Alternate Best Actor 2010: Vincent Gallo in Essential Killing

Vincent Gallo did not receive an Oscar nomination, despite winning the Volpi Cup, for portraying Mohammed in Essential Killing. 

Essential Killing follows a member of the Taliban as he attempts to escape a detention center in Europe as he's pursued by the American military.

That creatively named member is named Mohammed, though really he could just be called the running man as that is the basic nature of the role played by Vincent Gallo. Vincent Gallo a director and actor who is known both onscreen and offscreen for his rather unappealing presence and personality. Gallo is a strange example because he's someone who when you see him and usually when he speaks there is just an innate unlikable quality that exudes from him, however there is something very strange about Gallo because he is oddly captivating to watch despite his presence to the contrary. His role in essential killing theoretically removes one of his most unlikable features being his unpleasant voice and his far more unpleasant words as the character of Mohammed is mute other than grunts and screams related to survival situations. We don't get a deep background on this guy, why he was fighting or anything like that. We just follow him as he kills a soldier, is captured, then needs to escape. The most we get in terms of some sense is a vision in one scene where he sees a woman in the desert, which doesn't say much other than the vaguest of spiritual beliefs. Gallo's performance just shows some awe, establishing I guess that the character has some religious conviction, maybe, but otherwise than that the nature of the role is one in the moment, in reaction and action towards the idea of escape and survival. 

The survival is much of the film as we see Gallo, we see Galllo run, see Gallo run, go Gallo go, see Gallo go, see Gallo step in a bear trap, see Gallo scream, scream Gallo scream, see Gallo breastfeed, breastfeed Gal...actually I'm done with this bit. The performance is a survival film performance where it is very much about the visceral reaction in the moment to the situation or moment. As performances of this ilk goes, I have to say, I don't find Gallo's performance especially captivating beyond a certain point. I think he's perfectly fine in terms of just portraying realistic reactions in terms of the physical wear of the situation, whether that is just general physical exhaustion of his constant running, or more specific intensity of falling through rocky terrain or getting his foot in a bear trap. Gallo's anguish is convincing enough, though I wouldn't say it kind of goes beyond a surface interest. I certainly don't turn my gaze from Gallo here, but he doesn't pull me into the psychological existence of Mohammed, I just see a man running for his life. His checkpoints of this idea are perfectly fine in the moments we get respite when coming across as a random French woman. He portrays that innate desperation and fear of the man in the race, less a dogged conviction of a man with a plan, but just the conviction of a man with the will to survive. The progression of his performance is just of the increased physical exhaustion. It isn't more or less than kind of what can be believable in a general sense. I don't feel I've come to know the character from the progression of this, I don't feel I see this natural change in the state of man's nature either, I feel Gallo just kind of *is* what he needs to be, but doesn't go beyond that. The moments where he is nursed to health by the French woman, we get maybe bits of silent tenderness there, almost like a childlike reduction in the manner of the man from overt fear, however I don't think it still amounts to all that much. It's a good performance, however it isn't more than that. For it to be great, I'd say it would've had to truly elevate the piece to me becoming fully invested in his silence, which I wouldn't say was quite true. 

Best Actor Backlog Volume 6

 And the Overlooked Performances Are:

Philip Seymour Hoffman in Jack Goes Boating

Vincent Gallo in Essential Killing

Clive Owen in Trust

Tony Leung Chiu Wai in In The Mood For Love

Alan Cumming in Josie and the Pussycats

Alternate Best Actor 1986: Results

5. Yves Montand in Jean De Florette - Montand gives a good performance as a the distant antagonist however the real meat of his work is in the sequel. 

Best Scene: Making recommendations to his nephew. 

4. Kyle MacLachlan in Blue Velvet - MacLachlan gives a strange performance, however one that works for me in truly putting a certain kind of earnestness in a completely inappropriate plot. 

Best Scene: After love letters. 

3. Roberto Benigni in Down By Law - The ideal use of Benigni as his every direction energy is the right off-beat for Jarmusch's filmmaking style. 

Best Scene: Italian Restaurant. 

2. Erland Josephson in The Sacrifice - Josephson delivers a powerful portrayal of one forced away from distant observation to face seemingly certain death. 

Best Scene: A prayer. 

1. River Phoenix in Stand By Me - Phoenix gives an altogether amazing performance, where he brings a true charisma and maturity, but also a real vulnerability and even appropriate childishness. 

Best Scene: The milk money story. 

Updated Overall

Next: Backlog, and feel free to go ahead with recommendations (My order of viewing will not be by order of comment this year however.)

Alternate Best Actor 1986: Kyle MacLachlan in Blue Velvet

Kyle MacLachlan did not receive an Oscar nomination for portraying Jeffrey Beaumont in Blue Velvet. 

