Alternate Best Actor 1998: Hugo Weaving in The Interview

Hugo Weaving did not receive an Oscar nomination for portraying Edward Rodney Fleming in The Interview. 

The Interview follows the police trying to get a confession out of a suspected murderer...and rather tired police station politics that undermine the investigation.

Hugo Weaving is an actor who if you only ever watch Hollywood productions one would think he could only play a certain constricted villain type, where if you go to see his home Australian work you immediately have a greater variety of roles and chances for him to express his range as a performer. One such role can be found here in the role in The Interview, despite the fact that he's playing a suspected murderer, the part of Fleming isn't as a cackling villain. Rather his character is portrayed rather empathetically in the early scenes of the film whereas the police are presented in turn as rather cruel and abusive as we see them accost Fleming in his home, arresting him with guns drawn to his face, without explanation given and causing the man to wet himself in fear. Weaving delivers what can best be described as a visceral vulnerability, in that there is no ego or vanity in the depiction of this man, rather Weaving presents Fleming in this scene very much as the victim. He's nearly petrified in fear in his physical manner, he speaks as though he's just eeking out the smallest attempts at protesting his innocence, he is wavering in the states of confusion over what is going on with him and he's minimalized in his embarrassment over his state of needing replacement clothes. Weaving shows a man who seemingly could just simply be a man in a state of distress, which only begins as the "interview, more so interrogation begins. Weaving's performance again brings this sympathetic flair of what is a lost man in many ways, as he speaks with this real anxiety within everything as he speaks of only a lack of knowledge of any charge. When they speak of his daily routine, there is a quiet powerful somber quality to Weaving's performance as the man speaks of going to a local market as a chance to speak to people with this earnest but broken connection given the context in which he is revealing this pain. Something that Weaving cultivates in his performance as the police bring up a driving incident when he was young, with Weaving being rather moving in creating the sense of potent disbelief in Fleming as his eyes are that of a lost man unable to quite comprehend what is going on. 

After meeting with a lawyer finally, who tells him to say nothing until the police are required legally to release him, the police offer Fleming food and more so attention and suddenly we see a shift in the character. A shift that may happen too fast script wise, however performance wise Weaving is great in this shift, because he doesn't suddenly turn on the Weaving as a villain approach, something he certainly could do, rather he presents this connection to the attention granted to him. Weaving begins as Fleming begins to recount the alleged crime with a keen interest and his delivery is that of a man who is very much relishing the opportunity for storytelling. Weaving accentuates words and moments, with this understated kind of glee and his eyes are looking at the men with this sort of reaction to a kind of fascination. Weaving presents a man so much enjoying the way he is now the center of the minds of these men, and is suddenly a man of importance, even though the importance is attached to murder. The murder itself Weaving delivers as just the details of the event, no more, no less. Rather Weaving very much is the man playing for his audience, and in turn Weaving is quite captivating as Fleming becomes very much a showman for both the police and the audience. However the film then turns again to be about our central boring inspector and his interrogation methods, where the next time someone asks Fleming about something, he becomes again the fearful man. A difference however is Weaving let's see more performance due to the on a dime switch between the styles of the man as he becomes suddenly very articulate in his denials and his inability to understand why he is being persecuted for his innocence. Leading to sort of the summary moment of the character revealing his true nature in his scene as he leaves the police station, after his interview is ruled as inadmissible, where he walks and a diabolical smile finds itself onto Weaving face. Perhaps an indicator of what Hollywood will see him as for much of his career there, but regardless still here is an effective moment of his performance. A performance that is greater than his film, which really is only compelling when Weaving is onscreen. That's despite the part being very much written to whatever is needed per the plot point of the less interesting aspects of the film about the police officers, rather than what should've been the meat of the piece, the actual interrogation. Regardless, Weaving carries his weight and more, by delivering a captivating and chilling performance, even as he can't quite hold the whole thing up on his own. 

Alternate Best Actor 1998: Sean Gullette in Pi

Sean Gullette did not receive an Oscar nomination for portraying Maximillian "Max" Cohen in Pi.

Pi follows a man trying to make sense of the universe through mathematics which slowly drives him mad. 

