Richard Gere
As I delve into the captivating narrative of Felicity Jones, I am struck by the profound impact her life experiences have had on her career choices. Her penchant for portraying powerful women behind troubled men is not only intriguing but also testament to her innate ability to uncover the resilience and defiance that lies beneath these characters.
As a gamer, I never thought I’d be this hooked on pixelated worlds for such a long time, but here we are, decades later and still going strong. I didn’t plan it; the love for games just grew on me organically.
The 75-year-old, despite his youthful appearance, admitted to having a somewhat elitist attitude towards films. Truth be told, he was captivated by cinema and cherished it deeply. However, he equally enjoyed the experience of being in a movie theater.
Gere emphasizes his leading role in Sam Shepard’s 1975 play “Killer’s Head” as a significant stepping stone in his move towards Hollywood films.
In his conversation with THR for an episode of Awards Chatter podcast, he shared that a particular 30-minute monologue stood out to him – it was about a cowboy who was in the electric chair, moments before electrocution. This moment was significant for him because it allowed him to relate to a contemporary character. It was cinematic, but with a unique Sam Shepard style. He was trying to capture a specific moment, not creating a classic or musical, and certainly not something typical of regional theaters. Instead, it was a distinct entity on its own.
Adds Gere, “I think that put me in that category as, ‘Oh, he’s one of those guys.’ ”
In 1980, Richard Gere solidified his status as a leading man on the big screen with the neo-noir drama “American Gigolo,” which he collaborated on with writer and director Paul Schrader. Forty years later, this talented duo has reunited for “Oh, Canada,” an adaptation of Russell Banks’ 2021 novel titled “Foregone.
As I reminisce about the iconic characters I’ve brought to life throughout my gaming journey, I can’t help but long for a comeback on the silver screen.
Regarding your acting career, an event took place at the University of Massachusetts Amherst that led to your decision not to complete your studies due to a different opportunity presenting itself.
Unusually, I found myself majoring in philosophy, with a minor in ancient Greek. Funny enough, that’s the path I was guided towards. I became involved with an acting school, and during my sophomore year, an actor friend and I attended an audition for the Eugene O’Neill Provincetown Playhouse in Boston. To my surprise, I landed the role. The phone call came in my dorm room, offering me a position for the summer, and I recall feeling a surge of excitement – “This is what I was meant to do!” – as if a rocket were launching me into my future life.
At the age of 21, you found yourself in New York, specifically on Broadway, which might not be widely known, but your background is heavily influenced by musical theater.
In my past, I led rock bands and showcased my skills on both the guitar and piano. My long hair reached my chest, and I adorned myself with intricate Indian jewelry. This was during an era in New York City where rock operas were abundant, and it marked my first audition within the city. A director I had previously collaborated with in theater arranged this opportunity for me through his wife, who was a literary agent. Remarkably, I secured the role in one of these rock operas. Although the musical never came to fruition, it served as a stepping stone towards future accomplishments. I initially began as an understudy in “Grease,” later assuming the lead role, and subsequently took “Grease” to London.
The process of ending up onscreen in 1978’s Days of Heaven, though, was a very drawn-out thing.
Terrence Malick is undeniably talented, yet quirky with a unique approach to filmmaking. He was seeking three suitable actors and actresses for his project, though the number of other potential candidates I encountered or met during this prolonged search remains unclear. After months of testing and meetings, I reached my limit and exclaimed to Terry, “I can’t continue like this anymore. Either make a decision or put an end to it.” Soon after, he contacted me with the words, “I want you to do this.” This was my initial foray into filmmaking, and the excitement of embarking on this new journey was palpable; I could sense that this was the path my life would take from now on – making movies.
The novel “American Gigolo” serves as an intriguing counterpart to “Oh, Canada.” It marked the third movie Schrader directed, and it seems that your involvement in the project fluctuated: first you were involved, then you weren’t, and finally you returned?
I have a feeling that I wasn’t there. My recollections differ significantly from Paul’s. In case we were both present, he’d likely assert, “You’re dead wrong. That’s not how it went down.
So what happened?
Currently residing in a temporary dwelling in Malibu, I find myself rather weary. My days have been filled with one film production after another, when suddenly, I receive a call from Paul Schrader. This wasn’t just any ordinary call; it was momentous, as Schrader continues to carry an air of importance. He expressed an eagerness that was palpable: “I need you for this movie, but I require your decision today.” I chuckled, replied, “Paul, come on, I value your work greatly, let me read it first.” To which he retorted, “I’ll send it to you, but I must know by the end of the day.” I responded, “It won’t be possible, Paul.” The script was delivered and I found it to be exceptionally well-written. I requested a single night to ponder over this opportunity. Reluctantly, he granted me that time. I typically take my time before agreeing to something, needing space to consider, reflect, and allow the decision to fully take hold of me. He informed me we’d be starting filming in two weeks. The following morning, after a deep breath, I made my move because I admired the script and him. I agreed, saying, “Let’s do this.
