmed. She’s never quite gotten out of the habit of playing men — her most recent memorable role was as the putatively male "Management" in the ambitious HBO failure Carnivalé — but she’s turned in plenty of terrific performances, in the intervening years, in her native gender. As the years go by, roles in animation and video games — the boon of the contemporary character actor, and a natural for someone with as distinctive a voice as Hunt’s — have become more common. But a woman with talents this prodigious, however small a package contains them, has got at least a few great big-screen roles left in her; maybe she’ll become the first person to win Academy Awards for both genders.

Where to see Linda Hunt at her best:

POPEYE (1980)

The first of several films she made with auteur Robert Altman, Popeye was Linda Hunt’s film debut. An underrated movie in its day that still hasn’t enjoyed the critical reappraisal it deserves, Popeye made brilliant use of character actors playing to E.C. Segar’s broad physical types and absurdist Yiddish humor; Hunt was perfect in both physique and temperament for the role of Mrs. Oxheart, the screeching, miniscule mother of the gargantuan prizefighter Oxblood Oxheart.

SILVERADO (1985)

Lawrence Kasdan’s rollicking western adventure is part revisionism and part tradition, a would-be-hip reinvention of the mythos that likewise plays as a goofy throwback to the old days. In a cast that features John Cleese, Kevin Kline, Danny Glover, Scott Glenn and an unusually animated Kevin Costner, it’s hard to stand out, but Linda Hunt, as saloon operator Stella, manages to steal the whole show, getting off half the movie’s good lines and holding her own against some of the most happily hammy performances in the movie.

PRÊT-À-PORTER (1994)

As big a fan as I am of Robert Altman — indeed, of Robert Altman’s lesser-known films — even I can’t say that Prêt-à-Porter, his ensemble comedy-drama about the world of high fashion, was one of his better efforts. (It didn’t help its commercial success much that no one could pronounce its name, either.) Like Kansas City, it comes off as one of the well-intentioned failures he produced before his late 1990s resurgence. Still, it features some game performances, not the least of which is Linda Hunt's, as the bitchy fashion editor Regina Krumm.

— Leonard Pierce

That Guy!: Miguel Ferrer

Peter Smith — Wed, 24 Oct 2007 20:00:00 GMT

Miguel Ferrer had some big shoes to fill before he was even old enough to walk. His father was the Oscar-winning actor José Ferrer; his mother was recording star Rosemary Clooney. His oldest childhood friend is Carrie Fisher, his sister-in-law is Debbie Boone, and his cousin is George Clooney. With expectations that high, it’s probably no surprise that he shied away from the intense pressures of film work and found his niche as a television actor; he’s just signed on to a recurring role in the Bionic Woman remake, but he’s also turned in memorable TV roles in Miami Vice, Twin Peaks, Tales from the Crypt, Crossing Jordan and LateLine (as well as, er, less grand projects like Kung Fu: The Next Generation). He’s also won acclaim as a voiceover actor, doing everything from Disney (he was a featured actor in Mulan) to superheroes (a lifelong comics buff, he’s been in several Superman animated episodes and will play a prominent role in the upcoming New Frontier Justice League cartoon) to video games (he plays the lead in BioShock, one of the moodiest, most dramatic, and immersively cinematic games in history). Ferrer didn’t initially want to be an actor at all; turned off by the hyper-competitive nature of the film industry, he was originally a respected studio drummer (playing alongside the legendary Keith Moon in one memorable session) and took his first acting job only because childhood friend — and current bandmate, in the Jenerators — Billy Mumy talked him into it. Twenty-five years later, Ferrer, whose reputation for playing short-tempered, hotheaded jerks belies his abilities as an extremely versatile actor who can handle as much emotional range as he’s given, has become one of an elite group of television actors whose very appearance in the credits is good enough cause to give a show a chance. But despite his infrequent big-screen appearances, he’s still done enough with his few and far-between movie roles to make him a That Guy! favorite.

Where to see Miguel Ferrer at his best:

ROBOCOP (1987)

If it weren’t for the presence of Kurtwood Smith (with whom he’d co-starred three years earlier in the deeply weird JFK assassination caper Flashpoint), Miguel Ferrer would have entirely stolen this highly subversive, hugely entertaining Paul Verhoeven satire right out from under leads Peter Weller and Nancy Allen. As corporate sleazeball Bob Morton, he gets off some of the movie’s best lines before being outflanked by Ronny Cox, who’s an even bigger corporate sleazeball than he is.