Pi is an ambitious filmmaker's first film which comes with a few different things typically, including a lead actor who may or may not be part of their ongoing filmography. Sometimes you have a Harvey Keitel, where a great actor begins with a great filmmaker, sometimes, not quite so much. And I'll say Pi falls into the latter with Sean Gullette in the lead role as the mathematician whose obsession with numbers goes to biblical levels. Gullette's performance for much of the film is fairly one note of this sort of generalized paranoid intensity in and around everything. He doesn't really change much between his performances whether he is talking to his mentor (Mark Margolis who is the best part of the film), random people wanting to exploit him along the way, or random orthodox Jewish men who play into his math mania. Gullette certainly carries that intensity well enough, but I wouldn't say there are any great layers to his work. He keeps a very similar manner with just staring as though he's constantly thinking about his quest, and is a bit limiting for the character. He doesn't quite invite us in so to speak by building towards the paranoia, he's basically there the whole time, and the film just progresses from there from scene to scene. Gullette often is just kind of an aspect in what Aronofsky is doing, a bit like Jack Nance in Eraserhead, however I both prefer Nance and Eraserhead on the whole than Gullette's whose performance does feel a tad similar to. Gullette's work does eventually shift in the third act when everything in the film seems to be building in intensity as everyone seems to want a piece of his mind and his obsession only gets that more vicious. Unfortunately to me that just led Gullette to kind of start yelling all of his lines, again not with layers within the yelling just to tell us that the man is at an extreme and little more than that. I wouldn't say he's bad, it works up until a point, but again it doesn't make us feel as though there is a true progression here, more of a jump, making so a big shocking moment for the character at the end, just feels like something that happens rather than one more step towards insanity. Gullette doesn't give a bad performance, but he doesn't give a great one either. He very much just feels part of Aronofsky's vision that doesn't have life beyond that to any notable extent. He exists in this state of extreme, which again is a note that one can make magic out if one delivers a true greatness, but this isn't that performance. 

Alternate Best Actor 1998

 And the Nominees Were Not:

Christopher Lee in Jinnah

Sean Gullette in Pi

Vinícius de Oliveira in Central Station

Bob Hoskins in Twenty Four Seven

Shah Rukh Khan in Dil Se..

Predict those five, these five or both:

John Hurt in Love and Death on Long Island

Han Suk-kyu in Christmas in August

Peter Mullan in My Name is Joe

Hugo Weaving in The Interview

Matthew Lillard in SLC Punk!

Alternate Best Supporting Actor 1945: Michael Redgrave in Dead of Night & Boris Karloff in The Body Snatcher & Results

Michael Redgrave did not receive an Oscar nomination for portraying Maxwell Frere in Dead of Night.

Dead of Night tells a series of supernatural tales.

