I know we all have talked a lot about Michael Sheen's ability to manage microexpressions with his face, but this post is to mark another really interesting character crafting decision: his voice.
I believe that, If you are a hearing person and you watch Good Omens in its original language, identifying Aziraphale's pitch, tone and timbre is really easy. That's because it is slightly higher and more of a dulcet tone than the usual Michael Sheen voice (which usually is more deep and lower).
However, there are three times when Aziraphale uses the "Michael Sheen voice" in season 2 (I'm not sold on having heard it during season 1). All of them are on point for the character and I love the acting choice, so I came here to share:
I have already seen this one discussed, so it goes first: the "Azirapalala- Aziraphale" moment, when correcting Furfur in the e04 minisode. It is made even funnier because we have already seen him being so happily flamboyant... And his voice going lower with the annoyance of correcting his name is precious.
When he vows to protect Gabriel, during the final defense of the bookshop, in e06. “You came to me, I said I would protect you And I will”. His voice shifts as he makes that last point clear, and suddenly his Sheen voice becomes the sign of his commitment to keep his word. He doesn't use that voice when menacing the demons; he goes with a more "Aziraphale tone", while having his face do the "fierce" work.
My personal favorite: during e01, when Crowley comes back after their fight, trying to keep his cool, and Aziraphale is so not having it. He uses his natural register when he says he wants "a proper apology, actually". And he practically keeps that tone until the apology is finished.
@susanwhynow noticed (and I had absolutely MISSED) that when he answers the "Smitten. I believe." he is using his Michael voice. I was fooled by the "You're being silly!" being delivered in a tender, usual Aziraphale manner... But yeah, one of the best lines of these two being sweet is in "Michael tone". Do with this what you want :D
That is quite an acting choice! When a character is built around choices that separate them so clearly from the person who performs them, deciding to use the "natural" repertoire is really meant to make an impact. It is a really subtle voice work, but goes a long way to convey the seriousness of those moments for Aziraphale.
And I brought this here just to present my respects to Michael Sheen for those choices!!
A fascinating archival insight into Alan Rickman’s time at Royal Academy of Dramatic Art — originally researched and shared on Instagram (full credit below).
RADA, 1974
“The teacher Elizabeth Pursey made ‘RADA Mouths’ on standard 8mm film* which focused on the mouths of first year students. She then revisited those students at the end of their training to see how the tension around their mouths and their diction had altered. Although Acting is about instinct it is underpinned by technique and discipline, this exercise highlights that. Students mouths on this film include Imelda Staunton and Alan Rickman.
In her semi-retirement, Elizabeth continued to work at RADA, giving precise advice to students. Alan Rickman remembered one such time:
“A group of second-year students had prepared pieces by Dylan Thomas. Elizabeth stood in front of them: upright, elegant and smiling…The students were busy writing down every timeless word she said. Finally, it was their turn. As the first volunteer walked to the front….she turned and, still smiling, lobbed a grenade: ‘And just remember – it’s not about you.’”
[…]
On the mezzanine between the first and second floor of the RADA building, there are several faded cream wooden boards marking the Bancroft Gold, Silver, Bronze and Vanbrugh Awards, the Kendal, Special and Principal’s Prize and the Liverpool Playhouse Award. The awards began in 1905 and stopped in 1985.
One of the recipients of the Bancroft Gold Award, RADA’s highest award, was Alan Rickman, who received it in 1974, the year he graduated.”
(‘RADA.aс.uk’)
* The original 8mm film have not been digitize and are stored in the RADA archive.
Full credit to the original Instagram post by @alan__rickman__ for research, text, and photo sourcing.
Preserving and sharing for appreciation. Please support the original source.
After writing about why Jason Momoa is a poor fit for Goliath and why that role demands classical acting skill, I realized there is a darker, more revealing version of the same casting logic that deserves to be addressed. It shows up far less often, but when it does, it exposes something more troubling than bad taste. It reveals an indifference to acting itself.
There is a version of fantasy casting discourse that is merely shallow, and then there is the version that actively alarms me. One example I have seen, thankfully far less often, is people suggesting Gina Carano as Demona in a live action Gargoyles adaptation.
