Jon Favreau sets up a shot on Made (2001).

Jon Favreau’s big break came in Rudy, one of
those rare movies that seems to resonate with audiences long after
they see it. In many ways, the experience changed Favreau’s life.
He began to appreciate “not necessarily the movies that get the
best reviews or make the most money, but the ones that last—and
create memories for people.” For the next couple of years, Favreau
searched in vain for a role that would inspire him as Rudy had. Eventually he came to the conclusion he’d have to create his
own project, and that decision resulted in his writing the 1996
hit Swingers, a personal, honest and humorous look
at a group of struggling actors in LA. “Of all the movies I’ve done,”
he says now, “only Rudy and Swingers have affected
people close to their hearts.” The success of Swingers confirmed to Favreau that to fulfill his creative destiny he’d have
to bring his own visions to the screen. So he did what successful
actors are doing with increasing frequency these days—he turned
to directing.

Jon Favreau: The First One to Say ‘I Don’t
Know’

Favreau’s path to the back of the camera is, of course,
not a new one. From Charles Chaplin and John Wayne to Clint Eastwood
and Robert Redford to Sean Penn and Jodie Foster, Favreau is part
of a long tradition of performers turned helmers. The difference
is that years ago an actor had to wield considerable clout to get
to the point where he or she would be able to call the shots. Today,
with the rise in independent production and the opening of new distribution
outlets, the transition is easier. More actors are moving, quite
successfully, into the director’s chair. Like Favreau, they’ve searched
for meaning in their acting work but haven’t often found the right
opportunities.

Since Swingers, Favreau has directed Made, a comedy about two friends trying to get work with
a local mobster, and is in pre-production on his next directorial
effort, a Christmas movie called Elf, which will star Will
Ferrell. While Made is Favreau’s official directorial debut,
he is quick to point out the degree of personal pride and effort
he put into the making of Swingers, and how important
that film was to his growth as a moviemaker.

“I feel more possessive of Swingers than I
do of Made, because it was so close to my life and I had
so much creative input—and there were so few people working
on it,” he says. It’s this personal and professional satisfaction
that seems to be what drives most actors to take the helm. Even
with more than 15 films to his credit, Favreau admits “there’s nothing
that competes with the level of involvement you have as a director—where
you’re there every step of the way, overseeing every step of the
process.”

Having been a part of the process so many times, Favreau
has a profound respect for moviemaking’s collaborative nature. Many
times, collaboration can be ignored in favor of a director’s individual
vision. While that unique vision is of utmost importance, recognizing
and acknowledging the occasions when it’s insufficient or incomplete
is equally important. Directors who have acted understand this innately,
as the quality of a performance relies so directly on the performances
that surround it. “I’m the first to say ‘I don’t know,'” says
Favreau. “I think that there are a lot of directors who prescribe
to that sense that they have to pretend they know what’s happening
at all times. I know from being an actor that everybody sees through
that pretty quickly.”

Bill Paxton in the director’s chair
for Frailty (2001).

Bill Paxton: Get A Good Screenplay And Hammer
It Out

Bill Paxton has been a part of the moviemaking process
for more than 20 years as an actor, and has only recently seated
himself comfortably in the director’s chair for Frailty.
The story of a religious zealot and his misled children who turn
to serial killing in service of the Lord, Frailty garnered
a good deal of critical praise upon its release, and is poised to
become a cult classic. For Paxton, there is no question about his
role as a director. “I was born to direct,” he asserts. “I don’t
know why I let it take so long to officially direct my first feature.
It actually took me about 28 years to realize that my initial dream
was to be a filmmaker.”

A veteran of 50-plus films, Paxton knew the process
thoroughly before he started directing. He believes every actor
with some body of work to his credit knows what it’s like to be
a director, even if he or she hasn’t actually sat in the chair.
“Any actor who has done leads in movies has certainly found himself
in situations where it’s every man for himself,” says Paxton. “You’re
in a situation where the director or the production isn’t supporting
the vision, and you’ve had to kind of save yourself. Your ass is
on the line in front of that camera and on a good day that 100 millimeter
lens can take your head clean off.” The anxiety of one’s performance
in front of the camera in moments of chaos can profoundly inform
an actor’s work when it comes time to direct.

Like Favreau, Paxton has a good deal of respect for
the moviemaking process.

He sees it as a trade, and himself as a craftsman.
After years of experience as a hard-working actor, Paxton has adopted
a pragmatic approach to his new role as a director. “I do this like
a blacksmith makes horseshoes. We ‘mystify’ the art of acting,
but it’s not a mystical science,” he says. “You take a good screenplay,
put a group together and hammer it out.” And yet, like many actors-turned-directors,
Paxton seems to approach moviemaking not just as a means, but an
end in itself. The production is as important to him as the final
product.

“Being a good director is, to me, two things: obviously
it’s how the film turns out, but even more than that, it’s about
how you lead your troops in the field.” To this end, Paxton sees
himself as not only an artist, but a leader. He insists that “you
have to create a spirit, a kind of esprit de corps with the leadership,
as well as have a vision for the film in order to be a good director.”