One such supernatural tale is a doctor recounting a most unusual criminal case featuring a ventriloquist performer Maxwell Frere and his dummy Hugo. This is indeed the original horror dummy story that would influence others, yes Erich von Stroheim also was a bit dummy obsessed in The Great Gabbo, but the dummy's nature was more generalized craziness than horrifying madness. Although this film is a series of spooky tales, that one could say has a campfire style, none of the performers treat the material as anything less than something worthwhile, particularly not Michael Redgrave. Redgrave brings as much devotion as we'd later see from Anthony Hopkins in Magic in terms of portraying this very specific role, though Redgrave doesn't do the voice. Although even without that touch, Redgrave's performance is fascinating to watch in his first performance in tandem with the dummy Hugo, as Hugo entertains the crowd and Redgrave's Maxwell goes along with it. Redgrave portrays a few things at once. One being his performance as ventriloquist where he just so slightly is mouthing to be believed that this may be just the act of the man, as Hugo goes around entertaining, but watch everything Redgrave does as Hugo speaks to the audience. Redgrave is creating this sense of a piercing anxiety in the man in every conversation, and this very specific awkwardness as though Maxwell is behind the joke every time. Redgrave leaves the ambiguity if this is a clever act as he plays the "dummy" or if it is a man that genuinely doesn't know. This seems to come to light when they speak to another ventriloquist where Hugo acts as though Maxwell may be worthless, where Redgrave brings all the intensity of the sense of an immediate betrayal of an underlying being mistreated by his boss as he lashes out and slaps Hugo. Maybe the act still, but Redgrave depicts a man very much distraught at the notion. When the man comes to see both in their dressing room, where Hugo invites the man to take over. Where Redgrave then is seething in emotional distress, and a pure mania in his eyes. A man with a terrible fixation as he speaks about Hugo with this sense of dread and despair almost at the idea of Hugo moving on from him. Redgrave makes all of this eerily tangible, which could be ridiculous, but here Redgrave makes it terribly real in its strange way. There's a physical brilliance in the moments where Redgrave is in the sphere of Hugo, where there's a subtle stiffness to Redgrave almost as though he moves a bit as the dummy himself, in the way he hangs himself at a bar matching Hugo, much more than just as a man would and Maxwell is the dummy. Although a short within anthology, Redgrave doesn't waste a moment in creating this increasing insanity and descent, as he acts, perhaps as Hugo's arm, as he shoots the other ventriloquist, calling him a "dirty thieving swine", with a completely deranged performance which is altogether amazing. As Redgrave devotes fully to the idea, as particularly when now in jail they bring Hugo back to him, and Redgrave is outstanding in the way he first acts in this sudden fear, then discovery, and a near jubilant happiness of his old partner finding him worthy. Before Redgrave acts as almost a beaten partner, as he reacts as a dejected and such potent fear as Hugo says he'll rid himself of Maxwell, and Redgrave is such a brilliant festering mess of a man as he lashes out against his abuser. Even his final moment, where Maxwell is fully the dummy, Redgrave, physically sells it more so than the voice, in the chilling artificial mask of a smile as he "performs" as Hugo fully. Redgrave delivers the horror of this segment by somehow both giving into the absurd insanity of this notion while at the same time convincing one of its reality by presenting as the portrait of the breaking point of a degraded and abused partner. 

Boris Karloff did not receive an Oscar nomination for portraying cab-man John Gray in The Body Snatcher.
 

The Body Snatcher follows a respected doctor, his new assistant, and the cab-man he hires to provide him with cadavers.
 

Theoretically in the long line of creepy Boris Karloff performances as a titular character of one sort or another, and to be fair to Karloff he's often good regardless of the quality of the film. This one is a little different in that Karloff is just *that* good here. Playing a non-supernatural role, and one where his makeup is relatively limited, more striking really is his costume which is just a great look for a character regardless as this cab driver from a certain time, who we actually meet in somewhat humble circumstances as he gives a ride and helps out a little girl to visit the respected surgical professor, Dr. Wolfe MacFarlane (Henry Danielle). Karloff doesn't change his voice to any monstrous thing here, rather he seems to almost try to emphasize even more this certain English delicacy within,  to the point I'd say he sounds most similar to his narration from The Grinch Stole Christmas, and as narrator not as the Grinch. And it is with a masterstroke of this decision because Karloff has never been creepier than he is here in portraying John Gray. Karloff is so gentle with the little girl with his bright smile as he helps her in that you just know there can't be anything good that is going to come from all this. And the truth of this becomes quite clear when the next time we see Gray he's dropping off someone else at the doctor's office, with reception by our bland hero (required for all horror films of this time it would seem) Donald Fettes, although this time Gray is dropping off a corpse. Karloff though has just as much of a bright smile, and just as much of this light way of speaking that instantly is bone chilling in the ease about it. We soon find out that Gray has become the corpse provider for Dr. Wolfe, as we see him talk to the doctor at the inn, and the genius of Karloff's performance becomes all the more evident.
 

