The term "character actor" is greatly maligned by its use in Hollywood today. More often than not, it's applied to an actor who's put on a few pounds or an actress who's admitted that she's older than 40. What it really means, of course, is an actor who is able to completely transfigure himself with each role he plays. There are only a few people working in feature film today who truly have this ability. Alfred Molina is one of them.
Because of his transformational talent, one often forgets the great body of work that Molina has built up over his 18-odd years in the business. Perhaps this is because diversity rarely leads to notoriety. (Meryl Streep is the exception.) Yet consider the number of juicy‹and completely different‹parts Molina has offered audiences in recent years: Kenneth Halliwell in Prick Up Your Ears, Mellersh Wilkins in Enchanted April, Moody in Not Without My Daughter, Angel in Maverick, Juan Raul Perez in The Perez Family, Panos Demeris in Before and After, Rahad Jackson in Boogie Nights, Levin in Anna Karenina, Jeremy Burtom in The Impostors.
And this list doesn't begin to touch Molina's work on the stage, in shows like Molly Sweeney, Speed-the-Plow, and Night of the Iguana. As a child in London, Molina discovered theatre in his early teens. With little luck with the ladies and no apparent athletic skills, he saw acting as his turn to "show off." And like Streep, there is still that sense of showing off that makes his work so exciting to watch‹we look forward to each physical transformation he makes, each new dialect he masters. This, of course, is the mark of a consummate performer in any medium‹not being yourself really well, but being someone completely different with each incarnation.
L.A. audiences have a chance to see Molina's art in action in the Broadway transfer Art, playing at the James A. Doolittle Theatre in Hollywood through Mar. 14, co-starring Alan Alda and Victor Garber. And Molina recently sat down with Back Stage West between Art rehearsals to discuss the boards, the brutal reality of a jobbing actor, and the truth behind beards.
Back Stage West: You've put a lot of time into Art. This is not the case of a film star taking an eight-week run in a Broadway show to prove he's still got the chops. This is months of time away from feature work. What do you get from the theatre that you don't get from film?
Alfred Molina: Actors who start in the theatre, who spend their formative years in theatre or who spend a lot of time in the theatre, always have this experience. Theatre always has a special place for them. Because, ultimately, it's the medium in which actors really live. Television belongs to writers. Film belongs to directors. And theatre belongs to actors. We all have our place.
Not that I'm maligning television or film, because I've had great experiences in both. But in terms of the control you have over what you do‹creative, editorial control‹the sense that every evening when you step out on the stage, you're engaged in that thing with the other actors and the audience, you are the boss, well, theatre is it. The actors determine the quality of the evening.
It's a totally organic thing. It's the inherent relationship between the performer and the medium in which he or she is working. There's nothing like it. If it gets fucked up, it's down to you, and if it's a brilliant evening, that's also down to you. And it's worth the gamble.
I always think it's ironic that actors who get paid vast amounts of money for movies get paid in advance. They get paid before the audience sees the product. And if the product stinks and goes down the toilet and nobody sees it, they still get paid. So their investment in the success or the quality of the material has to be questioned. If you really believe in the product, then just take a cut of the profits. That would really separate the men from the boys. Don't take the $20 million before anyone sees the movie. Take it if it earns $20 million.
That's what happens in the theatre. Sure, you sign on for a six-month run, but if the show stinks and you stink in it, and you close after a week, you don't get paid for the six months. That's what real actors do.
BSW: How has the show changed during the long run and now the different venues?
Molina: People often have this notion that as soon as the director leaves, the actors, like naughty schoolboys, start changing everything around, start adding things they like... [pauses, then starts to laugh] That's really quite accurate, actually.
No, of course, our job isn't to subvert everything that's come before. That's not how we exercise our control. What it's about is maintaining the standard. In a perfect world, what happens is, at the end of the rehearsal period, by the time you reach opening night, you've got that play or that performance to the best point it can be in rehearsal. You've gotten to the point where you know it's ready for the public. Then the run of the play is an exercise in keeping it.
Now, of course, subtleties come in, things become clearer, things become revealed. Maybe a point in the play has meant one thing for a couple of weeks, and you suddenly realize, My God, I realize what this really means. And you have a revelation of sorts. So things change subtly.
But we always hope that if you see a play at the end of a run, that the play will have taken another leap. If you see it on the last night, you're actually seeing a better performance than if you've been on the first night. Doesn't always happen, but that's what we hope for.
BSW: What are the pros and cons of working with a small cast? Obviously, if one person is having an off night, it can make a big difference.
Molina: That is true. But I was very lucky with this and with Molly Sweeney and when I did Speed-the-Plow at the National. Three out of my last four theatre gigs have been three-handed plays. There's something about a small cast; if you're blessed with the opportunity to work with really good people, like I have been, part of the process means that you've got to raise your game. You can't relax. When I was working on Molly Sweeney with Catherine Byrne, who created the role of Molly Sweeney, and the great Jason Robards, it was like having a master class every day. And I just I thought, I can't relax. I've really got to keep up.
And the same thing with Art. Alan and Victor have both had much, much more experience than me on Broadway, particularly Victor. So you sort of raise your game accordingly.
