When I watched Oliver Stone’s JFK for the first time during the late nineties, I completely missed Gary Oldman playing Lee Harvey Oswald. There were several reasons for this. It was the pre-internet era and there were no immediate reviews. I knew only three actors from the movie. Kevin Costner from Dances with Wolves, Tommy Lee Jones from The Fugitive and Kevin Bacon from Apollo 13. I hardly paid any attention to Oldman. He blended in so perfectly that I thought maybe Oliver Stone has cast a Russian or an East European actor for the role.
Fast forward to 2007. I watched Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. Great movie. Again I missed Oldman who played the part of Sirius Black. I also missed that the movie was directed by Alfonso Cuarón. Looking back, the fact that this was my favourite movie of the series was a small consolation for the sin of not recognising the two great artists associated with it.
It was 2013 and I watched Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy. I was blown away by Oldman’s uncanny portrayal of George Smiley. Who was this actor? Imagine my surprise when I found that he was the one who played Sirius Black. And the coup de grâce was when I finally realised who had played Lee Harvey Oswald in JFK.
Admittedly, my ignorance played a large part during this embarrassing journey but it was possible only because I could not detect any mannerisms that were common to all these roles. There was no obvious clue that would lead me to the conclusion that these roles were played by the same person. Jennifer Lawrence put it beautifully when she described Oldman,
He is such a good actor that he literally can’t get famous because he is unrecognisable.
I always feel that British actors use some fundamentally different techniques compared to their colleagues across the pond. With American actors, barring few exceptions like Bryan Cranston, one is always aware that one is watching the actor deliver a superb performance. The identity of the actor never leaves one’s mind. Maybe this has to do with the incessant Hollywood publicity machine. For instance, while watching The Revenant, so much publicity was given to the method acting preparations of Leonardo DiCaprio, that my sole focus was on his performance. Everything else – the story, cinematography, other actors – became secondary. Is the British press less intrusive? I don’t think so. The Graham Norton Show is as popular as any of the late night shows in US.
So why this difference in perceptions? What I have found time and again is that the technique is quite apparent with the Hollywood actors whereas the British actors seem to absorb it without making it obvious. Does this have something to do with the fact that many English actors start their acting journey on stage? Maybe. What is clear is that British actors blend in beautifully with the character they are playing. When Hugh Laurie played the lead role in Dr. House, even some of his co-actors believed that he was American. And I found out just yesterday that Christian Bale is British.
In the movie Léon: The Professional, Oldman played Norman Stansfield, a corrupt, pill-popping, psychopathic DEA agent. MSN movies described his character as “the role that launched a thousand villains.” What’s even more interesting is that we are fascinated by this psychopath. We hate him but we love to hate him. One could list all the ways in which Oldman made this character come to life – change of accent, change of gait – but the sum is always greater than its parts. As Oldman said in his Charlie Rose interview, “Acting is not intellectual. It’s a sensation, it’s a feeling.” Oldman prepares for his roles from an intuitive approach that defies breaking down the process in a rational manner.
An acid test for any actor is a drunk scene. People behave differently when they are drunk, they loosen up. But this loosening up should be consistent with the original character. Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy has one of the best drunk scenes ever filmed between Oldman and Benedict Cumberbatch. As Oldman and Cumberbatch start getting drunk, they slow down. Their movements become exaggerated. And then you have Oldman delivering a long monologue about his encounter with his nemesis, Karla. As the director Toman Alfredson says, this is a theatre scene. Much like the famous soliloquy in Hamlet.
Gary Oldman’s acting reminds me of James Wood’s review of A Suitable Boy where he said,
Such writing reminds us that there are secrets beyond technique, beyond even style, which have to do with a quality of soul on the part of the writer.
After he makes the necessary preparations for the role, something magical happens when Gary immerses himself into the character, something that even he himself cannot put into words. But he knows intuitively the right path to reach that place where only he can go. This is the part wherein lies his genius, that defies all rational explanations.