Quintessential Jack

by Scott Edwards

  Gary Kent pointed out that the LA scene at the time didn’t include much in terms of stage work, so actors “belonged to what we called ‘groups’ and they were really intense. Jack and Harry [Dean Stanton] were in that together, and they were like acting gymnasiums. They were a great place to work out and do acting if you couldn’t get a picture.”15

  Shirley Knight, who worked alongside Nicholson nearly four decades after these classes (as Helen Hunt’s mother in As Good as It Gets), remembered, “He and I were in acting class together in 1959 … the Jeff Corey class.”16

  Millie Perkins also studied with Corey, but after starring in The Diary of Anne Frank. “Jack was a working actor,” she said. “He was young when he came to Hollywood. He wanted to be in the movie business and he was doing plays and everything he could to make it in the business.”17

  Acting teacher Jeff Corey’s class notes about student Jack Nicholson didn’t indicate the potential later realized. In contrast, Burt Reynolds was at the time highly regarded.

  It’s a testament to Jack’s dedication that he continued to act, as this Jeff Corey assessment illustrates (courtesy Jeff Corey Collection, Thompson Special Collections, Ohio State University).

  Despite his years of low-budget exploitation movies and forgettable TV gigs, Nicholson colleagues do look back as if his success was predetermined. Salli Sachse played a key role in the Corman-produced, Nicholson-scripted The Trip and recalled Jack as “pretty experienced at that time. I mean, he had done quite a few horror movies with Roger. He was talented and he was funny and there was no doubt that he was on his way. No doubt about that. And I think it was the next year that they did Easy Rider.”18

  Perkins makes it sound almost mystical: “Jack had a gift from the gods. Somebody blessed him and said, ‘You’re gonna be there and you’re always gonna be there.’ … He’s always a star and he will always be, and when he’s on-screen you watch him and you don’t watch anybody else. He’s just got gold over his head or something that’s magic that other people don’t have.”19

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  Supernaturally assisted or not, once Nicholson got his chance, he never let up. This actor effectively balanced big Hollywood turns with more artistic, small-scale projects. Commercial, yes, but also personal.

  Upon the success of Easy Rider and Five Easy Pieces, Nicholson became a new star of the New Hollywood. He also started to become a force in the filmmaking itself. He’s a versatile actor as well as a multifaceted professional, equally adept as a hapless hero (flawed, famous men in Mars Attacks!, Broadcast News and Terms of Endearment) as he is playing monstrous villains (in The Departed, The Shooting and Batman). He can play big and gregarious (One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, Easy Rider, Goin’ South) just as convincingly as small and uncertain (About Schmidt, The King of Marvin Gardens, Ironweed). He’s made characters into icons (such as Bobby Dupea in Five Easy Pieces, Melvin Udall in As Good as It Gets, Jake Gittes in Chinatown and The Two Jakes) and has made real people more accessible (Jimmy Hoffa and Eugene O’Neill). Intellectuals and idiots; men who reach enlightenment and losers mired in misogyny; the monsters, the killers, the charmers, the loyals, the vindictive; chasers, poets, the disillusioned and the dedicated.

  In David Mamet’s AFI tribute essay about Nicholson, the playwright explained that in great performers, “we see not the characters created for the part, but the true character of the performer.”20 Nicholson said that “the actor is the litterateur of his era” who writes his inner history “through choice of roles and how he plays them.”21

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  Watch the eyes. They glare, they stare, they search, beseech, betray, seduce, wrench, defile and pierce. Blaring fast when upset or lying, and staying impossibly still with intimidation or conviction. They form tears when inconsolable.

  It’s the eyes that get the attention when looking at a picture or studying a person. On the screen, they can be magnified and lighted and framed to carry a scene and convey every emotion more than any dialogue ever could.

  Eyes are the actor’s secret weapon. This is no secret to Jack Nicholson.