The exciting thing about a small cast is you can't skate by. You have to get on the horse and ride. If there are 15 people on stage and somebody's off, or somebody's feeling a bit under the weather, it's much different. Let's say you arrived at the theatre with a raging headache, you've got dysentery, and your house is about to be taken away from you‹you could justifiably take it easy that night and know that there are 14 other people there to save you. You can be a little shallow.
But you can't do that with three people. It's like playing billiards and someone takes the ball away‹there's no way you can play. So there's that element to it, which is very exciting.
But there's also a very practical thing, which is that because there's only three of you, you can't drop the ball. And that's really good for you. It's good work, good exercise. It means your acting muscles are tight. There's nothing like it. And the logical progression of that, I suppose, is the one-person show, which I've never done.
BSW: Though you've never done a solo show, you've demonstrated a great facility with monologues. You seem to shine at them‹in Boogie Nights, Art, Molly Sweeney. Do you enjoy monologue work?
Molina: The fact that Molly Sweeney is made up of monologues and that there is a big monologue in Art is just accidental. I didn't look at the script and say, "Ah, another great monologue, I'll go for that one!" But it's interesting, this whole thing about‹What is a monologue? Because I used the term "monologue" about Marc's speech in Art and Yasmina [Reza] overheard me and said, "No, no, no. It's not a monologue. It's a dialogue. You're in the scene talking to other people. They just happen not to interrupt you." And I thought, Gosh, she's actually right. I felt a bit chastised, but she was right. And then I started thinking about it very differently.
Of course, with the less generous part of the actor, there's still the fact that there's nothing like having a big speech, especially if it's a good speech. It's like that joke, where a big sign comes on above your head‹"Acting." And you can turn that sign on legitimately, you know what I mean? It's a real thrill.
But it's also a seductive and dangerous thing, those big monologues. Because if you approach it with the wrong spirit‹"This is my turn, my time to shine"‹you are in such trouble. It will fail you. I teach now, and you can see actors getting ready for their big monologue in scenework. You can see them onstage thinking, Another five lines till my cue. I'm just going to act the shit out of this. And you just know it's going to be a disaster. So you try to stop them from doing that.
BSW: Your first year in film, you did Meantime and Raiders of the Lost Ark. There have never been two films less alike, in terms of budget and personnel alone. What were your feelings about film acting at the end of that year?
Molina: I've always been a fan of movies, since I was a kid. So you can imagine my excitement. It was my first movie‹Raiders came just before Meantime‹and I was working with the top box-office star of the time and the biggest director. Spielberg and Harrison were both huge stars, and this was a huge production. There was like a whole army of people working on it. I thought I had died and gone to heaven.
And they were paying me a bucket-load of money. When I got cast in Raiders, I was doing a play with a fringe theatre company on what was then British Equity minimum, which was like 45 or 48 pounds a week: maybe it was 60. I was getting by. But I was living with someone, and we were about to have a baby. My daughter was about to be born. Money was tight, but we were getting by. And suddenly I get offered this movie, two weeks on this film. And they were offering me 1,000 pounds a week. And one of those weeks I was going to be in Hawaii. And they were going to fly me over. It just got better and better and better. There was no downside to this.
But I learned a very good lesson at that time. I was 26 or 27, and I didn't understand the difference in techniques that were required in film and theatre. And so consequently, the performance in that movie is no thanks to me. It's really thanks to Steven. [Molina played Sapito, Indiana Jones' guide, in the first few scenes.] Because he kept saying, "Bring it down," "a little less." It's not an earth-shaking performance, but I don't look like an idiot. Had he left me to my own, I would have been terrible. But it was like a crash course. I knew so much more at the end of that two weeks.
Then there was [Mike Leigh's] Meantime, which was a very different way of making films. And over the following years, doing all kinds of movies with all kinds of budgets, I soon realized what joy there is in a career that is varied. But you have to come to terms with the fact that your ambitions may not be satisfied in a certain way, in the way that you hoped. Because all of us have ambitions which may not be fulfilled. Certainly keeping one foot in the theatre and one foot somewhere else means that you can't always be as successful as you might want to be. You're spreading yourself thin. But it makes for a great life, in terms of the craft of acting. It keeps you alive and interested.
I have a friend who's a wonderful stage actor who hasn't been back to the stage in about 10 years. And I don't think he ever will. I think he's lost it. I'd hate to get to that point.
BSW: You've found so many great roles for yourself. Often, I'll see an average film in which you've carved yourself out a great character. How do you rise above a mediocre project?
Molina: I think it's 90 percent luck. I've never had the luxury, or only recently have I had the luxury, of being able to choose a job purely on its merits. That's only been in my last two or three years. And I've been an actor for the last 26 years. I've spent most of my time having to do whatever job came up, because I had no choice. Just like 85 percent or 90 percent of my union membership. We're all in the same boat. There's nothing unique about this.
You get offered a job and you think, Well, it's not a great job, it's not a great script, it's not a great director, and the guy playing the lead is no good, but I've got to pay the mortgage. Most of us spend most of our time in that position. So in a way, if it works out that you can make something work for yourself, if you're lucky enough to be able to weave flax into gold, then great. But it's not a conscious thing; it's just luck, really.
