Patiently waiting for me to give De Niro some respite was the handsome and articulate Édgar Ramírez. So I turned to him to find out how he got into the role of the impulsive, zealous, self-destructive Durán, who is considered by many to be the greatest lightweight of all time (although he also held world titles as a welterweight, light middleweight and middleweight). Durán fought over a span of five decades and retired from boxing at the age of 50 in 2001. His punches were so devastating to opponents that he earned the moniker “Hands of Stone.” What Durán will always be infamous for is abruptly forfeiting his welterweight title in the middle of his 1980 rematch with challenger Sugar Ray Leonard, who is played in the film surprising well by singer/songwriter Usher.
Ramírez told me he was very much inspired by Raging Bull and by the way De Niro had immersed himself in boxing in order to play Jake LaMotta. Ramírez moved to Panama seven months before the shoot to learn the sport. He knew absolutely nothing about boxing until then. Not only did he become skilled in the ring, but he also worked with Durán himself and his sons, nailing down the great fighter’s punching style, facial mannerisms and speech patterns.
“Building Durán’s character,” Ramírez said, “was the last part of the process. The most important thing for this movie was to feel what it is to be a boxer, to eat like one, to sleep like one, to train like one. I also went back to the slums in Panama where Durán grew up, and I spent time with the people from that quarter to understand his real upbringing.”
Ramírez spent a lot of time with Durán himself. “I was very close to him,” said Ramírez. “But he’s not very outgoing and never speaks about himself. What I learned is that boxers are like matadors. They have a mystique. And they never tell you the whole truth. When I tried to ask him personal things head on, he closed up.”
So how do you portray such a man?
“I learned more about Duran by the things he didn’t say to me. It was tricky to be with such an approachable guy who is full of all that rage and vulnerability, a conflicted man. By paying attention to what he wasn’t revealing, I got everything I felt I needed to build the character.”
Ramírez was a political journalist before turning to acting a decade ago. He speaks several languages and is totally at ease around his acting buddy, De Niro. But it wasn’t always that way.
“I met Robert in New York at the first table read,” said Ramírez, “and sure, I was nervous. But what I find fascinating about him, despite all the gravitas and what he represents as an actor, is that he’s a very approachable and non-intimidating person. He was really inspiring to me as an actor. First, he’s a very athletic guy. He’s in great shape, and trains every day, so he’s very dynamic in the way he approaches his role. On set, every time he would put on the Ray Arcel suit, he transformed himself, starting with a slower walk, a more determined posture.”
Hands of Stone rests squarely on the unlikely bond between two totally different and enigmatic men. Sitting on the couch in front of me, overlooking some prime Côte d’Azur real estate, were two actors who likewise couldn’t be more dissimilar, and yet they looked to be the best of friends. How did they establish that trust?
De Niro and Ramírez looked at me and then at each other in a comical way. De Niro shook his head and said, with the faintest note of sarcasm:
“I didn’t trust him! I reserve all my trust for the next movie we do together. For the time being, all I have is disdain for him.”
“You’ve opened the floodgates,” said Ramírez, laughing. “Now he’s going to start the put-downs.”
He continued:
“All joking aside, Robert is a very generous person, not only as an artist but as a human being. He’s very open, with me and with the crew. The first day he walked on set, everybody lowered their voices. I told them they were going to make him feel uncomfortable. I acted normal with him and I think he appreciated it.”
The handler circled the couch, pointing at her watch, and raised a finger. My time was up. What had I learned about De Niro’s process?
Practically nothing, since we had been talking around the edges of it, without penetrating any sacred territory. And that was the way he wanted it. De Niro was not about to explain his acting secrets to me, or anybody, because knows that his work bubbles up from some mysterious, unknowable place and must remain elusive. Not unlike Duránm or a matador with his mystique. Or other supremely talented people who need to keep their secret sauce secret.
I made one last stab, though the handler was now frowning at me dramatically. “You keep working,” I said to De Niro, “and filmmakers want you in their films. What is it that gets you excited about these projects?”
“Each one is different,” said De Niro, as I stood, shook his hand and was escorted out. As I leave, the words of Budd Schulberg, novelist, screenwriter and life-long boxing enthusiast, come to me. I believe he would have given Hands of Stone a gentle nod to enter that pantheon alongside those “great old boxing movies” due to the convincing performances of two men. In his story collection Sparring with Hemingway, Schulberg wrote about boxing in a way that could be applied to acting: “These primitive two-man wars have magic for me, recalling the myth of man as a simple, indomitable fighting animal, the most ferocious and capable of all such animals on earth, in there alone with only the speed and force of his fisted hands, the durability of his jaw and ribs, belly and skin, the speed and endurance of his legs, plus the decisive intangibles, character, intelligence, spirit, pride—only these for weapons.” MM
Hands of Stone opens in theaters August 26, 2016, courtesy of The Weinstein Company.
Top photograph by François Berthier.
Manhattan-based Jerry Rudes ran the Avignon Film Festival (and later the New York/Avignon Film Festivals) for 25 years. He is the co-author of the Samuel Fuller memoir A Third Face, and is a longtime contributor to MovieMaker. He has been attending the Cannes Film Festival for more than three decades.