The scene between Gray and Wolfe, whom Gray calls Toddy as a nickname is just amazing because of Karloff. Karloff's manner is incredible here because technically everything he says, except the use of Toddy, even his physical way of almost bending down to the man, it is all of this servile manner, as though he is the most grateful servant to be able to speak to a "great" man like the doctor. Yet as courteous and modest as Karloff makes Gray, it is all this genius subversion where just *how* gentle he is in his voice, and his gracious eyes always have this glint that you know this is all a lie, even as he speaks to with a truth. It is absolutely an outstanding portrayal of this sort of hectoring as nothing he is saying, other than again the overly familiar use of Toddy, isn't being respectful, yet the way Karloff fashions it, he is respectful while being terrifyingly threatening and penetrating with just how "respectful" he is. And it has to be said this is one of those performances that is just magnetic in such an unusual way, that the moment Karloff appears, you can't take your eyes off of him, because he's so fascinating here in presenting John Gray's particular evil. And that's before we even know the real evil of Gray, as perhaps he's just a grave robber at this point, and our boring younger surgical student thinks so when he asks Gray to find a corpse to help heal a crippled little girl. To which Gray listens out to hear a homeless alms singer in the distance. Karloff's expression as we see Gray perhaps fully as himself as it grows this sudden ideal as an immediate prey to be found and there is a horrifying clarity upon his face. Something that is all the more disturbing when he comes over with the dead corpse of the poor woman, and Karloff comes with that genial quality as though he were delivering milk to the surgical student. We are granted a little more insight when the doctor's other assistant Joseph (Bela Lugosi, which you know a doctor is quite suspicious when he has Karloff and Lugosi working for him), comes to Gray with knowledge of his murder. To which Gray initially seems to invite him into the whole idea, telling him with the story of Burke and Hare who were real life serial killers who provided cadavers via their victims, which Karloff delivers every word of this tale as though this is a wonderful fairy tale with his whole sprite manner. Karloff is devilishly sinister as he slowly twists the notion and then turns to Joseph with clearly a different intention than a partner as he stares at him. Karloff provides the utmost vile menace but with the most "pleasant of smiles" before going in for the more literal kill. We only technically get the truth of Gray's motivation when the doctor tries to basically beg him, where Karloff changes his tone so slightly and with such potent intensity as he now speaks so calmly yet directly of the satisfaction he gets from being able to mentally torture the "superior" doctor. Karloff relishing in every word he articulates and dominates the scene by portraying so calmly yet viciously the man's motivation, which is less blood lust and more of the most diabolical of class warfare. Karloff IS this film in a way few performances are, in that the film really wouldn't be much, but Karloff is such a powerful presence that he makes the whole film worth watching because he's worth watching. He is captivating every moment he's onscreen, to the point the film is captivating every moment he's onscreen, because he makes his fiendish cab-man a most charismatic villain, though in his own uniquely fiendish way.

Updated Overall

Next: 1998 Lead

Alternate Best Actor 1945: Results

5. Danny Kaye in Wonder Man - Somewhat disposable Kaye work, not bad, but he's been much better.

Best Scene: Police station.

4. Errol Flynn in Objective, Burma! - Flynn is almost entirely onto something as the more casual approach to playing a military commander, even if the execution isn't quite perfect. 

Best Scene: The death of the correspondent.

3. Roger Livesey in I Know Where I'm Going - Livesey's presence offers a very unique and effectively off-beat take on the romantic stranger type.

Best Scene: Boat ride home.

2. Pierre Brasseur in Children of Paradise - Brasseur brings such potent charisma portraying so effectively one man in the film not weighed down by anything rather elevated by it all.

Best Scene: Ad-libbing.

1. Laird Cregar in Hangover Square - Good predictions Tim, Omar, 8000's, Calvin, Matt & Tahmeed. Cregar delivers one final dynamite portrayal of insanity, this time though with a passionate edge that offers a sense of avenues he may have been able to explore had his career not been tragically cut short.

Best Scene: Final concert.

Updated Overall

Next: Reviews of Redgrave & Karloff.

Alternate Best Actor 1945: Errol Flynn in Objective, Burma!

Errol Flynn did not receive an Oscar nomination for portraying Captain Nelson in Objective, Burma!.

Objective Burma depicts a platoon being sent on a mission to destroy a Japanese radar station. 

