Colin Firth, chosen by Forman to play Valmont, 'I looked at seventeenth-century portraits and wondered how one identified a philanderer... sexy eyebrows? A vulpine grin? I then looked in the mirror and realized that Forman evidently did not think so.
June, 1990:
The Alternative Liaisons Dangereuses:
COLIN FIRTH talks about his title role in Milos Forman's film Valmont
-- yet to come to Britain. Edited By Julie Cavanagh.
One autumn day, I sat having lunch with the now late and much lamented veteran actress Fabia Drake. We were about five weeks into a six month shoot of Valmont (an adaptation of Laclos' Les Liaisons Dangereuses, , by Milos Forman, in which I was playing the title role). I had been the object of Fabia's studious gaze for some moments when she suddenly blurted out: 'You are Valmont, aren't you! Milos is very clever at casting; he can see right into a person's heart. '
For anyone familiar with this character such a charge is difficult to ignore. I cannot remember whether or not I denied it at the time, but at some point I was struck by the realisation that I had never given the matter much thought. Valmont is known as one of the most cynical and destructive sexual manipulators in fiction. I, on the other hand, have always preferred to think of myself as a fairly decent sort of fellow. I had of course wondered why I had been given such a role, but had laid the issue to rest with the reassuring notion that I had been cast against type. To have it suggested by a perceptive elderly lady that I was a highly appropriate choice gave me pause for thought to say the least: do I really manipulate people?
It was because of my inability to answer these questions that I began to get a better insight into what Forman was trying to achieve. The story is a gold mine of human relationships; obsession, sentimentality, egotism. Forman did not want to see it expoited as a cheap intrique drama (whatever the box office temptations). A year later he said to me, 'I made this film to try to answer some questions for myself and now I've finished I have even more questions than I started with'.
As an actor in my first 'Don Juan' role, I was overwhelmingly tempted to play the wickedness for all it was worth. I remember looking at seventeenth-century portraits and wondering how one identifies a philanderer ... sexy eyebrows? A vulpine grin? I then looked in the mirror and realized that Forman evidently did not think so.
'Why do you smile like that? Now she knows you are up to no good! I want her to think you are this nice innocent guy talking about nothing in the world!' He would, if necessary, spend an entire afternoon on a single line if he thought the performance gave too much away. If he was still not satisfied he might return two days later to reshoot the entire scene. On occasions he would ask for two or three alternative performances, which would give him a choice in the cutting room. One example of this was during a scene where Madame de Tourvel had fled tearfully from my room having 'broken' and declared her love. I was seen to emerge for the room with (a) a look of concern (b) an indifferent expression and (c) a triumphant smile...
It was precisely this difficulty on reading the signs that seemed to fascinate him. Without ambiguity there could be no real threat; 'the claw in the velvet glove', as he put it. But these ambiguities were not limited to tales of clever disguises by evil doers. It remained an open question whether any of the characters could be called villains at all; and whether there were any truly innocent victims. Despite the psychological complexities of the story, simplicity of performance was a strong concern. Any sign of 'period' behaviour or speech was stamped out, as was anything theatrical: 'Just walk! I don't want to see dancing!' Complicated or convoluted lines would often be replaced by a gesture. Valmont's eloquent defense against accusations of rakishness was deemed too articulate and therefore open to suspicion. It was replaced by a more credible gesture of simply walking away, apparently choked for words. I therefore lost my favourite speech.
By way of contrasts to this austerity, Forman made huge efforts to create the impression of a living, animated world beyond the edge of the screen through fastidious attention to detail and spectacle. Everything seemed to warrant equal attention: many extras who were expecting their day to consist of a rather uninspiring walk down a corridor would find themselves on the receiving end of the rigorous Forman treatment as if the entire film depended on them alone.
All the various courtly arts had to be mastered by the actors: riding, fencing, dancing, calligraphy and music. For my part, the hours spent on a highly-strung horse developed into a kind of metaphor for my relationship with the director. I can recall Forman saying 'If I see the actor get nervous, then I get nervous'; and it is difficult to overstate how nervous an actor can get if Forman gets nervous. When I relayed my analogy to him he was delighted, then after a moment's hesitation, double checked -- 'you are my horse yes?'