Kyle MacLachlan is one of David Lynch's most common collaborators and his only actor to have led multiple projects for him. Notable that Lynch saw more than a little in him given the first film together was Dune which was seen a mistake by Lynch himself, and that is one performance of MacLachlan's you don't see too many ardent supporters of. Contrasting that to his work in Twin Peaks, their most essential collaboration, where MacLachlan first thrived in bringing to life Dale Cooper as an iconic eccentric detective, which he somehow made even greater in the Return where he not only gave a glorious reprise of Cooper, but also managed to outdo Chance the Gardner, in a depiction of a highly specified charming mental detachment and matched even the likes of Anton Chigurh in his depiction of Doppelcooper. So that leaves Blue Velvet as the in-between performance, as the "average" young man Jeffrey who returns home after his dad fell ill and finds more than just an interesting adventure when he goes to investigate a severed ear. A performance that honestly if it was in most films, I probably wouldn't have a great deal of affection for but performances are all contextual, and in the context of Lynch MacLachlan serves a very specific purpose here. The first third of his performance or so is that of almost a performance you'd find in a 50's sitcom, given his bright smile and almost the tendency to say everything with a silent "geez whiz" attached to it. In some ways he has more in common with Burt Ward as Robin the boy wonder than he would as any hardboiled noir detective or even average wrong man style performance that you'd usually find in a mystery thriller such as this, and that's entirely the point. 

MacLachlan is the embodiment of an overt Americana of the golden boy, and in turn is strange in his existence when you compare it to hardship or darkness such as the aforementioned severed ear. In the early scenes of the film, the one place where McLachlan seems to fit entirely is when we see him running his dad's hardware store and he interacts with the other employers there. There the bright smile and sincerity of that seems authentic weirdly, because it is where that overt earnestness is indeed at home and makes sense. When Jeffrey begins deciding to investigate, with the help of the lead detective's daughter Sandy (Laura Dern), is with that same odd optimism that of that 50's sitcom fellow, which leads him to decide to investigate and sneak into the apartment of a lounge singer Dorothy Valens (Isabella Rossellini). As the investigator MacLachlan is more than a sore thumb where he goes in as a fake exterminator and couldn't seem less convincing or later just ends up hiding himself in the closet only to be discovered by Dorothy who weirdly threatens him while also becoming sexual towards in him a sadomasochistic fashion. Where MacLachlan is stilted in these reactions, however it works as he also feels the reactions of a man who really has no idea what he's doing or what's going on. Something that serves its purpose in these moments, but does more than that when the psychotic Frank Booth (Dennis Hopper) comes into the film.

The long ride that Frank takes Jeffrey on, when Jeffrey is accidentally leaving Dorothy's apartment, is one of the highlights of the film, and part of the chemical formula of the scene is the awkwardness of MacLachlan's performance. This isn't taking a normal guy from the 80's on this ride, it is the embodiment of a certain Americana that is brought on it, and the specific reactions of MacLachlan speaks to that. This being him barely saying any of his lines for much of the scene as he is crowded by Frank's heavy drinking and whoring pals just being in and around him at every moment. MacLachlan is frequently the punchline in these scenes as even the way he stands among them, with his downward hunched shoulders and seems completely out of place every second of it. When he is punch a few times, Jeffrey takes each one just going with because what we see is a man completely out of his world in every possible way, where Jeffrey the neighbor, drinks the wrong beer and is just a quietly horrified spectator, fearing for his life while also just being completely out of his element. Out of his element though by just seeming so weird in this world, that is weird yet all as one in their way but MacLachlan's manner as Jeffrey breaks the mold with all the appropriate awkwardness. Only when Frank starts to sexually assault Dorothy does Jeffrey finally take action, and MacLachlan's expression state changes from that of petrified fear to a bit of anger, which the break is what makes the impact in the moment as he finally takes action by punching Frank. Something that naturally leads Frank to in turn beat Jeffrey and leave him in the outskirts of town. The morning after, we see the "gee" completely removed as he fully breaks down, and the young man of Americana faces the reality of the darkness beneath it. 

Although this would seem the time in most films where the character himself would become cynical but that's not Blue Velvet. Rather what MacLachlan does is just ease back a bit on that initial overt optimism, the man who just bemoaned the existence of men like Frank Booth as purposefully as naive as possible, to someone with at least any wisdom. Something we don't see in big moments but rather just the letting go of naivety as he tries to balance his love for Sandy while also dealing with his affair with Dorothy. Something that isn't this big break by MacLachlan rather a very quiet but earnest apology, however a different earnestness than the "kid" of before towards someone with a better understanding of the world. Something that culminates as he visits Dorothy's apartment one more time only to find the death and destruction as wrought by Frank Booth, and probably MacLachlan's most naturalistic work comes in the scene. He is fully genuine in this moment in the realization of what all his actions have resulted in and I've always found his "Gonna let you find them on their own", very moving as we see this maturation of Jeffrey. Of course Jeffrey is forced to face Frank Booth, as Frank returns to the apartment just as Jeffrey was about to leave, leading to the final concentration, where MacLachlan's fearful reactions and movements help to amplify the tension of the sequence. In the moment MacLachlan finally fully becomes the wrong man type protagonist and we see Jeffrey just barely become the hero, albeit just barely. And while this isn't the mastery of the form you'd see from MacLachlan in Twin Peaks, in the end he delivers a strange performance on the whole, but for me one that works within the specific tone and atmosphere created by Lynch.