A performance by Errol Flynn I typically see is how much he relaxes in a part. As the more relaxed Flynn is typically the more his charisma comes out and the more you just believe him. When he's trying to actively sell something then that is where it comes off as the most phony and forced out of his performances. Flynn's performance here is notable then because it is perhaps his most relaxed in a way, though in a way that you might not expect either. In the early scenes it adds up enough where Flynn gives kind of an unknown accent, but regardless he stays with it, so I never minded it regardless. But what more so he brings is this ease about his whole performance that is remarkable in creating this innate sense of leadership in his Captain with his platoon by portraying the way the man always seems to be calming within his troops. What is surprising is that the calm is brought out by being this superman, rather Flynn plays the part as normal guy but a normal guy who just takes everything in stride. There's little comic asides that he doesn't sell like big one liners, but rather purposefully easing away at the tension of the obvious life or death situation they're all in. Flynn's performance is reassuring in the right way as you see how his Captain is commanding his men's spirit in a way by compelling them into going into the mission with a reserve that understands the stakes but is not overwhelmed by them. His work surprised me in that Flynn is often the leader and in this instance he did it with even greater ease, then the ease I expect from his better performances. 

 

When the mission actually begins is where I actually was all the more taken aback by what Flynn is doing in this performance, particularly within the war genre at this time. The platoon leader, or really any soldier at this time was usually within a certain kind of performance of the stoic leader, the fierce warrior, that sort of thing, where Flynn very much instead here plays him just like a guy on a mission, which is kind of fascinating in a way, and perhaps more pioneering than I imagine perhaps he even intended. With Flynn very much playing moments as casually as can be considered appropriate per the war setting, as he's not going into these big emotional swings rather he paints this portrait of consistency that is rather remarkable at times. Because it isn't that Flynn is playing it without thought or connection to what is going on in the situation, rather he is entirely is, but what is going on, is it is woven within his performance in this way that creates the sense of reality. There are moments where men die, even men are brutally killed in one sequence, and the Captain is always the man of calm. Flynn's performance though isn't as though he doesn't care, rather what Flynn does with some fairly modest reactions and internalized moments in his eyes, conveys that all that hardship is going through the Captain, he's just insisting on being strong for the men no matter what happens. His delivery here tends to keep that calm we had at the start, but he does change throughout, in that it is a bit more stressed within it, yet Flynn's performance conveys the intensity as pressure however not something that ever breaks him. Flynn's performance punctuates moments impressively with that subdued emotion, which consistently realizes the real horror of the situation, but without overtures. However, having said all this, I wouldn't say this is flawlessly executed as such, even if intriguing in its imperfect infancy of a concept. Perhaps part of that is the material which is close to something special, but not *quite* there, and even Flynn as well, who has tendency to stiffness if he doesn't fully believe himself, which is mostly avoided here, though not entirely. Regardless, a good performance on its own terms and worth taking a look at this performer.

Alternate Best Actor 1945: Laird Cregar in Hangover Square

Laird Cregar did not receive an Oscar nomination for portraying George Harvey Bone in Hangover Square.

Hangover Square follows a pianist and composer who slowly gets more demented as he moonlights as a serial killer.

The nature of this brief synopsis makes this sound like a very similar role to Cregar's performance as Jack the Ripper in The Lodger, the fact that George Sanders is pursuing him, and it takes place in foggy gaslit London only adds to this approach. BUT, it ends up being quite a bit different, one as the nature of this character's evil action, at least initially, are due to schizophrenic episodes. The schizophrenic episodes in a way gave the audience the Cregar they were expecting, almost as an appetizer with the way the film opens, although to be fair even as heavies Cregar was always finding new ways to play them. Here is such an example as he plays a man killing in the initial scene of a random murder to his episode with this specific intensity, though that is granting a chilling quality because of the sort of hollowness of Cregar's performance. He's just going about it as he would do almost anything as we see him killing a man in a fire and it is nothing more to him than just that, before wandering off where we see his George regain himself, and suddenly we see a very different performance, and really a very different looking Cregar as we see a far more slender man than we had ever seen him any films. In fact he almost nearly looks dashing all things considered, and even more so Cregar is allowed to play even more into the idea of sympathy, though I'd argue he always covertly provided sympathy to his fiends most of the time to begin with, but what we see here is a man with an affliction. Where Cregar plays wonderfully the genuine befuddlement as he walks the street wondering how he got blood on himself and is carrying a knife that he believes might've been used at some point.

