Pacino & De Niro Circle Back To Each Other

By S. JAMES SNYDER | September 5, 2008



The scene lasts only five minutes and 23 seconds, and it couldn't be more understated: Two guys sit in a California diner and size each other up as they talk about their dreams and their jobs. In most other movies, it would be a throwaway sequence, but in 1995's "Heat," Michael Mann's epic tale of cops and robbers, it was a landmark: the first time Robert De Niro and Al Pacino shared a movie screen.

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PARENTAL ADVISORY Robert De Niro in Jay Roach's 2000 comedy 'Meet the Parents.'

Given their explosive personalities, this quick scene (they appeared briefly together at the end of the film as well, for a climactic shoot-out) was marked by its unmistakable lack of bravado — the iconic actors divulging more with their eyes and their expressions than with words or bullets. It is the most riveting and complicated moment in "Heat" and, arguably, the last great moment of cinema in which either actor has participated. Now, 13 years later, Messrs. Pacino and De Niro are set to co-star in the forthcoming drama "Righteous Kill," which Overture Films is marketing as a historic pairing of two cinema legends — offsetting the lack of drawing power each star has retained on his own.

What happened? In the years leading up to "Heat," Mr. Pacino had found abundant success in "Glengarry Glen Ross" and "Scent of a Woman"; Mr. De Niro was coming off superior performances in "A Bronx Tale" and "Casino." But in the years to follow, their paths would again diverge, with both actors sinking into career doldrums. Mr. De Niro mixed strong performances in "Cop Land" and "Wag the Dog" with dismal turns in "The Fan" and "The Adventures of Rocky & Bullwinkle," while Mr. Pacino, bolstered by such strong films as "Donnie Brasco," also descended into self-caricature in "The Devil's Advocate" and "Any Given Sunday." Both actors would go on to make bizarre decisions and stand at the center of some major financial flops. On the eve of "Righteous Kill," we take a look back at where the years have taken these two titans of cinema since "Heat."

'Casino' (1995)

When "Heat" arrived in theaters, it competed for attention against another film starring Mr. De Niro: Martin Scorsese's "Casino." In that film, Mr. De Niro delivered his last virtuoso performance as Ace, the subdued but dangerous casino manager led astray by his love for call girl Ginger (Sharon Stone). Ace is shrewd with his business, slick in the way he keeps his hands clean, and misguided in his belief that he can sustain a serious relationship. "Casino" didn't just tap Mr. De Niro's ability to intimidate, but his gift for masculine vulnerability.

'City Hall' (1996)

A year after "Heat," Mr. Pacino appeared with John Cusack in "City Hall," a political drama co-written by Paul Schrader that made only $7 million in its opening weekend. Playing a New York mayor trying to calm racial tensions after a police shooting, Mr. Pacino gave us a career politician doing his best to roll with the punches. His Mayor Pappas attempts to investigate the accidental death, reach out to the black community, confront his own bureaucracy, and keep the city from spiraling out of control. No less complicated a performance than Mr. De Niro's Ace, this is one of Mr. Pacino's most richly textured — and seldom seen — outings.

'The Fan' (1996)

It didn't take long after "Heat" to find both Messrs. De Niro and Pacino suffering from the tedium of typecasting. In 1996's "The Fan," Mr. De Niro was asked to do a second-rate impression of Travis Bickle — in other words, an impression of himself as Hollywood had come to see him. This time he fell way short of the mark. Mugging for the camera as Gil, a recently fired knife — yes, knife — salesman who becomes obsessed with a baseball star played by Wesley Snipes, Mr. De Niro flashed a lot of the menace, but none of the pathos.

'The Devil's Advocate' (1997)

'Any Given Sunday' (1999)

Like Mr. De Niro, Mr. Pacino soon found himself impersonating his own on-screen persona in "The Devil's Advocate" and "Any Given Sunday," with melodramatic monologues that seemed almost contractual. Given that he played Satan in "Advocate," it was easy to see why he might have been inclined to unleash the fire and brimstone. But fans were hoping for something a little more nuanced in "Any Given Sunday," Oliver Stone's hyper-edited football epic in which Mr. Pacino played an outmoded, grumpy coach who argues constantly with management, players, and the press — a one-note billowing train wreck.

'Meet the Parents' (2000)

Never has Mr. De Niro been move lovable yet appeared more lethargic. Capitalizing on his comedy success in "Analyze This," in which he fruitfully spun his penchant for gangsters into parodic comedy, Mr. De Niro signed on for "Meet the Parents" ($166 million at the box office) and "Meet the Fockers" ($279 million), playing the gruff straight man to Ben Stiller's idiot. Going for the easy laughs and the quick payday, "Parents" amounted to a 90-minute collage of Mr. De Niro selling out.

