“I am this guy”: the character that marked the pinnacle of Al Pacino’s method acting
When method acting emerged in Hollywood in the 1950s with the explosive screen presence of Marlon Brando, it changed American cinema forever and became the go-to style for many young actors. Robert De Niro, Dustin Hoffmann, and Al Pacino were just a few of the up-and-coming stars who were deeply ensconced in the Method during their breakout years in the ‘70s, and the technique is still popular among many respected thespians (and despised by others).
Method acting can take many forms, but it revolves around drawing on personal experience to connect with a character. Many actors who ascribe to the technique stay in character off-camera, even when the working day is over. This has led to some infamous instances of bullshittery, such as when Joaquin Phoenix tried to convince everyone he was quitting acting to become a rapper or that time Jared Leto kept holding up production on Morbius because he insisted on going everywhere with crutches.
More often than not, however, method acting is personally challenging for the actors who apply it to their performances. Al Pacino was one of the young actors in the ‘70s who brought the Method from the Actor’s Studio in New York to the soundstages of Hollywood, and in one particular performance, he found the psychological depths of his engagement with the character to be difficult.
Speaking on Marc Maron’s WTF podcast earlier this month, the actor reflected on his performance in Brian De Palma’s Scarface, saying, “What I was doing in that part — I don’t know what the hell was the matter with me. What happened to me? I’ve never been that committed to a role. I mean, I was there. I said, ‘I am this guy.’”
Instead of bringing the role home with him, however, Pacino said that it was coming home to his then-partner, actor Kathleen Quinlan, that kept him sane. “It’s tough to be in a room with a lot of smoke and being in a lot of blood on you all day for 12, 14 hours,” he said. “You come home, and she would tell me about her day, which was so great, it just saved my life.”
When it was released in 1983, Scarface was not received particularly well. Starring Pacino as Tony Montana, a Cuban refugee who rises through the ranks of the Miami underworld to become a drug-addled kingpin, it is full of extreme violence, including an infamous chainsaw scene in which Tony is forced to watch as one of his colleagues is dismembered with a chainsaw. At the time, De Palma’s penchant for excess had not yet been stamped with the “auteur” label, and without the adoration of influential film enthusiasts like Quentin Tarantino, few critics were willing to give the Carrie director the benefit of the doubt.
As Pacino mentioned in the same interview, it was hip-hop artists who helped turn the tide on Scarface, transforming its reputation from gory trash to cult classic. “Hip-hop just got it,” he said. “They understood it, they embraced it — the rappers. And then the next thing you know, VHS is going out, and more people are seeing it, plus we’re on the records — these rappers — and then it just carried. And it kept going.”
Among the many references to Scarface in hip-hop appeared in the last track of Nas’ 2002 album God’s Son, in which he compares himself to Tony Montana and Jay-Z, with whom he was in an ongoing feud, as Montana’s friend Manny, who becomes his sworn enemy.