When we see George contemplate this Cregar's reactions that of true thoughtfulness and even a dreaded horror at the idea that he might be an unknowing murderer. Cregar creating a potent kind of empathy for the poor soul in this moment, particularly as George's choice is to immediately finding Police Psychologist Dr. Allan Middleton (Sanders) in this instance, to try to get the man to prove he is a murderer. And it is indeed hard not to feel sorry for poor Cregar as he speaks every line with such sincere honesty as he speaks of all his fears for what he has potentially done and is trying to be found guilty. Only when it turns out the knife hasn't been used for a murder and that the blood was his own, is George saved from his guilt and Cregar presents the same sincerity in the character's powerful relief. Cregar brings an innocence even that is particularly wonderfully realized, even as it is turned on its head as poor George discovers yet another knife that would make him culpable for the crime. Cregar's reaction again is not of the monster by the sympathetic man, as you immediately sense the confusion in his eyes and even more so a genuine sadness to what he finds. Cregar this time not portraying the criminal element of Bone as something that compels him, rather something that haunts him deeply as a curse upon him. Cregar creating a change within his often played role of the evil man, this time the evil is something the man is unable to escape, and Cregar creates that penetrating and horrible sense of the madness just beneath the surface that the seemingly decent George would just love to be able to hold at bay if he could.

The film then progresses into something a bit more unexpected within the overall design as it becomes more so the good man, despite what we already know of George, getting pulled into the wrong world by a femme fatale, in this instance Netta (Linda Darnell) a pub singer, that catches his eye. Cregar's performance is terrific in being sincere, though sincere in a way that you wouldn't have seen in his other performances, in that he's not twistedly romantic, here he's trying to be genuinely romantic with Netta. This as he plays a song for her that he's written with her mind, and Cregar brings this great combination between confidence and vulnerability in these moments. The confidence as the man introduces the song with this ease as though music just is second nature to him, and there's that passion as just part of him as he plays for her. Contrasting that however is the interest he has in her where in his eyes it is of sincerity and he speaks only with this reserved shyness of the man trying to make something of this relationship, despite it becomes pretty clear she just intends to exploit him for his musical ability by writing "pop" songs for her, as opposed to the more extensive orchestral works that he's passionate for. Something that is additionally represented by the woman genuinely interested in George, Barbara who also supports his musical passion. Unfortunately George is caught up with Netta, where Cregar articulates so effectively the growing desperation that I think he is quite effective in that he doesn't immediately turn this into obsession. Rather he brings initially the real glint of hope and candour in his voice that is of a man who believes himself to be in love, even as Netta only will cultivate despair for him.

And this is where the film does get a bit unwieldy, however Cregar is great consistently. As first Barbara questions his actions causes him to fall into a triggered state of trying to murder her which fails, and we get a respite as George apologizes, unaware of trying to murder her, with a genuine sympathetic manner in his performance. But then Netta prods him once again for gain, and Cregar is terrific in showing his earlier passion going to this pent up rage and really the sense of disgust for both her and himself as he tries to return to his actual life of the passions he cared about. Unfortunately for him things go one step beyond as he goes into a state again, where he goes about murdering Netta, with the murder musical sting from Sweeney Todd to boot, before returning to himself one more time. Although this time he doesn't quite return to himself, and here's where the film gets sloppy however there is an anchor in Cregar. Cregar finds some actual logic within his own performance that seems to suggest that George himself is being driven crazy by all that's going on with him, even as he still is innocent of his worst crimes. Cregar portrays a difference as George goes off the deep end now, because before it was about that eerie calm in his murders, it is with genuine mania. A specific mania though that still denotes vulnerability in the man as he becomes no longer attached to any of the women but now his music, his original passion. In this Cregar finds something especially potent because when he describes his need to get to his concert over the accusations of murder, Cregar presents not as the man avoiding his guilt but rather this completely sincere desperate belief in his real love, which is for his music. His actions then give it his all to be part of his music, though as this self-destructive act that Cregar finds this sense of a man who might as well die with his music as his only solace in his burdensome life. And as he goes about playing his final concerto, Cregar is outstanding in the intensity he brings within the performance, that again though speaks to man trying to find this singular focus as the madness is all around him, to the point that singular focus too becomes its own madness. A madness filled with only passion and leading to a memorable climax, and unfortunately final act of Cregar's entire career, as he desperately and fearlessly continues to play even as the entire theatre burns around him. An outstanding performance, where Cregar once again proves his measure by finding a new avenue with a villain, but in this instance suggesting new pathways for himself beyond where he had been pigeonholed. Cregar leaving one final reminder of the tragic loss of his talent, with his all too brief career.

