Alternate Best Actor 1990: Al Pacino in The Godfather Part III

Al Pacino did not receive an Oscar nomination, despite being nominated for a Golden Globe, for portraying Michael Corleone in The Godfather Part III.

The Godfather Part III marks the only time Al Pacino did not receive an Oscar nomination for portraying Michael Corleone despite the film’s rather considerable success with the academy despite its far less than glowing reception even at the time of its release. The film almost immediately reveals one of its fundamental flaws which is the characterization of Michael. We ended with Michael in the last film as the man who successfully destroyed all his enemies, yet alienated his entire family either entirely or into a cold submission and we saw the man fully in power yet wholly alone. Cut to this film he seems to have reasonably strong connections with his family, he’s making jokes at family functions, even his ex-wife Kay (Diane Keaton)’s reactions to him aren’t nearly as strong as you’d think they should be. This is not the man we were left with, or as Annie Wilkes might say to Michael’s terrified brother “He Didn't Get Out of the Cockadoodie Car!”. This sequel gives us something it never earned, and it doesn’t earn here. Yes you can say people change, people soften as they get older, but that’s bluntly a cheat, particularly when you never give any proper backstory to in any way explain these changes. Michael simply is a whole lot nicer and less cold, why? He just is. I will say this isn’t on Pacino, it is explicitly written this way, but it feels like such a waste, as to try to give where Michael was left in Godfather Part II a final reckoning could’ve been something special, which this film sadly is not. 

So Pacino’s stuck in a strange spot as Michael because he needs to suddenly portray the Michael he was in the earliest scenes of The Godfather but now is operating as the Don. Pacino does have a certain charm in moments, has charisma on screen obviously though it is unbelievably weird that he’s acting this way. Pacino though has an onscreen power, he does exude that power, but it is not the Michael we have known. It is something else, and in that something else Pacino does deliver in a general sense even in a disappointing sense. The aforementioned scene with Kay is another example of this where you have good acting from Keaton and Pacino in terms of really conveying the complicated history, however still what is written isn’t frankly extreme enough to where the two were left once again. You see old love, old frustrations but not really the old hatred that should be there. Again I do put it more on the writing as Pacino and Keaton have a great specific chemistry that just isn’t utilized perfectly. There’s probably one of the biggest wastes in Michael’s relationship with his children, both portrayed poorly but written just as poorly. Like why not get a real proper dynamic actor for Anthony, who truly challenges his dad about Fredo, instead of just seeming slightly upset, then let’s go swiftly towards the end. It lets Michael off the hook, and more so Pacino just presents Michael as either a slightly concerned or disappointed dad, not much more than that. 

A truly baffling element is in the character of Sonny’s illegitimate son Vincent (Andy Garcia) who everyone in the family thinks is awesome despite being a complete hothead who Michael embraces after biting a man’s ear like a lunatic. Pacino has good moments involving the relationship in presenting the quiet assertive wisdom particularly the scene where he talks about Sonny, where Pacino’s delivery captures an old burdened love as he switches to an impassioned warning. But all of this doesn’t add up into the why. Maybe because Vincent does things, albeit randomly, where Michael here, unlike the first two films, is frequently passive, which again could work if it was a point of the narrative, but it’s not. Instead we get Michael more so the slowly reacting mentor where in that role do we have what is probably the most remembered scene of the film, in that it has the one frequently quoted line from the film. The line being “Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in.” The whole scene of Michael unraveling the plot is another non-Michael like scene given his calculations were far more internalized in the previous films. Pacino’s performance of the scene is entertaining though it is also far more modern Pacino than classic Michael, as he goes for the more overt in both his specific more outward intensity and his physical movements. One can say the moments depict his buildup to his diabetic attack before we get the attack however it looks far more to me like Pacino’s more grandiose style of performing that he became known for and is far cry from his original work as Michael. I won’t say it’s bad because it is remembered for a reason, but it is yet another aspect that doesn’t feel like a continuation of the character. 

The closest we get to this is when the Corleone all go to Italy to see Anthony’s first major Opera performance. In a moment that is initially a performative function related to his dealings with the Vatican Michael is challenged by a devoted Cardinal to confess his sins. Pacino is genuinely amazing in what is an amazing scene where he begins with this just nearly disinterested delivery of a man who has put himself separate from notions of sins or damnation as he tries to quantify his reasoning to ignore. When the Cardinal calmly persists though, Pacino’s portrayal of Michael confession is excellent in the way we get a little in each delivery, as he begins admitting to his killings almost matter of factly, before it becomes a bursting dam of the truth and his sorrow as he admits his complicity in the murder of his brother. Pacino delivers the real intensity of his shame as his whole manner is a man facing down into his shame and truly suffering as he speaks words that have seemingly been kept locked away for so many years. Although one can still argue maybe Michael would never feel remorse, but this scene at least realizes some honest potential of what came before. The same goes for his later scenes with Keaton, which I think logically they’d never really come to any terms, but Pacino and Keaton do find such a natural way into the combination of a stilted bitterness of separation and old affection between them. And within the finale we do get a strong singular moment as he witnesses the death of his daughter, where Pacino’s performance expresses the sheer uncontrollable grief in his reaction where Pacino presents it as a man barely being able to comprehend the reality of it all and just delivering a most primal scream. A moment that actually does wholly feel like Michael as one bit of consistency since he did love for his kids…albeit in his own way. These moments are highlights of the film and where Pacino does shine. He still doesn’t come close to his two performances but he makes use of the few good moments he’s given to work with. Pacino is not the problem with this film, he does what he can even when frankly Coppola is sabotaging him with so many wonky script choices. Pacino doesn't suddenly make it a good film but he’s trying to make something out of it. In the end it’s not a proper finale for Michael Corleone but Al Pacino delivers a good performance within that failure.  

Alternate Best Actor 1990: Danny Glover in To Sleep With Anger

Danny Glover did not receive an Oscar nomination, despite winning an Independent Spirit Award, for portraying Harry in To Sleep With Anger. 

To Sleep With Anger follows the growing discord within a family in Los Angeles while being visited by an old friend from the south. 