Alternate Best Actor 1986: Erland Josephson in The Sacrifice

Erland Josephson did not receive an Oscar nomination for portraying Alexander in The Sacrifice. 

The Sacrifice defies simple description however follows a former actor and writer in his seemingly isolated house surrounded by his family. 

The Sacrifice in some ways is Tarkovsky's version of a Ingmar Bergman film, as we have a self-reflective character facing a crisis of faith. One obvious feature of connection is within the use of Erland Josephson, a common Bergman actor, utilized here as our main character that we follow through his unusual journey. The film begins seemingly simply enough as we find Alexander playing with his young son affectionately known as "Little man" and pondering some tale. Josephson's performance is as a seemingly largely content man in this state of being as he ponders as he does and as he interacts with his son. There is a bit of joy, but also just a relaxed quality. The man seems concerned with greater matters in what he speaks of; however Josephson's delivery even of these words isn't of immense concern rather very much this observational quality. Eventually this is interrupted by the arrival of their neighbor and mailman Otto, who gives Alexander a birthday card from friends and their conversation continues though with Otto mostly taking the lead. Again Josephson's performance is a man going through the motions of this interaction, not really in a negative way of a man weighed down by the conversation but rather just a man who exists within certain confines of living, a living that doesn't seem to break beyond a certain point. For example when asking about Alexander's relationship with God, which he replies is non-existent, isn't spoken as either a pained truth or a purposeful dismissal, just as a fact of the man's existence no more no less. The only example where we see kind of a break from that observational quality is with the little man, when he lassos the mailman's bike that causes Otto to fall in good nature. Josephson's reaction is very much the loving father which portrays a stronger connection in that moment, which is a bit different from the rest of the interaction where we see the man just observing as he does. This continues as he gathers with his wife, his step-daughter, his maid, his doctor and Otto in their house where conversations continue on various subjects, including Otto's fascination seeming with the otherworldly, and even the background of Alexander as an actor who became a critic. When speaking even of his own past, Josephson's delivery is somewhat passive, there is a history there but a history of seeming the man having a natural calm within his existence despite this purposeful choice of the past to separate himself from a craft he once cared about. Josephson's performance maintains that of the observer, even though this is the man's life that speaks of, it is in his house that Otto seems to have a minor breakdown, yet Alexander remains as he is without concern. 

The strength of Josephson's performance in the early scenes is that Alexander doesn't become lost within the frame, or the other characters, despite being observational for so long. Josephson, just as he did in his earlier collaboration with Tarkovsky, manages to pull you into his work even as he supports the overall vision wholly naturally. Here Josephson carefully expresses the needed sense of history within his observing expressions, there is much the man has thought about and even his physical manner exists as someone who purposefully detaches, to the point almost seeming like a ghost in his own house. The film makes its first brilliant twist when jets are heard from above and much of the household are horrified to hear an announcement of potentially World War III starting. Something that Alexander even doesn't initially react to as strongly as others, even coming into the broadcast late, leaving the doctor to drug his hysterical wife and others as they panic over their seeming impending doom. Josephson at first still being the observer for some time till he is left with his own thoughts. During this time Josephson's performance so quietly yet potently shows the sense of building understanding and despair in the man seemingly haunted by this horror explicitly. Leading to Alexander's first act as he prays to God offering a prayer to end the horror of their situation though with an offer that he will sacrifice all that he loves if God makes the horror end. Josephson is extraordinary in this scene as he breaks that observational distance and becomes completely alive in the scene. Josephson in his deteriorating expression reveals so much pain, sorrow and existential dread, combined with in his voice this wavering hope as he speaks his prayer. There is so much power to every word, and his decaying state of emotional distance is lost and we see someone completely in contact with the idea of this horror. Josephson finds within all of this quiet yet incredibly powerful conviction as he offers his sacrifice of everything he loves, as a promise of sacrifice as a fundamental truth. It is an extraordinary scene made so by Josephson's performance that embodies this all with such tangible emotional might that is devastating to behold. 