Alternate Best Actor 1945: Pierre Brasseur in Children of Paradise

Pierre Brasseur did not receive an Oscar nomination for portraying Frédérick Lemaître in Children of Paradise.

Ah I return the the masterpiece that is Children of Paradise, now to complete my unfinished business, which I likely would've done if I had known Brasseur was going to be as good as he is, when I reviewed Jean-Louis Barrault as Baptiste Deburau in this film, particularly given the two performances, despite not always sharing screen time with one another, are reflections of each other in a way. Not as the expected antagonists, but rather two men who embody different natures both in the art of performance and the art of love. Brasseur's own performance being a stark contrast to Barrault, as we find him in the opening scenes of the film, which are absolutely brilliant in terms of the vividness of the world, and the tangible nature of every character we introduce, as we find his Frédérick just trying to find some way to break into the theatrical world. Brasseur's is just glowing with charisma here from the first instance where he asks to be let in with this slick sincerity though with a certain unquestioned sarcastic wit rolled into one as he cons, but does so with an obvious passion for the whole idea. When not immediately successful he happens upon the woman of many affections Garance (Arletty), where we get the complete opposite of what we will see with Barrault's Baptiste who is weighted down by his romantic intentions, with Frédérick, the man lives for romantic notions. Brasseur delivers every line with the utmost ease and as this natural flow of id almost in the notion of romance, as the man speaks with no barrier and his smile is burning bright with a not quite devious, but close to it, notion regarding Garance as he charms her quickly though briefly.

We follow him into attempting better in the world of the theater, where he attempts to find a job with the constantly stressed out theater owner who just wants successful productions but basically is weighted down by every possible chaotic event at every turn. Brasseur comes in with this manner of almost looking past everything, not quite as someone who is blind to it, he definitely notices it, but rather Brasseur conveys this sort of easy ambition of the man. Brasseur's performance having this effortless combination of the man who very much wants to perform, lives for it really, to the point he loves to casually reference Shakespeare like a proper fan, but presents it as the nature of the man. Brasseur expresses this specific love the stage, love of performance, but again, as against in contrast to Barrault, where we see this strict devotion to the performance as his mime where the craft is of this specified intensity, Brasseur brilliantly makes it all look easy, though never do you ever think he is less than absolutely as passionate for the art, it is just the different kind of approach to it. That difference between the men reinforced again as we see their approach to love, where Frédérick, is best described as really love just about every female he passes by, including seducing an older landlady, which is a scene that Brasseur plays so perfectly, because he is able to express this as just the id of the man. While there is lust to be sure, Brasseur doesn't make him sleazy or hideous, because his notions of true romance are true, but again, where Baptiste suffers for his love, Frédérick  is invigorated by it. To the point where each has a chance with Garance sexually, which Baptiste almost runs from for not being a perfect version of how he sees true love, Brasseur is great as Frédérick immediately jumps at the chance. Brasseur portraying again a lack of weight to the notion rather he lives for the flirtation, brimming with joy as he catches her eye and gets the go ahead to join her for the night, which we Brasseur expresses a man who treats the idea lightly, but not blithely.

