| My acting teacher,
Stella Adler, used to say that a stage actor can go work in the movies or on TV but that a
movie or TV actor can hardly ever work on the stage. An actor trained to play in front of
a camera rather than in front of a flesh-and-blood audience just might not have the voice
for theatre, not to mention not having certain intangibles like presence and projection.
The voice question certainly applies in the case of Gloria Swanson with whom I had the
good luck to perform in a summer theatre production of Claire Booth’s The Women
during my halcyon undergraduate days. While the legendary Ms. Swanson should have been a
treasure in the role of the Countess, audiences said that they couldn't hear her past the
front of the orchestra of the great big Memorial Hall in downtown Dayton, Ohio. But never
mind, because nowadays if she were alive Ms. Swanson would be equipped with a microphone
which is a giant step toward helping a movie star take the stage. Recently I watched
Stella Adler in one of her three and only three film roles, that of Claire Porter, who is
the girlfriend of a big boss racketeer fronting as a racetrack businessman. Her
performance in this, the Shadow of the Thin Man (1941), made me wonder: Just how
easy is it for a theatre actor to work on screen? We all know the complaint among critics
that powerful stage actors can seem too big or overly dramatic in the movies, as has been
said about Maggie Smith although not in reference to her 1969 portrayal of the title role
in The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie for which she won an Oscar. But then Jean Brodie
on the page was already a histrionic character before Maggie Smith infused her with
boundless theatrical flair.
I would say that the opposite of too big or overly dramatic is happening with Stella
Adler in Shadow of the Thin Man. This born-and-bred theatre person, this Miss
Adler of the grandly romantic Adler clan of actors, seems to be acting almost defensively
against the danger of being inappropriately theatrical on film. It is as if she is
withdrawing her stage savvy and playing not larger than life but playing in the size of
life. The consequence is an understated and curiously complex performance, which is
particularly evident when compared to the bold outlines drawn by Thin Man William Powell
and Thin Man spouse Myrna Loy. While Stella Adler is creating an inner life for her swanky
blonde underworld dame, Mr. Powell and Ms. Loy are creating stylish behavior for Nick and
Nora Charles. Of course we recognize Mr. Powell and Ms. Loy as seasoned movie stars. They
know their medium and their acting style inside out (though there is far more outside than
inside to their style). They are graceful and charming and fashionable and fun and
sometimes surprising. They really don't much bother with inner lives, and why should they?
There aren't even close-ups in the Thin Man series!
It is quite possible that Stella Adler is bringing a lot more than is necessary to this
haute couture comic mystery genre, but as the film critic Richard Schickel has observed,
her appearance “powerfully and memorably interrupts the slick banter.” So it is
not that Stella Adler is bringing more Maggie Smith theatricality than is necessary to Shadow
of the Thin Man, no, not at all, but that she is bringing more psychology than the
movie may care to bear. All that the plot really needs in the guise of Claire Porter is a
glamour-girl veneer covering a tough cookie. What Stella Adler offers in her few short
scenes is a no longer young woman holding onto her sanitized speech, modified accent, and
upgraded decorum, which have won the affection and bankrolling of the
racketeer/businessman. In other words, this no longer young woman has risen in society by
means of a back stairway, but the plateau on which she poses is precarious. This is
because she has a jailbird past that the racketeer boyfriend is ignorant of, and to keep
him ignorant she is paying blackmail. Adler responds to the pressure of Claire Porter's
situation at times with caution and at times with urgency. Her creation is a woman who has
climbed into furs, diamonds, and a Rolls Royce, and is struggling and strategizing how not
to fall.
What with the studied wit and sophisticated speech ingeniously delivered by Mr. Powell
and Ms. Loy, there is really no time or place for subtlety in the movie, even though
Stella Adler takes the time and makes a place for subtlety. In the end, her performance is
the least histrionic or the least overtly theatrical of all, which may not have been easy
to manage. When everything and everyone around is aspiring to an image of clever fun, a
theatre-trained actor may find him or herself working extra hard and all alone to give
some depth to a movie role. |
