by Bennett Campbell Ferguson
Left: Mr. Fassbender
As of now, Michael Fassbender
has two new movies in theaters—Steve McQueen’s “12 Years a Slave” (in which he
plays a slave owner) and Ridley Scott’s “The Counselor” (the first big studio
movie in which he has the lead role). Under
normal circumstances, it would be a career-defining moment but while Mr.
Fassbender’s star is still on the rise, he has already displayed the allure of
both his dramatic skills and human presence in multiple master performances. Here they are:
As
DAVID 8 in “Prometheus” (Ridley Scott, 2012)
Between his hard-set features
and glaring eyes, Mr. Fassbender is nothing if not macho. But to play an android in this sci-fi
thriller, the actor dyed his hair pale blonde and adopted a neatly formal
cadence that wouldn’t have been out of place in a Jane Austen movie. That said, David is hardly a gentleman—in
fact, midway through the film he murders his romantic rival for the affections
of the angelic Dr. Shaw (Noomi Rapace).
But Mr. Fassbender still manages to find more than a pixel of vulnerability
under David’s artificial skin. “’In the
desert there is nothing. And no man
needs nothing,” he says in one scene, quoting “Lawrence of Arabia.” A woman asks what he means by that. “Just something from a film I like,” Mr.
Fassbender replies in a high-pitched tone that is at once pathetically stiff
and thoroughly childlike.
As
ERIK LENSHERR in “X-Men: First Class” (Matthew Vaughn, 2011)
Like many talented and
ambitious actors, Mr. Fassbender’s oeuvre is rife with trends in terms of both
style and quality. Certainly, he’s known
for playing real people (like in his breakthrough film “Hunger,” in which he
played Irish hunger striker Bobby Sands).
But he’s also of fixture of intriguing but imperfect genre films. “Prometheus” and Steven Soderbergh’s soulless
spy thriller “Haywire” are obvious examples; “X-Men: First Class” is another.
Indeed, “First Class” would just barely work without Mr.
Fassbender’s nimble ferocity. In the
film, he plays Erik Lensherr, a holocaust survivor who uses his mutant
metal-controlling abilities to assassinate war criminals (the film was based on
a Marvel comic book). Earlier in the
series, Ian McKellen played the character as an old man with darkly amused
brio, but Mr. Fassbender takes a different tactic. His Lensherr is hard and cold; he enjoys
killing people. It’s not easy to forget
the cruelly joyous smile on his face as his drinks a toast with two former Nazis,
relishing the buildup to the moment of his revenge.
It’s impossible to doubt that despite his humanity,
Lensherr is an evil character—his contempt for human life is despicable. But Mr. Fassbender recognizes that evil is
hardly a simple condition. He shows that
in spite of Lensherr’s obsessive anger, there’s still love and compassion in
his slender, blade-like body. You see it
when he comforts his protégée, Mystique (Jennifer Lawrence); you see it when
his eyes stare in horror after he kills a man; and you see it at the end, when
he cradles his former ally, Charles Xavier (James McAvoy) in his arms. “We’re brothers, all of us, protecting each
other. We want the same thing,” he
implores his friend. And even though you
know Xavier must refuse this brotherhood, Mr. Fassbender’s rough, tender
delivery makes you wish he’d accept it, moral implications aside.
As
BRANDON SULLIVAN in “Shame” (Steve McQueen, 2011)
In the opening shot of
“Shame,” Mr. Fassbender lies naked in a gray bed, staring dully up at the
ceiling. He’s so still that for a
moment, you think you’re looking at a frozen image, rather than a filmed
scene. But throughout the rest of the
film, Mr. Fassbender’s movements are kinetic and potent. Whether raking his hands through his hair or
running swiftly through Manhattan in the middle of the night, he’s like a
prowling tiger, restless graceful but also frantic.
Movement is just about all you get from Mr. Fassbender in
“Shame”—his seductive, caramel-on-rocks voice is reserved for the rare moments
when he converses with other characters.
That’s because Brandon is a sex addict, a man whose addiction keeps him
isolated (mostly) from society. This
requires a different sort of performance from Mr. Fassbender. Rather than delivering an outsized,
theatrical persona, he’s forced to reign himself in. Much of “Shame” is shot in long, silent takes
(the cinematography is by the brilliant Sean Bobbit), forcing the actor to
commit himself to behavioral realism.
Of course, I like the mainstream directness of Mr.
Fassbender’s work in “X-Men” and “Prometheus.”
But he’s even better in “Shame.” By
toning down vocally, he makes Brandon’s explosions of rage (“Get the fuck out!”
he roars when an unwanted visitor enters his bedroom) abruptly shocking and
dangerous—far more frightening than his embodiment of Erik Lensherr’s cruelty. Once again, the actor’s smile gleams with
giddy nastiness, but it becomes even more unsettling when associated with everyday
anger and sex.
Yet
Mr. Fassbender’s most satisfying outburst comes towards the film’s end. Standing in a lonely, rainy plaza, he begins
to vibrate until forceful sobs emerge, crumpling him to the ground. And the crying continues—bent over in pain,
Mr. Fassbender’s face gets distorted to the point where you can barely make it
out in the frame. It’s a cathartic
moment, one that feels well earned.
After all the pain Brandon has caused, grief is the right response,
though the film doesn’t cheat our emotional investment by dulling the pain.
During
that beautiful and tragic scene, Mr. Fassbender doesn’t look like himself—the
actor disappears into Brandon’s tortured skin.
But you never really forget who he is off-screen and I don’t think you
ever should. Michael Fassbender is a
great actor and certainly it’s a joy to watch him give so many wonderful
performances. But part of that joy has
been getting to know his presence, from the way his eyes seem to shoot the
camera like bullets to the way his mouth defaults to a calm line that can quickly
break from stiff coolness to anything—joy, malevolence, despair. Those trademarks are part of the journey of
watching him which is why each time Mr. Fassbender walks onscreen, it’s like
reuniting with an old friend, even if he is a very dangerous friend indeed.
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