  Without actually watching the films, it’s easy to remember his eyes, most famously and most menacingly when announcing himself through a hole in a door made by an axe in The Shining. Or the range of emotions held by those eyes in Cuckoo’s Nest, from the jester and the conspirator to the instigator and the victim. Recall the eyes of Melvin as he tells Carol she makes him want to be a better man in As Good as It Gets; the disdainful glance he throws toward the pompous elitists and the pedantic waitress in Five Easy Pieces; the unhinged, endless search for the same clues and the same witnesses over and over again by the retired detective in The Pledge; the masochist in The Little Shop of Horrors and the raucous in The Witches of Eastwick, Anger Management and Batman.

  Compare two different Nicholson performances from 1992. When Jimmy Hoffa says that he’s “gonna do what I gotta do,” he is an out-of-control beast whose threat is reflected in his eyes, eyes that are glowing, wildly darting, and with the moist appearance of someone who desperately needs more sleep or less alcohol. When Colonel Jessep tells his immature inquisitor in A Few Good Men that he “can’t handle the truth,” that threat is reflected in his eyes through their steely self-control, an unblinking stare and disciplined focus that could not be distracted or impaired, the kind of a glare that is fueled by disgust and superiority.

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  How does one human being become so many others, and do so in a convincing enough way to draw an audience in, break them away from their own world, and impel an emotional response—whether empathy, disgust, encouragement or pity? For a Method actor such as Nicholson, preparation and connecting personally to the character each play a big part.

  Amongst actors, Nicholson is famous for the depth of his preparation and research. Joseph Turkel, who played Lloyd the bartender in The Shining, tells of how he saw the actor reading a book in his dressing room during that production. When Turkel inquired, he was told that it was about the effects of freezing on the human body. “My character freezes and I want to know just how it happens,” Nicholson explained. “I want to get it, feel it, show it, as it is.”22

  That last sentence may well best sum up the value of preparation in creating a role imbued with truth.

  According to Gary Kent, much research preceded the production on Ride in the Whirlwind. “Jack had spent a lot of time in the library before we went up to shoot, reading about those times [the Old West] and studying those times.” He said that “dedication and research and a lack of fear” were the most significant contributions to the quality of Nicholson’s work.23

  Millie Perkins remembers how she argued with Nicholson over a hat at Western Costume because Jack wanted the same one she chose for her role in their other Monte Hellman western, The Shooting.24

  Kent also underscored the importance of physicality to the actor, having heard that Nicholson “always carried something in his pocket that he thought belonged to the character or fit the character that he could touch whenever he felt out of touch.”25

  Often the preparation and the physicality go together. The actor must learn to appear to have a certain vocation or master a given skill. Handling a gun, painting a picture, working on a car, riding a surfboard. No matter the activity, the actor must look natural or it distracts from the story and brings attention to a phoniness that can only undermine a performance.

  When Nicholson was getting ready to play Daryl Van Horne in The Witches of Eastwick, he practiced every day for about three months to learn to appear to play the violin. His violin coach Richard Kaufman described the process as “working very hard for what on camera ended up being about 15 or 20 seconds.”26 He was also on set for the days of shooting that involved the music sequences, an experience he termed “the highest level of filmmaking…. [Y]ou don’t get to work at that level unless you have a great commitment and desire to do the very best possible work.”27

  Barry Dennen, who played
Bill Watson in The Shining, remembered Jack as “so confident in his own body, so comfortable with himself. He liked himself, which a lot of actors do not.” Because of Nicholson’s preparation and experience, he could slip in, do the shot and go back to editing down the hall. “They’d call him in, literally just a few minutes after they got the camera set up (with a stand-in). He just popped into place and started to work. He was very quick, and very good.” Dennen, who considered working with Nicholson a great honor, called him a “fucking brilliant pro” whose magic is that he knows how to do it, and he does it. “And it’s always Jack. It is always Jack, and it is always wonderful.”28

