22 Wasted

When I first met Greta Scacchi, as she took the first steps on her career as an actress, she exemplified that couldn’t-care-less attitude defined by the Italian word, sprezzatura.  Wikipedia tells me that the word originates from Castiglione's The Book of the Courtier, where it is defined as "a certain nonchalance, so as to conceal all art and make whatever one does or says appear to be without effort and almost without any thought about it". But when everything comes easily sprezzatura can soon turn to sloppiness and conceit. 

Greta on set of Turtle Beach

Greta arrived in Hollywood in a flurry of publicity to play opposite one of it’s biggest stars, Harrison Ford. By that time she had  already played major roles in ten movies and an array of prestige TV series. Now, when it seemed all had fallen before her, her incipient grandiosity floated to the top. She bad-mouthed her Oscar-nominated director, and snubbed other Hollywood big names. Precipitantly, she started complaining about being typecast and was soon in an on-set row with, the legendary indie director, Robert Altman. Then. famously, she turned down the role in Basic Instinct  that would make Sharon Stone a superstar, and, by her own admission, let scripts being sent her pile up unread.

Greta at 47

In the meantime, she had an intense affair and, for the first time, it seems, learnt that you can’t always get what you want. Abandoned with a small child, she then compounded all her woes by portraying herself in the media as a victim — and there is nothing less charismatic than a victim. Greta thought that she had established herself sufficiently to be able to return to Hollywood at her choosing, but soon discovered that was not the case. The extreme reversals of fortune of John Travolta should have been warning enough; it was only after many years in the wilderness that he was rediscovered by, the cineaste from the video store, Quentin Tarantino, who enabled his considerable charisma to light up the big screen again.

Where Greta had once been so infectiously full of herself, she now retreated back inside her skin. She made appearances without a shred of makeup, her blond hair returned to mousey brown, wearing clothes that most young girls would not be seen dead in. I sometimes wondered whether these drab utility clothes were Greta’s version of sack cloth and ashes. Was this her being brave, or just masochistic? The shocked and dismayed reactions of her fans could be read in the comments left on-line. And, I felt much the same when I saw that this was how she appeared before the cameras when she, at last, got her chance of a Hollywood comeback, playing George Clooney’s wife, in Syriana. Sadly, her part was entirely removed from the final film.

Pia Miranda, Ellena Cotta, Greta Scacchi in
Looking for Allibrandi

Whereas once Greta had been radiant with the charisma of promise, her appearances now just created a nostalgia for what once had been. There have been many actresses who have parlayed their sexual mystique well into their sixties — Charlotte Rampling, Catherine Deneuve, Susan Sarandon, Helen Mirren, to name a few — but Greta prematurely turned her back back on everything she had been and did some truly dreadful feminist films. The best of her post-Hollywood performances came in the Australian feature, Looking for Allibrandi in which Greta played a sad and withdrawn single mother of a sixteen-year-old girl. Set in the Italian community of extended families, her performance was touching, but demonstrated that the one type of character that a highly charismatic actor cannot play is a down-to-earth workaday ordinary person. It’s true that Greta, like Marilyn Monroe, may have been able to pass unnoticed when she chose, but “passing unnoticed” is not really what acting is all about.

By chance, one night, I caught Greta making a guest appearance on BBC 2’s The Review Show. They were doing a special edition on the Cannes film festival and had invited La Scacchi on to give a star’s point of view — and, no doubt, to bring a little glamour to the proceedings. On the contrary, Greta, dressed in her usual nondescript fashion, was behaving as if trying to wipe out any vestige of charisma which she might have left. Like a prudish old lady she defensively brushed aside references to her nude scenes, and, against the acerbic comments of her fellow panelists, gave the usual luvvie effusion of soft compliments to any film under discussion. Her voice, the earnest whisper of old, sounded as full of intimacy as ever;  but now there was no intimacy of content. She was refusing to interpret, refusing to personalise, as if trying to be as bland as possible. When it came to singling out her favourite film of the festival, she opted for a documentary — you could almost hear the producer’s heart hit the floor.

This fall from grace was momentarily broken when Greta suddenly espoused the plight of our declining fish stock and sought publicity for the cause. With a return of her old chutzpah she spontaneously stripped off to be photographed cuddling a large dead cod. The collision of hot and cold was whacky, bizarre — one might even say surreal, recalling Breton’s Soluble Fish, and Magritte’s Collective Invention — and, perhaps, because of that, it worked. Greta got more publicity than she had had for a long time, and a string of other stars followed suit, “doing a Greta” for the cause. The Eco loophole had allowed her to be light and flirtatious again, but this spirit was not to last.

