‘Please Tell Me, What’s Wrong With Me?’

As I delve into Al Pacino’s memoir, I can’t help but feel a profound sense of admiration for the man and his incredible journey. His life, much like one of Shakespeare’s tragedies or comedies, is filled with highs and lows, triumphs and tribulations, passion and heartache.

It’s challenging to reconcile the diverse portrayals of Al Pacino, especially when comparing his early and later career. In the 1970s, he was seen alongside other prominent actors like Gene Hackman, Dustin Hoffman, and Robert De Niro, all known for their brooding and intense performances. Pacino, a seasoned actor in his 30s with a Tony award and Actors Studio experience, seamlessly blended into this circle. He delivered powerful, controlled performances, such as the weary paranoia of Frank Serpico or the tensed Sonny Wortzik in Dog Day Afternoon.

In my own words, I’d say: Al Pacino’s latest memoir, titled “Sonny Boy,” is my 363-page journey through understanding my life, from the mischievous boy fleeing cops in the South Bronx to the elderly Hollywood star dancing joyously in Beverly Hills. My childhood forms the foundation of this story, as I acknowledge my resilient mother for keeping me away from the unfortunate paths taken by many of my peers in our neighborhood. The rest of my life, I describe as an incredible “moon shot,” and the book takes us along, wide-eyed and in awe of all the extraordinary experiences I’ve had. At its finest moments, reading it feels like sharing a drink with me at the bar while I regale you with captivating tales, such as how I serendipitously met Martin Sheen on the subway one day. However, this engaging tone sometimes falters when I delve into challenging topics and then step back, leaving questions unanswered — like my role as a father when my children were young, or my past behavior that might shed light on my complex psyche.

Despite not being a therapy session, we’re here to explore the unique and unpredictable mind of our beloved movie star, who delights in discussing the life-affirming aspects of Chekhov or imagining conversations with Bertolt Brecht. At times, this is all that’s needed. Here are six insights from the film “Sonny Boy”.

Not even Pacino can make sense of his ’70s miracle run

At the start of the book, there’s a scene that could easily end up in a future biopic about Pacino, where his mentor, Charlie Laughton, tells him, “Al, you’re destined for greatness.” To which Pacino replies, “I get it, Charlie. I understand.” This conversation hints at a recurring idea: Pacino feels compelled to succeed as an actor, yet he is often taken aback by his success. When ‘The Godfather’ catapulted him into stardom in 1972, Pacino felt detached from the fame, struggling to explain his own success, instead acknowledging those who supported him, such as his longtime manager Marty Bregman and Francis Ford Coppola, who championed Pacino when studio heads preferred a more established star.

Occasionally, the book leaves you yearning for a deeper understanding of Pacino’s acting techniques, though he suggested in his recent interview with the New York Times that the secret behind his finest performances resides in the subconscious. His portrayal in “Dog Day” is one of the most captivating achievements in screen acting, and yet the most concrete explanation Pacino provides is that he arrived on set one day following a long night spent pacing his room while drinking wine, and started embodying the character as ‘restless, energetic, and edgy.’ In a similar vein, director Sidney Lumet, who worked on this film, hints at its unique magic with an equally enigmatic statement: “This is beyond our control, Al.

On making Jackie Kennedy kiss the ring

In an intriguing scene from the book, Pacino recounts an unusual event that occurred in his dressing room following a performance of “Richard III” in 1979. He describes himself as being dazed and sitting in his small armchair with a blank stare. As he looks up, Jacqueline Kennedy along with her daughter are standing before him. Taken aback by the former First Lady, Pacino extends his hand for her to kiss, an action he regrets later. However, Pacino chooses not to reveal what transpired subsequently. Yet, he ponders aloud, “What’s wrong with me?” To which he responds himself: “I don’t know, Al! The only explanation I can think of is that an actor who has just performed one of the most powerful plays might do anything.

In other cases, actors might display diva-like behavior, but Pacino argues that stars were frequently branded as troublesome for leveraging their influence to create superior films. For example, during the filming of Scarface, he advocated for the “Say good night to the bad guy” scene to be shot as scripted, in an upscale restaurant (which added an expensive location), to juxtapose Tony Montana’s vulgarity with the refined society he would never belong to. (And it was the right call.)

Pigeon shit and passion projects

In many celebrity biographies, one might find extensive discussions on lesser-known projects, like Al Pacino’s hybrid documentary titled “Looking for Richard“. During filming near the Cloisters, he decides against capturing footage on the roof of the Cathedral of St. John the Divine due to its excessive layer of pigeon droppings, which he had been told was “highly toxic.” On this very day, he bumps into Philippe Petit, the renowned tightrope walker, who quips, “So it’s poison. If an actor dies, he dies for his art.” (It appears that such a claim has some truth to it.)

Diane Keaton helped save him from financial ruin

In addition to his numerous skills, Pacino appears to have a knack for financial mismanagement, as he openly discusses in the memoir “Sonny Boy“. During a brief hiatus from Hollywood in the late ’80s, he ended up spending more than he was earning, leaving him without any income. His partner at the time, Diane Keaton, intervened and took him to his legal advisor when she recognized the severity of the situation. Addressing the lawyer, Keaton stated, “He’s an ignoramus. You need to manage his finances for him.” Following this intervention, she found the script for “Sea of Love“, which helped Pacino make a successful comeback in the industry.

On the drug he “never touched” and overacting

Al Pacino clarifies some misconceptions: He’s never used cocaine in his life, a fact that might astound people. In his own words, “You might find it hard to believe, but I’ve never even come into contact with the substance.” He attributes his constant energy to natural causes, adding that portraying Tony Montana gave him an extra sense of freedom. When it comes to allegations of overacting, Pacino handles them on a situation-by-situation basis. For instance, he believes that certain films, like Scarface, necessitated such performances. In Heat, his performance might have been misinterpreted if Michael Mann hadn’t included a scene showing Vincent Hanna doing a key bump, suggesting that he was on cocaine throughout the movie. As for Scent of a Woman, while he may have overstepped in some scenes, he thinks he could tone it down now.

On mortality

Towards the end of the book, a modern-day Pacino gazes into the mirror, recognizes the grizzled old man with a snarl returning his gaze, and wonders, “Is that you, Al?” It’s a poignant, understated moment – a nod to all that’s been lost and can never be regained, wrapped in a touch of self-deprecation from a man who’s not shy about calling his younger self “good-looking.” For someone who’s outlived many dear friends (all three of his closest childhood companions passed away young, as did his mother), Pacino seems puzzled by the idea of aging, as if the fact that he still has so much vitality should have halted time at some point. Yet, even now, he knows what fuels him. “When you’re a certain type of person,” he says, referring to his upcoming film adaptation of King Lear, “things like these keep us going. These passionate projects literally keep us alive.

2024-10-21 18:54