Alain Delon | The Great Acting Blog

 

 

‎”I want the public to realize that above all I am an actor, a very professional one who loves every minute of being in front of the camera. But one who becomes very miserable the instant the director shouts, ‘Cut!'”

Alain Delon delivered great performances in films made by some of the great maestros of cinema: Luchino Visconti, Michelangelo Antonioni, Jean-Pierre Melville, Louis Malle, Jean-Luc Godard, Rene Clement and Joseph Losey. That alone may qualify Delon as a great actor, because in order to be great, the actor must give great performances in great productions, it is not good enough to give great performances in mediocre ones. Delon however, not only gave great performances in great films, but defined an entire aesthetic (Delon is a reference point for a certain kind of acting) in the same way a painter might, or a filmmaker or a playwright. In this sense, Delon is a supreme actor-artist and belongs in a group made up of only a handful of actors.

How do you describe Delon’s work to someone who has never seen him perform? Well, Delon is not forceful in the way Brando was forceful, and he’s a positive wallflower compared to someone like Laughton. Delon is reserved, he is still, and when he does move it is swift, decisive and precise, and he always keeps it simple. His work is about clarity of action, that is: the actions Delon performs on behalf of his character in the scene are clear. He is highly disciplined* and excludes the non-essential in service of the film he is working on. Physically, he is superbly constructed, and I have often thought that if I had to design a screen actor, it would probably come out something like Alain Delon.

I knew Delon was my kind of actor when I saw him in Antonioni’s masterpiece, L’Eclisse, where he plays a brash, arrogant stockbroker chasing after Monica Vitti. There is a scene which takes place in the office where Delon’s character works. It is the end of a very busy day, where Delon has had to deal with many angry clients demanding their money back after the stock market has collapsed. Finally, he has a moment of peace: relaxing at his desk he picks up a glass of Coke, rocks back on his chair and slowly brings the drink to his lips, but just before he is about to drink, he pulls the glass away from his mouth and slams it back down onto the desk, leaps out of his chair, grabs his coat and leaves the office. We find out in the next scene that Delon was late for a date, hence the about turn with the Coke. This is a brilliant example of how the actor can convey so much through the handling of objects. Here, Delon has shown, by changing his action in front of us, how the character has had a complete and rapid change of thought (note that the actor need not “think” the “thoughts” of the “character”, and this is impossible anyway), it is simple, but it’s compelling, provocative, and it’s true.

No matter how much time passes, my image of Delon will always be stuck in 1967, when he played the now iconic hitman, Jef Costello, in Jean-Pierre Melville’s seminal film noir masterpiece, Le Samourai, a film whose myth only grew and grew for me because it was so hard to locate a copy of it and I had to wait so many years to see it [and it’s still not easily accessible here in the UK]. Le Samourai is also one of the most influential films of all time. Almost all contemporary silent-stoic-disciplined-assassin-films will have been affected by it in some way. Infact, Jim Jarmusch, John Woo [who had a re-make in the works at some stage]  and Quentin Tarantino among others, have sited Melville’s film as an influence upon their own work. And, at the centre of it all, is Delon, as the stoical master hitman, obsessed with his own death, utterly immaculate, and very, very cool.

Le Samourai is a deceptively simple film, as is Delon’s performance in it, yet neither are lacking in mystery. Further, Melville’s film is essential in the sense that every frame is necessary, exclude anything and the film will not make sense. Again, this is in harmony with Delon’s work, we absolutely must watch everything he does because everything he does is meaningful, and we sense this while watching. And both the film and Delon refuse to yield their secrets, even after repeat viewing. Rarely has there been an example of a film being constructed around the aesthetic of it’s leading actor, and, vice versa, rarely has an actor embodied a film’s aesthetic so purely. During a 1968 interview in Sight And Sound, director Melville states that the script for Le Samourai was written not only with Delon in mind, but was actually inspired by him. There is a unity between the actor’s performance and the filmmaker’s design, they become one and the same, and the overall effect is a film of true aesthetic beauty.

 

*Volker Schlondorff tells the tale of how Delon would arrive on set precisely at the time he was called, and leave exactly when scheduled to.

 

ADDENDUM

Alain Delon receives Honorary Palme d’or at the 72nd Cannes Film Festival.

“We’re talking about a giant, a living legend and a global icon. In Japan, where he is revered, he is even known as the Spring Samurai.”

Read the festival’s full statement on Delon here.

 

 

 

8 November 1935 – 18 August 2024

RIP Alain Delon, The Spring Samurai

a true cinema artist,
a master,
and a rare actor who defined an entire aesthetic.

Thank-you for lighting the way.

 

 

FURTHER READING

Luchino Visconti and Alain Delon: Collaboration – Why Did It Work?

Alain Delon On Jean-Pierre Melville And Le Samourai – An Example

Alain Delon, Catherine Deneuve and Jean-Pierre Melville On The Set of Un Flic