After the release of “An Officer and a Gentleman” and the simultaneous successes of “Internal Affairs” and “Pretty Woman” in 1990, there was a span of time when you had several films that didn’t quite resonate with audiences. I can’t help but wonder if this wasn’t a somewhat nerve-wracking experience for you.
It seemed like an instinctive decision for me to take a step back. I expressed, “That’s enough. I’m not fond of all this spotlight.” And I reacted in a way that felt similar to a wild animal. “I don’t want to be noticed.” I made decisions, and while I’m not ashamed of them, some of those decisions involved stepping away from the main event and participating in something smaller instead. I’ve always approached projects with the same determination, even if I didn’t think highly of the final product. I never said, “Forget it. I’ll just take the money and walk through this.” Even films that I didn’t consider to be particularly good, my commitment and work ethic remained consistent.
Are you aware that “Looking for Mr. Goodbar,” “An Officer and a Gentleman,” “Pretty Woman,” “Primal Fear,” “Unfaithful” and “Chicago” share a characteristic?
No.
For each of them, at least one of your co-stars was either nominated for or won an Oscar. I think you bring out the best in people you work with. And yet somehow these schmoes in the Academy haven’t gotten it right with you yet.
As a passionate gamer, let me tell you straight up, I’ve got an immense respect for actors and their craft. Frankly, it baffles me when some of them abandon a project after their part is done. Here’s the deal: I’m all in till the very end. I’d do off-camera work for anyone without a second thought. Why? Because I’m invested, pouring energy into every scene to make it the best it can be. I believe these actors have got what it takes to deliver outstanding performances, and I yearn to be a part of that magical moment when they truly shine on screen.
Forty-four years following your collaboration on “American Gigolo” with Schrader, you reunited for “Oh, Canada.” In this production, you portrayed a dying documentary filmmaker named Leonard Fife, who was confessing about his past in his final interview. What do you find the most difficult part of embodying this character?
I believe he’s not easily understood, and I’m okay with that. We humans are intricate beings. In all my years, I haven’t encountered a straightforward individual. To be honest, his independence is debatable, and even the facts he shares – some of which are awkward and shameful – might not be accurate. What captivates me is his desire to convey something, and his determination that his wife is involved in this process. He sees her as a witness. The documentary serves as a medium; he seems unconcerned about it. He states, “I can reveal the truth when the camera’s on. Otherwise, I don’t care. This isn’t my project, it’s theirs, and I don’t care. Once this is over, they can do whatever they wish. What matters is that you are present.
We’re now 50 years into your screen career. What’s your state of the union at the moment?
For quite some time now, I’ve been immersed in a cinematic journey, focusing on small, independently produced films. Initially, my filmmaking endeavors were centered around studio productions, creating large-scale movies for a wide audience. These were the so-called programmers or genre movies. As the industry evolved, studios began to dabble in more complex and budget-friendly projects, although they remained part of their business strategy. Their primary purpose was to create challenging films that graced festivals like Cannes and Venice. Today, all these films can be categorized as independent.
***
Felicity Jones
“Everything comes back to Chalet Girl,” says Felicity Jones.
A British actress, aged 41 and previously nominated for an Academy Award, is laughing in a cozy bar within a Soho hotel in central London, adorned with vibrant red ornaments and mistletoe in anticipation of the upcoming holidays. She reminisces about her breakout role in Phil Traill’s 2011 romantic comedy set amidst snowy landscapes. “There was an abundance of partying on that film,” she shares with The Hollywood Reporter, surprisingly, “but I had to leave early every time because the next day was reserved for snowboarding.” She adds, “Snowboarding with a hangover was much more challenging.
She notes that the past experiences paved the way for her career, characterized by complex performances. Her toughest assignment, however, was the stark contrasting project titled “The Brutalist“, a three-and-a-half-hour drama about immigration and architecture directed by Brady Corbet. In this film, she portrays a disabled Hungarian Holocaust survivor. Co-written by Corbet and his longtime partner Mona Fastvold, “The Brutalist” caused quite the stir at this year’s Venice Film Festival. Corbet won the best director award, while Adrien Brody, Jones, and co-star Guy Pearce set the stage for intense acting competitions. Jones has already made a strong showing, earning a Golden Globe nomination for her role, with similar accolades going to Brody and co-star Pearce.
Jones, who was nominated for an Oscar for her role as Jane Hawking in the film The Theory of Everything (2014), expresses that the movie’s awards attention is unpredictable due to its non-conformity with many rules. She suggests having a sense of tranquility when deciding to do something, and giving it your all, as ultimately, whatever happens, will happen.
Jones delivers a spellbinding performance as Erzsébet Tóth, Brody’s wife, who doesn’t appear until after the break but leaves a lasting impact on Corbett’s ambitious film. In her own words, she seems to linger over the first half of the movie. “She’s present in essence. Once we encounter her in the second act, I believe we instinctively grasp the nature of the woman she portrays. There’s an undeniable sense of strength and power. However, it’s striking how much of the trauma she’s endured physically manifests in her character.