Danny Glover plays the enigmatic visitor whose nature as someone from the south and this force of chaos immediately makes one think of the likes of Ray Milland in Alias Nick Beal or Max von Sydow in Needful Things. It is never quite as overt as those films in the implication but Glover’s performance is a natural fit in that type. As like those performances Glover comes in with a very welcoming smile as he enters into the home. Glover brings a theoretical warmth within that as he seems to want to want to be the best guest towards everyone and seemingly get to know everyone related to the house or reintegrate himself with the people. Glover has a definite charm within Harry as he brightens up every little bit of screentime as this focal point within the film, and I don’t mind placing him lead like those aforementioned performances as he serves a similar prodding role even though he isn’t obviously the main character in a traditional sense. Glover’s quite effective as well in the way we get the first instance that there’s something off about Harry as we see him looking over and touching the family pictures and messing with the clock on the mantle. Where Glover was naturally charming in his entrance, in this moment there’s a very strange manner that effectively makes Harry off, not in an overt way, but one where you do sense there’s something not on the level about him. 

Harry continues as he meets the younger generation where he presents himself as an outgoing “modern” man who doesn’t go on about sin as he shows off his knife. Glover in the sequence very much evokes Robert Mitchum in Night of the Hunter as he speaks about the nature of good and evil. Glover is quite captivating in his folksy way of telling about his “travels” and his keepsakes, though with these little changes there's the sudden sinister glint that switches for a moment and a sadism occasionally. One particular moment where he’s asked if he’s ever used his knife, Glover’s delivery is amazing as he goes from seeming wholly to deliver himself when he says it was for “bad monkeys” before then his voice switching to a lighthearted follow up joke. Glover effectively keeps this certain combination between the facade of normalcy and the real nefarious nature that pierces out in key moments. A continuation when he speaks to the husband and wife of one of the younger couples about their charity habits. Speaking first in glowing terms of support before cutting it down with his own hideous logic and expectation as though to eliminate the idea of goodness. Glover again so effectively doing this coin flip from the friendly visitor to the truly devious man who thrives on cultivating darkness in others.  

Harry is perhaps his most obvious with the older people, including a woman Hattie who knew Harry well and has since changed substantially, or when he’s discussing two men who died including one who was lynched, that it is speculated on that it was only meant to look like a lynching. In both of these scenes Glover’s performance seems to shed any notion of the disguise and rather seems as though in these moments Harry is directly feeding on what fits more directly in his morality. His voice becomes deeper, his eyes entirely filled with that sinister glow of someone truly in his element. In this moment Glover makes the most of the devil seemingly coming out as he seems to want to pull the sin out of one and almost glory in the deaths that seem potentially connected to him. Glover presents just the wolf in these moments as an effective contrast to his scenes with the younger people, where we see his quiet manipulations to push everyone towards bad behaviors and potential bad ends. Where Glover succeeds in creating a convincing quality to the manipulations of the man going along with what anyone is saying, but then just with a quick smile and work twisting it effectively around towards to take something innocuous and make it insidious. I suppose the simple nature of his entrance, Glover’s exit and Harry losing his influence is pretty subtle, and even darkly comical in the immediacy of it. Although kind of a simple choice, Glover’s presentation of this sort of meek acceptance of his need to “leave” suggests more than anything a limitation of what Harry can do if no one is listening. Glover delivers a captivating turn here in successfully playing the little layers of his mischievous fiend knowing exactly when to deliver the smile of a false love and the smile of a real hate. 

Alternate Best Actor 1990

And the Nominees Were Not:

 

Jacky Cheung in Bullet in the Head

 

Danny Glover in To Sleep With Anger 

 

Al Pacino in The Godfather Part III

 

Wojciech Pszoniak in Korczak

 

Gabriel Byrne in Miller's Crossing

 

Feel Free to Predict These Five, Those Five or Both.  

 

Tim Robbins in Jacob's Ladder

 

John Lone in Shadow of China

 

Jason Patric in After Dark, My Sweet

 

Nicolas Cage in Wild At Heart

 

Robin Williams in Awakenings 

Alternate Best Supporting Actor 1946: Claude Rains in Deception & Results

Claude Rains did not receive an Oscar nomination for portraying Alexander Hollenius in Deception.

Deception follows as a cellist Karel Novak (Paul Henreid) reunites with his lover Christine (Bette Davis) after the end of WWII, unfortunately a famous composer might complicate things.

 

That famous composer is of course played by the great Claude Rains in his third performance from 1946, following his Oscar nominated performance as a lovelorn Nazi in Notorious and as a rather jovial Satan in Angel on My Shoulder. Despite playing a Nazi and the devil, strangely enough his performance here as lauded composer Alexander Hollenius might be the most actively nefarious in his manner. Rains makes his dynamic entrance as Novak and Christine decide to marry, despite it being clear that Christine had been Hollenius’s lover at the time of the couple’s reunion. Naturally Hollenius decides to crash their wedding and the intensity of Rains’s passive aggression as he comes in to "congratulate" the pair on their nuptials reveals immediately his true intentions. The direction of the character’s ire is properly conducted by Rains with an artful combination between a seething jealousy and egotistical derision. Rains’s eyes present caution immediately towards Christine, his true hatred for this development with nearly the petulance of a boy being denied his cookie, but also with the grandiosity fitting a man who has been declared as a genius by many…including Novak himself. 

There is an unquestionably joy of performance within Rains’s performance that manages to easily differentiate himself from his “other man” performances including his Oscar nominated turn from 46. Rains makes a choice in this instance really not to emphasize any empathetic qualities within his Hollenius instead making an alternative choice in reinforcing the despicable nature of the character. That isn’t to say Rains forgoes any genuine emotion, quite the contrary, however in this instance, unlike Notorious where he weirdly makes one sorry to a degree for the villain in that film, he essentially plays Hollenius as an entitled brat. He has a blast, and it is hard not to enjoy it with him as Rains, even while keeping a certain regal veneer by the virtue of his innate presence and voice, goes all in to show that it is nothing but a hollow facade to the nature of the man. It is especially easy to enjoy Rains’s truly petulant delivery of describing musicians who play his music basically as Monkeys doing his bidding. Rains creates no fancy qualities in this explosion but rather enjoyably strikes right into the heart of who this man is by delivering his outburst with a decided lack of refinement. 

