more MUMBLINGS FROM A SCOUSER by Mat Capper…
Last week I had the honour of being in a Hungarian film partly being shot in Liverpool called ‘Bibliotheque Pascal’, directed by Szabolcs Hadju. I must have been the only one aware of his work from the Liverpool contingent having seen his fine film ‘White Palms’ (feher tenyer). I must admit that the reason I had seen it, was that it was Oscar nominated some years ago and it caught my attention from reading a review in the Independent.
In the film I played my usual heavy set skinhead nutter who runs a high class brothel. I had a couple of scenes with the lead actor. I was given direction through an interpreter who said ‘just have a conversation with the guy as if he is your boss’. This was no problem, much better to have no script, I didn’t have to worry about getting the words in the right order, I just had to say whatever came I into my head. Over the course of a couple of hours and about six takes the dialogue went something like this.
Henchman Good evening boss.
Pascal Working hard? Or hardly working?
Henchman Bit of both boss.
Pascal We busy in there?
Henchman Rammed. Full of the usual shite.
Henchman slams door shut. Pascal enters his club.
Now this wasn’t exactly rocket science. All I had to do was have a conversation and avoid all urges to look at the camera, knock over furniture, or try and make other actors laugh. I love acting, whether I am remotely good at it, I have no clue. It is just a big children’s playground. What I can’t stand is the nonsense that often goes with it. The idea of absorbing yourself in a role is ludicrous to me. I recently went to see ‘There will be Blood’, with a laughable performance by Daniel Day Lewis who pontificates about being lost in all the roles he takes on and requires many months between films to return to normal. He famously used to be carried on and off set in ‘My Left Foot’ and refused to come out of character during meal breaks and insisted on being spoon fed his lunch. Imagine how utterly annoying that would be for everyone. I’d want to ring his neck and shout ‘why can’t you just ACT dear boy’.
He likes to go on about how he researches the role for months on end. I think he just goes on holiday and decides on the length of his facial hair. In ‘There Will Be Blood’ his moustache was so big it allegedly required its own trailer. The size of facial hair often relates to the actor’s desire for an Oscar, indeed Viggo Mortenson lost to Daniel Day Lewis for the award in 2007 and learnt from it. He grew a huge moustache for his next roles in Appaloosa and will surely win the Oscar in 2008.
The thing with Bibliotheque Pascal was the enjoyment of being a tiny part of something wonderful. We shot through-out the whole night in the middle of Liverpool, it was freezing and some of the poor actors were dressed as fantasy characters. There was Lolita, Peter Pan, a full brass band, and the lead lady dressed in a full gimp outfit. The costumes were for continuity as the interiors had been shot in Hungary during the summer. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of them died from pneumonia. We all had to burst out of the club in some sort of fantasy sequence and it absolutely wonderful. I was watching the whole crew smile on each take and the director jump around. The only contact I had with him, other than through the interpreter, was when he showed me a rubber ball that when squeezed changed colour. He seemed to take great pleasure in popping into the green room between takes and squeezing his ball.
There was no division on set between any crew or any actors. We all mixed together like some strange Eastern European circus. No one person appeared more or less important, there were no trailers, minders, or stand ins. Every one smiled at each other, we were all part of the same trip. It was one of the most inspiring nights I have had in a long time. The following morning I returned home and started writing ideas for short stories and scripts. The misconception that I should only write a script that had a very good chance of going into production disappeared. It doesn’t matter; the joy is in the writing, the creating, regardless of what the end result is. Writers write, it is as simple as that. I can’t imagine my favourite writer, Bukowski, giving up or trying to write something that would be marketable. He wrote because the passion burned in him (as well as the booze), and he couldn’t control it.
Desire is inspiration and there is no telling when I become inspired. How could I know that a night with a gang of Hungarian film makers would re-light a candle of passion in me, so strong that I have to do something about it. It has been many years since I have had that experience. I have had parts in films where I have been given my own trailer and had food brought to me, but those experiences are so shallow. All they do is feed my ego which is no good for me and so unfulfilling. I’d much rather be in charge of holding an umbrella on something inspirational than be paid a fortune to appear alongside Daniel Day Lewis, playing his moustache.
Please check the following link out for a glimpse of what is in store from Hungry. I have absolutely no idea what it is about but it looks tremendous.
http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=1CPPhg4vEis&NR=1