  Hells Angel Sonny Barger recalled that Jack seemed such a natural on a motorcycle in Hells Angels on Wheels that “every other chapter [motorcycle club] thought he was from another chapter.” Sonny elaborated that it wasn’t so much how Nicholson handled a bike, but “because of the way he handled himself.”29

  Perhaps a Jersey boy doesn’t take to riding a horse as confidently as riding a Hog. According to Gary Kent, “When [Nicholson] used to dismount from his horse, he’d always look down at the ground.” The veteran stuntmaster had to intervene and tell the actor, “You look like you’re afraid you’re going to step in some horse shit. Step off your horse looking straight ahead like you know where you’re going. And it’s going to make your character stronger.” Nicholson thanked Kent and did it Kent’s way, “and years later, he told me, ‘You know, I still use that little thing you gave me, that tip you gave me, to act like you know where you’re going. I still use that.’”30

  From a front porch in Neptune, New Jersey, to handprints in Hollywood. Jack’s childhood home on the Jersey shore hid the secrets of an unknown father and a misidentified mother.

  An actor who regularly resides at a higher level is a prepared actor. Noah Wyle, who worked on A Few Good Men, was still amazed a quarter century after watching Nicholson prepare for his role as Colonel Nathan Jessep. His pre-shoot table read-through was “almost identical” to what we eventually saw on the screen. “He went for it. That scene where he was, ‘You can’t handle the truth!’—we heard it right there for the first time in that room. He came in with a great performance already dialed in.”31

  Nancy Allen, who played the girl that Badass Buddusky tries to pick up at a party in The Last Detail, described Nicholson as “very well prepared, has done his homework, knows where he is going with the character, and like any good actor that’s really prepared, you can be laughing and talking one minute and just slip into the character because you have done your homework.”32

  Becoming the character also involves channeling, as Bruce Dern explains. “If you come to work sad and you’re in some grim circumstances in your life, then find that to work into the day’s work that day if that’s part of your character.” He further relates that process to the Method by outlining its basic principles: “You really look at something; you really listen to what they’re saying; and everything comes out of that, comes out of what’s really going on at the moment.”33

  When you talk to a lot of actors, you hear words like “truth” and “real” and “respond” along with phrases like “in the moment” and “depth of character.” When you talk to a lot of actors about Jack Nicholson, you hear those same words and those same phrases a lot. You also hear the words and phrases “dedicated,” “sincere” and “conscientious”34 (Robert Dix from Rebel Rousers); “organic”35 (Allen); “extraordinarily talented”36 (Carnal Knowledge co-star Rita Moreno); “the master actor”37 (James Hong from Chinatown and The Two Jakes); “hard-working,” “serious” and “always into his character”38 (Kent); and “a person who wanted to grow and learn”39 (Perkins). Knight concluded, “I think the work tells. Let me put it that way: The work shows, and people who know really know.”40

  Nicholson’s dedication to research and detail, down to his attention to wardrobe and dialect, come to life through what I call “character energy.” Character energy encompasses the combinations of immediacy and action that go into a portrayal, together with all of the preparation and obsession that help shape the role and make it true. In this way, Nicholson’s characters achieve their strength and lasting resonance by virtue of hard work, mental application, emotional connection and studied craft.

  This is an actor who also intrinsically knows all facets of the filmmaking process, which helps give the juice to his work. He studied at what Bruce Dern called “the University of Roger Corman,”41 an apprenticeship of sorts perfect for anyone who had the desire to learn and the spirit to apply what was learned. Making do with small budgets and pitching in to fill multiple roles was never perceived as additional work without additional pay for those with enough foresight to grasp its potential.