TWIN PEAKS: FIRE WALK WITH ME (1992)

Cursed with a convoluted production history, a number of studio compromises, and a difficult continuity, David Lynch’s big-screen prequel to his classic cult TV show is worthwhile if for no other reason than it gives Miguel Ferrer to reprise his finest role, as the intolerant and exacting FBI forensics specialist Albert Rosenfield. Ferrer doesn’t get as much screen time here as he did in the series, but every second of it is enjoyable as he plays this watchable combination of righteousness and insufferability to the hilt.

TRAFFIC (2000)

Not surprisingly, given its sprawling multiple storylines, Steven Soderbergh’s sweeping drama about the repercussions of the international drug trade features plenty of juicy roles for character actors (including a terrific turn from previous That Guy! Luis Guzmán). Miguel Ferrer puts in an excellent performance as the cynical drug trafficker Eduardo Ruiz, who engages in a memorable battle of wills with Guzmán’s drug agent Raul Castro, and makes the pithy observation that "In Mexico, law enforcement is an entrepreneurial activity."

— Leonard Pierce

That Guy!: Richard Edson

Peter Smith — Wed, 17 Oct 2007 18:00:00 GMT

Baseball season is nearing an end, which means that so, too, is my chance to watch TV commercials. I’m not much of a television watcher (well, I watch a lot of TV, but mostly on DVD), and about the only time I get a chance to see mainstream commercials is before a feature at a movie theatre, or during baseball season. That’s just fine with me; the things rarely live up to the standards of either high art or low camp, so I don’t feel like I’m missing much. Imagine, then, my surprise when a commercial for Traveler’s Insurance cropped up during a Red Sox-Cleveland playoff game featuring one of my all-time favorite character actors: this week’s That Guy!, Richard Edson. It’s actually a pretty good bit of casting, for a commercial – who better to embody Risk, the very personification of bad luck, than the laconic, hangdog Edson? His long, weary face (almost always sporting a mustache of one kind or another) and perpetual look of a wheedling cajoler has made me a longtime fan of his infrequent movie roles; he’s not the most prolific actor out there, but he tends to steal the show whenever he shows up. Give him one line, and he’ll capture the audience’s attention. A multi-talented and multi-faceted individual, Edson is a gifted photographer, but before making his first film, he was best-known as a musician; in fact, he was the great Steve Shelley’s predecessor as the drummer for Sonic Youth. Moving on to the art-rock ensemble Konk, he was discovered by Jim Jarmusch, who found he shared interests with Edson, and like most people, was captivated by his unique appearance and demeanor. He’s appeared in big movies (taking part in a mini-Vietnam revival with consecutive roles in both Platoon and Good Morning Vietnam) and small movies (like almost every other interesting actor in Hollywood, he had a bit part in Mike Figgis’ bizarre 2000 film Timecode), and tends to get the parts that are a little too brainy or subtle to go to Flea. (Astonishingly, though, Edson – a Coen Brothers company player if there ever was one – has never appeared in a Coen Brothers film.) For over twenty years, he’s been a reliably solid actor with a hugely memorable face and a forgettable name; but for those who do remember it, seeing it in the credits of a film or TV show (such as a memorable turn as Lowell Stokes in the underrated cult TV drama American Gothic) is nothing less than a promise of good things to come. And as Norman Mailer once asked in very different circumstances, isn’t culture worth a little risk?

Where to see Richard Edson at his best:

STRANGER THAN PARADISE (1984)

Edson was playing percussion for Konk when he met Jim Jarmusch. So taken was the director with the musician’s attitude and expression that he cast him in a lead role in his soon-to-be classic Stranger Than Paradise. Playing Eddie, the hapless friend of lead John Lurie (also a New York musician, from the Lounge Lizards), Edson puts in what would be his first film appearance – and his first in a long series of scene-stealing performances. A terrific performance in a must-see film.

