He just needs to be cast as something other than a sniveling kid
When Aaron Gell, a reporter for Details magazine, asked Shia LaBeouf, the star of three Transformers movies,
whether the actor had hooked up with former co-star Megan Fox, LaBeouf answered yes. When Gell asked about Fox's current husband, the young actor replied:
don't know, man. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know ... " --
repeating the phrase exactly 12 times with various intonations, as if
trying to get it just right. Finally, he says, "It was what it was."
most readers, this passage might have sounded like another swell of idiosyncrasy from LaBeouf, an international celebrity sadly becoming known more for his impolitic disrespect
for directors and actors than his performances. But maybe this wasn't another burst of
rudeness. Maybe it was ... acting!
called the Meisner technique. Developed by American theater teacher
Sanford Meisner, the method requires actors to repeat phrases to each
other, over and over and over, to find honesty and impulse in
the words. It might go something like this:
"I love you."
"No, you don't."
"I LOVE YOU!"
"No! You don't."
"I love you."
"No. You don't."
get the gist. The point is to force actors to stop acting with
preordained readings and instead to react based on the partner's
tone. Repeating a phrase "exactly 12 time with various intonations, as
if to get it just right" is exactly what Meisner repetition is all
about. Except Shia LeBeouf isn't practicing with another actor in this interview. He's
practicing with himself.
was never the world's biggest Even Stevens fan. I watched that show
maybe once every two weeks when I was younger. The simple reason was
that the show was only OK. The deeper reason was that it made me feel
college, the only thing I wanted to be was an actor. Watching Even
Stevens inspired in me the kind of feeling that teenage gymnasts must
feel when they watch the Olympics women's team, or ambitious brainiacs
might feel when they watch a 13-year old win Jeopardy Teen Tournament or
the spelling bee. It's a certain nausea, a kind of stomach sickness with a
hint with exhilaration, that somebody out there is much, much better
than you at the thing you love most. I loved acting. I thought I was
good at acting. But it was obvious to me that Shia LaBeouf, the star of Even
Stevens, was terrifically, and devastatingly, better.
say this now that Shia LaBeouf has made the dubious leap from
precocious TV child star to blockbuster bad boy is to invite a
fair amount of blowback. You'll ask, Didn't you see the monstrosity
that was Transformers 2, the less monstrous but still monstrous Transformers 3, the unforgivable disaster Wall
Street 2, or Indiana Jones and the Alien Skull Thing? I saw them all. I hated most of them. Shia LaBeouf is still an extremely talented actor.
difficult to explain exactly what makes an actor good, especially when
his most famous role is an annoying kid running away from machine-cum-Mack-Trucks
from outer space. But I'll try. Bad actors often fidget, and good actors are often still and focused, but LaBeouf is focused about being fidgety. His acting has frenetic precision,
something he shares with Robert Downey Jr.He moves his whole body,
smartly accentuating small details that look seamless in the course of a
scene, but most actors would never think to include. His voice, low and
sharp, is permanently tuned to barely concealed sarcasm, which makes
his line readings sound knowing, if occasionally
grating over time.
is a video of Shia LaBeouf that stitches together the infinity times he
has said "no, no, no" in a movie. This is supposed to serve as mockery. Instead, it demonstrates LaBeouf's ability the wring disbelief, agitation, angst, fear, desperation, and exhilaration from a single word. YouTube user skywalkerpotter21 might be laughing. But Meisner would be proud.
A friend suggested that the video reveals LaBeouf's dependence on stuttering as a means of creating realistic dialogue. I
agree, but that's a good thing. Real people don't talk in complete
sentences. They mutter, start a sentence, stop, pick up a thought
mid-word. LaBeouf gets this intuitively. Since Even Stevens, he's been
conspicuously slicing up dialogue like a Benihana chef until the
sentences fall out in pieces. If you don't agree that this is not
annoying, I'd at least ask you to agree that this is, in fact,
how most people talk.
Too often, however, LaBeouf's distinctive, chop-suey dialogue wrestles attention from the scene. He has mastered the art of talking, but not the art of having a conversation. He's like a devoted student of Meisner technique who learned to play the repetition game by practicing with himself.
But that's not his biggest problem.
acting had a universal constitution, a strong contender for Article One might be:
Draw strong contrasts.* Think about the most famous performances in
recent memory and how they smartly play against, and supplement, the
actor's natural instincts rather than ingratiate them. Russell Crowe, a
barrel-breasted warrior, plays a soft-spoken and reluctant fighter in Gladiator. Denzel Washington, a good-guy and thinking man's hero, plays a crooked cop in Training Day. Forest Whitaker, with his sad
wilting eyes, plays a monstrous dictator in The Last King of
Scotland. Sean Penn bulked up physically to accentuate his breaking
down emotionally in Mystic River; and then cannily used his macho
instincts to give power to an effeminate turn in Milk.