This suggestion is revealing because it strips the conversation down to its ugliest essentials. The logic goes no further than this: tall, muscular woman equals powerful female character. Wings and fangs get stapled on afterward. Acting is never part of the equation.
Demona is one of the most emotionally and psychologically complex characters ever created for western animation. She is rage and grief layered over centuries of betrayal, guilt, self loathing, obsession, and ideological extremism. She moves constantly between grandiose villain monologues, intimate confessions, biting sarcasm, and raw emotional exposure. She is theatrical by design. She weaponizes language. She lives in heightened dialogue.
You do not cast that role based on just physique.
Even setting aside everything else, Gina Carano has never demonstrated the ability to carry dialogue at that level. Her performances consistently struggle with line delivery, rhythm, and emotional nuance. This is not a matter of taste or politics. It is a matter of record.
There is also a piece of trivia that makes this suggestion almost darkly ironic. In Steven Soderbergh’s Haywire, Carano’s line delivery was considered so ineffective that much of her dialogue was dubbed in post production. The uncredited actor brought in to replace her voice was Laura San Giacomo. Gargoyles fans will recognize that name immediately, because San Giacomo was the uncredited voice of Fox on the series.
So yes, there is a bitter little circle there. An actor associated with Gargoyles was literally brought in to repair Carano’s performance in a film because Carano could not sell the dialogue. And yet some people still think she should be entrusted with one of the most demanding vocal and theatrical roles the series has to offer.
That should be dispositive.
There is also a deeper problem at work here, which is the lazy reliance on casting to type. It is a disservice to acting as a discipline. If roles were only cast according to surface traits and perceived persona, some of the most iconic performances in genre history would never have happened. Deanna Troi would never have been Demona. Luke Skywalker would never have been the Joker.
Those performances worked precisely because casting looked past type and trusted actors with range, intelligence, and command of voice and language. Demona was not cast because only because she sounded tough. She was cast because Marina Sirtis could deliver operatic rage, bitterness, seduction, and despair, sometimes all in the same scene. The Joker was not iconic because Mark Hamill looked dangerous. He was iconic because he understood rhythm, irony, and theatrical menace.
Casting by physique and "type" alone does not protect characters. It flattens them.
Demona is gothic tragedy. She is operatic. She is closer to Lady Macbeth or Medea than to an action movie bruiser. Playing her requires vocal control, emotional precision, and the ability to inhabit heightened language without sanding it down.
When someone suggests Carano for Demona, what they are really revealing is how they engage with Gargoyles. Not as drama, but as imagery. Muscles. Anger. Aesthetic strength. They are not thinking about cadence, subtext, or how a line lands when spoken aloud.
Demona is not a silhouette. She is not a symbol. She is not a statement.
The Art of Portraying Dangerous Women: Margo Martindale in 'The Sticky'
The Art of Portraying Dangerous Women
Imagine needing a woman capable of performing the most chilling acts—the kind who can effortlessly slit someone’s throat, poison a whiskey, or even smash her son’s fingers with a hammer. Perhaps you’re in charge of “The Sticky,” a new Amazon heist comedy set to premiere on December 6. In that case, you would undoubtedly want an actress who can skillfully…
To understand better why Letterboxd members set out on quests to watch specific actors’ entire filmographies, we invited Tim Rod to describe her dangerous and seductive journey through John Malkovich’s screen history.
For many film lovers, 2020 has been a year of catching up: on franchises, on directors’ filmographies, on historical gaps and top 100s. But for some Letterboxd members, the year indoors has been an opportunity to hyper-focus on a single actor and their work.
Jeremiah Lambert is on a Bacon Fest, Naked Airplane has embarked on a wild ride through the works of De Niro, Hackman, Hoffman, Nicholson and Pacino. Joey is preparing for next year’s centennial of The Kid by churning through Charlie Chaplin’s catalog (with David Robinson’s biography Chaplin: His Life and Art in hand). A quick Twitter survey found others churning through a performer selection as wide-ranging as Burt Lancaster, Parker Posey, Maggie Smith, Nicolas Cage, Cary Grant, Kevin Costner, Robin Williams, Adèle Haenel, Alan Arkin, Sam Rockwell and a Seth Rogen thirst project.
