Been meaning to do this again for quite some time – the last was in the 90’s with an SLR camera and 35mm film – 24 years! Now having a go with a TLR system and medium format film – metering the light and keeping note of my settings. What a joy playing with cameras from the 60’s – almost unbelievable that they still work! Will need to improve my scanning – I shot the negative with a macro lens on a rudimentary lightbox – good enough to see for now.
“I find I’m so excited I can barely sit still or hold a thought in my head. I think it’s the excitement only a free man can feel, a free man at the start of a long journey whose conclusion is uncertain. I hope I can make it across the border. I hope to see my friend and shake his hand. I hope the Pacific is as blue as it has been in my dreams. I hope.”
– Ellis Boyd ‘Red’ Redding (The Shawshank Redemption, 1994)
To be a contender in this fierce business I have to do great work. Like most actors, however, I have in my back-catalogue a number of pretty shaky performances. Some of them lurk online or lie hidden on a forgotten tape, disc or hard-drive – waiting to be sniffed out.
(Scene practice from a Hi8 tape, 2009)
What does it cost me when someone uncovers my overacting in a student film, or that ropey accent on an audition tape, or the fight scene that looks more like a pair of amorous baboons? How do I stop these botch jobs setting me back? How am I supposed to hide this garbage?
How envious I am of those lucky few actors who, at the outset of their careers, by profound good fortune, are shot out of a canon to the top of the business, surrounded by an army of professionals who make them appear to have only ever possessed the seasoned skill of a Brando or Blanchett.
While they string together an untarnished catalogue of show-pieces, I’ve mostly worked with other creatives-in-development producing results that are, all too often, half-baked. And then I make the big mistake: I let these ‘half-baked’ attempts hold me back – I start to make comparisons, my insecurities rise and my confidence falls. Yes, if I want to improve I must be honest about my limitations, but it’s all too easy to forget the realities of fortune and favour in this uneven business and fall into the trap of thinking my limitations somehow make me inferior. My resources may be inferior, but my potential is certainly not.
Let’s face it – I am not surrounded by an army of professionals protecting my image. Even if I had been, the highs would come with inevitable lows (and if I’m being completely fair – some of those ‘lucky’ few actors shot out of the canon go splat).
So, what do I do with these bloopers, blunders and boo-boos?
The fact is that my progress as an actor, the good and the bad, is going to be on record. What other people think of it is also beyond my control. I can’t hide from these facts. So here’s the deal:
There is no such thing as a failure – only a result. And every result offers me a lesson – a nugget of knowledge that helps me grow better at my craft. The best acting I ever do will be thanks, in part, to my worst. One day, when my skill is undeniable, a catalogue of performances reaching all the way back to my fumbling beginnings will stand as proof of my commitment to my art and a never-ending drive to improve; a testament to humility and tenacity; and a beacon for all those actors out there, ashamed of their slips and trips in this tricky business, that we have nothing to hide.
The latest film from Edward Berger, based on the book by Erich Maria Remarque, is a stunning achievement. The world this cast and crew have created is so incredibly immediate it threatens to pull you into the sludge with it. Volker Bertelmann’s visceral score is sublime. Stories like this are essential counterpoint to other much-loved films that offer up death and destruction simply as entertainment.
“This book is to be neither an accusation nor a confession, and least of all an adventure, for death is not an adventure to those who stand face to face with it. It will try simply to tell of a generation of men who, even though they may have escaped shells, were destroyed by the war.”
– Erich Maria Remarque
I have subsequently been drawn back to the work of Wilfred Owen, a British poet who was killed in action, aged twenty-five, just one week before the armistice was declared ending World War I…his imagery is that much more harrowing:
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge, Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs And towards our distant rest began to trudge. Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind; Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.
Gas! Gas! Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumbling, Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time; But someone still was yelling out and stumbling And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime… Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light, As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight, He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace Behind the wagon that we flung him in, And watch the white eyes writhing in his face, His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin; If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs, Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,— My friend, you would not tell with such high zest To children ardent for some desperate glory, The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori.
(Latin phrase is from the Roman poet Horace: “It is sweet and fitting to die for one’s country.”)
Jeffrey Mundell 