'The Merchant of Venice' (2004)

As "Meet the Fockers" arrived in theaters, Mr. Pacino encountered a sudden burst of ambition, tackling the dark soul of William Shakespeare's Shylock in Michael Radford's "The Merchant of Venice." As he bundled his characteristic rage and hostility to deliver a Shylock for the ages — spewing his vitriol for Antonio, and Antonio's world, straight at the audience — the film tanked at the box office and failed to garner Mr. Pacino his ninth Oscar nomination and first in 12 years.

In the end, 2004 marked an important year for both actors: Mr. De Niro went goofy and hit the blockbuster franchise jackpot, while Mr. Pacino went theatrical and substantive, and was ignored by almost everyone.

'The Score' (2001)

After the lightweight comedies and overblown thrillers ("15 Minutes"), audiences were thrilled to see Mr. De Niro return to the role of criminal-in-chief in "The Score." But the film's pedestrian formula, segueing from heist preparation to double cross to twist ending, offered a standard antihero with nothing on the line. Risking little, Mr. De Niro's veteran criminal is simply going through the motions.

'88 Minutes' (2008)

Speaking of going through the motions, Mr. Pacino found himself literally stumbling through this undercooked thriller (directed by Jon Avnet, who also helms "Righteous Kill"), a contender for the worst movie of 2008. Playing a forensic psychiatrist who becomes increasingly agitated by a mysterious caller who informs him he only has 88 minutes to live, Mr. Pacino's doctor is never told what to do or where to go to prevent his demise. The result is a film with no purpose or motivation, resting solely on the actor's ability to whip himself into the kind of frenzy that distracts audiences from a script's voluminous black holes. Mr. Pacino's fondness for overacting has helped buoy the occasional sinking production, but in "88 Minutes," he finally went down with the ship.

ssnyder@nysun.com

You want ham with that?

You want ham with that?
They've both overdone it at times in their careers, but the prospect of seeing De Niro and Pacino together on screen is still irresistible, says David Thomson

o David Thomson
o The Guardian,
o Friday September 5 2008

You can argue that, with Marlon Brando, they comprise the triangulation of Great American Acting in the age of the Method. Yet you beef that phrase up with looming capitals, because they've both overdone it in their time to the point where it's a bit of a joke. If we love them - and I think we do - still, now in their 60s, they have sometimes had to trade on our fondness and forgiveness. After all, you need to be connoisseurs of the boys and their helpless taste for pickled ham to accept that Scent of a Woman, The Devil's Advocate, Carlito's Way, Any Given Sunday, Frankenstein, The Fan, Ronin or Cop Land are worthy pieces of acting instead of shameless paydays. I'm talking about Al Pacino and Robert de Niro, of course, and that sublime, cockamamie moment in Heat where they have a cup of coffee together.

There they are in that film, like brothers (Al is three years older than Bobby), as Vincent and Neil - a leading LA cop and a criminal who takes down big jobs. Let me be clear, I enjoy Michael Mann's film very much, and I watch it a lot: it is a savage portrait of Los Angeles; it has a wicked shoot-em-up climax; it is vicious, funny and taut, and it has one of the deepest casts in modern film (just think of Natalie Portman, Tom Sizemore, Jon Voight, Tom Noonan, Ashley Judd, William Fichtner, Kevin Gage - all in fairly small parts). It is also movie-absurd.

The picture is a duel between cop and crook, and at one point Vincent the cop (Pacino) takes first a helicopter and then a car to pull over Neil (De Niro) as he drives on the freeway at night. Is an arrest or a search imminent? No, Vincent just wants to have a cup of coffee with someone. So they pull over and there follows one of the grand opera scenes of film noir in which the two guys admit that what they do is very alike, and cool, and dedicated, but watch out - because if either one has to, he'll abandon the smokescreen of edgy respect gathering in the steam of the coffee, and take the other one out.

Some of the film's defenders have said this is a profound moment of existential recognition in modern society, encapsulating the true meaning of the modern noir: there is no difference between cops and crooks. Balderdash. You have to lead a very sheltered life indeed (ie one spent largely in the darkness of cinemas) to believe that even shabby, half-corrupt cops are akin to crooks who will kill passers-by without noticing. If your car has ever been gutted, or your home invaded by violence, you know how specious the film's proposal is. There is also the point that, while Vincent may make $100,000 a year, Neil is on a couple of million a job.