Forman's conviction and control, by virtue of his very powerful personality, made spontaneity difficult unless the actor was able to absorb his vision and appropriate it as his own. The approach could be heavy handed and yet the product was incredibly delicate. The abiding impression was that of a blacksmith making lace. At the end of six months I was left with little sense of the result, and a feeling that my performance belonged more to the director than to myself. I was not looking forward to seeing it.
Matters were also complicated by the fact that another company had managed to complete a film based on the same book despite having begun preparation some two years after Forman. By the time Valmont was complete, the other film, greatly to its credit, had already gained Oscar nominations and established itself in the minds of many people as the definitive version. This was, of course the immensely popular Dangerous Liaisons . Suddenly Valmont was being perceived by those who knew of it as some sort of remake. While the American press besieged us with the question of why we had made another film in the same year, other titles flitted through my mind: Nightmare on Elm Street V, Beverly Hills Cop III . . . It seemed that Hollywood, for the first time in its legacy of formula movies and remakes, was struggling to grasp the idea of two similar films.
All the same, I cannot deny that, having read Les Liaisions Dangereuses three times, seen the play twice, seen a movie version and spent six month working on another version, I myself was firmly among those who wanted nothing further to do with the 'Liaisons' industry.
The one thing that dispersed my doubts was simply seeing it in its complete form. This was an extraordinary experience. Normally, seeing my work amounts to a gigantic sense of futility and disappointment; a feeling that it should have been more. It would have been unthinkable that I should be capable of surprise or even involvement in such circumstances and yet the entire two hours revealed themselves as something so new to me that I was even surprised by my own entrances. I emerged dazzled and emotional (though I must point out that my capacity to enjoy the film was largely due to the fact that much of it is free of my presence.)
Valmont cast, left to right: Meg Tilly, Fairuza Balk, Colin Firth, Annette Bening, Henry Thomas.
I knew by this time that Forman was proud of the work and considered it possibly his best. We went about our various press duties in a state of cautious optimism. At press conferences and premieres, superlatives flowed. Then came the reviews. Typically, despite some euphoric reactions, it is the negative criticism that endure in the mind. The U.S. seemed largely to detest the film. Most of Europe greeted it warmly; happily the most enthusiastic response was from France, where it was praised almost unanimously. All told, reactions ranged from ' A genuine masterpiece' to, 'it's hard to find merit in this film'. The French seemed to respond well to the paradoxical nature of the film, the mixed messages and lack of resolution. The Americans, with some exceptions, tended to view these as flaws.
The most frequent criticism was levelled at a lack of danger or nastiness in the film and its characters (chiefly mine). While many of the objections may have been understandable, they almost always seemed to indicate that the viewer had very specific expectations as to what the film should be, and a demand that it should be the same as the other versions, but better.
True, the word 'dangerous' does not feature in the title and the film makes no promises of it, but Valmont's behaviour, if one analyses it, can hardly be considered harmless; he rapes a fourteen-year-old child, while another victim of his manipulations weeps next door. The next day he commits adultery with the latter in order to satisfy a bet, and leaves her to claim the favours of yet another woman as his reward. Despite the general subsequent misery, all this is conducted with such charm and gentleness that the damage is difficult to perceive. It is greatly to Forman's credit that many people consider this man 'too likeable'. The film not only explores human gullibility but also seems to draw many viewers into being party to it.
Another source of controversy has been the ending: many feel that it should have been more cataclysmic. But Forman's film recognises a world where suffering is rarely accompanied by justice. Those bereaved and wronged endure pointlessly; perpetrators are rarely punished and innocence gives way to cynicism. The astonishing thing is the sheer beauty and tenderness with which the director observes these horrors, making it impossible to emerge depressed.
This important film will have to free itself from its various associations before it can be judged clearly. Maybe that will take twenty years but I am certain it will still be around.
© Copyright Harper and Queens 1990
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