The next twist in the situation comes from Otto who suggests Alexander seek out their neighbor Maria, who he claims is a witch and that she is in some way the key to escape. Leaving Maria's with a pistol and an unknowable intention. Something that comes out within Josephson's performance that grafts onto this bizarre situation an honesty by projecting this quiet fearfulness and more so this lost quality as he seems to be seeking something from Maria, but he really doesn't know. We have yet another tremendous monologue from Josephson as he describes a "gift" he brought to his mother's garden, where he articulates with such a quiet sense of nostalgia that mixes in this sense of the past though with the uncertainty of the future. As he continues speaking of the garden though he notes how by "fixing" his mother's garden by ordering it, it removed any of the beauty from the garden. Josephson's way of losing that nostalgia and bringing out instead such painful regret filled with such a sense of what he sees as a mistake and almost a grievous act against his mother. He exudes such quiet heartbreak that is so powerful because in his delivery and his expression he builds towards such a building state of being a man utterly lost within his current dismay. Something that progresses to taking out the pistol, a moment without conviction rather Josephson plays the moment as though he has no awareness of what he is doing with it, or what he is doing here, just the potent sense of a man completely lost at this time. Something that is only broken as Maria embraces him and comforts him to the point of becoming sexual with him, a scene that only gets stranger as it proceeds because it appears as though Otto's mythical depiction of her holds more than a little credence. Something that Josephson grounds by presenting just a man completely lost in this moment, lost in this time, and lost in himself as he goes along with Maria though in a near catatonic state. Eventually Alexander awakens and the world seems to have not ended and peace to whatever extent it is has come back. Which some might take as a false alarm, but a man who had said his prayer in the way Alexander has, leaves him to go through with his sacrifice to atone. The final act of the film, Josephson doesn't really have lines and is seen largely at a distance. Yet Josephson is always captivating as we follow Alexander as he evades his family in order to set-up burning down his house with everything in it. His sneaking around is played with almost a childlike manner of not fully mischievousness yet there is a glint of it, as Josephson seems to portray some arrested state as he progresses around in his plan with a curious conviction. It isn't the emotional man speaking of his love, now it is filling some bargain with a logic only he could fully understand in the moment. When his family finally "catches" him, his reaction is of a man completely lost, though now in a new way as he reacts unintelligibly emotionally, if not even randomly, yet in Josephson's performance you do believe in this break, of the strange yet tangible journey we've seen him progress through. Josephson delivers an idiosyncratic yet tremendous performance. One that is about a few key moments verbalization combined with remarkable silences, to successfully explores a mental state that seems wholly unique, yet never feels less than universal in an emotional sense. 

Alternate Best Actor 1986: River Phoenix in Stand By Me

River Phoenix did not receive an Oscar nomination for portraying Chris Chambers in Stand By Me. 

Stand By Me follows four boys as they set on a life-defining "quest" to see a dead body. 

After watching the film again after more than two decades, the film I recalled being good, but this entirely is a far greater film than I had even remembered. Part of this is the central cast, Wil Wheaton is the weak link, partially as being the "main character" Gordie, the most straightforward inspiring writer, and while I don't think Wheaton is bad, it is more of an example of by comparison where he suffers most. As both Corey Feldman, as the mentally ill abused Teddy, and Jerry O'Connell as the most childish of the four Vern, both acquit themselves well. I will note just how broken Teddy is, wasn't something I picked up on so long ago. But the star of the show is unquestionably River Phoenix as the de-facto leader of the group Chris, who is known to come from a "bad family". Phoenix had been in a few tv shows and films before this, including the incomplete and imperfect Explorers, however the level of confidence in his performance here is truly remarkable for a performer at any age. Phoenix is entirely charismatic and serves well in establishing Chris as the leader of the group and just seemingly the clear thinker of the group despite his reputation. Phoenix isn't never even remotely a child actor here, and isn't doing well for a child actor, he's fully just an actor here because his work goes beyond just that confidence. Phoenix has a naturalism here that is just a given at a certain point, where there are many small moments in say in his co-stars where you see shades of the inexperience, Phoenix on the other hand is a born actor. 

Phoenix is so good that in a way he is fascinating giving co-star in the group scenes with the other kids, because as confident and commanding as his performance is, he never feels like a show off among them. Rather the ease in which Phoenix carries scenes is something that he makes build the general chemistry between the boys that much more believable. There isn't a moment where Phoenix is forcing the banter, or the digs between each other, however Phoenix bringing this "as a rock" like quality in the center of scenes just balances everything even in the moments of bigger acting from O'Connell and Feldman, he helps you just to accept it through his reactions to them. Phoenix makes Chris the more mature one, though there is a whole other brilliant factor in that element, which crafts that essential anchor within the group. They are never distant even when at their most childish, you don't just believe the kids, but you come to fully feel as if you are within the group in these scenes of exchange between them. Each plays their part to a degree, and Phoenix plays his part best in making them connect the most honestly. And that is where the true genius of this performance exists in pulling off what seems to be quite the magic trick, even though the performance is always completely natural, which in a way merely makes the "trick" that much greater an achievement. The trick that Phoenix achieves is the way he is able to portray both childishness and maturity, where it is hard not to marvel at his ability as a performer. 