The scene is there in the film, in the end, for the same reason the queens have a scene together in Schiller's play Maria Stuart: the money boys leaned on Schiller as he wrote it to tell him to put one in, even if Mary and Elizabeth never met in history. And that's what happens in Heat - a gaudy, overripe acting class, and one in which (in this writer's opinion) De Niro wins hands down because he takes a cue from every bit of bluster and heavy breathing in Pacino. He does less and waits like a snake. De Niro is, and has always been, the fiercer and more mysterious actor, the one less anxious to be liked. Heat, made in 1995, was their first film together, no matter that they had been spoken of as nearly a hyphenated force for 20 years. Of course, they were part of the same family, not just the children of Lee Strasberg, but Corleones. That is the Brando triangle: for as he came to make The Godfather Part II, Robert de Niro learned not just from the Sicilian mannerisms of Brando (in the same role, but older) but from the frozen, settling calm of Al Pacino, playing his son, Michael, the Ivy League boy who will take over the family business. De Niro won an Oscar as best supporting actor as Vito. Yet I think it's true to say that Pacino's Michael (built slowly over two movies) is one of the central double-shot performances in American film - akin to Gary Cooper in Mr Deeds Goes to Town and Meet John Doe or De Niro in Taxi Driver and Raging Bull.

As their careers developed, De Niro jumped ahead: he seemed prepared to work more often, and appeared ready for anything: not just a string of films with Martin Scorsese - Mean Streets, Taxi Driver, New York, New York, Raging Bull and The King of Comedy - but 1900 (with Bernardo Bertolucci), The Last Tycoon (a failure but a prestigious picture) and his dominating role in The Deer Hunter. By 1980, De Niro was a movie star, while Pacino had followed a less active, more arty or wayward path - Scarecrow, Serpico, Dog Day Afternoon, Bobby Deerfield, And Justice for All, Cruising, Author! Author!

Several of those Pacino films have passed into obscurity, while the De Niro pictures remain modern standards - and he got a lead-part Oscar for Raging Bull. But then De Niro found outside interests. He became a notable restaurateur in Manhattan, and in time he took on a marquee position at the Tribeca Film Festival. The quality of his films declined (it is often said), and there was a period when he seemed more interested in maintaining his income - though he was no longer exactly a star: Falling in Love, The Mission, Angel Heart, Jacknife, We're No Angels, Stanley & Iris, Guilty by Suspicion, Backdraft, as well as Scorsese films like Goodfellas, Cape Fear and Casino that sometimes seemed more like retreads.

On the other hand, the title part in Scarface began the process of endearment for Al Pacino. Tony Montana was a monster, but an adorable one, because the criminal excesses were sweetened with bravura acting. To this day, kids "do" Tony, and my guess is that it encouraged Pacino himself to play broader in the future. But following this success, he "rested" a lot, continued to work in theatre and in 1990 co-directed an hour-long gangster film set in London - The Local Stigmatic - which remained an only occasionally viewed curiosity until it was finally released in America last year as part of a boxset.

It was only in 1992, with Scent of a Woman, that Pacino won his Oscar, a victory that speaks to the generosity of the Academy. By the 1990s, therefore, it was possible to see both actors as institutions tinged with cynicism. There was also a new generation of younger actors to behold: Sean Penn, Brad Pitt, Leonardo Di Caprio, Johnny Depp. I think it's fair to say that De Niro can go on to automatic pilot a lot these days, while Pacino is inclined to breathe on the gas pipe of self-admiration. There are ways in which neither has lived up to the intense promise of the early 70s, but they cannot be blamed for the decline in movie quality during the same period.

And yet, they are oddballs, still. You might not like The Local Stigmatic (if you are willing to track it down), but you have to admire the way Pacino paid for it himself and has continued to re-edit it over the years. And you cannot miss the note of thematic obsession in his other directorial efforts: his analysis of Shakespeare in Looking for Richard and his unraveling of Oscar Wilde's Salome in the upcoming Salomaybe?.

De Niro has directed twice - A Bronx Tale and the seriously underrated The Good Shepherd (an intricate study of espionage and the CIA full of foreboding and isolated personalities).

Now, at last, they are back together in a film called Righteous Kill. This time, make no mistake, they are together - even on Heat there were suggestions that they filmed their contributions separately, for there is never a two-shot of them in that picture. Here they are veteran cops on a case that brings back memories of a previous killing. The film comes without great acclaim, and it feels like a cashing-in by both of them, an admission that the public would like to see them over the coffee again (incidentally, they will combine again as voices in a forthcoming video game version of Heat). If we are lucky, Righteous Kill (directed by Jon Avnet) will be better than expected.

Like old-time stars, these two men have lasted long enough to give us their rough and their smooth - and we should note that there are pretty bad films starring such paragons as Jimmy Stewart and Cary Grant. Maybe De Niro is too much associated with aloofness now, while Pacino is too ingratiating. But then think of some performances I haven't mentioned yet - Donnie Brasco, The Insider, Insomnia and Angels in America for Pacino; City by the Sea, Wag the Dog and Jackie Brown for De Niro. If you look ahead, can you really resist De Niro in Michael Mann's Frankie Machine, or Pacino playing Salvador Dalí in Dali & I. Come to that, are you really going to forgo the pleasure of seeing these boys sip each other's coffee together in Righteous Kill - especially if one of them turns out to be the killer?

· Righteous Kill is released nationwide on September 26