It can be a bumpy journey. In one performer’s oeuvre the quality will range widely, the genres too. But the rewards are many in a close study of craft, and there are revelations, whether it’s that Australia’s Miranda Otto deserves more recognition, or it’s “the total acceptance, lack of judgment, and vulnerability with which Alan Arkin has played so many of his flawed and wonderful characters”.
With Christian Bale in ‘Empire of the Sun’ (1987).
In 2020, no fewer than three movies and two television series starring John Malkovich have been released: Arkansas, Valley of the Gods and Ava, as well as The New Pope and Space Force. The legendary actor has kept himself busy, and I know this because I have seen most of his filmography—41 films and two series—in the span of a single month. I adore Malkovich, always have, and I came out of this experience with a deeper admiration for him, and with some thoughts about his unique, remarkable skills as an actor. (And, I had a really good time.)
Allow me to begin by saying that John Malkovich is the best part of every movie he is in. No matter the movie, Malkovich will always steal the spotlight, and he can turn a good movie into a masterpiece, or an average movie that wouldn’t catch anyone’s attention into one worth watching, if only to see him do his thing.
He’s starred in movies that are considered masterpieces by many: Being John Malkovich (1999), The Killing Fields (1984) and Empire of the Sun (1987). Movies that may be considered the opposite of masterpieces, like Supercon (2018), Eragon (2006) and the most recent Ava (2020), and he’s also starred in some gems that I knew nothing about but am glad to have discovered, such as The Convent (1995), Eleni (1985) and The Ogre (1996). Malkovich has brought to life iconic characters including Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, Tom Ripley, Hercule Poirot (in BBC’s The ABC Murders), the artist Gustav Klimt, and several of David Lynch’s people, in the short film Psychogenic Fugue (2016).
As Mitch Leary in ‘In the Line of Fire’ (1993).
Malkovich has received two Academy Award nominations, for Places in the Heart (1984), in which he played Edna’s lodger, the solitary yet kind Mr. Will, and for In the Line of Fire (1993), where he played the complete opposite: the psychotic Mitch Leary, determined to kill the President of the United States. Though Malkovich is not a classic action-film actor, his work in that genre is driven by logic, intellect and emotion, and the delicacy that he employs to challenge concepts of masculinity and keep us guessing. His soft and collected voice threatening Clint Eastwood over the phone is scarier and more effective than a deeper one would have been.
That voice. Malkovich has admitted that he hates the sound of it, that he would always avoid listening to it, just like so many actors avoid watching their own films, but I’m bewitched by his voice and I could never get enough of it. It can be tender, sweet and calming, seductive when the role requires it, and terrifying. With that versatility, it’s not surprising that he has done some narrating work as well, for films including Paul Newman’s The Glass Menagerie (1987) and Alive (1993).
Malkovich is at his best when seduction and villainy combine, as they do in Dangerous Liaisons (1988). Vicomte Sébastien de Valmont has been performed by many actors over the years, but I find Malkovich’s take to be the most memorable and exquisite. He captures perfectly the depravity and evilness of Valmont, but also the nuances, his journey from womanizer to man genuinely in love and, ultimately, his tragic redemption. He even brings a comedic aspect to the character that adds more depth and dimension.
With Glenn Close in ‘Dangerous Liaisons’ (1988).
Valmont is an awful human being, a monster even, and yet, every time I watch this movie, I find myself fascinated by his mastery of the deception, his sensuality and complete control of the situation, until the situation is “beyond his control”. In her review of the film, Catherine Stebbins calls John Malkovich “a sexual force of nature”, and I completely agree. If you want to see more of Malkovich’s sensual side, other notable mentions include The Sheltering Sky (1990), The Object of Beauty (1991) and Beyond the Clouds (1995).