The first time I was able to choose a project, strictly on its merits and regardless of what it paid, was Boogie Nights. The year before that, I had to turn down a role in Big Night. Stanley Tucci offered me a wonderful role, and I had to turn it down because I had had a chunk of time out of work and I had no money. It was a small movie, and he was offering me scale. And there was this chance for this other movie that was offering me a bit more money, so I had to make a choice. I phoned Stanley up and said, "I'm sorry. I love your movie. I love your script. But I can't afford to do it. I've got to earn some money." That's the life of an actor. There's nothing unusual or unique about that. Every actor you talk to will tell you the same story.
BSW: Since that's been the case for you, as a veteran actor, what advice do you give young performers who have no clout and little experience?
Molina: This is where I will lose points, because my views on this point are unpopular. My opinion has always been that L.A. has never been the best place to be when you're starting. Young actors have to be very honest with themselves, when they are starting out. They have to ask themselves a very basic question, which is, Do they want to be actors or do they want to be rich and famous?
It may sound flippant, but actually, it's a very real question. Because those desires are just as valid. If you want to be rich and famous, that's fine. I wish you all the good fortune in the world. But if you really want to become an actor, you will work your skills to their best advantage, and you might become rich and famous. But for most actors, that won't be the case. It will happen to maybe 10 percent of the people who become actors. The rest of us have to make a living.
And you have to ask yourself when you are starting, Am I prepared to just be a jobbing actor? Is that going to satisfy me? Is my love of this craft going to be satisfied in the mere exercise of that craft? Or am I going to be frustrated because I'm not rich and famous? You have to answer those questions and make that choice. Because once you've made that choice, your life will become a lot simpler.
The more honest you are about that, the less heartache you'll have. And that's a really important question in the context of this town. Because the other thing I tell my students is if you want to be a stage actor, get the hell out of L.A. Go anywhere but L.A. Go to New York, go to Washington, go to San Francisco. Go to where there is a theatrical culture, a culture of theatre going and theatre making that will sustain you, that will hopefully provide you with a living and at least a regularity of stage work where you can learn something.
I think it's very sad when I hear from actors who haven't worked in nine months. They come to me as a coach and tell me they haven't worked in nine months, and I say, "Why are you staying here? Move back." And they say, "But this is where the work is." And they're not laughing.
So that's what I tell young actors, and I know that's not what they want to hear. They want to hear all that feel-good stuff that all these teachers feed them. "Be true to yourself." "Everything is going to be all right." They give them all that psychobabble bullshit, and it fucks them up. Because then they are completely unprepared for the real world.
BSW: I consider you to be one of the few true character actors. Is it your theatre training that prepared you for this? Obviously, you have a facility with dialects.
Molina: You arrive at your skills, in whatever job you do, through a series of accidents and perhaps a pre-disposition in your genes. What happened for me was that coming from a mixed background, a Spanish father and an Italian mother, growing up with foreign accents in the house, gave me an ear for dialects. I learned Spanish and Italian growing up, because my parents couldn't speak English. I developed a facility for dialects, but that's just accidental. I didn't decide, I'm going to be an actor that's good at dialects.
Also, I was pre-disposed physically to be a big guy, which meant I didn't get caught in sort of that pretty-boy school of acting. When I was 25, the age when I could have been playing pretty boys, I was playing old men and thugs. I was playing East German heavies. All my friends who were slimmer and shorter and cuter were playing Romeo and I was playing the father. So at a very early age, I was thinking, Oh well, I guess I'm a character actor.
But a character actor is not always a great thing to be. Very often the term is used in a pejorative sense. People say, "Well, he's a movie star, as opposed to him who's good, but he's a character actor." But I like to say, Yeah, that's what I do. I'm a character actor. It means my work is varied, and it means I'll work till I drop. And really that's the only ambition that any actor can truly hope for.
I love playing characters where there is dialect work involved. I like the being the Iranian guy, the Spanish guy, the Russian guy, the German guy. I enjoy finding the character, and also finding the dialect, and finding the national characteristics of that character. That kind of detective work is exciting to me.
And as I'm getting older, I'm moving into a different place. I'm 45 now. I'm realizing that there's a whole new group of roles that I'm being considered for. I've been the gauche teenager, the gawky kid, and the leading man's friend who didn't get laid, and now I can be that guy's dad. And in the classical theatre, of course, there's a whole new range of stuff I can do. You can be a character actor forever.
BSW: Yet as a character actor, you've managed to find a number of great leads roles also.
Molina: I used to make a joke. People would ask, "What are your favorite parts?" And I always said my favorite parts were the one where the guy has a beard. Because all the leads in film and all the parts I've enjoyed onstage have always involved lots of facial hair. So if a character is described as bearded, I'll do it.
But behind that silly joke is a grain of truth. Those were leading roles, but they weren't heroic. They belonged in a specific time or place. They weren't generic. They weren't sort of the all-purpose action guy. Tom Cruise will never get away with a beard like that in a romantic lead. BSW