The situation exacerbates quickly when Hollenius recruits Novak to be a musician for his next piece which gives him easy access to brow beat Christine’s love. Rains though shows a slightly different side as the conductor/composer where he still emphasizes just the general sadistic glee he gets from every second, but within it there is at least some notion of general passion in his delivery where we see the musical genius prodding for more. While Christine believes it to be purposeful torture, Novak appreciates the treatment as a method to improve his skill, which naturally leads Christine to confront her old lover for his true intentions. Rains takes complete ownership of this sequence as to be expected where he delivers every line as this long planned dictation that emphasizes the sense of planning in every word while in his eyes still bringing just this childish type of joy of victory over a playground rival. When the composer explains he will essentially make Novak brilliant, before destroying him by revealing the affair Christine had with him, Rains is delightfully diabolical in his ability to present such confidence in the plan meanwhile you sense the seething resentment behind that confidence that is his true motivation. Rains successfully finds a new avenue in playing yet another scene stealing villain that while it has shades of his other works in no way feels a copy of it. Although I wouldn’t say he quite hits the high of his Oscar nominated turn, this is another delicious slice of the Rains pie so to speak, and just another example of him being the very best when it came to character acting in that period.

Updated Overall

Next: 1990 Lead

Alternate Best Supporting Actor 1946: Alastair Sim in Green For Danger

Alastair Sim did not receive an Oscar nomination for portraying Inspector Cockrill in Green For Danger. 

Green For Danger is a hospital soap opera that becomes a murder mystery because everyone chooses to act a little too dramatically for their own good. 

This is the second time I’ve covered an Alastair Sim performance as an inspector. Although this is in no way a copy of his mysterious and imperious inspector Poole, Sim’s Cockrill is earthy in comparison which Sim makes great use of. Sim begins as a narrator before we meet him where he offers a nice alternative delivery where he adds a nice slightly comedic manner to Cockrill’s recitation even while still finding the needed gravity as he describes that the hospital staff consists of victims, a murderer and the suspects. Sim comes in after two murders have taken place in the hospital and a group of two doctors and a few nurses are the suspects. Sim’s great ease for comedy comes into play as we immediately undercut the Inspector a little bit as we emphasize his constant worry about a German bomber throughout the film. Sim really makes the most out of the comedy in his instant switch to the upward reactions of worry and a run and hide that in no way brings any vanity to the character. Leading eventually to a rather enjoyable punchline at the end of the film where Sim’s reaction of slightly frustrated disbelief is some comedic gold. 

His main purpose within the film is to solve the case and where Sim is most welcome as the alternative voice within the constant various emotional compromises of the other characters. Sim arrives with an ease of presence within the Inspector’s role to find out the truth. Sim though is very different here than as Poole, because where Poole already knew everything, Sim very much gives a different style of someone who intends to find out everything, is quite capable of doing so, but has yet to figure it out. Sim conveying an intelligence intent on finding out more despite not having all the answers. Sim brings a wonderful ease and a distinct lack of putting on any airs when dealing with the hospital staff. Sim finding a directness and I especially love the use of his eyes which are always seeming peering through the nonsense being spotted by his list of suspects who all have something to hide even beyond the mystery. Sim provides a directness with a combination between determination with wit as highlights that cut through every scene. Amplifying this only with his physical manner of confident movement within the case and particularly his brandishing of the truth, including my favorite moment in the film with his wholly casual manner of cutting down a bush to reveal an eavesdropper in a rather hilarious fashion. 

Naturally we give Sim a natural detective summation sequence, though in this instance via surgery, where Sim manages to convey a direct urgency of the detective genuinely wishing to avoid any further death with also the wonderful intelligence in his eyes as we see the spark of the man figuring it all out. He manages to even sell a completely ludicrous moment where one character basically acts nefarious for no reason that leads to someone’s death, but Sim’s reactions towards hearing the truth of the situation is pretty great as we get the man completely surprised. Sim earns the change up for the character on an acting level even if the setup is completely unbelievable. Sim offers the right steady presence here that enlivens the mystery and the overall film with ease. He naturally segues between his comedic and dramatic moments in crafting detective that manages to be both exact in his intelligence yet properly humorous in his very much human foibles. Inspector Cockrill evidently is a literary detectives with multiple entries and it's a shame that this was Sim's only go around as it certainly would've been a treat to go through a few more mysteries with him. 

Alternate Best Actor 1946: Results

5. Sydney Greenstreet in The Verdict - Greenstreet is innately an interesting performer but even that struggles under the often repetitive role he has here. 

 

Best Scene: Summary.  

4. Michel Simon in Panique - Simon gives a convincing performance as an eccentric but mostly innocent man being played as the fool.

 

Best Scene:  Finale.

3. Franco Interlenghi in Shoeshine - Interlenghi gives a moving and convincing portrayal of a boy's friendship but also his hardened state slowly being worn away by a cruel system.

 

Best Scene: Interrogation.  

2. Michael Redgrave in The Captive Heart - Redgrave gives a moving portrayal of the quiet tension but also determination of a man living under constant threat yet still trying to maintain his humanity. 

 

Best Scene: Explaining his story. 

1. Charles Boyer in Cluny Brown - Good prediction Robert. Boyer is at his most charming here in delivering on the wonderful wit of his character where he manages to be the smartest man in the room so effortlessly and delightfully.  

 

Best Scene:  Final talk with Cluny.

Updated Overall 

 

Next: A few supporting reviews for 46. 

Alternate Best Actor 1946: Franco Interlenghi in Shoeshine

Franco Interlenghi did not receive an Oscar nomination for portraying Pasquale Maggi in Shoeshine

Shoeshine follows two shoeshine boys who essentially inadvertently get involved in a robbery that leads them to a juvenile detention center. 

Shoeshine falls into the neorealist work of Vittorio De Sica, who at his best found such emotional power in often very simple yet potent stories set in a very real world. Shoeshine falls into such a film where we very tangible experience the world through the eyes of our two boys Pasquale and Giuseppe (Rinaldo Smordoni), as they traverse a world of poverty where they take on jobs eagerly to squeak by though with dreams of one day buying a horse. Child leads in this period were notable and really only tolerable in European films where we got actual performances from child performers. This film is a clear example of such as with Interlenghi and Smordoni there is a natural reality of their work where you simply believe both boys are boys in this life. Something that might sound simple enough but watch one American child performance from the time and you will see it was hardly the standard for cinema as a whole. Interlenghi in particular has a bit more of a striking presence about him where his face has this quiet simmering sense of determination but also the weight of his life in his eyes at all times. Where you do see De Sica’s approach very much has a pivotal choice in capturing those faces and finding power of those faces, something one would see again in short order in the Bicycle Thieves.  

