(Harrison) Ford: Dependable, Reliable, A Classic

(Harrison) Ford: Dependable, Reliable, Always a Classy Vehicle

It’s a strange thing to admit, but I almost never notice the acting during any of my films, even when I’m standing there a few feet away from the action, day after day, next to people like Angelina Jolie and Ed Burns as they emote and tell (and re-tell through many takes) their stories.  Why is that?  Well, I somehow feel embarrassed to be staring at them as they work, unless I’m looking for something I am responsible for, like an overly hot chrome surface or a freshly-completed repair in a wall between two very important talking heads.  Also, as a professional, you don’t want to be standing in their eyeline, or catching their eye at all.

But this odd blankness about the acting being done in front of us is not mine alone.  Most people in most departments seem to be as oblivious to the nuances of the performances as I am.  There is certainly some form of ambivalence toward actors from those on the crew.  They get paid so much more and are so much more honored for the work they do that it is hard not to feel resentment toward them, especially when they only put in a fraction of the hours on the set that you do.  But then, they’re FAMOUS, they’re STARS, so some kind of awe and respect necessarily follows them and surrounds them (unless you’re working with Christian Bale).

But every so often I find myself drawn to an actor’s performance even in the midst of my own crazy stress and a short-deadline pile of work I am doing at the moment.  The first time it happened was on the film Surrender, an ‘80’s comedy featuring Sally Field, Steve Guttenberg, and Michael Caine.  For coverage and for “safety”, there were many, many takes of one scene and its jokes.  The writer, Jerry Belson, was a great comedic professional, known for his work on “The Odd Couple” television series and many others.  He knew all about timing, tying the bow, and the perfect set-up for the perfect pay-off.

But after the sixth or seventh time the joke was said by Sally or Steve, it just wasn’t that funny anymore.  Even if the timing was perfect every time, the line was spoken right on cue, or whatever was required was done with professionalism and enthusiasm.  This is only reasonable—you’ve just heard the exact same joke told for the seventh time.  It shouldn’t be that funny anymore.

But when Michael Caine spoke his lines, he could say the same exact thing twenty times in a row and all of us in the room or watching on the monitors had to stifle our laughter, because every time it was just as funny as the first time we heard the joke.  It took a few years for me to realize that this is extremely rare in an actor.  He is so good at what he does that it made you stand up and take notice (and want to laugh) no matter what.

This show I’m working on now had been like most others for me in the sense that I could admire Brendan Fraser’s ability to immediately emote in the range of whatever his character was required to do, but it really didn’t capture my attention, and it was the same for the other actors in the scenes during the first two weeks.  I had lots to do most of the time, and couldn’t allow any diversions.

Then Harrison Ford got here.  I was trying to finish slamming on paint for a completely new section of a house’s exterior door that the carpenters had quickly cut and put up when it was suddenly decided it had to be seen in the next shot.  I had fifteen minutes to paint it and dry it.   I was completely absorbed in my probably impossible-to-finish-in-time job when, through the front door side window I caught sight of Harrison talking to Brendan in the on-going scene being filmed.  Ford was waving his fork for emphasis while they ate apple pie. I knew the scene from having read it, but suddenly the urgency in it came clearly into focus, and I felt a clammy, visceral worry over whether Harrison’s character would decide to help Brendan and his wife or not.  The suspense was palpable—  Then Harrison raised up his forkful of apple pie and brandished it at Brendan like a sword just at the moment the AD yelled “—And CUT!”  He did his little ad lib joke perfectly in time to follow the cut.  The playfulness following the suspense was astonishing and skillful; I was shocked back into reality.  I realized that I had just been completely captivated by Ford during the last part of the scene.

And in almost every scene at some point, Ford manages to grab my attention even when I’m doing something else.  A subconscious part of me picks up on the cues in his voice and hears it as absolutely real.  That perception says to me, “Hey!  Listen to this!  It’s important!”  Even if it isn’t really important at all in reality, outside of the film’s world.  Just as when I worked on that show with Michael Caine, I was forced to notice and recognize the something “extra” in Ford’s ability to act in a scene.

It’s not a big name star thing—I don’t notice it when watching most other big name stars at work—it seems to be a high level of skill at manipulating lines, scenes, energy, whatever.  It’s mysterious and compelling, and it’s one more surprising reason I love doing what I do.

And I did finish the house exterior in time, with not a second to spare before Harrison and the director walked through the door that had just been covered with wet paint a few minutes earlier.  Thank you, mega-watt heat gun, for your intense performance.  You saved my own scene.