i
n t e r v i e w
spotlight may / june / july 1999
Reflections
Alan Bates interviewed by Gordon Gow in 1971
"... Bates has a tendency
to regard a film as a whole,
rather than chiefly from
the point of view
of the character he has played."
PART THREE (of
three). BETWEEN "Le Roi de Coeur" and "Women
in Love" had come John Schlesinger's film of the Thomas
Hardy novel, "Far From the Madding Crowd" and the role
of the victimised Jew in Frankenheimer's "The Fixer."
As it turned out, the first of these gave Bates a secondary role
as the sheep farmer, Gabriel Oak -- although, as he emphasises,
'it shouldn't be if you follow the book. The three men in it
have absolutely equal  emphasis,
and if anything Gabriel Oak in the book has a slightly stronger
one.' Nevertheless, in my own view, the two characters that came
through most persuasively on the screen were Oak and the sympathetic
gentry figure of Boldwood (Peter Finch), while somehow a trace
of star dust both heightened and rendered slightly false the
performances of Julie Christie and Terence Stamp as Bathsheba
Everdene and Sergeant Troy.
 Prompted to contemplate this, Bates said
'I suppose there may have been a subconscious or automatic emphasis,
because it was a big film, on the hot love affair. I think the
film was far better than to be discussed on that level, really.
But what's good about the film -- tremendous, in fact -- is the
atmosphere, the period, the whole sense of that farm at work,
and the distance and the elements of nature -- all these things.
I think perhaps that, at some point, something went away from
the four central characters in terms of their relationship with
each other. They seemed to stand in four corners too much, and
the pressure of them upon each other wasn't strong enough or
full enough. Because that's really what it's about -- the very
deep-seated passions between those four people."
Difference
It is interesting that Bates has a tendency to regard a film
as a whole, rather than chiefly from the point of view of the
character he has played. The trait is uncommon among actors,
who by nature and for practical reasons are generally inclined
to give priority in their minds to the individual contribution
and effect of whatever role has come their way.
Bates is conscious of his difference in this
respect: "It's something I've realised as I've made films.
Some people everlastingly ask me if I prefer theatre to cinema,
and you can't really answer that question, except to say that
the theatre is obviously immediately rewarding to an actor --
because he's responsible for it. A film is not rewarding in that
way. It's interesting to do because of the whole. I do find myself
fascinated by each separate part of a film, and how it all comes
together. When I read a script, obviously I want a good part.
I want the best part if I can get it. But I do want it to be
in something that's -- good.'
Since it is self-evident that the cinema
actor's control over the total result, and incidentally over
the effect of his own performance, is considerably less than
that of an actor on the stage, there are certain cases when a
player is sufficiently well established to make requests, if
not demands, about such things as a shot of his own face being
held on the screen in a vital reaction shot, instead of a cut
away from him to favour the other party with whom he shares a
dialogue.
Like any actor who can do so, Bates is prepared
to make a stand in the course of production: 'I'm as upset about
that as anybody else. I'll fight for any rushes I think are good.
Sometimes you do have to fight with the director for a choice
of takes. In the end one finally wants to have complete control.
I mean, it would be great to direct. And to act in the film at
the same time, simply because one wants that control. But only
if it was a part I didn't have to go out and find. Something
that came -- well, rather as I imagine it did to Barbara Loden
with "Wanda," and Albert Finney with "Charlie
Bubbles."'
Surprise
 'By the way, I
didn't want to play my part in "Far From the Madding Crowd,"
simply because I felt it would come as no surprise to anybody
that I could do it, you know. It called on certain qualities
that I'd used before. And I think it's necessary to surprise
people -- and to surprise myself. Perhaps I'm trying to prove
something to myself. I suppose I am. Why not? I would much rather
have played Troy. Anyway, I didn't. But I mean, Gabriel Oak is
a great part, and he's quite difficult because he's so good.
Wise and patient people are very difficult to act.
'I did a lot of theatre before I went into
film. I did a lot of television. Then I just sort of developed
at a time -- a time in writing -- where circumstances were different
from the earlier star system, and I never considered the idea
of having to play the same kind of thing all the time. But now
I do occasionally have to find the courage to say no to things,
perhaps even to good things, because you just don't want to repeat
yourself. What is good is to break away from a certain kind of
character for a while and then go back to it -- you can usually
take something new to it then. But just to go on repeating is
a destructive process.'
Theatre
 On the stage, to which he would
like to give more attention after a recent success as Hamlet,
Bates has known good times and bad. One of the disappointments
must surely have been Arnold Wesker's short-lived "Four
Seasons," a tricky two-hander, in which he and Diane Cilento
had a valiant try -- and Bates earned a round of applause by
making a strudel on stage with notable dexterity, a skill imparted
to him by Wesker personally.
But from "Look Back in Anger" onwards
he had been recognised as a valuable stage actor: much approved
in London's West End and on Broadway as well. This being so,
and in view of his awareness that good moments in a film can
be consigned to the cutting room floor, one can appreciate his
attitude when he speaks of fighting to keep his best shots in
a completed movie. Equally, one can sense that problems might
arise with fellow actors -- especially in a case such as "Zorba
the Greek" when honours were pretty evenly divided between
him and Anthony Quinn: 'Well, in those days I didn't speak up.
It's something that's come now, with experience -- something
I do automatically. I don't think twice about saying what I think
-- now. Of course, all you can do is put your opinion and state
your reasons, and just hope that people are objective enough
and receptive enough to -- see that you're right.' He laughs
again, seeing himself objectively as he speaks.