The most brutal self-harm came in an interview with the Telegraph where she attempted to rewrite history, claiming that she had not been happy to do the nude scenes which brought her fame. This would certainly be a surprise to those of us who were present at the time, but Greta was now obviously out to completely erase her hot reputation. It transpired that her teenage daughter had been embarrassed when some of her chums, hardly surprisingly, discovered nude photos of her mother on the internet. Now, Greta was attempting to present an image which would be approved by the PTA. The interview, that took place in a Brighton café, was interrupted by the appearance of her son asking for money to buy chips. She then rattled on about the high cost of school uniforms. It would appear that the screen goddess now wished to be seen as just another school mum.

The photograph that accompanied the article, taken on the beach opposite, showed Greta, her hair chopped and style-less, her face scrubbed, her expression “right-on” — staring at the camera, looking sour and grim, no hint of a smile, no light in her eyes. In those early scenes, which she she had just disavowed, she had been very much alive; her eyes were now dead. She was the forlorn victim of a crass piece of miscasting — which she had perpetrated on herself. It was as absurd as her once being cast as Margaret Thatcher; but that had been a jest for the sake of satire. This new guise was clearly intended to pass for real.

Greta as Margaret Thatcher, Damian Lewis as Jeffrey Archer in 

Jeffrey Archer: The Truth

Charisma reveals a truth about our essential core beyond the accommodations we may try to make with our humdrum everyday lives. For some of us that core rarely sees the light of day, because we keep it carefully hidden away. A great actor must be prepared to risk all and take the opposite course. Beyond all the tricks of impersonation, the costume and the makeup, an actor must be prepared to expose the root of who s/he truly is. One cannot choose the why and wherefore of one’s core self any more than one can choose the colour of one’s eyes. An actor’s charisma is a force that springs from the unconscious, like the doppelgänger we meet in our dreams. 

Looking back it is hard not to draw breath when one realises just how much Greta has let slip. Compare her to the Italian actress, Monica Belluchi, perhaps, the only other actress in recent years to rival Greta's beauty. Certainly, both women have been included in numerous lists of the most desirable women in the world. Both began their working life modelling in Milan. And both used their spoils to pay their own way through drama school. From there Greta had a meteoric getaway, stepping straight into leading roles and making her breakthrough film, Heat and Dust, when she was just twenty-two. Even before that film was released she was being hailed in The Sunday Times magazine as a star. And, at that time, she was busy notching up further screen credits on several continents. 

Monica Belluchi at 49

By contrast, Monica, who is just four years Greta's junior, had to work far harder to get her career under way, not making her breakthrough film, L’Appartement, until she was thirty-one. It was also far harder for her to get her break in Hollywood than it was for Greta whose first language is English; but that was when it all started to go wrong for her. In the meantime, Belluchi carefully nurtured the fashion and cosmetic promotion contracts of the kind that Greta had repeatedly cold-shouldered. Hence, despite what Belluchi says in interviews, she has been careful to preserve her looks, while Greta, with sprezzartura now turned toxic, has persisted in behaving as if she couldn’t give a damn. 

Now, both women are in their fifties, both the mother of two children. Belluchi is soon to be seen playing the lead female role in Spectre — the new James Bond film; and where is Greta? Let's just say, she has dropped off the radar. She is still acting but no longer a star. Perhaps she prefers it that way.

20 Too Beautiful for Words

Greta Scacchi was not only the most beautiful woman I had ever met but also the most charismatic. I had learnt from interviewing numerous models who wanted to act that the two do not necessarily go together. On several occasions I ended up wondering whether the vacant girl slumped in the chair before me could possibly be the sexy young woman in the pictures she had just handed to me. Patsy Rodenburg, who taught at many drama schools in and around London, has similarly commented:

“I would sit and listen to maybe 200 actors a week. I couldn't understand why some actors did everything right yet didn't engage me or make me clear. Some actors were very impressive, they were clever and displayed intricate skills, but after watching them I forgot their work - it didn't last in my memory. Some were very beautiful but not connected enough to be sexually attractive. What was missing?” (30)