Phoenix in a given scene can fluctuate between someone in at least their twenties to the preteen he is, all in the same scene, all in the same moment. It is truly extraordinary because it isn't as though Phoenix suddenly dramatically shifts in delivery or physical manner, yet what he embodies just changes right before our eyes with such ease. Phoenix articulates each and every moment differently because Chris is a kid, who is a kid, but a kid who has been through a lot even in his young life. When fooling around with the other kids he's just a juvenile in his random insults about dick sizes or mothers, where there is that petulance in his voice that isn't out of place of course, because he is a preteen. At the same time the moments where he talks about his dad being meaner than usual, the history of that is just suddenly in his eyes so directly, his voice just blunt as a person who has lived so many tough years just laying out the reality of the situation as a simple truth. One particularly amazing scene of this juxtaposition is early on as he starts out the journey still in town, showing Gordie the gun he swiped from his dad for their journey together. When Chris is showing off the gun, there is the gravity in every single one of Phoenix's words laying out the severity of the deadly weapon that sits in the hand of each boy, right down to noting that he made sure it wasn't loaded. When Gordie plays with it then accidentally shoots it off, Phoenix immediately is a scared kid who has been fooling around as he screams right with Gordie to make a hasty retreat as soon as possible. It is astonishing work because this switch isn't forced, nor is it unnatural, it rather is this completely believable manner of someone who needs adult grit in his life, but is still a silly kid at the same time. 

One can find so much in every frame that Phoenix is in, just in watching to see "what age" Chris is in a given moment as the leader, but again it is never an exercise it is a reality that Phoenix uses to only make Chris all the more impactful as a character. Where we see this so potently is in his relationship with the other boys. With Vern is largely comedic, where in a way Chris is most the fellow kid with the least maturity of the group, this is in stark contrast to his moments with Teddy. One remarkable scene as such is as the boys first play along a train while a train is very far away, and Phoenix presents the simple joy of phony danger right along the other boys without hesitation. When Teddy continues to stay on the tracks and begins to ramble about World War II based on things that his mentally ill dad has said, Phoenix's expressions instantly change to reflect the severity of the situation and the sense of understanding that Teddy is going off the deep end in the moment. Phoenix's performance suddenly switches to that maturity of concern as he forces Teddy off the tracks and berates him for his behavior. The most powerful of the relationships is with Gordie, where we see the best friend who absolutely has his back no matter what. Again there are the moments of truly just the friends being friends of their age, but so much more when Gordie bemoans taking college ready classes which will take him away from his friends. In a scene that I can't help but think it directly inspired a certain famous Ben Affleck spoken speech in Good Will Hunting, Chris basically telling Gordie to essentially forget his friends because of his potential as a writer. Phoenix is outstanding in the scene because there is such measured warmth he brings into every word of the speech. He brings a tough directness to it, but also this real sense of concern for his friend. Phoenix makes it so clear the wisdom of Chris in as he advises his friend that will be the best for that friend, even if it will take him away from him. And especially adore Phoenix's way of describing Gordie's writing, Phoenix shows such genuine admiration and appreciation for his friend's talent that is of absolute friend. 

The friendship between Chris and Gordie is paramount to several key moments throughout the journey and we get the return for the favor between the two of them each time. Phoenix's own moment of Chris breaking down his story of stealing school milk money, which is true but he also confessed to a teacher who in turn stole the money for themselves. Phoenix is amazing in the scene because we see the process of revealing both the maturity of the eventual man and the completely understandable vulnerability of the boy in the moment. In his breakdown he switches from showing that strength at times but bringing the fundamental heartbreak of a boy whose sense of any innocence was purged that much more by the teacher betraying him. That moment Gordie comforts Chris but Chris returns the favor when Gordie breaks down when they see the dead body, believing his parents wished he died rather than his older brother who had died in an accident. Phoenix on the other side is just as incredible in the fully loving embrace and as blunt as he was in telling Gordie the truths about their futures, Phoenix is as blunt in giving the speech telling Gordie that his father just doesn't know him. Phoenix brings such emotional sensitivity while having that toughness to him in the same breath and again it is such complex nuanced emotional work from such a young performer that it is absolutely extraordinary work. Which is the truth of the entirety of his performance. Phoenix is a boy and a man as Chris. When he faces off against the bully Ace (Kiefer Sutherland of course), Phoenix has that strength of someone much taller, much stronger in his eyes, however as Ace calls the notion and is about to attack him, Phoenix as believable waivers as the young kid he is as the fear almost overwhelms is his expression. There's never a break in this realization by Phoenix; it is a natural flow between these qualities that define Chris. Phoenix manages to perform beyond his years, by successfully being a wholly natural commanding performer, who is that boy, but finds that seasoned age of a boy who has been through more than a little in his short life. There isn't a facet of Chris that seems forced, he is warm, he is tough, he is childish, he is adult, he is it all, and it is Phoenix who makes every moment of it feel not only completely believable but also so very powerful and poignant. 

Alternate Best Actor 1986: Yves Montand, Gérard Depardieu & Daniel Auteuil in Jean de Florette & Yves Montand & Daniel Auteuil in Manon des Sources

Yves Montand, Gérard Depardieu did not receive Oscar nominations, despite receiving BAFTA nominations, for portraying César Soubeyran aka "Le Papet" & Jean Cadoret respectively, nor did Daniel Auteuil, despite winning a BAFTA, for portraying Ugolin all in Jean de Florette. Auteuil and Montand were also not Oscar nominated for the same roles for Manon des Sources. 