We follow the boys going through their lives until they get basically set up to be fall guys for some adult criminals and end up in the detention center. The lead up to this is where we see both actors as this unit of just togetherness, and while we don’t spend too much time speaking of complications there is a natural sense of connection and warmth that grants you the idea of their friendship. Within the detention center what we get within De Sica’s overall vision is showing the community of the boys within the center, both good and bad, along with the nature of the system designed to be quite callous to the poverty stricken and in many ways seeks to quite brutally find out anything incriminating that they can out of the boys. Within that however it does lean the film towards the old bingo word of “director’s film” where I will say the performances are of this tapestry. I should note a fundamental part because to craft reality the boys must be wholly convincing which they are. The presentation of them though is showing them very stuck within the progression of this system where there is a very specific intention of setting the boys against each other in order for them to determine the information around their crime. 

Interlenghi’s often reaction based work is always good in reflecting the harshness of the system, although we only get a few very specific moments where we have the direct emphasis of his performance. To his credit he does make the most of these moments, the first being when he is being interrogated and Pasquale thinks they are torturing Giuseppe, cruelly using his love for his friend to actually betray his friend by confessing information about the crime. Interlenghi’s work is moving in the scene because you see in the reaction less fear for himself but rather the sensitive devastation of hearing what he thinks is his friend, suffering so severely. Interlenghi finds power in showing the tough kid as just a real kid in pain and particularly representing the real love for his friend. Unfortunately this causes a rift between the friends as Pasquale is labeled an informant by the other boys, creating a distinct rift between the friends. Where again Interlenghi’s work becomes mostly reactive again however he’s good in bringing a bit more emotional vulnerability in those reactions reflecting the changes from the situation and creating the sense of isolation. Leading to the end of the film where Giuseppe joins an escape attempt without his friend, leading Pasquale to openly inform this time. Interlenghi’s very good in his delivery of this betrayal with the desperate rage not of a man, but of just a heartbroken boy making an immature, yet very much a boy’s choice to get back at his friend. As a boy or as an adult, the betrayal is regardless of reality so far that Pasquale chooses to directly and tragically confront Giuseppe. Interlenghi’s great thought in creating the two contrasts even in such immediacy, capturing the ferocity of his anger at his friend to then his direct uncompromising horror of what comes immediately afterwards. Interlenghi finds the pain so honestly, and very much through the experience of a boy struggling with his emotions so earnestly and seeing the real victim within a cruel system. And while part of the large tapestry I would say Interlenghi manages to still find his impact in showing that progression of the tough kid with a friend to really a wholly broken kid without one. 

Alternate Best Supporting Actor 1946: Michael Redgrave in The Captive Heart

Michael Redgrave did not receive an Oscar nomination for portraying Capt. Karel Hašek alias Geoffrey Mitchell in The Captive Heart. 

The Captive Heart follows the story of various British POW’s during WWII. 

Michael Redgrave is the most dominant but technically just one of many stories among a handful that we follow throughout the film. He is featured in the one with the most dramatic tension as we are first introduced to him as an officer who is fluent in German, though we quickly flashback to see Redgrave as a distraught man who hurriedly takes the clothes of a dead British officer who dies in front of him. Redgrave leaves a fine and quick impression as he brings just so much innate emotion within his face here. There’s the sense of a lot of years within the man, though I think this distinct combination between wear but also empathy. Even though we see him as a false soldier initially, we suspect better of him with the care within Redgrave’s performance as he tries to help the British soldiers before they are sent to the camp. Within the camp the other soldiers soon begin to suspect the fake captain due to his suspicious behavior and fluency in German leading to a confrontation. A scene where you really see the power of Redgrave’s presence, which is one honestly built on silences more than declarations. As the man actually named Karel’s reply is to admit the truth, which is that he is in fact a Czech concentration camp survivor, whose only chance was to replace the captain, and within this delivery Redgrave is wonderful as you can feel the intensity of position of isolation, however also this quiet degree of shame but also determination with needing to take the measures he did. Redgrave convinces you that Karel’s actions were justified and in turn makes it wholly believable that not only are the men willing to believe him, they eventually champion his survival. 

A situation that is all the more difficult as the camp’s gestapo agent was also at Karel’s concentration camp, though this initially enabled him to prove his story to the British. Redgrave brings such a striking emotional power within largely his silent reactions where you can see him taking in the severity of the situation while in the silence still presenting the man just being a soldier no more no less. Through the film then we follow him as he tries to maintain his identity which becomes all the trickier when the agent is wondering why he doesn’t send any letters home leading to Karel not only needing to break his hand but also write the unknowing widow Celia (Rachel Kempson, Redgrave’s actual wife) as the man he is impersonating. It speaks to Redgrave’s specific abilities as a performer as he does bring so much nuance within these moments of wording the letters and even contemplating the weight of the ruse. Something that is initially a survival necessity slowly becomes more with each letter and within each letter Redgrave’s performance in a few words but mostly just in thoughtful reflection conveys the connection. A connection all the more meaningful as Karel learns of the deaths of his own family and Redgrave presents a man in a personal purgatory reaching out to another, albeit in a most curious fashion. 

While having that more emotional story we follow one step after another of the specific deceits that eventually lead to Karel needing to find a way out in a large prisoner release through a daring mission, which again Redgrave adds a bit more gravity just in embodying the tension that Karel is going through as witnesses the difficult steps to get him out. Leading to probably the weakest aspect of the film, though it isn’t bad, where the film runs through everyone returning home and Karel having the strange duty of not only revealing to the captain’s wife that her husband’s dead but that she’s also had been corresponding with him the whole time. We do get a good scene of Karel telling the truth to her where again Redgrave is able to weaponize the empathy in such a moving fashion where you do sense completely his understanding of her plight but also brings just as much assurance that he had to do it. Finding though with just the right glint of appreciation and warmth, fittingly not to push too far given the nature of the moment but laying the seed that their connection might’ve been more than ruse. Unfortunately I will say the last bit of the film that basically is a montage of the two coming together feels less like the natural realization of the relationship and more of a “let’s wrap this up”, though this is no fault of Redgrave. Redgrave gives a strong performance that often is working in the silences and naturally finds the needed power in those silences. 

Alternate Best Actor 1946: Charles Boyer in Cluny Brown

Charles Boyer did not receive an Oscar nomination for portraying Adam Belinski in Cluny Brown.

Cluny Brown is a wonderful romantic satire of a European professor and the niece of a plumber who together don’t quite fit into the rigid expectations of English society. 

