While everyone else was pushing and shoving in line at the multiplex to see the “X-Men” sequel this weekend, I spared myself the exhaustion by ducking into one of the Drexel theaters for a film aimed at moviegoers who are older than teenagers. As I came out of “The Good Thief,” an idiosyncratic heist movie based on the French film “Bob Le Flambeur,” I was both invigorated and dejected.
The invigoration was not new to me; it is something I’m used to feeling after just about every Nick Nolte performance. The dejection came from my realization that this lion of a performer who digs so deep with each role – from the obsessed general in Terence Malick’s “The Thin Red Line” to the heartsick artist in Martin Scorsese’s “Life Lessons” – has for so long been neglected by the critical establishment while actors of lesser skill (Robert DeNiro comes to mind) are showered with praise and Oscars.
It also made me reflect on other unsung masters in Nolte’s position, who plug away for years without the recognition they deserve, famous without being considered Great.
Perhaps some of Nolte’s poor career choices have held him back in the public consciousness (his tally of jock movies and buddy comedies may only be rivaled by Burt Reynolds’), but one of the most reliable signs of a great actor is his ability to bring out the good in bad material. In this capacity, Nolte has been stellar.
Ditto for Danny DeVito, an unsung performer whose physical stature naturally limits his choice of roles, but who finds more possibilities with the opportunities he’s given than any other actor in Hollywood. Compulsively watchable in comic roles, his big brown eyes come to life like a child’s on Christmas morning. In rare dramatic turns, he’s better still. The best monologue in recent memory came at the end of the little-seen “Big Kahuna,” in which a solemn DeVito tells a young go-getter (Peter Facinelli) about all of the pratfalls that await him in life.
Neither Nolte nor DeVito have starred in anything close to a film masterpiece, but taken in self-contained moments, their work is as exemplary as that of any other actor alive.
I don’t mean to neglect the neglected women, who are doubly invisible to critics as a result of the frequent one-dimensionality of their roles. Teri Garr, Angelica Huston, Brenda Blethyn – each have brought off performances that shame the films in which they appear. The single greatest turn by a contemporary actress arguably came from the notoriously overlooked Judy Davis, who tore into the frazzled divorcee in Woody Allen’s “Husbands and Wives” with such authentic craziness that there may still be married men peeking around the sofa to see whether the coast is clear.
Often the most painful snubs occur because an actor’s particular niche isn’t taken seriously. For a long while this curse stalled Clint Eastwood’s reputation, as strong, silent men of action weren’t considered fodder for serious actors. Eastwood’s talent has become more obvious with age, but a gonzo comic talent like Jim Carrey might have to wait a long time before people awaken to the rarity of his gifts. That he’s a genius would seem obvious, but throw the word “actor” around and you’ll get funny looks.
Then, of course, there are those performers who disappear so skillfully into their roles that we don’t even realize how good they are until they’re gone. I think that was the fate which awaited Jack Lemmon – the most brilliant chameleon ever to grace the screen – and it will probably haunt the legacies of Gene Hackman and Morgan Freeman, who with each performance seem to draw on the wisdom of three lifetimes despite barely raising their voices above a whisper.
There’s hope yet to be had. Unlike the Joseph Cottens, Joel McCreas and Maureen O’Haras, the great underrated actors of today can rely on the rehabilitative power of home video, the medium through which so many film buffs have grown to appreciate their work. As long as “North Dallas Forty” lines the shelves at Blockbuster, Nick Nolte’s tights-wearing renegade will always be cooler than Hugh Jackman’s for those in the know.
Jordan Gentile is a senior in journalism. He can be reached at [email protected].
