Five scenes that prove Al Pacino is a genius
After a relatively lean spell that saw acclaim become rarer than it had been for decades, Al Pacino seems reinvigorated in the winter of his career. Providing several of his most memorable performances for years within a short space of time.
His supporting role in Martin Scorsese’s The Irishman landed him his first Academy Award nomination in 27 years, while the Netflix epic – coupled with his return to the small screen in Prime Video’s revisionist historical thriller Hunters – saw Pacino secure Golden Globe nominations in consecutive years for the first time since he notched back-to-back nods in 1990 and 1991.
Of course, Pacino’s status as one of the all-time greats was secured before the 1970s had even drawn to a close, and he’s only continued to fill up his filmography with classics ever since. His back catalogue is packed to the brim with star turns, and encapsulating the essence of an entire performance into a single scene is a microcosm of his gifts.
The following five scenes place the undoubted genius of Pacino on full display, made all the more remarkable that one of them comes in a film so terrible it was fully deserving of being labelled as one of the most egregious affronts to cinema there’s ever been.
Five scenes that show Al Pacino’s genius:
Jack and Jill (Dennis Dugan, 2011)
Is Jack and Jill one of the worst movies ever made? Probably. It set a record at the Golden Raspberry Awards by being nominated 12 times across all ten major categories and set another record by sweeping the board in all ten of those categories. One of those trophies even went to Al Pacino as ‘Worst Supporting Actor’ for playing himself.
And yet, it’s not unreasonable to call it one of his most daring performances, for the sole reason that he knew it was going to be awful but did it anyway, as part of an experiment. In his own words, Pacino explained to GQ why he’d shown up in so many terrible films: “I think I’m starting to get a little perverse. I’m starting to want to do films that aren’t really very good and try to make them better. And that’s become my challenge.”
He doesn’t name Jack and Jill specifically, but considering he plays an exaggerated version of himself who becomes obsessed with the latter half of the titular siblings, both played by Adam Sandler, before sporting head-to-toe doughnut-themed attire for a song that makes coffee-related references to his classic roles to shill the Dunkaccino is a subversion of his entire life, career, and persona all at once. Sure, it’s diabolical to watch, but Pacino’s genius lay in the fact he knew exactly what he was doing and why he was doing it.
Glengarry Glen Ross (James Foley, 1992)
Glengarry Glen Ross boasts many examples to showcase why it’s lauded as one of the best-written movies ever made. But Pacino’s monologue in a sea of unforgettable verbal exchanges often tends to go overlooked and unmentioned. It’s far from being his showiest or most grandstanding, but the subtleties and complexities of the exchange between his Richard Roma and Jonathan Pryce’s James Lingk are a thing of beauty.
Restrained and understated, Roma is regarded as his office’s top closer for a reason, even when he doesn’t say anything about real estate. In an intimate setting between two characters, Pacino establishes dominance and worms his way into Lingk’s psyche without mentioning the actual deal he’s closing. At a time when his performances were getting louder and louder, dialling it back to something barely above a whisper proved an inspired way to turn up the volume in a thematic sense.
Heat (Michael Mann, 1995)
As much as Heat endures as one of the best crime thrillers to ever come out of Hollywood, a great deal of the attention during the build-up to its release focused almost entirely on one scene. The mouth-watering prospect of seeing Pacino go head-to-head with Robert De Niro in a scene where they had nothing to do but talk.
Michael Mann keeps things simple, using straightforward over-the-shoulder shots and close-ups to keep their faces and reactions at the forefront, which was, of course, by design. As he explained to the Directors Guild of America: “If De Niro’s right foot sitting in that chair slid backwards by so much as an inch, or his right shoulder dropped by just a little bit, I knew Al would be reading that,” he said. “They’d be scanning each other, like an MRI.”
Shorn of any bells, whistles, or performative tricks, it was nothing more than two titans of the game pitting their wits against each other, reacting in the moment and doing so effortlessly. The coffee shop exchange lived up to its billing, and then some, and the mutual respect between them is palpable even as the tension gradually increases. An absolute masterclass from two of the best to do it, the greatest indication of just how high Pacino and De Niro were flying in Heat comes in the form of Righteous Kill, which partnered them up for an entire crime film and turned out to be an unmitigated stinker.
Dog Day Afternoon (Sidney Lumet, 1975)
Despite being one of the greatest movies ever that sees Pacino deliver one of cinema’s elite-level performances as Sonny Wortzik, Dog Day Afternoon was shut almost entirely out of the awards season conversation bar an Oscar win for ‘Best Original Screenplay’. At least that made sense, with the leading man devouring the opportunity to make the most of Frank Pierson’s impeccable dialogue.
A nerve-shredding exercise in combining the heist thriller with a crime story and then wrapping it in a character drama inspired by real-life events, Dog Day Afternoon required many cylinders to reach full capacity. It fired on every single one of them. However, Pacino’s standout moment comes when he takes a hostage outside of the bank he’s in the process of robbing to face the assembled crowd.
Repeatedly shouting “Attica” in reference to the riot at the prison that unfolded less than a year before Dog Day Afternoon‘s August 1972 narrative, it’s this moment in particular that finds Sonny facing up to the reality of his predicament. There’s no chance he’s getting away, but drumming up the support of the gathered masses creates sympathy, leverage, and folk hero status, all in the space of one word and a couple of minutes of screen time.
The Godfather Part II (Francis Ford Coppola, 1974)
Reprising his role in one of the greatest movies in history by delivering an even better performance in another one of the greatest movies in history, Pacino’s second outing as Michael Corleone in The Godfather Part II is almost the very definition of a tour-de-force turn.
Whether it’s the bigger or smaller moments, the actor is never anything less than ferociously committed to making Michael’s motivations patently clear to both the audience and the characters that surround him. However, it’s his chilling confirmation of a family betrayal that stands out as his single finest moment, one that remains fully capable of sending shivers down the spine.
John Cazale’s Fredo was already suspected to be involved with the attempt on Michael’s life, but bringing his sibling in for what seems to be a warm embrace, planting a literal kiss of death on his cheek, and whispering, “I know it was you, Fredo” is haunting. Pacino’s expression may be stony, but the resonance behind his words is anything but.