And then there’s Being John Malkovich (1999), in which ‘John Horatio Malkovich’ displays so many facets of his craft. The fictionalized Malkovich is possessed by different characters, one of them a woman. Catherine Keener’s character falls in love with a subtly different version of Malkovich, when he is a vessel for Lotte (Cameron Diaz). Even though Lotte doesn’t have full control of Malkovich, he uses his femininity to bring the character-inside-the-character to center stage, delivering a subtle-yet-perfect performance. Even when we don’t see Lotte, we know she’s there.
John Malkovich as John Horatio Malkovich possessed by Lotte, in ‘Being John Malkovich’ (1999).
Not many actors could pull this off as brilliantly as John Malkovich does. To be fair, not many actors have been given the chance that Spike Jonze and Charlie Kaufman gave Malkovich: a film with his own name in the title.
I’ve discussed some of the most well-known of Malkovich’s performances, but I’d like to mention an overlooked one that I found heartbreaking and noteworthy. I didn’t know of the existence of The Ogre (1996) until I took a closer look at Malkovich’s filmography. It’s not without its flaws, but I found myself absorbed in the fairy-tale story of Abel, a naïve French prisoner of war who is taken to Nazi Germany and used to recruit children for Hitler’s Youth. Once again, the actor’s duality is on display, as Evan writes in his Letterboxd review: “Malkovich is both queasy and endearing as the (ig)noble simp who just wants to save the babies.” The Ogre tells a tragic story, but thanks to Malkovich’s tenderness, we can’t help but have sympathy for his character. At times it reminded me of the innocence of Lennie in Of Mice and Men (1992), another of the actor’s more noteworthy performances.
One of Malkovich’s great contributions to cinema is elevating an average movie just by being in it. One such role is as English conman Alan Conway in the bizarre true story, Colour Me Kubrick (2005). Malkovich admitted in an interview that he thought his performance was good, and I agree. If there’s one reason to watch that film, it’s to see Malkovich playing an eccentric conman who poses as Stanley Kubrick, using different voices and accents. As TajLV writes, “if there were anything to commend this film other than Malkovich, I’d happily rate it higher”.
As Alan Conway in ‘Colour Me Kubrick’ (2005).
One fun fact: I sometimes forget John Malkovich is American. Maybe it’s because he has starred in many European productions—out of the 41 films I watched, 18 were European. Malkovich is of European descent, has lived in France for a decade and speaks fluent French, which allowed him to star as the mysterious Baron de Charlus in Time Regained (1999), with entirely French dialogue. He also delivers lines in French and Portuguese in A Talking Picture (2003) by Manoel de Oliveira.
You’ve probably heard Malkovich use words, expressions and even entire lines of French dialogue on more than one occasion. He does this often, which gives him a certain European vibe, consistent with his own character, mannerisms and dress sense—elements that he sometimes brings to his characters. Maybe that’s the reason he has played so many intellectuals and artists: professors, scientists, detectives, painters, writers, a scientist and a robot, and even the Pope… It seems there’s nothing John Malkovich can’t do, including directing.
To end my marathon, I watched his directorial debut, The Dancer Upstairs (2002), an assured movie adapted from a novel about the Maoist uprising in Peru in the 1980s, starring Javier Bardem. It was a nice surprise, and a strong start to what could have been a career as a film director, if not for the fact that he doesn’t have the patience to do it again. I recently read an interview where Edgar Wright revealed advice he always gives to directors, which is to make their second movie the one that will define them. I wonder if we will ever see John Malkovich’s second film, but for now, I hope he keeps gifting us with more unforgettable performances. At least we know that in the distant future, along with all the movies he has already appeared in, people will enjoy a never-seen-before performance when Robert Rodríguez’s short 100 years is released in 2115.
If there’s one thing I have learnt after watching most of his filmography, it’s that John Malkovich is one of the best and most versatile actors of our time, with the most unique voice I have heard in cinema, and with a rich filmography that encompasses every genre. And he’s not only a brilliant actor, but also someone I find personally fascinating. I truly find comfort in him. I hope we all get to enjoy his art for years to come, because his talent is limitless and I know he still has so much more to give. John Malkovich deserves all the praise for being a force of nature in the theater and film industry for over 40 years.
Tim is a Letterboxd member based in Spain, who has recently moved on from her John Malkovich marathon to a Sacha Baron Cohen quest.