The Hood and the Harlequin (Bergerac)

One day, when Greta was still completely unknown, I sat at a cafe table in Covent Garden and watched her coming across the concourse towards me. She was wearing flat shoes, no makeup, her hair pulled back, a kit bag over her shoulder, yet, as she passed every head turned to watch her go by. Her walk was without ostentation, and in it’s quiet grace quite beautiful. On several occasions prior to this I had called ACTION  and watched her walking before the camera. As she came towards me there was no discernible difference now. She was all of a piece. She had what Doe Lang has termed “bio-rapport”.(18) She did not just have a body; she was embodied. But, beyond that, she knew exactly who she was and where she was going. Like Bob Dylan’s girl with the Egyptian ring, she acted as if she was in need of nothing.

“When you’re centred, you’re in your body as much as your head. You flow through situations, at ease, natural rather than judging yourself. Your voice is relaxed and warm and you find it easy to connect with others.”(29)

Frances McDormand 

A Man in Love

Greta Scacchi’s screen career had the fastest lift off of any actor, bar none, that I have heard of, before or since. After being talent spotted in Milan she worked briefly as a model to finance her passage through drama school; and then, at 21 she emerged and stepped straight into leading roles in TV and films, first in the UK, then across Europe, Australia, and finally the USA. Just out of drama school, she had the freshness of the ingenue, but the confidence of the seasoned player. She knew exactly who she was and where she was going, and, so did everyone who came into her orbit — long before they could pronounce her name.

When Greta looked at you you were often left wondering whether she was saying something about herself, or something about you. She looked at you as if she expected to be recognised, expected to receive a response of a certain kind; and inevitably she got just that. On the few occasions where she scored a miss she would see it as a joke or a challenge that she was sure eventually to win. She was very flirtatious, as much with women as with men, and her appeal was often instant. She never wore makeup, unless it had been applied for professional reasons by a makeup artist.The only time her clothes were striking was when she had been dressed by a professional stylist. So, off-screen she always appeared totally natural, totally unaffected. 

But Greta was not as simple as she at first appeared. On occasion she would withdraw into her interior world and would have to gather herself before stepping forward. To be herself was a little like going on stage. Caught unexpectedly she could be too shy to look you in the eye; but when she was switched on she was not shy at all, with lingering eye-contact, little touches, intimate tones of voice. Because she was so careless about her appearance it came as a real surprise to discover that her blond hair was dyed. Greta was stepping out into a long line of bottle-blonds, with Debra Harry before her and Madonna still to make her breakthrough, in Desperately Seeking Susan, a year or so on. The most famous of them all, Marilyn Monroe, demonstrated on several occasions her ability to turn her sexual charisma on and off.

Marilyn Monroe at The Actors' Studio

“Marilyn Monroe was a classmate of mine when I studied with Lee Strasberg. After class, we would all go to Child's Restaurant on 47th Broadway in Manhattan. Marilyn wore no make-up at all and would dress very simply in low heels, with a scarf covering her blonde hair. No one paid attention to her. She blended in with everyone else. Once when we were talking about this magnetism she said, "Watch!" Whatever she did, she turned it on and everyone we passed, man, woman, and child, reacted to her.”(27)   Gordon Phillips

Paula Strasberg has similarly spoken of riding the New York subway with Marilyn and no-one paying her any attention at all; while on other occasions she would be mobbed as soon as she stepped into the street. Personal development guru, Andrew Leigh, assumes this was because when Norma Jean took on her superstar mantle she began relating to the people around her (19); but I very much doubt this was the case. This is not the way that stars behave except in controlled situations. I would rather suggest that it was brought about by an internal change, from being absent to being filled with the excitement of being her superstar self.

Sally Potter has, generously, suggested that the need to feel full of themselves accounts for much of the bad behaviour indulged in by stars.(29) Most of us live in a default state of vagueness, in chronic retreat from our own skin. The star has mastered the ability to bring themselves into focus, to fill up their being in the moment, and allow it to radiate out. The twin qualities that make this possible are qualities that both Marilyn and Greta had in abundance, those of vulnerability and boldness; it is the tension between the two, brought together in the moment, that leads to great charisma.