We return to Charles Boyer quite swiftly after his long absence to another un-nominated turn of his. Boyer in this instance plays the atypical lead as a European professor and writer escaping from the Nazi’s for his expressly anti-Nazi views. Although that may sound very dramatic, we actually begin with Adam Belinski just arriving to some random party in England early and in fact being mistaken for a plumber. Boyer is really taking upon two challenges of this role that I would necessarily have pegged him as being ideal for before watching this film yet he absolutely is. The first challenge really is the dialogue itself which is fairly rapid fire for Belinski specifically as he talks circles around everyone, and while Boyer frequently has a more deliberate delivery in most films, in this film he thrives with the far greater tempo. Boyer has an ease with his dialogue and it really just so naturally flows throughout where Boyer through this exudes the intelligence of his Belinski with such considerable ease. There’s the next challenge though is that all this superior intelligence could easily come off as pompous, but Boyer is damn charming here. Boyer’s magnificent in the way he’s able to articulate the nature of Belinski who is smarter than everyone, knows this fact, yet I think he manages to find the tricky high wire of owning but still making Belinski so likable. I think Boyer knows how to emphasize the fun of it all and only brings a more admonishing quality in his quick asides when Belinski is being more corrective against societal foolishness. We even have the opening meeting where he basically gets the host to let him sleep somewhere through this word juggling that Boyer makes so easy to in a way talking down to the man’s manner yet doing so in a way in which he seems the most gracious of teachers. 

The party though leads to two different meetings, one is meeting a young man of wealthy family Andrew (Peter Lawford) who is currently struggling to confirm his romantic relationship Betty Cream (Helen Walker) who is purposefully playing a love triangle between him and another man. Andrew knows of Belinski and offers him a place to stay at his parent’s mansion. I love Boyer’s reactions to the young man’s earnest but also political posturing, where he so naturally manages to bring a graciousness while wholly sarcastically appreciating the young man’s act of writing letters to a newspaper as his great act. Regardless Belinski takes up the offer, and I think what Boyer manages to do though is create in even his sarcasm this genuine glint of appreciation of any passion for his cause even if perhaps the safest. The even more important meeting though comes from the titular Cluny Brown (Jennifer Jones) who acts on her uncle’s behalf, though not with his knowledge, to fix the man’s plumbing issues. Cluny, who loves to plumb, is a ball of fire of enthusiasm though too she ignores the expectations of society though more so in being exactly who she is than coming at Belinski’s intellectual superiority. Either way Boyer’s great in being as impressed with the young woman’s candor, as frankly we the audience are. Boyer’s wonderful in presenting this utter fascination towards Cluny as someone far above and beyond the norm, while offering even this minor self-depication as a non-romantic pact to support each other in their ill-fitting ways. 

Belinski becomes a guest at the house of Andrew’s family which by chance, at the same time Cluny is hired as their new maid, in an attempt by her uncle to set her on the "right path". Although she is almost immediately fired for speaking freely at meals by earnestly suggesting the best food, only saved by Belinski’s intercession pointing out that the host indeed took the piece she suggested. Boyer’s great in just his work of his eyes of admiration but also kind of taking in each scene with the sense of criticism being prepared before he says them, though delivered again in that fantastic way of confronting without confrontation that Boyer makes feel so natural each time. Belinski’s indirect methods get the best of him when he learns Cluny is seeing a local chemist as a romantic partner just as he realizes his own interest in her as such. Something I think Boyer again thrives in his way of cultivating the sense of true admiration that goes beyond just enjoying her rejection of norms but loving everything she does. Boyer’s fantastic in showing this as even something that knocks Belinski back in the moments where he gives his hand away particularly in the almost childlike enthusiasm he brings as Belinski questions Betty if the talkative Cluny ever mentions him. Meanwhile Belinski is still plying his methods beyond that such as directly trying to resolve the Betty, Arthur issue by simply asking her what’s the deal. Where I do love Boyer is just playing the directness of it so well but with his natural humorous touches. Even the moment of commenting on the need to press on in his Anti-Nazi effort, Boyer I think beautifully hits that passionate note with a quiet conviction that reveals the real heart of Belinski. Speaking of my favorite moment of his performance actually isn’t the wit, as much as I’ve enjoyed that, it is a moment of certain earnestness. That is when he’s leaving, thinking Cluny will be married off, she rushes to meet him before he leaves. Where we do get the key chemistry between Jones, where it is less of lusty eyes but rather the combination of Cluny getting to be herself while Boyer projecting nothing but the purest appreciation where both honestly glow as one. I love the pivotal moment where Boyer shows Belinski taking his usual appreciation of Cluny’s one of a kind qualities, until she notes that she was coldly dismissed by the chemist, his mother and other guests for daring to do some needed plumbing. There’s a surprising power in the humor completely lifting from Boyer’s face and there being nothing but deep concern for this horrible treatment of Cluny. Boyer unlocks the key of the moment so naturally in seeing as much as he adores the idiosyncrasy of her, he also hates the rejection of her. A relatively swift wrap up to the film, however honestly it wholly worked for me greatly because I feel both Boyer and Jones deliver the moment so honestly you can’t help but feel they should be together. 

Alternate Best Actor 1946: Michel Simon in Panique

Michel Simon did not receive an Oscar nomination for portraying Monsieur Hire in Panique.

Panique follows an eccentric outsider as he gets slowly set up to take the fall of a murder by the murderer and his accomplice girlfriend. 

Simon honestly doesn’t play a role too far removed from his work with Jean Renoir in La Chienne. Where both films are essentially setups for one man to be treated cruelly by a couple with the woman acting as a black widow to ensnare the unsuspecting man. A key word in both instances however is unsuspecting, not innocent. We first really see Hire from a bit of a distance as a potentially suspicious man as the film opens with the murder of a woman and the whole town wondering who might be the culprit. We see Hire lurking about and Simon in a way creates the potential doubt where the man is knowingly looking on in these moments and it seems like he knows something. Well he does know something as a new woman comes into town, Alice (Viviane Romance), who has already helped the actual murderer, Alfred (Paul Bernard), cover up a different murder before even coming to see him as a false stranger so they can be together while avoiding police suspicion. Simon plays directly a creep figure as he leers at Alice from his window then even approaches her the following day, in no way trying to soften those elements. Although one can argue a noble effort that Hire wants to warn her about Alfred, because he knows for sure that Alfred is the killer, since Hire knows it becomes a strange game he is also playing given he could easily turn over his evidence to the police at any time that he claims to have. Simon though is effective and convincing in presenting the strangeness in a very tangible way where you never doubt that Hire would proceed in this way as the man just has his own way about life and interacting with others. 