The first half of a two film series, shot back to back, Jean de Florette is just an incredible film which is both beautiful and heartbreaking in depicting an honest dream against dishonest ambition. 

Quickly it is hard to put Auteuil in supporting when he definitely has more screen time than Montand, and possibly more than Depardieu, and seems like it was a case of "servile equals supporting" which is extremely silly. Anyway, the film opens with the unlikely characters to follow in such a story, as more often we would begin with our tragic hero then see the villains who will try to stand in his way. This film is the opposite where we open with the colluding villains as they set their plans. We have the paternal, though in this instance being the Uncle, role of a long standing family in Southern France looking for some avenue to increase his family's wealth, along with his nephew Ugolin played by Auteuil. Although related the two are dissimilar in manner, and performance. Montand's performance is very much defined by his status as the old noted actor, with that whole type of regal presence accentuating the nature of the man of this assumed privilege and even prestige. Contrasting that most bluntly is his nephew, where Auteuil is made up quite a bit with his teeth and nose, to look almost rat-like, and is something that Auteuil wholly embraces with his performance. A performance that is my kind of mannered performance, because I never even thought of it as mannered when watching it. Although it is entirely so where Auteuil accentuates his makeup and prosthetics with his whole facial expressions, that is unlike any Auteuil I've seen, along with his voice. Each element being extremely specific in creating this specific sniveling quality, although remarkably performed because he wholly convinces you just of Ugolin as this person. A person who very much is defined by his life of labor, who lives with the dirt, and Auteuil accentuates every bit of this by embracing those mannerisms making you believe and sense the history of this man's life.  

We are presented with their unlikely state of being even from their earliest conversation where Montand comes in with this gracious even warm spirit to his nephew making suggestions that Ugolin might attempt to woo a local woman to find a wife with this paternal wisdom as the defining feature of his delivery. Something that Auteuil reacts to with nearly deaf ears and just kind of a confused expression of why exactly he'd want to "burden" himself with such things. Mentioning instead his use of prostitutes as all the women he could possibly need, Auteuil makes this pronouncement as honestly as Ugolin knows, which there isn't a second of consideration and such a life of expectation isn't something that Auteuil's work suggests even phases Ugolin. Crafting the odd pairing of the two as despite being family what draws them together is only the collusion of family, as we see César as this instructor for Ugolin even if we hardly feel they are as one despite working as a pair. Something that becomes more evident as the two come upon a dying neighboring farmer, which is perhaps where we see the clearest bond of the two reacting not with concern for the man, but rather this instant connection of the possibilities each man senses with the potential death. Even the notion of criminal murder being sort of danced around which Montand delivers with regal distance and Auteuil with dogged, well, dog eat dog mentality. The man indeed dies, which while watching the property the men find the all important water source for the property, where we see the master criminal and his fool apprentice. Montand bringing this shifty manner in his eyes of catching something to steal, while controlling Ugolin who Auteuil portrays as less able to stay calm in expresses this energy at the potential that César controls lest to alarm others of the whereabouts of the spring.  

Their plans hit a snag when the inherited owner Jean Cadoret appears, along with his wife and young daughter. A man with a hump, and played by a more than dubious man, Gérard Depardieu, which speaks to truly the nature of acting as he manages to deliver such gentle earnestness from the second he enters into the frame. Depardieu's performance is brimming with such approachable excitement as he enters as Jean, a man of the city, who reacts in wonder as he sees the gorgeous hills of southern France. Depardieu is truly endearing here as he manages to make the character's enthusiasm something which is completely honest and entirely contagious. As he looks upon in wonderment and pronounces all his dreams, it is hard not to caught up with his splendid ideas of making a home for himself with his family, because the sincerity of the dream just seems to rest in the initial glowing eyes of his as he seems drawn into such a fantasy place, for him anyways. One of the many brilliant ideas of this narrative however is the presentation of the dream, from the outset, is not from the dream, but rather how the dream is the obstacle of the two men we were introduced to first. César sees him as a threat to his plan which he then suggests to Ugolin to befriend Jean only to be in the position to undermine him when possible. Montand's performance is without overt maniacal quality, rather it is with this overly practical dismissiveness. Montand's performance will be consistent for much of the film as he appears basically as commentary on the attempts of Jean to make it as a farmer on the land, basically as this worst kind of commentator who speaks of every challenge that will befall him, and even shrugs off every potential victory of Jean with some negative alternative in the future. Montand's performance makes César a villain whose villainy exists largely through callous indifference in just observing the failure with conviction that it will come sooner than later. Montand's performance is effective though largely one of consistency, where there is maybe a touch more frustration a few times within his still confidence at Jean's assumed failure, however I would say within the scheme of the film Auteuil and Depardieu have the purposefully more dynamic arcs.  

