The Oscars
By DENNIS LIM
Published: December 30, 2011
IF there is one facet of
Brad Pitt
that could be considered somewhat obscure, it may be — oddly enough —
his acting career. For much of his two decades in the spotlight, since
his breakthrough as a ripped, sweet-talking grifter in
“Thelma and Louise” (1991) and even more so since
“Mr. and Mrs. Smith”
(2005), a movie that spawned a tabloid cottage industry, Mr. Pitt has
been a star first and an actor second. His every move — on film sets and
red carpets and humanitarian missions, often with a hard-to-miss
entourage that includes his partner, Angelina Jolie, and their six
children — provides endless fodder for the celebrity media. But the Brad
Pitt on screen remains surprisingly elusive.
The central contradiction can be summed up thus: Mr. Pitt is a superstar
who also happens to be something of a wild card. He has steered clear
of action franchises and romantic comedies, the typical cornerstones of a
major 21st-century screen career. Although he has not shied from big
roles — they don’t come much bigger than Achilles (
“Troy”) or Death (
“Meet Joe Black”)
— he has often sought the cover and camaraderie of ensembles, as in the
“Ocean’s” movies and “Inglourious Basterds” (which are among his
highest-grossing hits).
People seldom talk about his range, but he’s equally capable of flamboyance (
“12 Monkeys”) and restraint (
“The Curious Case of Benjamin Button”).
And while acting, for stars of a certain magnitude, is often a matter
of aura, of simply being themselves, Mr. Pitt has shown a sly
understanding of the uses of charisma: some of his most intriguing films
(
“Fight Club,” “The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford”) are self-reflexive comments on his obvious magnetism.
At 48 Mr. Pitt has been nominated for an Academy Award twice (as many
times as he has been anointed People magazine’s Sexiest Man Alive). On
the heels of a standout year by any measure, that tally could now
double. He’s poised to earn a best actor nod for his coolly commanding
turn in
“Moneyball”
as Billy Beane, the iconoclastic general manager of the Oakland A’s.
He’s a longer shot in the supporting category, for which his role in
“The Tree of Life” is eligible, but his layered, fully lived-in performance in that film, as
an authoritarian 1950s Texas father, is perhaps an even greater feat.
In an interview in early December at the Waldorf Astoria in Manhattan
Mr. Pitt said he was grateful that both films, neither of which was easy
to make, are figuring in awards-season conversations. (Through his
company, Plan B, he has a producer credit on both.) “I’m just happy
after all the work, and for the friends who put so much work into it
all,” he said. Like any seasoned pro on the Oscar circuit, he was
careful to sound appreciative without stooping to the vulgarity of
campaigning. “I’ve been around long enough to know it’s very fickle and
it’s a cyclical wheel,” he said. “But I will say this: It is
surprisingly fun when your number comes up.”
Having just flown in from France for the premiere of Ms. Jolie’s
directorial debut, “In the Land of Blood and Honey,” dressed down in a
long-sleeve V-neck and casual pants, Mr. Pitt was fighting fatigue and
jet lag. (He downed two Starbucks cappuccinos, delivered by a Waldorf
employee.) He gamely endured a photo shoot and a 90-minute conversation
but lost his train of thought several times (“I’m sorry, man, I am so
upside down right now”), and after a mid-interview bathroom break, he
made a sheepish confession: “I did the whole photo shoot with my fly
undone.”
Many of his answers had the vague, scripted ring of someone determined
not to say more than necessary, though he also seemed self-conscious
about his pro forma responses. “I grew up in a place where it’s
considered egotistical to talk about yourself,” he said, referring to
his hometown, Springfield, Mo.
Slightly awkward and distractible when facing questions, he was more at
ease making small talk, and most effusive on the subject of his family,
enthusing about Ms. Jolie’s film (“I played set photographer”) and the
kids. “There’s nothing more life-changing than fatherhood,” he said.
“It’s such a beautiful shift in perspective.” He checked himself: “It’s
often annoying to hear parents talk about it. I sure wasn’t into baby
pictures before.”
Fatherhood, as it happens, is what links Mr. Pitt’s roles in “Moneyball” and “The Tree of Life” — he also played a father in
“Babel”
(2006), another acclaimed performance — which suggests that advancing
age, at least for certain actors, can be a boon. Speaking about “The
Tree of Life” in May at the
Cannes Film Festival
he connected the film to memories of his strict Southern Baptist
upbringing. But in New York he clarified that he was not drawing on
actual experience.
“That’s certainly not my father,” he said of the film’s clenched
patriarch. “But I do understand the father-knows-best mentality, the
oppression the father figure can have on his kids, the pressures he is
under to be the leader and to provide, and feeling like he’s falling
short and having wants and desires himself.” He added, “The tragedy is
coming home and bringing that on the kids and then feeling bad about it.