In the opinion of Jones, who started working on it two years before its production, “The Brutalist” was a formidable project to bring to life. The film tells the story of a fictional Hungarian Jewish architect named László Tóth escaping Europe post World War II, aiming to rebuild his life in America. He becomes associated with a wealthy businessman, Harrison Lee Van Buren (portrayed by Pearce), who requests an immense community center from Tóth. Eventually, Erzsébet, initially a journalist, manages to immigrate to the U.S., facilitated by friends of Van Buren’s lawyer. However, what Brody’s character doesn’t learn until her arrival is that Erzsébet is confined to a wheelchair due to osteoporosis, a condition she developed as a result of malnutrition she suffered in a Nazi concentration camp.
Jones found it incredibly intriguing to delve into her character by using a wheelchair,” she explains. She consulted extensively with an osteoporosis expert and conducted thorough research on the condition.
According to Jones, there’s a part of Erzsébet she hasn’t shared with László yet. She doesn’t want this aspect to overshadow their relationship. Their marriage is built upon love and their shared Jewish faith amidst a harsh political climate. As Jones explains, Erzsébet’s faith and her love for László are closely connected. In relationships where both partners have survived the Holocaust, there can be immense trauma on both sides, making it difficult for the relationship to thrive. However, in this story, we see László and Erzsébet navigating their shared traumas, seeking emotional safety, and supporting each other strongly.
For the first time, Brody and Jones hadn’t collaborated prior to their work on The Brutalist. However, as she remembers, “It seemed like we had been working together for centuries.” The collaboration was a natural fit, with both sharing a keen eye for detail, a propensity for pushing boundaries, and a knack for improvisation. This is where the humor often originated, especially in their use of accents and Hungarian dialogue, which required intense focus to pull off effectively. She chuckles and sighs as she continues, “You really have to concentrate to make it convincing.
When considering the distinctive manner and appearance of the character Erzsébet, one might ponder who Jones was imagining when writing her; the sorcery she creates seems astonishingly authentic, deeply informed. “I had an extensive resource from the British Library,” Jones discloses, “which contains recordings of people discussing their experiences surviving the Holocaust. I found a woman named Heidi Fisher, who grew up in a similar socio-economic situation as Erzsébet. I used her voice as a model and managed to uncover some compelling archival recordings of her speaking.
Jones has a particular aptitude or preference for portraying influential women supporting complex and troubled male characters, such as the wife of Eddie Redmayne’s Stephen Hawking or the daughter to Mads Mikkelsen’s character in “Rogue One: A Star Wars Story.” Over time, this tendency has been noted by others. “I just can’t resist,” she admits, stating that the resistance she encounters in these strong women is what captivates her; there’s nothing more intriguing than their demonstration of strength. “I’m always drawn to uncovering the individuality beneath the labels of wife or mother,” she continues. “However, I often find myself attracted to characters that embody defiance. This desire to explore defiance is at the core of my production company [Piecrust Productions]. When a script presents a moment of defiance, then I think, ‘This one fits me perfectly.’
That moment comes in The Brutalist when Erzsébet confronts their patronizing hosts in one of the film’s more fireworks-filled scenes. “Brady and I talked about this superhero transformation that she has. She definitely rises up,” Jones says with a smirk. “Being in America, her health actually improves through the diet, the emotional warmth and the joy of being with this person that she loves. She finds this strength — she has the mental strength when we meet her — but she needs to get the physical strength to really nail Van Buren. In that moment, we get glimmers of what her life was before the camps. … It’s pure cinema with the shoe coming off.”
Working with Corbet was an insightful experience. He exhibited such emotional openness in his work, according to her. “There’s no disguise with Brady,” she notes. He’s creating stories that truly resonate with him and for the right causes. A significant part of this film revolves around Brady and Mona. They share similarities with Erzsébet and László, both being directors and artists. The film can be seen as a representation of their marriage in various aspects.
From the moment I read the script for The Brutalist, I knew it was something unique. The story is rich with multiple layers, but even just visually scanning the pages, you can sense the technical complexity of this film. In the opening scenes themselves, there are two columns of dialogue and a chaotic symphony of voices talking over each other, which never subsides.
The movie has a genuine scholarly aspect, yet it possesses a raw punk essence, which I found intriguing. This duality – accurately portraying history while maintaining a Brechtian feel – creates an awareness in the viewer, reminding them they’re watching something and not just passively consuming it. The story is about survival, but not merely physical survival; it explores how one can preserve their beliefs and dreams amidst challenging circumstances.
This tale was initially published in a special December edition of The Hollywood Reporter’s magazine. To get the magazine delivered to you, simply click here to subscribe.
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2024-12-12 23:58