Stanley Tucci: Bringing A Sensitivity To The
Process

Actor-directors Stanley Tucci and Campbell
Scott collaborate on Big Night (1996).

Stanley Tucci also sees gratification in the process
of making a movie, and in satisfying the creativity of those around
him. Tucci has directed two films (The Impostors and Joe
Gould’s Secret) on his own, and co-directed Big Night with
his friend and fellow actor-director, Campbell Scott. Having experienced
a variety of productions in his successful career as an actor in
more than 50 films, he decided he wanted to bring a sensitivity
to the production process that he’d rarely seen as an actor.

“I wanted to do this so that I might direct actors
the way I always wanted to be directed, but wasn’t often enough,”
says Tucci. “That’s why any actor wants to direct.” But Tucci was
not only dissatisfied with the moviemaking process as he experienced
it—he also saw little worthwhile content. He’s had a hand
in writing each of the scripts he has directed, because he feels
“the vision of the film should come from the script… and I think
a lot of scripts nowadays are just words on a page, they’re not
really visions of a film.”

Tucci eventually found acting, by itself, to be unfulfilling
to him as an artist. He wanted more creative responsibility for
the productions he was in. “Acting just wasn’t satisfying me creatively,”
he says of his first decision to direct. “I kept playing the same
kinds of roles, and I was getting kind of bored.” Tucci extols the
virtues of directing as a way to express ideas dramatically. The
myriad aspects of directing gave him more than enough to work with.
“Directing and writing satisfied everything… it’s like you’re
painting and you’re sculpting and you’re doing everything at once…
it’s fantastic.”

Forest Whitaker: Movimaking As Ceremony

The expansive range of expression at a director’s
disposal is also what drew Forest Whitaker to directing. Whitaker
has directed three films, including Hope Floats. He sees
his role as a director as the orchestrator of a little, cinematic
universe.

Forest Whitaker with Sandra Bullock on the
set of Hope Floats (1998).

“You create that world—and then you tell a story
that invokes some of the emotions in the realm of that world,” he
says. Whitaker extends his experience as an actor into the director’s
chair by looking for the “soul of a piece,” much like an actor might
look for the center of the character, and he references this “soul”
for every decision he makes as a director. “I break down the character
as a filmmaker, but also as an actor, to understand what I should
be thinking about inside the scene.” For Whitaker “each piece is
an organism, it has a molecular structure… it breathes.”

Whitaker also refers to directing as moving past the
role of observer that an actor plays. Being a director is “a participatory
experience in the ceremony of making movies. There’s someone conducting
the ritual, there’s someone experiencing the ritual in the audience
and then there are players who assist in the ritual. I prefer to
be the one putting all the pieces together to allow the ritual to
take place.” Whitaker sees moviemaking as a ceremony, a sacred process
of festive collaboration and myth-making.

Directing Is: Personal And Potent; Always
Part Of Something Bigger

None of these moviemakers seems to fear that their
personal visions will be compromised by the collaborative process.
Maybe it’s because they have been actors. Maybe it’s because they’ve
been on so many sets that they know one person cannot make a movie
alone. Regardless, they all assert that giving other members of
the cast and crew creative license expands and completes their directorial
vision. They refuse to jealously guard their vision because they
all see themselves as part of something bigger. Stanley Tucci insists
that “if you have one person’s vision, and then that person reaches
out and really knows how to collaborate, that’s when you make a
really successful film.”

Bill Paxton likens the role of a director to that
of a conductor in a symphony. “Film is a giant collaboration, where
the director is really just the orchestrator. But he needs the woodwinds
and he needs all the instruments to create the sound.” Indeed, Jon
Favreau goes so far as to admit “the director actually doesn’t do
anything… there’s no one thing a director does. The director really
manages other people’s talents.” And if these others fail, the director
has only himself to blame, according to Forest Whitaker.

“If they fail in a performance, then I do take it
upon myself that it’s my fault… We can both feel the truth when
it’s there, and when it’s not there, something’s wrong, some
sort of disservice I would have done to the actor. My job is to elevate.” 

Their collaborative obligation to the creative
process is something these directors take from their acting backgrounds.
For these four men, directing is personal. Their sense of responsibility
to cast and crew is real, and it’s part of their commitment to the
craft of storytelling. Directing has special value and meaning.
For Tucci, “it has to come from the ground up—it has to come
from me emotionally.” Whitaker feels that he has a “moral and spiritual
obligation” to himself “to tell stories honestly.” And Favreau still
wants to be a part of something potent “that brings people together
and makes people feel a certain way, in addition to entertaining
them.” As for Paxton, it has been a long road. Years of acting finally
won him his favorite role—that of director—and he feels
very strongly that he’s found his place.

“It took me about 28 years to get to sit in the director’s
seat—and they’re gonna have to bring in a SWAT team to get
me out,” he vows. Then, as if quoting a character from his creepy
film, Frailty, he adds “they’re gonna have to pry my dead
fingers off the handles of the chair.” MM

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