  Mews Small, who played Candy in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, described Nicholson’s great skill and how he helped the then-inexperienced film actress, “like when I came through the window [into the mental institution], he would just pick me up, spin me around, and put me in the right place for the camera.”42

  He knows where the camera is and what it does, and what he should do to take advantage of the actor’s relationship with the lens. He has written screenplays, so he knows what makes a story work and how to advance a narrative through exposition, action and dialogue. He understands the interrelationship between characters, as well as how to create an effective characterization. He has also directed, learning to frame a story and compose a shot, along with working a Moviola and in the process gain a functional understanding of editing. Michael Margotta, whom Nicholson directed in Drive, He Said, passed along a lesson from Nicholson: “He said to me one day, ‘If you learn film editing, you could save yourself eight years.’”43

  Hollywood’s most successful actor of the past few decades, combining box office appeal with industry accolades, earned his success through study and effort. Stardom may have been late-blooming, but hardly accidental. Taking risks and sublimating fear made—and continues to make—the difference between Nicholson’s character energy and an ordinary actor just playing a part.

  Ed Nelson, who worked on Jack’s big screen debut The Cry Baby Killer in 1957, explained this essential ingredient. “Talent is important, but it’s number two by a long, long way. Number one is courage. You need the courage that you can face defeat.”44

  Nancy Allen said of Nicholson, “I think that he’s just fearless. I think most good actors are. And sometimes you’re great and sometimes you maybe miss the mark a little bit, but at least it’s a deliberate choice.” Having worked alongside the actor on her first film, The Last Detail, she observed, “He’s very specific about his choices. I think there’s no safety there. I mean, he really goes full out, and no guarding against it. He usually makes his choices and goes all the way with them.”45

  Kent, who worked with the developing actor on four films, also describes this lack of fear: “Jack was not afraid to take unattractive parts and do something with them.” He talks of how it never bothered Nicholson to be different. “It wasn’t only dedication, but he had courage toward this business. ‘Let’s go for it. Let’s try it. If it advances the story, let’s do it, let’s not play it safe.’ I admired that. He wasn’t afraid to take a leading man and make him into a character.”46

  Observing Nicholson work on Terms of Endearment, Jeff Daniels learned “to simply walk into the action of the scene and go with whatever happens.” Daniels watched how the actor “set himself up with the basics of the character and the situation, and then he’ll just go with it. He’s not afraid of making wrong choices.”47

  Courage does not necessarily mean total dominance, as singer Tom Waits explained after working with Nicholson on Ironweed. “Jack makes you look good when you’re with him. He’s not picking your pocket, never grandstanding, not trying to eclipse the people he’s with. He’s trying to make himself small.”48

  Drive, He Said star Margotta, now an acting instructor in Rome, spoke from innate knowledge when he said, “Jack is a stro
ng, courageous actor. His choices are always strong…. The career speaks for itself.”49

  Perhaps Nicholson is his most courageous and most willing to give it all, with no physical or verbal limits, with what I call his Jacksplosions, those memorable moments of explosive action for which he has become so well-known. In Five Easy Pieces, he attacks his own car’s interior when trapped by girlfriend Rayette into taking her along on a trip to see his family. Colonel Jessep blasts at Tom Cruise’s Kaffee that he “can’t handle the truth,” even recognizing that this outburst exposes his own complicity. Buddusky, McMurphy, The Shining’s Jack Torrance, Charlie Smith and Charley Partanna, the Devil and the Joker, Jimmy Hoffa and Frank Costello have all lost it, in the controlled chaos that brings Jack’s character energy beyond limits many actors dare not approach. When a character’s dialogue becomes incoherent; when he pushes and punches wildly and in a blur; and when a man loses the self-control and forgets his self-awareness such that drool flows (seemingly absentmindedly) and spit flies (apparently lost in the moment); when these things happen, they do not occur without control, but because of it.

  Writing about The Last Detail in Acting in the Cinema, James Naramore describes Nicholson’s “snarling, inarticulate rage during which he punches a lamp and smashes his fist against the wall.” No longer Jack Nicholson, the actor becomes Buddusky and loses all free will as the character goes out of control. “These frightening outbursts of anger set a pattern in Nicholson’s films, of definitive moments when the character becomes an embarrassment, when one would like to look away but can’t.”50