Monday 26 April 2010

Pacino in Panic


As Al Pacino turns 70 it seems only right to reflect on a career that has spanned five decades and involved some of Hollywood’s and Broadways finest performances.

Pacino possesses a catalogue of movie classics, of memorable performances, an inexhaustible list of movie quotes and an unflinching secret desire by almost all men to be, just like him.

Out of these feature-length greats comes a movie that is often overlooked, a cinematic second thought; Pacino’s first foray as a leading man Hollywood as Bobby, in Lee Shatzberg’s Panic In Needle Park (1971).

Set in New York’s Sherman Square, we follow the squalid lives of two lost souls in love. Pacino plays Bobby, a tragic, yet rather charismatic heroin addict who engages in petty theft to feed his habit. Bobby meets Helen (Kitty Winn) a frustratingly lost and naive woman who falls for the charms of Bobby. Although initially clean, we follow Helen’s decent into the harrowing world of drug addiction where all concepts of right, truth, dignity and integrity drain away like the colour in their faces, and the hopes and dreams of their youth. Their romance is tangled in a web of addiction, betrayal and prostitution, all in the name of the obsessive chasing of the next fix.

Panic isn’t an enjoyable film; it hasn’t the gags that other drug themed pieces have such as Trainspotting, and it hasn’t the atmospheric and reflective aura of other tragic movies. Panic is in fact an onslaught; it is an assault upon the emotions of its audience, that doesn’t so much shock them with bouts of excellence, but more of a continual grind that leaves its audience exhausted, unsettled, and then a little later, contemplative.

The directorship of Lee Shatzberg (who would again direct Pacino in Scarecrow with Gene Hackman) explains the ethos of a film that is truly pioneering. Panic uses no soundtrack, just the real life noises of the city and the pains of its people- it gives it a realism that is unrivalled. As well as this it has a real-life documentary feel, with wobbly camera footage to boot, which would make Jamie Oliver’s production team jealous.

Panic isn’t scared of shocking – in fact it thrives on it, in a matter of fact type of way. The picture used actual scenes of drug injection- thought to be the first of its time. These are close-up, gruelling shots that aren’t for the faint hearted.

Pacino made his bones with Panic; a movie that was pivotal in his meteoric rise and that is as relevant today as it was back then.

Panic set the tone for Al Pacino’s cinematic journey – it was a signal of intent from a man who wouldn’t be afraid to shock, of taking on difficult subject matter and running with it. The film lit the spark to a Hollywood rocket. It was Pacino’s performance as Bobby that impressed Coppola so much that led to his role as Michael Corleone in Godfather.

Pacino became a made-man through The Godfather, but it was Panic in Needle Park that injected the ambition into this Hollywood great.

Rupert J Conway

The one and only Godfather


On Sunday, Alfredo James Pacino celebrated his 70th birthday. Hoo-hah, indeed. And as everyone’s favourite diminutive Italian-American thesp enters his eighth decade, what better time to commemorate the indelible impression he has left on the history of American cinema.

Born and raised in New York’s Bronx, Pacino was a bored and unmotivated pupil in school, but he found solace on the stage and in 1966 made it into the prestigious Actors Studio, studying under the legendary acting coach – and future Godfather 2 co-star – Lee Strasberg, creator of the Method Approach that would become the trademark of many '70s-era actors.

Pacino’s sophomore film turn was in 1969’s Me, Natalie, closely followed by his first lead role as a junkie in The Panic in Needle Park . It was what came next that would change his life forever.

The role of Michael Corleone in The Godfather was one of the most sought-after in Hollywood at the time. Mario Puzo’s novel had turned the head of every major film producer and when the production was given the green light by Paramount a plethora of established leading men were considered, including: Robert Redford, Warren Beatty, Jack Nicholson, Ryan O'Neal, and even the actor that Pacino would become forever linked with, Robert De Niro.

However, director Francis Ford Coppola had his heart set on the unknown Italian Pacino for the role, although pretty much everyone else – from the studio to the producers to some of the cast members – didn't want him.

Eventually, after frantic debate and persuasion, Coppola won out. And thank the lord that he did.

In my opinion, he's never been more compelling than as Michael Corleone. The trilogy, yes even the much-maligned third film - is majestically epic, brimming over with violence, romance and tomato passata, but the magnetic Pacino is constantly the eye of the storm. Few actors, if any, have created a character with this much complexity - slowly sliding downhill from fresh-faced innocent to cold, broken Don.

It takes several viewings to truly appreciate the tiny mannerisms and understated body language he imbues Michael with. And upon reprising his role in the sequel he, perhaps, turned in an even greater performance. How he lost out on a Best Actor Oscar for Godfather 2 to Art Carney, only the Academy board can answer.

But Al didn’t stop there. Over the next 10 years he would also turn in incredible performances in Serpico, Dog Day Afternoon, …And Justice For All and Scarface. However, after the woeful performance of the utterly pants Revolution, Pacino shied away from the silver screen for four years, only emerging Lazarus-like in the dark but thrilling Sea of Love. Al was back, and what is considered the second age of Pacino begun.

With films as diverse as Dick Tracy, Glengarry Glen Ross, Scent of a Woman, Heat and Carlito’s Way, his performances were of a standard than only a handful of actors could sustain. And in this time he finally got his mitts on his, shamefully, solitary golden statuette. Nominated eight times (two more than Bobby D), Pacino finally won, in 1993, for his classic – yet admittedly somewhat bombastic – turn in Scent of a Woman. He was also nominated that year for his supporting performance in Glengarry Glen Ross, but it was for his performance as embittered, blind army vet Lieutenant Colonel Frank Slade that he finally, as he referenced in his winning speech, “ended his streak”.

Recently, though, it appears that Al has hit the celluloid equivalent of the bottle again. For some people, Pacino has become a parody of himself – a bellowing ball of energy; incapable of the quiet intensity he once displayed ad nauseaum. However, when teamed with a great director he can still create unforgettable performances, notably in Christopher Nolan's Insomnia, Michael Mann's The Insider and acclaimed HBO TV drama Angels in America.

For me, Pacino’s myriad of different roles: from Frank Serpico’s utterly committed undercover cop to Shylock, everyone’s favourite loan shark in The Merchant of Venice, the man has managed to produce some of the greatest film and TV performances of all time. The fact that there are so many, and that they are so diverse, can only add to his lustre.

And that is why, despite the efforts of so many pretenders – and his good friend Mr De Niro runs him closest let’s face it – he is, and always will be, the Godfather. Let’s just not mention Revolution shall we.

Happy birthday Al.


Andrew O'Brien