The problem with Shia LaBeouf is that he's an ostensibly smug, precocious kid consistently cast as a smug, precocious kid. There's no contrast to draw. It's like buying a
black canvas and painting it black. Black-on-black is obviously working
out for studios, since LaBeouf is reportedly the best
"bang-for-the-buck" actor in Hollywood. But it's a disaster for the
Feeling trapped by his success, LaBeouf is reportedly
turning down promising features because he wants to parlay his talents
into indie movies. I wish him the best of luck. That kid from Even
Stevens is still one of the best actors of his generation, whose
preternatural glibness obscures a profound preternatural talent.
Shia LaBeouf has one thing going for him, it's that he's very good at
talking. It's time for somebody to give him something worth saying.
________ *Acting thrives in complications, both broadly in characters and
acutely in moments. Here's a classic example. Self-pity is dull. But Marlon Brando in On the Waterfront, swollen for the
role like a Giants linebacker, whimpering "I coulda' been a contender"
from the backseat of a car, is interesting precisely because, from the looks of him, he's a contender with
nothing to be ashamed of.
Political, social, and demographic forces in the battleground of North Carolina promise a reckoning with its Jim Crow past.
In 1901, America was ascendant. Its victory over Spain, the reunification of North and South, and the closing of the frontier announced the American century. Americans awaited the inauguration of the 57th Congress, the first elected in the 20th century. All the incoming members of Congress, like those they replaced, were white men, save one.
Representative George Henry White did not climb the steps of Capitol Hill on the morning of January 29 to share in triumph. The last black congressman elected before the era of Jim Crow, White, a Republican, took the House floor in defeat. He had lost his North Carolina home district after a state constitutional amendment disenfranchised black voters—most of his constituents. That law marked the end of black political power in North Carolina for nearly a century.
I generally enjoy milk chocolate, for basic reasons of flavor and texture. For roughly the same reasons, I generally do not enjoy dark chocolate. *
Those are just my boring preferences, but preferences, really, won’t do: This is an age in which even the simplest element of taste will become a matter of partisanship and identity and social-Darwinian hierarchy; in which all things must be argued and then ranked; in which even the word “basic” has come to suggest searing moral judgment. So IPAs are not just extra-hoppy beers, but also declarations of masculinity and “palatal machismo.” The colors you see in the dress are not the result of light playing upon the rods of the human eye, but rather of deep epistemological divides among the world’s many eye-owners. Cake versus pie, boxers versus briefs, Democrat versus Republican, pea guac versus actual guac, are hot dogs sandwiches … It is the best of times, it is the RAGING DUMPSTER FIRE of times.
A dustup between Megyn Kelly and Newt Gingrich shows why Donald Trump and the Republican Party are struggling to retain the support of women.
The 2016 presidential campaign kicked off in earnest with a clash between Megyn Kelly and Donald Trump over gender and conservatism at the first GOP debate, and now there’s another Kelly moment to bookend the race.
Newt Gingrich, a top Trump surrogate, was on Kelly’s Fox News show Tuesday night, jousting with her in a tense exchange stretching over nearly eight minutes. Things got off to a promising start when Gingrich declared that there were two “parallel universes”—one in which Trump is losing and one in which he is winning. (There is data, at least, to support the existence of the former universe.) After a skirmish over whether polls are accurate, Kelly suggested that Trump had been hurt by the video in which he boasts about sexually assaulting women and the nearly a dozen accusations lodged against him by women since. Gingrich was furious, embarking on a mansplaining riff in which he compared the press to Pravda and Izvestia for, in his view, overcovering the allegations.
The best treatment for obsessive-compulsive disorder forces sufferers to confront their fears. But for many patients, the treatment is far out of reach.
Some days, Molly C.’s brain insists she can’t wear her work shirt. She realizes this is irrational; a uniform is required for her job at a hardware store. Nevertheless, she’s addled by an eerie feeling—like, “If you wear this shirt, something bad will happen today.” Usually she can cope, but a few times she couldn’t override it, and she called in sick.
She can’t resist picking up litter whenever she spots it; the other day she cleaned up the entire parking lot of her apartment complex. Each night, she must place her phone in an exact spot on the nightstand in order to fall asleep. What’s more, she’s besieged by troubling thoughts she can’t stop dwelling on. (She asked us not to use her last name in order to protect her privacy.)
Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump prepare for the final sprint to Election Day.
It’s Thursday, October 27—the election is now less than two weeks away. Hillary Clinton holds a lead against Donald Trump, according to RealClearPolitics’ polling average. We’ll bring you the latest updates from the trail as events unfold. Also see our continuing coverage:
They were essentially saying: If I were a man, I might have earned my paycheck by now.
