In the deep end, seeking meaning

Al Pacino

Looking for Richard opens and closes with flashes of Gothic architecture and New York cityscapes. These scenes frame the film, boundaries defined by a juxtaposition of art and life, past and present. Take away the slew of superb actors--including Al Pacino, Alec Baldwin, Kevin Spacey, and Winona Ryder--and the Shakespearean text, and the film begs us to relate art to our lives, to fish for truth in a sea of doubt and confusion. The opening gives it away: this is a film about the search itself.

But perhaps this revelation is not premature, especially when the purpose of the film is spelled out to us several times throughout its course. The opening metaphor is well-appreciated: architecture is not lifeless, but a permanent statement within a grander scale of time and history; meanwhile the city park, swing-set included, points to the transient nature of our individual lives. Think of the lines, "We are such stuff as dreams are made of," and you will understand the relevance of this exploration of Richard III.

Al Pacino, who directed, produced, and stars in Looking for Richard, sets out to dispel the notion that Shakespeare has no connection to the lives of today's audiences. The film is worth seeing if only to watch Pacino teach Shakespeare to us. Despite side-line commentary from scholars and actors including Kenneth Branagh, Derek Jacobi, James Earl Jones, and Kevin Kline, as well as people off the street, don't be mistaken: Pacino has crowned himself King. He does a commendable job leading us forward in a delightful, but somewhat oversimplified, analysis of Shakespeare. At times, it seems that in looking for Richard, Pacino just finds himself. Nonetheless, eating his way through Shakespeare's play like a Happy Meal, Pacino's enthusiasm is a refreshing departure from academic interpretations.

While Pacino satisfies his appetite for Shakespeare's tragedy act by act, he leaves some room for comedy, intended or not. It's hard not to laugh at Pacino romping around in a backwards-baseball-cap-and-sunglasses getup, interviewing people on the streets of New York. One conversation involves a toothless man who speaks with surprising intelligence: "We should speak like Shakespeare.... If we felt what we said, we would speak less and mean more." Right on. But even though Pacino may spend too much time talking, it's hard to dislike him. His love for Shakespeare and dedication to the film keep the audience on his side.

The film's premise is that Shakespeare's works, if they are worth anything to people today, must speak to an audience directly and reflect modern experiences. He assumes that the audience has not read Richard III, although the actors have all "done it." But can't we read Shakespeare without acting it? Apparently not. The actors never let us forget that Richard III is tough to understand, and seem to think this is especially true for the non-actor. All the audience is asked to do is "to get the gist of it." Unfortunately, a significant flaw in the film is t, for Pacino, reading seems to hold less value than acting. Pacino's habit of speaking down to the audience is also hard to swallow.

Pacino wants to prove that actors are the proud inheritors of Shakespeare. While the actor may be able to communicate the Bard's meaning to the audience, Pacino eventually learns that he cannot always count on his entourage of stars for answers. He is soon forced to turn to scholars for answers to questions that the company cannot provide. Their insistence on simply "feeling" Shakespeare, however, is charming, and sparks occasional debate among them.

To his credit, while Pacino tries to bring Shakespeare to a wide audience, he does not see the need to update it à la the new Romeo and Juliet film. Pacino does not do away with history. On the contrary, the film is bathed in it--Pacino climbs into the attic and sweeps away the dust. He rehearses at the site of the theater where Shakespeare wrote some of his plays, and even visits his birthplace.

The few scenes that Pacino does not steal are intensely enjoyable. His lively debates with co-writer Frederic Kimball account for some interesting analysis, while a particularly engaging interview is one with Vanessa Redgrave, who explains iambic pentameter and defines irony as "hypocrisy with style." Pacino forces us to dive into the deep end without our floaties, but then rewards us with a better understanding of the play. We are taught how to swim with the best and the brightest, as he gives scholars as much screen time as street people. Everybody has something to say about Shakespeare, and, Pacino implies, everybody should.

Much of the film's importance is a function of the lessons it teaches us. Looking for Richard encourages non-readers to read, readers to value acting, and actors to value a deeper understanding of the text. The cast assists the reader by viewing the text as a means of describing what is behind the text. The text is not an end in itself, but a cross between a magnifying glass and a mirror: it is a tool that helps us to see better. When the film ends, we are able to sort out Richard III like a pile of laundry, and Pacino manages to leave us smiling on top of our heap, with little left to do but applaud his effort.