FERRIS BUELLER’S DAY OFF (1986)

Edson's best-known character is the joyriding, ingratiating garage attendant in whose care Alan Ruck’s Cameron leaves his father’s vintage Ferrari 250 GT. Edson sets off the movie’s central dramatic conflict, but screw that: he also gets a couple of the most classic lines in '80s cinema as a nervous Cameron puts him in charge of the car. Edson even manages to get off a zinger on the unflappable Ferris himself: asked if he speaks English, Edson replies, "Uh, what country do you think this is?"

EIGHT MEN OUT (1988)

It’s easy to miss Richard Edson in one of his finest roles: he gets enough screen time, but he’s nearly unrecognizable without his mustache, and duded up in a ten-dollar pinstripe suit.In John Sayles' excellent adaptation of the Eliot Asinof book on the notorious Black Sox scandal of 1919, Edson plays the gambler (and crooked ex-prizefighter) Billy Maharg, a pug who’s turned into such a needling chiseler that you wonder how he ever won a fight in the first place, unless it was by making his opponent feel sorry for him.

— Leonard Pierce

That Guy!: Xander Berkeley

Peter Smith — Wed, 10 Oct 2007 18:00:00 GMT

This week’s That Guy!, the long-awaited Xander Berkeley, is a groundbreaker in many ways. He’s the first character actor we’ve featured in this spot whose name starts with an X; he’s also the first to have designed his own my-skin-is-falling-off makeup while portraying a person suffering from acute radiation poisoning. But he also follows in some well-traveled paths: he’s the second person we’ve featured to have come to prominence as a cast member of 24, a show that seems to specialize in snatching up talented Hollywood character actors, as evidenced by previous That Gal! Mary Lynn Rajskub and future That Guy! Dennis Haysbert. Like a lot of other contemporary character actors, he’s found steady work as a voiceover specialist (appearing, as has almost every other B-lister in the business, on the Justice League cartoon), and he bankrolls artsy projects like his back-to-back appearances in Timecode and The Cherry Orchard with, er, slightly more pedestrian fare like Barb Wire and The Rock. A favorite of maverick director Alex Cox, Berkeley appeared in three of his films in a row early in his career. His first role was as a grown-up Chris Crawford in the infamous Mommie Dearest, and he’s gone on to make almost seventy feature films in twenty years (his most recent was Seraphim Falls), qualifying him as one of the hardest-working men in show business despite being almost completely unknown to most people who don’t watch 24. Berkeley, a New Yorker by way of Jersey, has specialized, in his latter days, in bland, arrogant schmucks who are up to no good. But he's displayed a terrific range in his remarkably prolific career, playing everything from typical romantic male leads to scene-stealing darkly comic turns, as in his cameo role as a cab driver in Leaving Las Vegas. He’s also almost certainly the only actor we’ve ever featured who has portrayed an eight-armed violinist who robs banks alongside a robotic Soviet vending machine.

Where to see Xander Berkeley at his best:

SID AND NANCY (1986): The first and best of Xander Berkeley’s lengthy collaboration with Alex Cox comes in this desperate, moving biopic of Sex Pistols provocateur Sid Vicious and his clinging, doomstruck girlfriend Nancy Spungeon. Berkeley portrays the drug dealer Bowery Snax, a living symbol of the pathetic degradation of the couple’s final days; when he delivers the line “Sid, Nancy, pull up your pants”, it encapsulates everything sadly wrong with their entire lives as well as an ugly reflection of the day-to-day reality of the junkie.

SAFE (1995): Berkeley’s finest hour came in this Todd Haynes masterpiece of the alienation of affluence. Playing the husband of Julianne Moore’s panic-stricken housewife, he must transition from unlikable standoffish breadwinner to bizarrely sympathetic and utterly confused caregiver, as the woman he married undergoes a transformation neither she nor anyone else can explain or even articulate. It’s a tremendous performance, in some ways the moral center of the film, and in a just world, it would have made him a big star.

AIR FORCE ONE (1997): It’s hard to pick a favorite from Berkeley’s mainstream movie appearances; he’s done good work in, among other films, Terminator 2, Apollo 13, A Few Good Men and Shanghai Noon. Our favorite, though, is probably his rogue Secret Service agent in Air Force One, part of a rash of "fightin’ president" movies in the late 1990s. Not only was it a reunion of sorts with Sid and Nancy’s Gary Oldman, but it was perhaps the pinnacle of his understated snotty jerk roles, even if the script requires him, along with everyone else in the movie, to do far too much yelling.

— Leonard Pierce