John Badham On Directing - 2nd edition. John Badham
should play. I came back to Whitmore: “I think you’re wrong. But let’s see what happens when we get to the stage.”
So now we rehearse the scene. He does the scene exactly the way I asked him to do it. So at this point, I’m taking “yes” for an answer. When we roll on the first take, he performs beautifully and flawlessly, exactly what I’d asked him to do. Take two, same thing, perfect. I said, “I’m good.” I said, “I think that scene is exactly right.” I said, “Is there anything else that you’d like to do? Would you like to do another take any way you want to do it?” Whitmore replies, “Nope.” I said, “You’re happy, I’m happy.”
Later on that day, I went to his dressing room. I asked him, “Were we saying the same thing all along?” He said, “No, no, no, you’re dead wrong.” I said, “I’m dead wrong?” He said, “Yeah, you totally misinterpreted the scene.” I said, “Okay, but you did the scene the way I asked you to do it.” He said, “You’re the director.” I said, “Thank you,” and I walked out. He won an Emmy for that performance, having nothing to do with me, just because he’s so damn good. I mean, he was brilliant.
Postscript: I ran into him at a restaurant in Beverly Hills. He was having dinner with his wife, Noreen, and I was with my wife, Leslie. I went over to him, and I said hello and introduced them to Leslie. Whitmore Sr. looks up at her and says, “Well, your boy isn’t much of a director, but he’s got good taste in women.”
I have been asking directors and actors everywhere: What are the signs and symptoms of directors who aren’t trusted? What do they do that makes actors grit their teeth and wish they had gone to law school instead? We’re not just talking about being popular with actors (nice, but hardly the end goal). Filmmaking is not primarily a social club. What do we as craftspersons and artists do that gets in the way of making the best film possible? Many of the problems we’ll discuss occur in television or low-budget films, where schedule often trumps quality and there is little time for niceties. But the truth is that they are universal problems existing at all levels of filmmaking.
For now, let’s focus on the cast. Many of the ideas will also apply easily to our crew, who need and deserve just as much respect and attention as the cast — the difference being the crew is usually more compliant and easier to work with.
It’s enough to say for now that Number One on the call sheet (as the star or lead actor is code-named) is such a critical part of every equation and production decision that to ignore, demean, or take lightly their participation is a fatal mistake. Whether they are well behaved and committed to making the best film possible, just pulling down a paycheck, or on an ego trip, Number One must be considered at every turn. We want them to look their best, to feel their best, and to enjoy giving all they can give to the film they are fronting and headlining. Being Number One is a huge responsibility.
And it goes without saying that there is no “one size fits all” when it comes to actors, how they work, their temperaments, their backgrounds. It’s part of the challenge and part of the fun.
D.J. Caruso: I learned, having five children, just as every one of them is totally different from the other, every actor is different. You can’t have the same directorial approach to Al Pacino that you have to Shia LaBeouf or to Michelle Monaghan or to Matthew McConaughey. What I’ve learned is to quickly discover whether the actor is a reactive actor or an aggressive actor.
Val Kilmer, for example, is very reactive. He knows what he wants to do, and for me to affect his performance, I have to use off-camera people to change his performance. He reacts to what he’s getting from the other actors.
On the other hand, a guy like Matthew McConaughey is just gung ho. He just wants an action, like “be more aggressive.” If aggressive isn’t enough, it’s going to be, “I want you to take her clothes off when you’re talking.” He’ll come back and say, “Give me a verb. Give me a verb.”
You have to learn to adapt to every actor’s style of working. Where a guy like Shia LaBeouf — and this is the truth — take one, take two, I don’t have to do anything. I don’t have to do anything. He’s spoiled me forever.
But Shia spends preproduction with me. He goes on location scouts. He calls me and asks me questions. In rehearsal, we never do the lines, but he wants to know something like, “Should I have a picture of my brother in my hand?” Everything’s about his preparation and the foundation of the character. When we get to the set, I swear to God, you’re prepared to do more takes because… you always have to do more takes. But Shia nails it the first time. I think, “That can’t be it, I can’t be moving on already.” You literally can, because in two movies I’ve done with him, he’s messed up a line once, one time. And it was a line that I changed the night before.
So I’ve learned to really adapt my style and figure out what kind of actor I’m working with, from the Angelina Jolies who are very cerebral, to Matthew McConaughey, who is all about action.
So how do we deal with this hotbed of distrust, egos, and competition? The entire philosophy of this book is based on one simple principle: People tend to reject the influence of someone they don’t like. Whether it’s a disliked director, doctor, or teacher, there is tremendous resistance to following their advice or learning from them. Benedict Carey, writing for the New York Times about George Steinbrenner, the tyrannical owner of the New York Yankees until his death in 2010, points out that even he mellowed substantially in his later years, having realized that the most effective leaders “find a way to mix some patience with their Patton, to persuade rather than intimidate, to convince people that their goals are the same as the boss’s.”3
And there is no need to transform oneself into a grinning ape or Uriah Heep, Charles Dickens’ obsequious, handwringing “’umble servant.” It’s mostly about respect.
D.J. Caruso: You have to be the authority figure. You can’t be just buddy-buddy because there has to be a captain. And so I’ve learned over the years how to try to choose an actor who’s really going to be your partner.
And that you can only learn by sitting with them, by talking to other people that have worked with them so you don’t step on land mines where they were sweet in the meeting and then turn into a monster on the set.
Let’s look at common mistakes that directors make — in the hopes that you can avoid them.
1 Delia Salvi, Friendly Enemies (New York: Billboard Books, 2003), xv.
2 Susan King, “Judd Nelson Interview,” Los Angeles Times, October 2, 2012.
3 Benedict Carey, “The Boss Unbound,” New York Times, July 18, 2010.
Chapter 1
Mistake #1: Directed by Anonymous
There’s always plenty of sitting around on sets, waiting for one task or another to be completed. A director can only do so much helping before having to get out of the crew’s way. They can spend this waiting time in many ways, hopefully productive. I like to talk with the actors about the upcoming scene or anything that’s concerning them. Often, an actor will tell me about a film or TV episode that they acted in. “Who was the director?” I often ask. This is frequently followed by a long pause and a bit of riffling through their mental contacts. Then I hear, “He was a tall guy, I don’t remember his name,” or “She had real curly hair,” or “He liked to shout a lot.”
I used to think that this was coming from some bobblehead who was only thinking about themself. Surely this couldn’t be the case with actors who are playing leads or major roles.
Uh… yes, it could. It’s especially true in television, where a series may have a dozen or more directors in a season. Every show starts to blur together, and the schedule is so hectic that basic niceties and courtesies go by the boards. People barely introduce themselves, and then they work together for days or even