2007: Al Pacino

Congratulations to the 60th Primetime Emmy Award nominees for
AFI LIFE ACHIEVEMENT AWARD: A TRIBUTE TO AL PACINO


Outstanding Picture Editing for a Special (Single or Multi-Camera)
Michael Polito, Editor
Pi Ware, Editor
Narumi Inatsugo, Editor
Tim Pernieiaro, Editor
Mark Stepp, Editor

35th AFI Life Achievement Award

"Al Pacino is an icon of American film. He has created some of the great characters in the movies — from Michael Corleone to Tony Montana to Roy Cohn. His career inspires audiences and artists alike, with each new performance a master class for a generation of actors to follow. AFI is proud to present him with its 35th Life Achievement Award."

        – Sir Howard Stringer, chair, AFI Board of Trustees


The Achievement of Al Pacino

By Helene Siegel    

The trustees of the American Film Institute selected Al Pacino to receive AFI's 35th Life Achievement Award.

Nearly 40 years after delivering a shockingly real performance as Bobby, the strung-out dope addict in THE PANIC IN NEEDLE PARK, Al Pacino — one of the most honored actors of his generation — is still refining his craft, and defining it for the next generation.

His driving intelligence and quest for excellence have given us such indelible screen characters as tortured mob chief Michael Corleone, Det. Frank Serpico, irresistible bank robber Sonny of DOG DAY AFTERNOON, blind tango dancer Lt. Col. Frank Slade of SCENT OF A WOMAN and Tony Montana, a gangster who remains a cultural force 20 years after the release of SCARFACE.

Between and around those legendary roles, this actor's actor plays on the nation's best stages in works by Israel Horovitz, Bertolt Brecht, David Mamet, William Shakespeare and, most recently, in Oscar Wilde's Salome. His passion for language and the art of acting led him to write and direct LOOKING FOR RICHARD, an award-winning documentary that explores the beauty and relevance of Shakespeare for a modern screen audience. At the same time, he stretches his muscles as a filmmaker with personal projects like THE LOCAL STIGMATIC and CHINESE COFFEE.

Once Pacino discovered his gifts, as an only child in the Bronx of the 1940s and then at the Actors Studio, where as a young adult he studied his craft under the tutelage of mentors like Charlie Laughton and Lee Strasberg, he honored them by making a singular commitment to his craft. By plunging into acting as his way to connect with the world, the intense young actor learned to express himself like no other.

Building on the techniques that fellow Method actor Marlon Brando displayed so brilliantly in A STREETCAR NAMED DESIRE and ON THE WATERFRONT, Pacino plumbed his own psyche to create a finely wrought cast of ruthless gangsters, conflicted cops, street punks and mid-life wrecks who, even from the depths of depravity, can make us love them, or feel what it must be like to walk in their shoes.

Sidney Lumet, who directed the actor in DOG DAY AFTERNOON and SERPICO, tried to explain the Pacino magic: "Everything stems from some incredible core inside of him. I wouldn't think of trying to get near it, because it would be like getting somewhere near the center of the earth. What comes out of his core is so uniquely his own."

That core can feel as elemental as the human condition itself, and when it flashes on the big screen it touches something deep inside of us. Like that other movie gangster with the streets of New York written on his face, James Cagney, and that female outlaw Bette Davis, Pacino's power is volcanic. It keeps us in our seats just waiting for it to explode with operatic intensity. Whether he's standing up to the tobacco industry and big media as crusading producer Lowell Bergman in THE INSIDER, seducing another pathetic sucker as salesman Ricky Roma in David Mamet's GLENGARRY GLEN ROSS, or slipping into bedlam as the raving Roy Cohn in ANGELS IN AMERICA, the truth feels red hot. And it is compelling to watch.

That same man is also capable of the finest restraint. In the averted glances of worn-out street soldier Lefty Ruggiero at the end of his game in DONNIE BRASCO, in the stooped shoulders of weary investigator Dormer out to crack one more case in INSOMNIA, and in the hollow, calculating eyes of Michael Corleone, Pacino has drawn characters that shimmer with the nuances of real life. He is a master at portraying men who have perhaps seen too much, but who, like Det. Frank Keller in SEA OF LOVE, yearn for a second chance.