Vulnerable
I remarked that, in the course of his little battles, he must
surely run the risk of seeming conceited. 'Well, yes. I did feel
that way when I was younger, so I kept quiet. But now, no. I
do know when I've done something good. I think actors are far
too childlike and vulnerable and helpless. I mean, we are
vulnerable, because we're exposing ourselves all the time. But
one has to try not to be. You have to keep some part of yourself
objective. I know when I've done something right, in acting --
in terms of degree of spontaneity.
 'On "Joe
Egg," Janet Suzman and I had a marvellous relationship with
the director, Peter Medak. Janet and I used to fight for certain
things, because the degree of emotion one can overplay or underplay
in dealing with a subject like that is very delicate. And sometimes
Peter Medak gave in, and sometimes he didn't. I don't know that
I've evolved a diplomatic method for all this. Some directors
would be quite unapproachable. They might say 'yes, yes, yes,'
and they're not really listening.
'I don't think Ken Russell, for instance,
would listen to anything an actor said. He might -- I don't know.
But there was no problem between Ken and me on "Women in
Love." I think it's incredible how he got that book onto
the screen in a filmic way. One could say that certain things
are perhaps overdone, and there are things one misses desperately
from the book. For instance, Gerald's horse ride down to the
train. It makes exactly the same point that the book makes, and
it makes it quicker, which is probably why Ken did it that way
-- but in the book it's just a quiet trot to the train, and just
standing with the horse -- it's not a gallop, it hadn't got the
film's sudden burst of physical fury. But then if he'd done it
as it was in the book it would probably have taken five minutes.
 'As for
my role, the author figure again, Lawrence had written "himself"
more objectively than O'Neill or Kazantzakis did. He's very complex
and deep, of course, and there are many layers to him, but nevertheless
it's easier to take a line on the Lawrence-figure of Birkin.
I think I gave it a certain humour, a lightness. Perhaps I could
have made him at times more bitter or dark -- perhaps more unpleasant,
just at times. Lawrence does often portray a side of him that
is unpleasant. But I took my cue from reading about Lawrence,
and learning that he did have a terrific sense of humour and
like playing practical jokes. And that sort of went into my mind,
and I think the degree of lightness I gave it is quite valuable
to the film. It could have been a heavy and ponderous performance
if I'd thought about it in any other way.
'There was the advantage early in the film
of the conversation at the table on the lawn, and Birkin's little
joke about the fig. It's a marvelously wicked side of that character
-- terrific for an audience, that feeling of just going over
the edge all the time.'
Sympathy
An even more testing judgment of humour was needed for "Joe
Egg," which came after Bates had joined the National Theatre
players (directed by Olivier) in the filmed-record of their production
of Chekhov's "Three Sisters" (not a regular member
of the company, Bates took the role of Vershinin because Robert
Stephens was ill). "Joe Egg" was a film adaptation
of the unusual play in which the author Peter Nichols seemed
to mirror the ability of certain human beings to rise above the
most wearing pressures by means of laughter. Bates and Janet
Suzman play the parents of a spastic child -- a case of applying
comedy acting to a fundamentally serious subject.
 'I felt
more uncertain where to tread in "Joe Egg" than in
almost anything else I've ever done. But we rehearsed and studied
-- we went to mental hospitals. And the whole subject, when you
haven't got personal experience of it, is very unsettling. Peter
Nichols to a certain extent has made it easy for us because he
has experienced it, and he has treated it expertly as a comedy.
You are laughing at life, really. It could be any problem in
life. It happens to be a very extreme problem to have to live
with, but you're laughing at the way people deal with a problem
-- you're not laughing at the subject itself. In the end you
just look at it honestly.
'I think it's one initial shock at considering
that particular physical and mental condition that stands in
your own way when it comes to acting in something about it. And
once you've got over that, which you do when you go to the hospital
and see it, you begin to feel rather like the doctors and the
nurses there, I suppose. They must have gone through all that
at first, but they just treat the patients absolutely matter-of-factly,
with great sympathy, but they've long ago gone past the shock.
And what we've done in the film, I hope, is to present it in
a way that doesn't make people squirm."
Class
 His most recent film, "The
Go-Between," was directed by Joseph Losey from a Harold
Pinter screenplay based on the novel by L. P. Harley. Set at
the turn of the century, it is centred upon a 12-year-old boy,
Leo (Dominic Guard), who serves as a bearer of messages between
Bates and Julie Christie: 'It's primarily about Leo's adolescent
state, his maturing -- he is suddenly involved in this love affair
between an upper middle-class girl and a local tenant farmer.
The boy virtually becomes their go-between without knowing what
he's doing. It's a socially dangerous affair for them to be having,
one that results in tragedy, and it has an effect on the boy
that lasts throughout his life. He is also involved by the girl's
suitor and her mother, and he's exploited and used by these people.
And in this superficially proper society, this innocent is thrown
between them all, and becomes the victim of their selfishness.
'My character of the tenant farmer -- in
location and time and in position -- is like Gabriel Oak, but
he's really a very different man, much more troubled and dark.
More of a sort of gypsy, in a sense -- a victim of circumstances
which wouldn't hurt him today, a victim of his class. A deeply
sensitive and yet unexplored person. The figures in the film
are quite mysterious, and the farmer especially so.'
The rural atmosphere seems to agree with Bates: 'When I feel
a great need to get away from work I go into the country, and
have fantasies about being really a farmer at heart. I'm not
actually that at all, but I do love the country. Still -- I'm
never there very long before I want to be back again, acting.'
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From Films and Filming, June 1971 © 1971
by Hansom Books
Part 1: "Zorba
the Greek," "Georgy Girl," "King of Hearts,"
"Women in Love."
Part 2:
"Zorba the Greek,"
"Georgy Girl," "King of Hearts," "Women
in Love."
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