The film then progresses as Alice is instructed to ingratiate herself with Hire to eventually plant evidence of the murder, meanwhile Alfred spreads rumors around about the already disliked Hire to try to get the town to turn on him. In their interactions Simon manages an artful combination between some genuine pathos as he describes with this accepted manner his own life as an outsider in all places, while holding this cheery disposition when speaking of his own wife who died. In those moments Simon is quietly moving, although at the same time he does bring a certain overbearing quality in moments that again emphasize that eccentricity in ways that are less endearing. While we know Alice is manipulative, and the real reason why she’s there, Simon very much presents a certain obliviousness even with some bits of creepiness as the man is just fascinated by this woman who is bothering to give him the time of day. I haven’t said it in awhile but this film is a bit of a director’s film where the overall vision is most pronounced and to a certain point the characters are more so puzzle pieces in that tapestry more than fully coming to life beyond it. At a certain point Hire is given less time, particularly in the lead up to the climax, although he returns for the climax where Simon certainly is moving and makes his whole scene of becoming a pariah hard to watch. Simon emphasizing just the confusion of the moment that turns to fear and just the final sorrow in his eyes is heartbreaking. There is however a certain limitation by the nature of the script however and by comparison the similar role in La Chienne had more he could sink his teeth into, no pun intended. It’s a good performance as Simon creates the tragedy both in terms of showing why people might not trust Hire, why Hire might conceal his knowledge of the murder, but also how he still is a victim regardless. 

Alternate Best Actor 1946: Sydney Greenstreet & Peter Lorre in The Verdict

Sydney Greenstreet did not receive an Oscar nomination nor did Peter Lorre for portraying Superintendent George Grodman and Victor Emmric respectively in The Verdict. 

The Verdict follows the murder investigation in gaslit London. 

The film opens as we follow Greenstreet, this time on the side of the law, following the execution of a man he had led the investigation of only to learn the man was innocent due to the arrival of a key witness in the most inopportune time. Greenstreet has a most remarkable presence as a performer which certainly can be seen here. This role though I would say is far more interesting on paper than execution. Greenstreet opens with just a repeated simplistic scene of needing to present the Inspector contemplating his failure with a quietly needling guilt, not helped by his pompous replacement Buckley (George Coulouris) lording over his failure. He does that though I wouldn’t say I was deeply moved by what Greenstreet is doing but he delivers on it in a general sense. We soon find another murder that seems even more difficult to solve, which while Buckley is now leading the investigation, Greenstreet's Grodman seems always in orbit of the situation. Where the film enters its atypical section where it is constantly switching perspectives of the characters and plants so many seemingly red herrings in there just to throw everyone off the trail it would seem. One of these characters is George’s friend Victory played by Lorre, an artist also fascinated by crime. 

Where we get a legendary duo who were in many films together since their great mutual villainy in The Maltese Falcon. Unlike that film though neither man is getting to enjoy a great character as Victor is vaguely drawn, no pun intended, what is there is mostly just that Lorre is innately a little interesting. This isn’t one of Lorre’s most interesting roles though we get a bit of him being a cad and some differing moments of fascination and fear around the investigation. Again I appreciate Lorre’s presence but as Lorre performances go it isn’t all that distinctive. I think this might be in part by the design of the film to keep you guessing as Lorre must only be “kind of” things that way he might be the killer as he acts kind of creepy, however kind of innocent too, kind of fearful, and it’s all a little too little for him to really play with. Speaking of that, Greenstreet stays mainly imperious as the inspector is always there with a comment, not always very interesting and the man seems a little blank. This too is to set up the mystery to lead to the spoilers, revelation that he is in fact the killer. Although a noble killer as he’s killed the killer of the original murder, though less noble in having done it in a way that framed an innocent man and to make Buckley look foolish. So in order to make it surprising Greenstreet was just kind of there, so the revelation should be time to sink his teeth in right? Wrong. Greenstreet is surprisingly muted in the delivery of every bit of revelation. He’s not bad but it does all feel a bit too matter of fact for announcing such a grand plan to everyone. Even his final aside to Lorre is fine but also just kind of exists more than really enlivens their characters into anything more. There’s nothing special about this team-up between the pair. It’s nice to have their presences but the roles don’t allow either to really run with anything and are victims of the film needing to preserve the mystery, though in doing so I don’t think makes the film terribly compelling. If I'm being perfectly honest I was more compelled by Coulouris and Joan Lorring, because it felt like they were actually able to define their characters. Which it is quite rare for Greenstreet and Lorre not to standout in one of their films but in this instance they really don't, though they're not bad, but look to their earlier collaborations for their far more memorable work. 

Alternate Best Actor 1946

 And the Nominees Were Not:

 

Michel Simon in Panique

 

Michael Redgrave in The Captive Heart

 

Charles Boyer in Cluny Brown

 

Franco Interlenghi in Shoeshine

 

Sydney Greenstreet in The Verdict  

1930 Update

Updated

 

Next: 1946 Lead 

Alternate Best Supporting Actor 1953: Hans Conried in The 5000 Fingers of Dr. T, Roland Lesaffre in Thérèse Raquin & Isao Yamagata in Gate of Hell & Updated Results

Hans Conried did not receive an Oscar nomination for portraying Dr. Terwilliker aka the titular character of The 5000 Fingers of Dr. T.

The 5000 Fingers of Dr. T follows a young boy imagining his imperious piano teacher as a dictator of a fantasy world. 