In her interesting book, Presence, Patsy Rodenburg outlines three circles of energy. In the First Circle the focus is inward, the energy withdrawn, the breathing shallow; it is the circle in which to be if you don’t want to be noticed. The Third Circle is the opposite stream, it is the Circle of bluff and bombast; the energy is moving out but is unfocussed. Clint Eastwood once said that he could walk anywhere he wanted in New York without being stopped by simply always looking ahead and never slackening his pace; this is Third Circle mode. The Second Circle is described by Ms Rodenburg as the energy of connection.

“In Second Circle your energy is focused. It moves out toward the object of your attention, touches it and then receives energy back from it. You are living in a two-way street - you reach out and touch an energy outside your own, then receive energy back from it. You are giving to and responsive with that energy. You react and communicate freely and spontaneously within the energy you are giving and receiving. You are in the moment - the zone - and moment to moment you give and take.”(30)

But the three circles of energy can be thought of, not just in space, but also in time. The First Circle is the past; The Third Circle, the future; and The Second Circle, the present. In moments of charismatic presence energy flows from a heart-felt past, to a purpose-filled future, through a spontaneous present alive in the here-and-now. Like Terence Stamp Greta seemed to experience intense sensation and could be stopped in her tracks by the impact of light and colour. According to research carried out by Elaine N. Aron on The Highly Sensitive Person, this is more than just a fanciful notion, but describes an innate trait that applies to 15% — 20% of us.(1) Greta’s touch could feel quite electric. The very first time I took her hand I was immediately aware of this.

Charisma is the result of this flow of aliveness in the moment. In Bernie Taupin’s immortal words, it is like “a candle blowing in the wind”.

References

1. Aron, Elaine, The Highly Sensitive Person: How to Thrive When the World Overwhelms You, Thorsons, London, 1996. 

27. Phillips, Gordon. Take It Personally: on the art and the process of personal acting, Applause Books, New York, 2000

30. Rodenburg,Patsy: Presence: How to use positive energy for success in every situation, Michael Joseph (Penguin Books), London, 2007