It’s just this vicious cycle.” The marvel of Mr. Pitt’s performance is
how vividly this knot of contradictory impulses registers amid the often
wordless drift of Terrence Malick’s fragmentary reverie.
It’s also a reminder that Mr. Pitt has done his most indelible work in
concentrated bursts, often on the edges of movies. See the jabbering
asylum inmate in “12 Monkeys” (his first Oscar-nominated role), the
stoned couch potato in
“True Romance,” the
unintelligible Irish gypsy in
“Snatch,” the
clueless personal trainer in
“Burn After Reading.”
“I think it’s fair to say that mostly he’s excelled at character work,”
Bennett Miller, the director of “Moneyball,” said by telephone
recently. “He’s capable of the wildest shifts.”
Billy Beane, however, is an unambiguous leading-man role, and
“Moneyball” is a passion project for Mr. Pitt, one he stood by through
an arduous development process that included a very public collapse when
Sony pulled the plug on a version that was to be directed by Steven
Soderbergh. Calling Mr. Pitt’s performance “an inside-out job,” Mr.
Miller said, “I really do think he reveals more of who he is here than
in any other performance.”
Mr. Pitt said he has grown more comfortable with the responsibility of
anchoring a movie. “I wasn’t ready before,” he said. “I just understand
better how to fill it out. I’ve got more notes to play with.” If the
diversity of his roles now suggests a cannily balanced portfolio,
earlier it was more a lack of focus. “I had a tough time honing what
direction I wanted to go in,” Mr. Pitt said. There was a point in the
mid ’90s when he felt “things starting to exceed my control,” he said.
“You have a lot of voices telling you what you should be doing.”
Mr. Pitt said that David Fincher’s
“Seven”
(1995) was “the first film where I recognized the feeling of when
things are clicking.” Mr. Fincher has also directed him in two other
significant films, “Fight Club” and “Benjamin Button” (which earned Mr.
Pitt a best actor nomination). His
“Fight Club” übermensch Tyler Durden
is a turning point of sorts, both the comic apotheosis of his early
golden-boy persona — the idealized, devil-may-care heartthrob of films
like
“A River Runs Through It” and
“Legends of the Fall” — and an anarchic subversion of it. (Tyler — spoiler alert — doesn’t actually exist.)
“So much of it is written off as natural magnetism,” Mr. Fincher said of
what he called “the can’t-take-your-eyes-off-them quotient” of movie
stars like Mr. Pitt. “People don’t realize how much of that is part of
the conduit he’s providing for the audience to connect to the
character.”
In a
1999 Rolling Stone profile
Mr. Pitt talked about his “fight to avoid becoming a personality.”
Reminded of this goal, which has long seemed beyond the realm of
possibility, he said, “I do remember being very conscious of that.” For
actors whose off-screen selves shadow their every role, he added,
“There’s baggage you’ve got to get out of the way before you start
seeing the character.”
But it’s not something he thinks about anymore, or really wants to talk
about. “As you see I’m not so verbose by nature,” Mr. Pitt said,
bringing the topic back to the garrulous, deal-making Billy Beane and
how the character was in fact quite a stretch.
Mr. Fincher, who has become a good friend over the years, concurred.
“Billy works out what he’s thinking in front of you, which is not a very
Brad thing to do,” Mr. Fincher said. “Brad has learned to be very
careful about his opinions so as not to hurt people’s feelings. When
people address him, I don’t think a lot of them realize the kind of
affirmation they’re looking for.”
Mr. Pitt said he tries to keep a tunnel vision on the work. “I want to
make things, and I want them to say something,” he said. “I don’t think
beyond that.”
Dede Gardner, Mr. Pitt’s partner at Plan B, described the company as a
“safe haven” for filmmakers with unconventional ideas. She added that
Mr. Pitt has always been firm that “it not be a vanity deal.” All the
same, it can create win-win situations: he helps interesting films get
made and finds interesting roles for himself. Already in the can are
“Cogan’s Trade,” a talky crime drama by Andrew Dominik, the director of
“Jesse James,” and Marc Forster’s zombie movie
“World War Z.” Plan B will also produce the next film by Steve McQueen (
“Shame”), with Mr. Pitt in a small role alongside Michael Fassbender.
The driven, multitasking Hollywood player of today is a far cry from the
overwhelmed newcomer of 20 years ago. “I hid out a lot,” Mr. Pitt said.
But a youthful fear of commercialism gave way to a realization that, as
he bluntly put it, “artists can have brands and sell things.”
“I was uncomfortable with the focus,” he said. “But there are a lot of
nice things that can be done with it, and I accept it. It’s part of our
business.”
That was enough introspection for the day. He soon reverted to his talking points.
“It’s fun when your number comes up,” Mr. Pitt said, pausing to
acknowledge that he was repeating himself. “That’s my line, and I’m
sticking to it.”
