sundance 2006 - Zoael

Talent,Talons and Truthful Talk
Paul Giamatti’s career no longer travels sideways, but soars skyward in The Hawk Is Dying
AN INTERVIEW BY EDDY GILBERT HERCH
PAUL GIAMATTI IS THAT RARITY
in motion pictures, an actor for
whom the acting is, no pun
intended, paramount over the trappings
of stardom. Like his New York
contemporaries David Strathairn (who
I interviewed in the previous Film
Festival Reporter) and Phillip Seymour
Hoffman, Giamatti, without exception,
exudes intensity and demonstrates
sincerity towards every role he plays.
As an interview subject, I found his
answers were just as intense, thought
out and emotionally generous as his
acting. Even more generous was the
fact that he answered all my questions
via e-mail—I was hospitalized at the
time—within the same two day period
which included his appearance at this
year’s Golden Globe Awards, his being
a Nominee for Best Actor in a
Supporting Role in a Motion Picture
for Cinderella Man.
In Julian Goldberger’s The Hawk is
Dying, Giamatti portrays George
Gattling, a man desperately trying to
connect to something meaningful,
despite failure and heartbreak.
EDDY GILBERT HERCH/FILM FESTIVAL
REPORTER: Your career has made a
deserved, marked change. Your talent
to communicate a great range of emotion
to an audience has taken you from
noted character actor to leading man.
Sideways and Lady and the Water
are romantic leads. What was it in the
character of George Gattling that drew
you to The Hawk is Dying?
PAUL GIAMATTI: It was a very enigmatic
script. I really didn’t know what to
make of the story or the character, and
I guess I actually found that pretty compelling.
The idea of working that closely
with an animal was very intriguing. I
was sold on the whole thing when I met
[director] Julian [Goldberger]. After
three minutes of talking with him, I
knew this would be fun and strange—
he’s a wonderful, smart guy. The character
seemed interesting, but the whole
package—Julian, the hawk, filming in
an interesting place like Gainsville—
that really sold me.
EGH/FFR: Gattling is a loner who lives
with his own failure, adding the guilt
for the tragic death of his helpless
nephew to it. Do you empathize with
the sad quality of the character? How
deep is the emotional pain you experi-
ence in creating a role such as
Gattling? How much of it do you take
home after a shooting day?
PG: I guess it’s my job to empathize. I
suppose part of me instinctively
zeroes in on the points of “contact”
emotionally that I have with a character
and the points where I don’t have
any “contact,” and tries to find the
ways to express them.
As to how deep the pain is I experience
playing a character, specifically
George, well, that’s a tricky question.
At the risk of sounding like a pedantic
asshole, your question begs the question
of how “real” anything an actor
does is. Of course, none of it is “real.”
The pain is not mine, I’m pretending to
have George’s pain—but in simulating
pain, I suppose you somehow access
some sort of pain you’ve felt yourself
and re-experience it yourself. I guess
you trick yourself into thinking the pain
is real, and thereby trick the audience.
So all of that said, I don’t reallly take
my work home. I don’t think I do, anyway.
There’s a certain, physically taxing
aspect to playing emotions like that, so
that goes home with you. I can actually
find playing very emotional stuff kind of
liberating, kind of cathartic. It can make
you feel lighter, unburdened.
EGH/FFR: Were you familiar with
9
COVER STORY
Michael Pitt and Paul Giamatti watch for a rare bird in The Hawk Is Dying.
Harry Crews novel? Did this influence
your preparation for the part?
PG: I was not familiar with this novel. I
had read Feast of Snakes and Car, so
I had some sense of his writing, but I
didn’t read “Hawk [Is Dying]”, figuring
I had to play the character Julian
had written in his screenplay, which
was, I gathered from Julian, different
from the book. Since I’m easily confused,
I left the book alone.
EGH/FFR: How did you prepare for
the mastery of falconry? Do you have
the scars to prove it?
PG: I can in no way claim to have mastered
falconry—but the birds were so
well trained, I didn’t have to do a whole
hell of a lot of work to feel comfortable
with them. They are, obviously, amazing
creatures. Actually, the trickiest part of
working with them was to make them
appear untrained. I had to keep them
slightly off balance to make them want
to get away from me. It was a tricky
process. I adored them, one in particular
, who seemed to sense what was needed
from him in a given moment (there were
three different birds). And the trainer
was a wonderful guy, who became
almost like another character in the
film for me, because often he was
controlling the bird’s behavior just out of
frame. But they’re intimidating critters—remote,
alien creatures. You have
to have a lot of respect for them,
because they could do a lot of damagetheir
talons are razor sharp. But these
birds were never less than remarkable
and friendly-and you do, inevitably, get
cut up by them.
EGH/FFR: Crews’ novel is in the tradition
of Southern Gothic, similar in tone
to authors the likes of Flannery
O’Conner and Carson McCullers. This
genre combines the tragically comic
with the emotionally brutal. Do these
appeal to you as an actor? What parts
are the most attractive to you?
PG: I do like a lot of those Southern
writers who fall under the rubric
Gothic-O’Connor in particular. A certain
sense of the grotesque definitely
appeals to me. I don’t why, but I find
the combination of pain and violence
and humor a very powerful one, and I
always have. It seems to strike to the
root of some kind of hysterical helplessness
in the face of death.
Fred’s death is not funny, but the
absurdity of it, the grotesque nature of
it delivers it up into some kind of
realm of black humor so black it’s
beyond mere ha ha ha laughter. Those
writers like O’Connor get at that
essential shocking joke of existence.
Jeez, I sound pretentious, and vague. I
wish I could articulate this better,
because it is a very powerful thing for
me. The spiritual concerns of those
writers are are ultimately so exciting.
EGH/FFR: Metaphor is a strong element
of The Hawk is Dying, particularly
the themes of release from captivity
and survival of the lone animal in
the wild. One scene in Sideways has
become the textbook example by
screenwriting teachers for both its
metaphor and subtext. Alexander
Payne uses Miles’ wine expertise as
the subtext for his awkward avoidance
of Maya for fear of rejection.
As Miles’ examines the fragile life of
a Pinot Noir, he is peeling back the layers
of a metaphor for his own passion,
romantic fragility and fear of intimacy.
Without your tender performance in
this scene, the metaphor might have
been lost. How aware are you of subtext
in your acting? Do you find yourself
adding qualities which amplify
what is on the page? And how does
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