Who We Really Are (Robert Duvall R.I.P.)
WHO WE REALLY ARE
Robert Duvall died today. He was 95. I don’t know of any actor (or public figure) who looked pretty much the same as they appeared 64 years ago. Consider this image from the 1962 movie, “To Kill a Mockingbird,” one of Duvall’s first film roles. Add a few wrinkles and sun spots, and this could just as easily be Duvall in his final film scene. His voice may have been a little scratchier with age, but it otherwise remained unchanged.
But this is about something deeper and more meaningful — what’s on the inside.
Duvall played many memorable characters on television and in movies sprawling over seven decades. One of his earliest roles was in The Twilight Zone. He played the nameless taxi driver who helped track down the bad guy in Bullitt. He was perhaps best known as consigliere Tom Hagen in The Godfather, followed by probably the best sequel ever made. He was Lt. Col. Wilbur “Bull” Meecham in The Great Santini. He was Mac Sledge” in Tender Mercies. He was Captain Augustus ‘Gus’ McCrae in Lonesome Dove. He was Lt. Col. William “Bill” Kilgore in Apocalypse Now. That’s just a few of more than 100 memorable portrayals, both starring roles and small bit parts, though no role was small when Duvall played it.
In real life, Duvall was also about un-Hollywood as any celebrity ever nominated for seven Oscars. Despite his “Everyman” physical characteristics and the personality traits we associate with Duvall, he was often typecast as trustworthy characters with a deep sense of honor who were also straight-talkers. Even when he played criminals and outlaws, he was someone to root for. One senses those classic roles associated with trust and honor weren’t too far removed from the real person off-camera. While many actors of his generation found the toughest role was just being themselves — evidenced by so many celebrities who struggle with being famous — Duvall seemed like a down-to-earth guy who worked on his ranch by day and loved to dance at night.
I never met Duvall personally, but I have met and talked to many famous people. If you’ve had similar encounters, one common takeaway is the instant sense of disassociation between the memorable portrayals on film and the real person we meet offscreen. They experience many of the same challenges in daily life as all the rest of us. Unfortunately, many fans and filmgoers expect movie stars to be much like the fictional characters they play onscreen. But we know that’s not the way it is. For better and for worse, most actors are nothing at all like the most memorable characters they portray in the movies. Duvall may have been that one very rare exception.
I don’t mean to take anything away from Duvall as an actor. Obviously, he was cast for his talent and natural gifts for translating fictional characters into some of the biggest icons in cinema. But the fact is — most actors, even great actors, were very lucky in life. At some unforeseen junction of fates, they happened to look the right way at a casting call, or knew someone, or just happened to embody what a casting director believed the role was supposed to resemble at the perfect time when a certain movie was made. Duvall’s most memorable lines from his movies and TV roles were all written by someone else, but we rarely know nor remember the writers. Without a casting agent, the director who made it happen, a good script, supporting actors, plus all the accompaniments that go into successful filmmaking — everything from make-up artists to lighting experts, to costume designers, to everyone else on set — Robert Duvall wasn’t barking out the line, “I love the smell of napalm in the morning….it smells like victory.” We just see Duvall. But those words were written by John Milius and Francis Ford Coppola. And it took hundreds of people on set behind the scenes to make that image and delivery perfect in just one shoot (it was done in one take because the aerial combat scenes were impossible to re-film). The same is true for almost any great acting performance. The actor is always what we remember and associate with a character and scene, but that’s not where credit is due. Park Duvall on that beach without a great script and director, and he’s just another tourist next to the sea waves.
Indeed, the actor receives all the credit for their characters and even much of the dialogue with which they’re associated. That association can even lead to typecasting, which has both pros and cons. The positives are obvious — typecasting can often be a steady meal ticket for work in movies and television. But it can also be confining in a creative sense, and even a career killer for some actors who are unable to break away from certain characters. One can be a victim of their own success. The public gets even more confused when reality doesn’t meet our expectations. We expect to the comedian to always be funny, especially out in public. We expect the glamorous movie star to look her best all the time. But that’s now how real life works.
I suspect Duvall knew how truly lucky he was in his career, yet he also merits our praise for his tremendous body of work and he’d be the first to step out of the spotlight and allow more credit to be given to others who made it all possible. One senses that with Robert Duvall, what you saw is what you got and who he was–at 25, at 55, and at 95.
In a profession based on illusions and a world intoxicated by fantasy, staying true to oneself might be the ultimate achievement and compliment worth remembering, and revering.