10 The Fear Barrier

Riding the Intercity to Granada’s Manchester studios I found myself sat opposite a restless man who seemed eager to talk. It turned out that he was a club entertainer who was on his way to, what he said, would be his last gig. He was not an old man; perhaps in his early forties. He told me that he had started out in showbiz while he was still in his teens and, while he had never achieved the success that he had hoped for, he had, not only been able to support himself, but also raise a family on the proceeds. I asked him why he now wanted to give it up. He told me that from the start he had suffered nerves before going on but had assumed that as he got more experienced it would fade away. Instead it had got gradually worse. Now he could never go on without being sick into a bucket several times. The horror of it all had just become too much for him. His tale made me realise that stage-fright is not just a passing flutter of the heart, but a very real adversary. In the est training there had been a notorious stage that all had to pass through, called The Fear Process; I believe that it was actually called something else by the organisers but those who had gone through it always referred to it as The Fear Process. This simply required participants to stand in a line on a stage facing the audience — and do nothing. They were not allowed to smile, frown make comments or attitudinise in any way; they simply had to stand. If they did anything else they were immediately shouted down. It was astonishing how difficult this proved; some started shaking all over, others hysterically protesting, others hyperventilating, some simply burst into tears. After a while several assistants came and stood directly in front of each participant in turn, staring straight into their eyes until they were able to calmly look back. There were a number of professional actors in my training, some well-known, and I was interested to find that, contrary to what one might have expected, they were affected as much as anyone-else. It appeared that all their experience of going on stage counted for nothing when they were stripped of a character behind which to hide. It seems that in all of us there is a deep-rooted conflict between the desire to be seen and the fear of exposure to the other’s gaze. No doubt the life-affirming exhilaration that many actors feel after a successful performance comes from having overcome this natural resistance, having passed through the curtain of fear and returned unscathed. For most the thrill outweighs the terror, but the balance can, sometimes unexpectedly, tip the other way. This is what happened to a young actress with whom I worked named Elizabeth Cassidy. While the business rejects many hopefuls outright, and gradually wears others down with time, it is comparatively rare for an actor who is young and successful, with a future ahead, to voluntarily give it all up.  Elizabeth Cassidy in Gangsters After leaving drama school Elizabeth Cassidy quickly gained a string of TV credits, most notably a starring role, first in the TV film, Gangsters, directed by Philip Saville, and then in the two series of the same name which followed. It was as director on the last of these that I met Liz. Firstly, I noticed that she became very twitchy when time was taken lining up shots of her. Then I discovered that she was frequently missing from publicity shots because she would make excuses not to turn up. So there are very few shots of her, other than screen shots to be found. Despite her good looks, Liz hated to be photographed when she was not immersed in a role. A year or so later I worked with her again on an episode of Crown Court. She was talking then about giving it up the business, that the constant stress and uncertainty had become too much for her, but, as she said it with a laugh, I did not take her too seriously. Actors frequently talk of giving it up but rarely do. It was only much later that I discovered this show was the last title to appear on her IMDb credit list. I did, however, work with Liz once after that, five years later, when she came in as an assistant casting director on my play, The Personal Touch. For the general public it can come as a surprise to learn that actors are more often than not rather shy people. It seems counter-intuitive that they should choose to expose their inner being on stage and screen for a living but I see this as proof of the strength of their drive to be seen and heard. They have learnt to pass from an oppressive introverted world of self-regard into an extroverted state of bathing in the attention of others. Sometimes one can see an immediate positive effect of this release from the tensions of ordinary life. The slouch-shouldered, mumbling actor suddenly takes on real presence; his posture, his voice, his look, everything changes. This is something more fundamental than just acting a role; it is a transformation of the whole instrument that makes the successful acting of a role possible.  When I first met the actor Kenneth Colley, I was alarmed to discover that he had a shallow cough that seemed to uncontrollably interrupt his conversation every few minutes. I soon established that this was a chronic nervous condition and not a passing infection. However, he assured me that as soon as he started to act it would disappear. And, sure enough, as if by magic, it did. However, with Derrick O’Connor, another actor on the same show, an habitual hand gesture, that I had hardly noticed in ordinary conversation, proved more obdurate when it came to his performance. First I just asked him to eliminate it, but this did not work; so I suggested that he hold his hands behind his back. This was fine for a bit but then, suddenly, one hand would jump free and fly up in front of his face. Derrick himself seemed surprised at it’s recalcitrance. In the end, for the purpose of rehearsal, I resorted to tying his hands together. Eric Morris calls these habitual quirks, ticks and mannerisms dependencies. (41) Sometimes they can be cultivated into signature behaviours by which we come to know the actor, but they are still defences and distractions that interrupt the flow of real experience. And sometimes these set into insurmountable blocks that stand in the way of the actor fulfilling his obligations to the part. It came as quite a shock to me to discover that Greta Scacchi in her twenties, lithe and fit, could not, or would not, dance to beat music. She could play a deeply sensual love scene, appear completely nude, but she could not do a passable disco dance. What was it that held her back? One could only conjecture that it was something from way back in her childhood or adolescence. A director on set never has time to deal with these things and can only find ways of working around them. Shooting a nightclub scene for Bergerac all I could do was get Greta to fake it by doing turns in front of the camera while others danced around her. An equally surprising but more insurmountable problem was encountered when working with Iain Cuthbertson on Sutherland’s Law. Iain was the star of the series, an imposing leading actor, with a long list of stage and TV credits and his own popular following. In the script I had there was a simple, but rather touching scene with Edith MacArthur, his life partner. It was an anniversary scene which, was not overly sentimental, but called for a simple expression of tenderness. In rehearsals I sensed that Iain was trying to work his way around this scene, indicating what was to happen but never portraying it. When pressed he brushed asides my concern and asked me to trust him. This is the very worse thing a director can be asked to do. Firstly, it is hard to say that you do not trust an experienced artiste of talent and repute. But, secondly, if you do you are left with nothing to work with. Of course no-one expects full-blown passion in a rehearsal, but a director needs enough to be able to sense what the performance will be. In this case I soon realised that Iain had hit a block. The scene required an emotion that he was not able to give. Where a gentle embrace was called for, all that Iain could muster was a chummy clap on the back that one fella might give another after a night out. There are many fears contained in the fear of exposure that is commonly called stage fright: the fear of embarrassment, the fear of inadequacy, the fear of intimacy, the fear of losing control, the fear that everything we want to keep hidden will come tumbling out. A particular character, a particular drama may allow the actor to break through the confines of his habitual self but a stubborn residue inevitably remains — the fear that the act we maintain in real life will crumble and we will be seen for what we are.  References: 41. Morris, Eric, Freeing the Actor: an actor’s desk reference, Ermor Enterprises, Los Angeles, 2011