Al Pacino packs a punch

It’s the Al Pacino syndrome. The other day I had a bad day at work and wanted to run around screaming expletives, with a gun for good measure. Just like Tony Montana in Scarface (1983). Being interrogated in a meeting, I long for the cockiness of Montana “the political prisoner from Cuba” demanding his “human right, now” in the opening scene of Scarface. Yes, I admit that I have watched Scarface far too many times for my own good.

I’m a child of the early 80’s and Pacino was a star long before I arrived on the scene. I can’t claim to have watched all his films or know everything there is to know about the man, but whatever I have seen has me star-struck. For want of space, let me restrict my thoughts to just two of his films that influenced me -- Scarface and Scent of a Woman (1992) -- although his portrayal of the brooding Michael Corleone in Godfather (1972), his third film, was the one that got him noticed. It also earned him his first Academy Award nomination for Best Supporting Actor. A little research reveals that the studio and producers didn't want Pacino in Godfather, but director Francis Ford Coppola refused to back down on his choice. Thank you, Coppola.

I should also mention Heat (1995) if only for the classic restaurant scene involving Pacino and my other all-time favourite actor Robert de Niro. And Pacino playing cop for a change. Of course, he did portray an honest cop in Serpico (1973) with much sensitivity and subtlety.

My first experience of the great Pacino was in Scarface many years ago. I have watched the brilliantly written -- and enacted – scene of Montana being interrogated by US immigration officers countless times. It taught me more about confidence than all the self-development books and gurus put together. In every scene of Scarface, Pacino was simply brilliant as the cocaine-snorting, high on confidence, short on temper mobster. As Montana, his nonchalant, if crude, wooing of Michelle Pfeiffer’s character, a moll, was legendary. “Now you're talking to me, baby! That I like!”

Then there was Lieutenant Colonel Frank Slade in Scent of a Woman (1992). As the blind Slade, Pacino superbly conveyed the angst of a military man angry with the world and himself. I think few actors can show anger on screen like Pacino. The threat of violence is more frightening than the act itself and Pacino is a master at conveying this emotion using his expressive eyes and gravelly voice. The family dinner scene in Scent of a Woman comes to mind when one thinks about Pacino’s sudden, explosive fits of anger. Without warning, Slade has his nephew by the throat after being taunted about his blindness and calmly threatens to snap his windpipe with one movement of his wrist.

Scent of a Woman won Pacino the Academy Award for Best Actor in 1993. The film has many great moments. There is the “Are you blind?” scene when poor Chris O’Donnell takes Slade’s arm intending to guide him, the completely hysterical Ferrari driving scene and the dramatic suicide attempt scene. And how can I forget the tango scene in the restaurant? It is a lesson on how to charm a woman you are meeting for the first time. And a tutorial on literally sweeping damsels off their feet by dancing the tango. As Slade says, “No mistakes in the tango, not like life!”

I tried to learn the tango after that, but was told that I have two left feet. And zero charm.

A method actor, Pacino gets into the skin of a character with ease. He can be a crude mobster, a suave yet sharp-tongued armyman, a cold and calculating mafia don, or an honest-to-a-fault cop. You don’t see Pacino, you see Corleone, Montana and Slade, characters with a life and identity of their own. I don’t know what Pacino is like as a person, but he brings an endearing eccentricity to his characters.

Pacino’s monologue in the climax of Scent of a Woman is riveting. I once memorized those words and attempted to enact the scene. That I failed miserably is another story.