In life and on the screen Pacino has not played it safe. He committed to the actor's life as a poor kid from the Bronx who quit the School of Performing Arts at 16 to help support his family. He held jobs as a messenger, an usher and a building superintendent while apprenticing at avant-garde off-off-Broadway theater companies until joining the Actors Studio and dedicating himself to acting full time at the age of 26. He struggled, sleeping on friends' floors, appearing off-Broadway in The Indian Wants the Bronx, and screen-testing several times, at the age of 32, for the role in THE GODFATHER that would cement his place in cinematic history.

Paramount thought he was too short and understated to play a gangster, and suggested less ethnic actors for the part. But Francis Ford Coppola, who had seen Pacino on the stage in New York, knew he had found a true son for Brando, a casting decision for which author Mario Puzo was forever grateful.

"The great bonus was Al Pacino," remembered Puzo in his book, The Godfather Papers. "As Michael, Pacino was everything I wanted that character to be on screen. I couldn't believe it. It was, in my eyes, a perfect performance, a work of art."

In his quest to uncover what it means to be alive, Pacino has applied himself tirelessly to his craft and the result is a body of work that glows with vitality. His gifts have not gone unrecognized. The eight-time Academy Award nominee has taken home an Obie, a Tony, an Oscar and an Emmy.

As the consummate actor said about identity, at a 2007 seminar at the AFI Conservatory, "Who you are is really about what you do."

And Al Pacino acts like no other.


The Making of DOG DAY AFTERNOON

By Frank Pierson

In the 1970s, gay issues were dealt with only as campy comedy and then very gingerly. It was seen as something to exploit, as you may judge when I tell you the working title of DOG DAY AFTERNOON before I dreamed that title up was THE BOYS IN THE BANK. Basically the studio expected a comedy with some shock value. I never got any significant notes on the screenplay of DOG DAY AFTERNOON.

Just gave the first draft to Al, who asked what it was about. I told him it was about a guy who acted like he was a magician who could make everybody's dreams come true, as when he robbed the bank to get a sex change operation for his male bride. Even that blew up in his face — failed like all the other times he had tried to fulfill others' dreams; instead of the love and gratitude he expected he got only anger and rejection. Al said, "I guess I should read it."

He did read it that night, and the next morning he quit the picture. We sent the script to Dustin Hoffman but when Al heard Dustin wanted to do it he climbed back on board. Months went by before we went into three weeks of rehearsals. Then halfway through rehearsals Al announced he couldn't do the picture.

It was a raucous comedy with a dark ending, and much of the dialogue and events came right from the mouths and actions of the real people. But Al felt it was crude and shallow. He wanted all the obvious sex jokes and dialogue about the gay sex (including a kiss on the lips that actually did happen) taken out. We were days from shooting, and I suggested it might be time to send the script to Dustin again. Al said Dustin would be terrific, but asked me to consider something before doing that.

"In all the important moments of your relationships," he said to me, "deciding to get married, to get divorced, to say goodbye, all the crucial scenes in life and marriage how often does sex come into it?" I said it never did. He said he wouldn't do the sex jokes, the kiss on the lips, any of it. He said, "Once you show an audience a man married a man, you can't take that away from their awareness — every scene in the movie will play through their emotions, their prejudices or whatever they feel about a man married to a man. So why do you have to keep making jokes about it, shoving it in their faces? Why can't you just write a story about two people who love each other and can't find a way to live with each other?"

He was absolutely right. It actually was quite easy to do, and it made what would have been a risque light comedy with dark edginess and bad taste into a picture that seems to have lasting value. It was a great gift from actor to writer, and I remain deeply grateful for his insight. Of course, it took him eight months to find that out, but that's what rehearsals are for. To find out, to dig deeper, to get smarter.

Al made me smart. I owe him an Oscar.

Frank Pierson, AFI Artistic Director and Distinguished Filmmaker-in-Residence, won the Oscar for Best Original Screenplay in 1975 for DOG DAY AFTERNOON. Among his screen credits are CAT BALLOU and COOL HAND LUKE.


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