Hans Conried who had a long voice actor career, with probably his most notable role in that vein coming the same year as Captain Hook/Mr. Darling in Peter Pan, was given the rare opportunity for a large live action role here as the Dr. Terwilliker aka Dr. T, the piano teacher of the young boy Tommy, because of course his name is Tommy. Conried makes the most out of it and very much is the one actor in the film who is absolutely certain on how to sell the style of Dr. Seuss in the live action form. Although we do get his subtler version of his performance in the reality scene before Tommy’s dream version as we see the actual teacher Dr. Terwilliker. Conried makes good use of the scene bringing a slightly dramatic manner to his teacher who is deeply concerned that Tommy will not be up to snuff when all his students perform together. Conried though finds just enough a reality in his reactions behind his spoken overtures that shows that this Dr. T is just a slightly dramatic guy, but still just a guy. I think it’s unfortunate that we never really get him to do a final scene with this version of the character but it is what it is. So then we shift to the crazy fantasy world of Tommy’s dream version where Dr. T is a dictatorial master of this strange world, where he hypnotizes Tommy’s mother, and wants Tommy forced to be part of his large orchestra of children forced to play piano. Conried’s performance is the one that understands the tone of the material and more importantly how to sell it. He brings the proper bit of wacky bravado as this version of Dr. T in his over the top costumes and wholly over the top villainous demeanor. Conried is having a blast and it is hard not to have it with him as he sneers at everyone, makes every declaration as though they are the most important words in the world and continually torments Tommy. It’s a fun performance where Conried is both aware of how to play into the over the top qualities of the film while also bringing this certain conviction about everything he does that also sells the world. It is a nicely balancing act that Conried makes look easy. Leading to a nice contrasting climax one where he gets his own song, singing basically about his various overly flamboyant duds where Conried beautifully plays into the vast ego of Dr. T just exuding the ideal sinister job of an evil man who loves being evil. Followed by his defeat scene where Tommy gets the best of him, and Conried again does what he can in making his over the top frustrations as cathartic as he can. Conried creating the sense of that ego loss just as he loses it. Conried consistently is the highlight here, one of the few things not overshadowed by the sets rather he amplifies them, and like the sets, exhibits the potential the film had that sadly most of it is left unrealized. 

Roland Lesaffre did not receive an Oscar nomination for portraying Riton in Thérèse Raquin. 

Thérèse Raquin follows the titular woman (Simone Signoret) as she embarks on an affair leading to consequences. 

Roland Lesaffre enters very late in the film, in fact initially seems innocuous enough as just a sailor who is sleeping in the train car that Thérèse pretending to be sleeping in, after her lover Laurent (Raf Vallone) killed her husband Camille (Jacques Duby). Lesaffre’s initial scene is very quiet and not particularly showy however he does bring a certain charisma even as his Riton mostly goes along with Thérèse’s claim initially. Lesaffre’s eye performance though is great because you see this internal calculation of the man as though he’s filing something away even as he gives a pretty innocuous answer that seems to put Thérèse in the clear. Of course his Riton is the wrinkle in the plot and the film in the best way possible. Lesaffre instantly brings such a remarkable presence as we unexpectedly visit him again and he does so much with just a few glances as he looks over the information about the death of the man he gave an alibi to. His performance has a fantastic quiet charm about it, mainly by presenting a man who is very much taking ownership of his own questionable ethics, however is doing it in a way that does have a strange allure. Lesaffre enters into the film in a particularly fascinating way because he becomes the star of his own film and has that charisma to back it up. Where we very much become absorbed into his own conflicting noir plot as he decides to blackmail Laurent and Thérèse. Lesaffre comes into this sequence with such a wonderful mischievous quality as he asks for his share. Lesaffre’s fascinating because he really doesn’t accentuate it as an over the top villain and more so a businessman who merely wants his share given he went along with providing protection of their crime. 

Lesaffre’s wonderful as even as he takes some literal physical abuse from Laurent, while still reacting to the pain, his smile afterwards is someone taking in stride as though he understands he’ll get a few punches yet still brings this pleasant conviction of a man who knows he’ll get what he wants from the couple. He’s fascinating because he honestly is just fun to watch here and weirdly pushes the lovers out of the lead spot, and becomes the lead just through sheer presence, even if in the overall scheme of the film he definitely is a supporting role. Lesaffre brings so much life to every bit she has though that it just makes what could be a character just to do a plot point, like say the similar character in The Postman Always Rings Twice, and has this full life of his own. Lesaffre, even within a scene plot wise to set up the final twist of fate, brings so much charm and character as he speaks to a maid to set up a back up plan. Lesaffre brings a wonderful flirtatious energy of someone who is basically seeing a major financial uptick in his future and taking ownership of that joy in every second of the process. Lesaffre importantly letting us in on his scheme essentially and again just having fun with it. I love then the final transaction where we see the duplicitous man go by his word as he accepts the money and he brings in his delivery a strange honesty in his dishonesty of someone who willingly accepts the funds without any intention of breaking his promise, despite having no reason not to keep blackmailing them. Lesaffre makes it more interesting though by presenting a man with his own moral code he goes by leading perfectly to his final memorable scene where a comical misfortune strikes. I love what Lesaffre’s final reaction is because there’s basically a “oops sorry” and in his expression you see that he feels genuinely sorry that the unexpected situation will leave him unable to fulfill the promise he was paid for. Lesaffre delivers a terrific performance that doesn’t just take over the second half of the film, his chaotic presence in the second half elevates the entirety of the film by offering such an unexpected and wholly fresh style that enlivens the last act beautifully. 

Isao Yamagata did not receive an Oscar nomination for portraying Wataru Watanabe in Gate of Hell.

In Gate of Hell we follow mostly as the violent warrior Endo (Kazuo Hasegawa) becomes obsessed with Lady Kesa (Machiko Kyō), requesting her essentially as a prize from their overlord for his efforts in battle. Of course Lady Kesa is married to Isa Yamagata’s Watanabe. A character and performance I thought I’d highlight because of how antithetical it is to so many samurai performances. Yamagata honestly plays the part as mostly just chill. To the point that even as Endo becomes more aggressive, Yamagata’s performance projects more a bemusement at the insanity of the other guy rather than any sense of jealousy. There’s a degree of concern for his wife but Yamagata always expresses it as concern for her well being and never concern for his “claim” of her in any way shape or form. What Yamagata emphasizes instead is just how healthy of a relationship he and Kesa have. Yamagata is very sincere with her and just has a sense of a loving grace. Even as the outside conflict arises Yamagata’s performance always emphasizes the warmth and love for his wife beyond anything else. No matter what show of it Endo makes, Yamagata presents that Wataru is honestly the ideal husband for Kesa and to break it would be a horrible sin. Yamagata even when reacting to the horrible Endo, presents more of a "this guy needs some mental help" more so than "I hate this guy". This is to the point in the finale when tragedy strikes, I love again that Yamagata’s performance again does not show any hate, to frankly someone who deserves all the hate since the tragedy should’ve been easily avoided, but rather his subdued yet potent reaction is that of just a heartbroken man who has lost his wife. There’s no hate, but again just that sense of love for his wife. It is a subtle and poignant performance by Yamagata because he doesn’t show us your great samurai, jealous husband, or any of that. What he does to define the performance is just a guy who loves his wife, and no matter what the complication might be, that never changes.