On Monday, around 2:38 PM, thousands of women left work early and headed to Austurvollur square in the Icelandic capital of Reykjavik. Punctuality mattered: They were trimming a typical 9-to-5 workday by precisely two hours and 22 minutes, or around 30 percent. Thirty percent also happens to be the gap in average annual income for men and women in Iceland; for every dollar a man makes, a woman makes 72 cents (other ways of measuring the gender wage gap in Iceland yield smallerpercentages, and the gap narrows when considering men and women who do the same sort of work). Those assembled at Austurvollur shouted Ut, or “Out,” to discrimination against women. They were essentially saying: If I were a man, I might have earned my paycheck by now, so I’m taking the rest of the afternoon off and demanding change.
A century ago, widely circulated images and cartoons helped drive the debate about whether women should have the right to vote.
It seems almost farcical that the 2016 presidential campaign has become a referendum on misogyny at a moment when the United States is poised to elect its first woman president.
Not that this is surprising, exactly.
There’s a long tradition of politics clashing spectacularly with perceived gender norms around election time, and the stakes often seem highest when women are about to make history.
Today’s political dialogue—which often merely consists of opposing sides shouting over one another—echoes another contentious era in American politics, when women fought for the right to vote. Then and now, a mix of political tension and new-fangled publishing technology produced an environment ripe for creating and distributing political imagery. The meme-ification of women’s roles in society—in civic life and at home—has been central to an advocacy tradition that far precedes slogans like, “Life’s a bitch, don’t elect one,” or “A woman’s place is in the White House.”
A new book takes a philosophical approach to assessing the morality of modern finance.
The financial scandals of the past decade have left many Americans wondering whether or not Wall Street is an inherently immoral place. Does finance attract people who are comfortable with doing morally dubious things? Or, perhaps worse, does it simply turn good people bad?
Maureen O’Hara, a professor of finance at Cornell University’s business school and the author of the recent book Something for Nothing: Arbitrage and Ethics on Wall Street, would say no to both questions. In her book, O’Hara provides a detailed accounting of common financial strategies, and then analyzes recent scandals, weighing in on whether or not the strategies at play in them were unethical.
One of her main arguments is that the moral boundaries that can be so apparent in everyday life can be difficult to see, let alone adhere to, when financial firms and their workers are so often involved with purposely opaque financial products and strategies. This opaqueness represents a departure from the past. “What might have been obviously exploitative when contracts were simpler is now concealed by layers of cash flows transformed in ways that require complex calculations even to construct, let alone to value,” O’Hara writes.
With the candidate flailing in the polls, some on the right are wondering if a better version of the man wouldn’t be winning. But that kinder, gentler Trump would’ve lost in the primaries.
Last week, Peggy Noonan argued in the Wall Street Journal that an outsider like Donald Trump could’ve won handily this year, touting skepticism of free trade and immigration, if only he was more sane, or less erratic and prone to nasty insults:
Sane Donald Trump would have looked at a dubious, anxious and therefore standoffish Republican establishment and not insulted them, diminished them, done tweetstorms against them. Instead he would have said, “Come into my tent. It’s a new one, I admit, but it’s yuge and has gold faucets and there’s a place just for you. What do you need? That I be less excitable and dramatic? Done. That I not act, toward women, like a pig? Done, and I accept your critique. That I explain the moral and practical underpinnings of my stand on refugees from terror nations? I’d be happy to. My well-hidden secret is that I love everyone and hear the common rhythm of their beating hearts.” Sane Donald Trump would have given an anxious country more ease, not more anxiety. He would have demonstrated that he can govern himself. He would have suggested through his actions, while still being entertaining, funny and outsize, that yes, he understands the stakes and yes, since America is always claiming to be the leader of the world—We are No. 1!—a certain attendant gravity is required of one who’d be its leader.
Services like Tinder and Hinge are no longer shiny new toys, and some users are starting to find them more frustrating than fun.
“Apocalypse” seems like a bit much. I thought that last fall when Vanity Fair titled Nancy Jo Sales’s article on dating apps “Tinder and the Dawn of the ‘Dating Apocalypse’” and I thought it again this month when Hinge, another dating app, advertised its relaunch with a site called “thedatingapocalypse.com,” borrowing the phrase from Sales’s article, which apparently caused the company shame and was partially responsible for their effort to become, as they put it, a “relationship app.”
Despite the difficulties of modern dating, if there is an imminent apocalypse, I believe it will be spurred by something else. I don’t believe technology has distracted us from real human connection. I don’t believe hookup culture has infected our brains and turned us into soulless sex-hungry swipe monsters. And yet. It doesn’t do to pretend that dating in the app era hasn’t changed.