Two words – Stephen Graham – are what defines The Virtues (2019), a mini-series written by Shane Meadows and Jack Thorne. The latter is renowned for his writing of Adolescence (2025). Recent modern portraits of the UK are neither shiny nor bright. If you are familiar with Adolescence, today’s discussion will be easily understood. The father figure, played by Graham, after a divorce is losing his child, which now is moving to Australia. Bringing back the stories of the past, when he was abused as a child in an orphanage, Graham’s character decides to come back to his old town to settle, as much as possible, everything down. However, all of this happens far beyond the scene that is the object of today’s analysis. Graham seems to be able to let us anticipate all of the above in just one scene, which is the highlight of this article.
Premises
“Histrionic style of acting is dead!”, some might say. A very common misconception is to be corrected here. Although we seem to believe that comically expressive acting like that of Fairbanks, Chaplin or Valentino could only be read as a thing of the past, here, Meryl Streep is actually much closer to Lilian Gish than it might appear.
Still in the middle of the 19th century, French opera singer Del Sarte was convinced that physical expression of sentiments should come from the outside movements themselves. By performing a gesture, both the actor and the viewer would understand the emotion. Very modern stuff, later continued by Chekov and into the 21st century. There are many things to add and explore here, but let’s just mention the importance of the objects as a continuation of the body of the performer and therefore his emotions – as very accurately noted by the great researcher of acting James Naremore.
Analysis
Every film is a whole, an inseparable sequence of images chosen by the artists at work. Every film consists of a smaller structural devices – acts, chapters, scenes, shoots, frame, etc.
In the first episode of The Virtues, at minute 40:23, Graham appears sitting on a bench in the park. We see first his hands, tormented by everything his character went through already. He slightly twists and rubs them, with tenderness, both consciously as an actor, in full control, and unconsciously as the character. Everything that is to come in his character’s life is seen in this little gesture, the first thing that we see as the camera pans up to reveal his face. An off screen look to the left with a quick change to the right, also off screen. No indecision, no time is left to spare; everything is in syntony, like poetry done with body language instead of letters and words. From this look and the next opening of the total frame, we know something is about to come. Graham has established a problem and is looking for a solution, just in those small, precise movements.
The next shot repeats the previous one. First, we see hands again, newly dragging 2 litres of beer out of a plastic bag. Now, those hands are all around the bottle, moving slowly and hugging it, as if it was a baby. Then, pan up. His gaze is fixed at the ‘baby’, no off-screen this time. The character is determined to have a sip. Maybe the playground is a bit of a rough place to do so, according to the characters’ past as well, but he is determined. Every decision that Graham takes until now leads to this resolution for a problem. To switch off, to forget.
He opens the bottle. All the constituent parts are now in full control of the actor. Leaving the lid next to himself on the bench, he suddenly looks at it. An impossible movement before the lid was carefully positioned there. A weird look as well. Why look at the lid after you have already opened the bottle? Something is not right.
The bottle continues to be a clear allusion to his son. Not a metaphor, not a clever trick, but a physical, in frame object that helps transfer the character’s past, emotions and relationships with his son on the screen and therefore on to us. All of this is the work of the actor. After a little girl that was playing there by his side screams, we know he is not going to drink his beer. He looks around, he starts breathing heavily, and finally he closes his eyes. He is imagining his son, or better; Graham pretends that his character does so.
Music starts and Grahams is determined not to drink. One final push-through, with an amazing facial expression, and the way he walks out are as important as all the small details discussed.
Regardless of what method Graham uses, or what the relationship between the writer, the director and the actor is, let’s leave this discussion to another time. This article is dedicated to all the small details seen but not always noticed by us. To actors and their subtle jobs, and to Stephen Graham in particular.
Viktor Smolkin
Fonts:
Naremore, James, Acting in the Cinema, University of California Press, 1988.
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