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Eastwood: He Barely Raised His Voice
From: American Film Institute
| By:
Meryl Streep |
EDITOR'S INTRODUCTION |
"I've never encountered anyone who gave less of a damn what any critic, movie-wag or trend-hound says about him or his work," Meryl Streep (right) says of Clint Eastwood, her director and co-star in The Bridges of Madison County. In this 1996 tribute to Eastwood, Streep describes the quiet strength of his directorial style and the respect he inspires from those who work with him. |
 oddamnit! What the hell? Is somebody talking out there?" I'd never heard him speak above the cracked and gentle rasp of Robert Kincaid, fantasy photographer, in The Bridges of Madison County. Yet, here was Clint Eastwood, blasting full bore over his shoulder at some unknown off-set chatterers. The sudden volume was a kicker, but the sinewy lash of irony at the tail end of what he said--real scary. All action stopped, all breathing. If there could have been tumbleweeds silently erasing the air on that Iowa farm, there would have been. It was a shocking moment, never occurring before, and never after. |
He shook his head. "Well, I wouldn'a minded, except on that last one I was close"--he chuckled--"to exceeding my usual adequate performance." He slumped, and sighed. "I guess we'll just have to go to take two." |
With grace and a loopy sense of humor, he deflected what was the only unscripted tense moment in five weeks of shooting. The flare and its quick demise stayed with me. I'd seen huffing and puffing, directorial snits and tantrums "in my day" (as the old-timers say). But since he barely raised his voice above a whisper during the rest of the shoot, I puzzled over what it was that made him so effortlessly captain, so comfortably chief, with all of us cheerfully going about our work. |
In drama school they taught us how to be kings and queens on stage. Or rather, my teacher said, you cannot "act" the king. It's what all the other people on stage do when the king enters that conveys his royalty. The king should just be. His power is reflected in the ripple of excitement, respect, fear, or loyalty that reverberates through the room as he moves in it. |
His set is the quietest I've ever worked on. But it didn't feel still; it felt full, at full attention. Because he works so fast, so unnervingly fast that the rehearsal just may be in the film (certainly a first or second take is all that's expected), his crew (as well loved as they know they are) are on red alert. Maybe it's an actor's ultimate revenge once he becomes the boss that everything be subservient to that little fragile thing in the center, the spontaneous moment, the thing, as Clint says, that "only has to happen once." And I'm sure some would say that his desire to get it quickly has to do with his legendary frugality, or the desire to knock off and tee off, or his self-deprecating sense of the worth of his own work. But that's not what I saw. I saw a crew that watched every take as if it were a scene from their own lives. I saw them laugh and pull focus, cry, and move the dolly. Clint believes in momentum. He likes it when the whole organism breathes in unison. It really felt like we all made the movie together, not he directed, she acted, this one did costumes, that one shot Steadicam. |
Mostly, I felt respect for the process, the simplicity of it when it was working right, the pared-down motions of what was necessary, and only what was necessary, to make the story seem like it was really happening. His impatience roiled up when that graceful movement was interrupted by disrespect for the little thing, the moment. |
This may be an old-fashioned way of working. It certainly doesn't produce films that are primarily manipulated and shaped in the editing room with opticals and laid-in effects. He may do another "woman's" picture, but I'll venture a guess that he won't do much with computer-generated images, unless the process becomes less stop-and-start laborious. You can't shoot from the hip when you're locked in the lab. |
One thing is sure: he'll prove me and all the know-it-alls wrong and do just as he pleases. I've never encountered anyone who gave less of a damn what any critic, movie-wag, or trend-hound says about him or his work. His freedom and independence, a part of his love affair with the moving image, are two of the things he treasures most. The efficiency of his operations as a producer ensures that independence: that's why Clint the producer is lucky to have Clint the director working for him. And I feel lucky to have worked with him in the most sure and mature phase of his artistic life. |
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