The film has a time jump for its second half where we re-enter with Frédérick changed by becoming even more than he already was, as we see Brasseur who is just amazing in somehow naturally turning the already over Frédérick to an even more extreme version of himself, and making it not only work, but incredibly entertaining. Brasseur's performance I think is subtly genius in that he does exude a slightly older manner even if it isn't focused upon too much, but the maturity speaks more to now this man fully developed into himself with this confidence even greater than before. Where Frédérick was a man of charm, using the charm to try to get ahead, this is now the man who is ahead, is well aware that his charm works and speaks a man whose actions have only fulfilled his wants. Brasseur now brandishes his unabashed shamelessness about himself, presenting himself with this particularly intense power of personality that is particularly captivating every second he is on screen.  As we see him before rehearsing for a show, he is now a star of the stage, as we see him with two women hanging on him, and Brasseur exudes in every word and grin filled with a zest for himself, a man who wants to and is enjoying life. Even when angry creditors come to attack him, Brasseur's manner is a man taking it all in stride presenting Frédérick as merely accepting being him also requires a fight or two. We then are granted the performance side of Frédérick fully, where we had briefly seen him be slightly annoyed while playing a minor pantomime role in a Baptiste led production, here we see in full command of his art though to an Edward Norton level of ego as he comes into attempting to fix his dry uninteresting play, much to the ire of the play's creators. Brasseur though again is perfect in you see him certainly loving taking a few potshots at the unpleasant men, but at the same time his passion is very real, such as when explaining his changed outfit for the part does have honest logic to it, and within even still his smirk Brasseur grants conviction to wanting to put on the best show he can. Leading to one of the best scenes in this masterpiece where Frédérick performs to an adoring crowd by turning the straight drama basically into a parody, where he ad libs around the rote moments to make them work. Brasseur is outstanding throughout the sequence in again brandishing the performance of Frédérick essentially, and indeed selling this idea to us as he does the audience, and being as convincing as such. Being indeed hilarious in his manner of not taking any notion seriously with fourth wall breaks, he delivers with the utmost glee, and just being a pure delight that you'd likely be cheering for by the end of the production as well.

A unique scene for Brasseur comes right afterwards however where he finds Marcel Herrand's poet yet violent thief Lacenaire in his dressing room, who demands money, and naturally for Frédérick he takes it in stride. And in this sense you do get the charm offensive again where Brasseur very much presents a man who takes life in stride so a thief wanting to steal from him is just like anything else might happen so he brings the same jovial manner that he makes wholly convincing as he just wilfully offers to share his lottery winnings. Brasseur's manner I think is key here in that you do sense a slight concern in his eyes at moments when the man seems more threatening but only within his overall approach which is still as Frédérick just going about it as he does most things, with a love of life. Particularly as once all threat is gone, to the point Lacenaire even reveals another possible assailant working with him, who also happens to be a fan of Frédérick, Brasseur is incredible because you do see some genuine concern for a second, before going to the performer looking to hear a review of his performance from the men, where he presents that eagerness with the utmost sincerity, which is very comical sense he engaging with violent criminals, yet still entirely honest with how Brasseur presents the moment. Of course all his swaggering leads him to get shot in a duel, by unhappy playwrights, and afterwards what we get from Brasseur is a *slightly* more modest Frédérick for the remainder of the film. Frédérick ends up being the least important element in the last act, after dominating the opening of the second half, in fact is only accidentally into some dueling crossfire due a whole complex romantic cube that he's slightly part of. Regardless Brasseur still is a very welcome presence in every scene he is in, particularly when we do see him with his old companions from the first half, where Brasseur brings a remarkable warmth that is decidedly uncomplex compared to everyone else, showing a man still not weighted down, though now he delivers these words with just a bit more measure and sense of wisdom about them than before. Even when he expresses a slight bit of jealousy to the actual loves, Brasseur presents it as the man doing it all in good humor and actually brings this natural excitement as the feelings of jealousy he believes have made it so he can finally play his dream role of Othello. Where we very much exit him playing Othello to adoring crowds, and he gets a final conversation with some pompous men, where I think Brasseur is again great in the way he still has the ego no matter what, but kind of a less pestering eagerness. He still flawlessly delivers his witty asides to cut down the pompous men who dismiss Shakespeare, but Brasseur in the end shows the ego perhaps now is in service to a little greater goal than just his own enjoyment, not that one ever hated Frédérick even for that. And the entirety of this performance is an effortless delight, as he makes every moment he's onscreen shines, and provides the essential contrast of a man who is just as passionate and romantic as the rest of the characters, the difference is he always does it with a big smile on his face and glides through these notions as though he walks on air.