Speaking of, we are given the perspective of knowing the truth so what we see instead is this cruel game of Ugolin presenting himself as a friendly neighbor to Depardieu's Jean, something Auteuil excels with but not entirely excelling with in terms of the quality of Ugolin's own "performance". Ugolin isn't exactly the best but gets by as Auteuil presents very much an act, though only something someone with a bit more cynicism would catch onto right away. Auteuil's main delivery in these moments is as the doubting "friend", where any idea Jean presents Ugolin has some negative slant on the idea that undercuts it in some way. Auteuil presents it with a certain effective simplicity where seemingly the simple man is just putting forth his own wisdom, as limited as it is, which is a combination of the doubt of his voice and confusion in his face on the atypical thinking presented by Jean. Auteuil tiptoes around the idea of honest confusion with put upon negativity effectively to make Ugolin seemingly reliable enough for the very much trusting Jean. Contrasting that is Depardieu's own work that is so endearing through the sincerity of every moment of his optimism as he explains his ideas of breeding rabbits. There's the energy not of someone with a plan but a fundamental truth to make choices to fulfill his dream. Even when Ugolin offers a negative slant to every single one of his ideas, Depardieu doesn't react as someone brushing the ideas off, rather as someone who honestly cannot see such negativity because his belief is so pure. Something that perhaps makes a little bit of a complication for Ugolin where Auteuil is quite excellent in being able to balance the degree of which guilt ways on the man, as he offers some minor help to Jean, but never of course tells him the truth that would make his plans completely thrive. Auteuil puts just enough shame in his eyes in certain moments, where Jean's trust is so pure, or even in the moment where he hides away to renege on an offer he had made. Auteuil doesn't redeem Ugolin but does offer the right glints of humanity to suggest a man who knows he's doing wrong though can't quite overcome his faults to do the right thing. 

The progression of the degradation of Jean is where the power of the film exists because Depardieu begins with such a potent sense of that dream and what we see is the way that dream seems to be slowly purged away from him, however not in the way you might expect. Depardieu is wonderful in accentuating every moment of success with such joy, a joy that isn't selfish but rather something he wants to not only share with his wife and daughter but anyone nearby. In his eyes you see a man who believes himself to be nearly living in some kind of heaven for himself, so much so that even when he comes upon squatters on his land he only is inviting towards them. Depardieu is not presenting as foolish but rather the nature of the man to love and welcome all to be part of what he sees as an ideal experience. Unfortunately due to the lack of the spring it does eventually take its toll upon him, as he begins to run out of money. One especially heart-wrenching moment comes as Jean asks his wife to allow him to pawn her prized necklace to allow them to get by a little longer. Depardieu is so moving in the scene because you still see the dream in his eyes as a man who is convinced it will all work out, yet there is the first crack in the heartbreak within him as he must ask his wife to do this. Something Depardieu burys within his performance, as the emotions he's trying to hide away from the doubt and the loss of the prized possession, only to find out that his wife already pawned it for the sake of the family. Depardieu's reaction is devastating because you see finally a full break in the dream, and the dawning reality that is tearing at that dream do you see such pain. Something that continues with another powerful though painful scene of a full storm coming, however not close enough to Jean's farm. Depardieu again is so heartbreaking because he goes from such real excitement to the rain to such fundamental anguish, particularly in his delivery of "there's no one up there" as God doesn't answer his prayers and Depardieu brings not just a sense of defeat, but a destruction of a dream. But what is fascinating in Depardieu's work isn't that he doesn't suddenly become just a cynical man, rather he makes something that feels all the more tragic from where he began, which is twisting the dream. Depardieu brings the enthusiasm still however now it isn't with optimism it is reeking with desperation. The same manner of the man wanting for the dream, but now the intensity is making a horrible obsession. Depardieu shows the man clinging onto the dream now rather than living it, and makes it a harrowing act of suffering, leading to his final accidental end. Depardieu makes it an especially powerful portrayal by realizing that shift within the dream from something you can believe in to something that nearly disturbs you. Within the final moments you also have one great moment from Auteuil where you see Ugolin witness what he helped wrought, and that hint of shame suddenly becomes something absorbing in the moment. He still doesn't act as a good man, however Auteuil realizes in his face the real extent of his shame and sorrow. Although not enough as we find both Ugolin and César, after having purchased the land, unplugging the water spring as vultures devour the rewards of their misdeeds as we close out the masterful Jean de Florette. 

Manon des Sources, while still largely effective, does feel more so the epilogue of the previous film than one that completely exists on its own accord for the most part. 