Updated Overall 

 

Next: 1930 Update 

Alternate Best Actor 1953: Results

5. Kazou Hasegawa in Gate of Hell - Hasegawa is able to hit the extreme notes called upon him as a character with limited substance but is very much overshadowed by his co-stars who express a bit more nuance in their roles. 

 

Best Scene:  Ending

 

4. Jack Hawkins in The Cruel Sea - Hawkins gives a reliably good performance however his fully lead performance here suggests the possible limitations of his ability as a leading man as a opposed to a character actor. 

 

Best Scene: After the choosing to ignore the men in the sea. 

3. Charles Boyer in The Earrings of Madame de…. - Boyer gives an effective performance in very much playing into his imperious presence in an effective way as essentially presenting his character as above typical human interaction.

 

Best Scene: Requesting the duel. 

2. James Stewart in The Naked Spur - Stewart gives an effectively raw portrayal of a damaged man and successfully downplays his typical charm and heroic presence. 

 

Best Scene: Making the final choice. 

1. Chishū Ryū in Tokyo Story - Good prediction Calvin. Ryū gives a low key but powerful portrayal of the different quiet shades of a father and finding the joy but also painful truths of this man. 

 

Best Scene: Tragedy strikes 

Updated Overall 

 

Next: 1953 Supporting Reviews (Not a lineup) 

Alternate Best Actor 1953: Chishū Ryū in Tokyo Story

Chishū Ryū did not receive an Oscar nomination for portraying Shūkichi Hirayama in Tokyo Story. 

Tokyo Story is a masterful film about an elderly couple visiting their adult children in Tokyo. 

Longtime Yasujirō Ozu collaborator Chishū Ryū plays the male half of the couple, along with Chieko Higashiyama as Shūkichi’s wife Tomi, who actually wasn’t particularly old when the film was shot. Ryū plays the old man though it works honestly because he doesn’t try to put on any overt “old man” mannerisms like a crusty voice or over the top movement. Rather Ryū is convincing just with the calm deliberate manner of the man. That's a very subtle but believable way to make us believe that his father is the age the film says he’s in. Although anyone familiar with Ryū shouldn’t be too surprised that he takes such a modest approach as that is very much his creed as a performer and always the ideal fit for the equally modest style of Ozu. Much like Ozu, Ryū thrives often in the margins and in this instance Ryū’s performance particularly exists in the moments between moments. As much of Ryū’s screen-time as the father is just going about as a visiting dad. We see him with his wife where he and Higashiyama share a naturalistic and believable chemistry. There’s nothing complicated about it; they just simply are connected as they are. When visiting the adult children, including his daughter Shige (Haruko Sugimura), a hairdresser, and son Kōichi, a doctor, (Sō Yamamura), Ryū’s performance is one of largely quiet modesty. Ryū exudes the sense of the father not wanting to be too much of a bother most of the time keeping largely a smile on his face and a very pleasant demeanor even when both children end up struggling to spend all that much truly devoted time to their parents. The only person in Tokyo who truly goes out of her way is their daughter-in-law, the widow of their deceased son, Noriko (Setsuko Hara), who gladly spends time with them. Where Ryū even within his frequently smiling manner does exude that much of a greater genuine appreciation in this interaction that shows the difference between the smile just to be pleasant and the man reacting to a real appreciation for him. 

The majority of Ryū’s performance is that smile and a pleasant nod, that isn’t a criticism however as the power of his performance is when that smile or nod is broken in anyway and the keen way in which Ryū is able to make such an impact out of so little changes within that, which ends up being rather profound in the nuance. There’s a moment early on where his wife mentions his drinking in older times and just the little annoyed noise that Ryū makes speaks to so much suddenly, as we get some insight into a man whose younger years were a bit more defined by alcohol than maybe he’d like to admit to. When speaking to his wife about his children even within the certain disappointment towards how his daughter is meaner than she used to be and his son is a much smaller scale doctor than he expected, Ryū’s changes to more contemplative and you are gained instantly the insights into how the man truly feels beneath the pleasant smile. When discussing the kids in general not having time for him and his wife, Ryū’s performance keeps the calm yet the sadness is so profoundly there between the smiles. It is truly remarkable because Ryū makes it all feel so natural when you catch just those glimpses of the man’s pain that he mostly keeps down. One of the most profound moments of this is when he goes out drinking with some other older men and Ryū’s moment of talking about his deceased son is tremendous. It isn’t a long moment yet just his degree of losing his composure, the sadness suddenly coming up, before pushing it down to just be there to be joyful with his friends is outstanding work from Ryū. Which the scene probably leads to his most overt scene though less serious, where Ryū is regardless effective in depicting the drunken near blacked out saunter of the dad who takes his friend to his daughter’s home and steadfastly ignores her questions. 

The journey ends as it does with the parents returning home, however spoilers tragedy strikes when the mother takes ill then dies soon afterwards. This being quite frankly executed in one of the least melodramatic deaths in any film while also being one of the most heartbreaking because of just how natural it all feels. Key to the power of this is Ryū’s performance, he is amazing because we just see the steps in the man losing his composure, it is almost entirely physical work, particularly just as his wife dies, yet in the way you suddenly see the anxiety and sadness take over it is so painful to witness within the man who had almost entirely such a calm sunny disposition. Maybe most powerful is that even physically we see that he is absolutely distraught as man, his delivery of words just admiring the dawn, Ryū delivers with almost that same calm yet even within that calm we see how fundamental of a loss this truly was for the man. A man who in no way takes his loss as his own and we see Ryū’s portrayal of him being there for his children. Even more so there being for his daughter-in-law, the person who stays the longest with him and seems to most understand his loss. Their final conversation is so poignant where Ryū brings such earnest empathy as he encourages her to move on from his son, meanwhile still showing the pain of essentially looking forward to a life of loneliness himself. Ryū manages to bring the power in the subtle sense of the man’s acceptance, that isn’t acceptance without pain but rather is acceptance of that pain. His final scene being particularly understated of the man just looking out, now alone, in a new day Ryū has that consistency of the man’s presence yet he is no way the same man. You feel that loss in his quietude, and it is as tremendous as the most intense tragedy.