Filmworker (15.)
Directed by Tony Zierra.
Starring Leon Vitali, Ryan O'Neal, Danny Lloyd, Matthew Modine and R. Lee Ermey. 94 mins.
As someone who has happily watched Jon Ronson rummage around in Stanley Kubrick's old boxes of research for an hour, there was never any doubt that, regardless of its quality, I would lap up a documentary about Leon Vitali, the star of Barry Lyndon who gave up acting to become the great man's trusted assistant. Zierra's film though is actually rather good, better than I could've hoped for: it might even appeal to non-obsessives.
In the late 60s/early 70s, the young Vitali seems to have had quite a time in Swinging London as a young, handsome, classical actor working in theatre, films and sitcoms. In the later, he is quite the Robin Askwith. Then he got the call to appear in Kubrick's Barry Lyndon. After a year or so of filming, when everybody else bolted gratefully back to their lives, and many doors were opening up for him as a performer, he chose to shut himself away and become the maestro's servant.
You may think you know Kubrick, but this film gives you a real insight into his life. You know he was an obsessive perfectionist; but what you didn't know is what being an obsessive perfectionist means. The constant checking of prints, the monitoring of the size of advertising. It was endless, and Vitali was his chief instrument, the jack of all trades. He probably picked the worst time to join him, when the perfectionism was beginning to impinge on the quality of the filmmaking, when he would research something to the point where it stopped making sense. Kubrick famously only made 13 films in just under a half-century. But the last four of those took 28 years, and watching this you are amazed he managed to make that many.
The film is full of little pleasures for the Kubrick aficionados. You get to see the kid from the Shining all grown up. And the actor who was originally cast as the drill instructor in Full Metal Jacket but after eight months was usurped by R. Lee Ermey and is still cut up about the decision three decades on.
Pushing away at the sides of the film is the suggestion that this was not a healthy relationship. Matthew Modine describes him as a moth being burnt by the flame; his devotion is spoken of as a kind of martyrdom. Even Vitali compares Kubrick's temper tantrums to those of Gordon Ramsey: a simile to make any Kubrick fan squirm. I'm not convinced that it really was this great act of sacrifice: surely being an intrinsic part of the production of three remarkable films was more fulfilling than doing seasons at the RSC and guest starring in Morse. The level of devotion though, which still continues long after his boss's death, hints at a form of self-abnegation.
(It is interesting that none of Kubrick's family is interviewed here. Brother-in-law Jan Harlin seems to have taken on the role of Kubrick's official post-mortal spokesman while Vitali, when not being frozen out, was devoting himself to meticulously and painstakingly ensuring that all his films were being shown in immaculate prints.)
It's a sad film really, and a little depressing. The amount of work that went into these films, the unhinged levels of obsession needed to get through them and make them good is dispiriting because, looked at rationally, it just can't be worth the bother. A sane and talented person, however devoted to the movies they were, would conclude there were better uses for their gifts.
Stanley Kubrick reviews:
2001
A Clockwork Orange
Dr Strangelove
Fear and Desire
Directed by Tony Zierra.
Starring Leon Vitali, Ryan O'Neal, Danny Lloyd, Matthew Modine and R. Lee Ermey. 94 mins.
As someone who has happily watched Jon Ronson rummage around in Stanley Kubrick's old boxes of research for an hour, there was never any doubt that, regardless of its quality, I would lap up a documentary about Leon Vitali, the star of Barry Lyndon who gave up acting to become the great man's trusted assistant. Zierra's film though is actually rather good, better than I could've hoped for: it might even appeal to non-obsessives.
In the late 60s/early 70s, the young Vitali seems to have had quite a time in Swinging London as a young, handsome, classical actor working in theatre, films and sitcoms. In the later, he is quite the Robin Askwith. Then he got the call to appear in Kubrick's Barry Lyndon. After a year or so of filming, when everybody else bolted gratefully back to their lives, and many doors were opening up for him as a performer, he chose to shut himself away and become the maestro's servant.
You may think you know Kubrick, but this film gives you a real insight into his life. You know he was an obsessive perfectionist; but what you didn't know is what being an obsessive perfectionist means. The constant checking of prints, the monitoring of the size of advertising. It was endless, and Vitali was his chief instrument, the jack of all trades. He probably picked the worst time to join him, when the perfectionism was beginning to impinge on the quality of the filmmaking, when he would research something to the point where it stopped making sense. Kubrick famously only made 13 films in just under a half-century. But the last four of those took 28 years, and watching this you are amazed he managed to make that many.
The film is full of little pleasures for the Kubrick aficionados. You get to see the kid from the Shining all grown up. And the actor who was originally cast as the drill instructor in Full Metal Jacket but after eight months was usurped by R. Lee Ermey and is still cut up about the decision three decades on.
Pushing away at the sides of the film is the suggestion that this was not a healthy relationship. Matthew Modine describes him as a moth being burnt by the flame; his devotion is spoken of as a kind of martyrdom. Even Vitali compares Kubrick's temper tantrums to those of Gordon Ramsey: a simile to make any Kubrick fan squirm. I'm not convinced that it really was this great act of sacrifice: surely being an intrinsic part of the production of three remarkable films was more fulfilling than doing seasons at the RSC and guest starring in Morse. The level of devotion though, which still continues long after his boss's death, hints at a form of self-abnegation.
(It is interesting that none of Kubrick's family is interviewed here. Brother-in-law Jan Harlin seems to have taken on the role of Kubrick's official post-mortal spokesman while Vitali, when not being frozen out, was devoting himself to meticulously and painstakingly ensuring that all his films were being shown in immaculate prints.)
It's a sad film really, and a little depressing. The amount of work that went into these films, the unhinged levels of obsession needed to get through them and make them good is dispiriting because, looked at rationally, it just can't be worth the bother. A sane and talented person, however devoted to the movies they were, would conclude there were better uses for their gifts.
Stanley Kubrick reviews:
2001
A Clockwork Orange
Dr Strangelove
Fear and Desire