The sequel offers the fallout of the acts of César and Ugolin several years later where they have found profit with the spring, though Jean's now adult daughter Manon (Emanuelle Béart) still resides in the area as a nearly mute shepherd. It seems the ideal life for the pair as the two now live in their success through their ill gotten gains and continue on as such without a seeming worry to anything they have done. That is until Ugolin happens upon a naked Manon to which he becomes instantly infatuated with her. Auteuil's portrayal of this is that of immediate fascination befitting a man who before dismissed the need for a wife as unnecessary due to prostitution, it is simple but also pure in Auteuil's portrayal of his fascination in her eyes but his very manner changes in the moment. Suddenly his movements are even more pathetic as he sneaks around her presence while looking towards her with the same kind of distinct infatuation. Something that leads to a conversation between the two collaborators though of somewhat different natures. And this is quite bluntly where Montand shines in these moments as he shows the older César easing up on his indifference a little bit. As the two converse about Ugolin's desire for a wife where Auteuil speaks every word about his interest now like a little boy who has just discovered love for the first time. Contrasting that with César where Montand brings considerable warmth and joy in his reaction of seeing the potential for his family to live on. Montand is even sweet in the moment as he mentions his own relationships in the past in somewhat metaphorical terms however there is the appropriate sense of nostalgia but with complication that is just overpouring in Montand's delivery. The man is speaking to a time he holds dear but the complication of the time is abundantly clear as in particular he seems to allude to his ideal relationship not working out for some mysterious reason. 

We shift as Ugolin now dressed as a "rich man" tries to woo Manon who is instantly disgusted with him. Auteuil is so perfectly pathetic in the scene because of how he is bringing far too much intensity in his declarations of interest towards her, problematically reminding her of his past with her, and then just his whole physical manner is just so stilted as he walks along with an odd suit that he saw as showing his wealth. Auteuil portrays the man completely misguided in every moment though the intensity of the infatuation is evident in every moment of a man just lost in his lust to the point he ends up sewing a piece of Manon's hair into himself. An act that could seem ridiculous however Auteuil's performance gives an internal logic to this man so stunted in his life that he thinks this will in some way make himself closer to her. At the same time however Manon discovers that the whole town, along with César and Ugolin had conspired against her father, leaving her to find the source of all water for the town and purposefully blocking it. Leading now Ugolin to become the one losing it, although Auteuil's portrayal is very different from Depardieu instead of pulling you into his sadness, he makes you see just how much the man becomes more pathetic in his wretched state of becoming less cogent in any way. Eventually the situation leads to the town to accuse the two men directly of their faults, which unfortunately for Ugolin also coincides with him trying to declare his love for Manon. The scene is ideally painful because Auteuil's performance is as a man who truly doesn't know any better and his simple ability of processing the situation only diminishes more and more as the conversation goes on. Auteuil manages to get to the point it is hard not to feel sympathy because of just how completely lost he is in every reaction in his inability to fully understand his choices and eventually even rage against his uncle. The rage though isn't of a man figuring out he's made a mistake logically, rather wholly raw and irrational is a man falling apart in his core by his mistaken love and limited ability to have any sense of his life. He too becomes heartbreaking in showing a man too destroyed by his crime, though as always within Auteuil's performance purely as a man without the ability to comprehend his failures. Comparing that to Montand who is great as he becomes defensive for his choices bringing a suddenly prideful ferocity to his performance as he challenges the judgment of all. Montand though finally reveals his own break in the man who so confidently oversaw the ruin of another, losing some of that overt confidence to reveal an earnest vulnerability as his voice falters and that reserve of his expression finally falters. 

The last tragedy of the film begins as Ugolin takes his own life due to his guilt, and his insanity from his obsession, leaving César alone, no longer able to make use of all his mechanizations as his whole family line will end with him. Montand's performance remarkably manages to uncover sympathy for César despite his villainous actions throughout both films. Montand does so by just so honestly presenting the sorrow for his nephew bringing such a sense of weight in his voice, his face and his whole physical manner. Montand shows that César has become lost as he saunters around in his depressed state with his only activity being visiting a grave site to visit his seemingly entirely deceased family now. The final tragedy of the tale however comes as César converses with an elderly woman of the community that sheds light on his earlier failed romance. Montand's reactions are amazing throughout the scene as he begins with just kind of confusion to the woman's blame for not having answered a letter, being slightly more intrigued as she suggests it ended up a tragedy. Montand showing the wheels turning in the right way of César's slow realization that he in fact had been the father of Jean after all is tremendous work from him. Montand shows it less as overt horror, but rather understanded sorrow of someone seeing the truth as far too little too late, and just a solemn depression within the man as he realizes all his ill-deeds were against his own son. Montand finally is front and center within both films and doesn't waste this time. Montand delivers the years of waste in the final scenes of the film as we see such a crushing depression within every bit of himself, though with a difference from just the lonely man at the end of a family line, as we now see in his work the pain of hope. We see a moment of him trying to reach out to his granddaughter, who correctly blames him for her father's death, then on his deathbed write a letter with the truth lined out. Montand too manages to be heartbreaking, despite all that his character has done, by so honestly presenting that glint of tenderness in the man mixed in however with the state of a soul truly lost in his shame. All three performers deliver terrific performances in this duology, each crafting their own tragedies that manage to not be repetitive but find the individual power of how the destruction of each man is sewn. 

(Montand for Jean)

(Montand for Manon, Depardieu) 

(Auteuil)