“I came into this game for action”: Robert De Niro’s wild performance in ‘Brazil’ may be his craziest
Robert De Niro is undoubtedly one of the best actors of his generation, beloved for his nuanced and iconic collaborations with Martin Scorsese and a multitude of generation-defining performances through the rest of the 1970s, 1980s and 1990s. He’s also known to have taken a turn in his role choices in the past 20 years, moving into more family-friendly comedy territory.
Scattered among these highs and lows are a few unique performances from the actor that, in many ways, defy categorisations as simple as good and bad. Take his hilariously intense performance as Ben Stiller’s overbearing father-in-law in Meet the Parents or his comically over-the-top, monocle-sporting Fearless Leader in The Adventures of Rocky and Bullwinkle.
Yet, his craziest performance, it has to be said, is as Harry Tuttle in Terry Gilliam’s Brazil. However, the same can be said for anyone who appeared in the director’s retro-futurist dystopia. In the comically bureaucratic society drowning under its own processes, De Niro plays a rogue heating repairman turned outlaw who joined the Resistance due to his hatred of paperwork. The role is a small but integral part of the outrageous mechanics of the film, but Bobbie’s Harry Tuttle makes quite the impression.
Only swooping on and off the screen via zip wire, clad in tactical gear, balaclava and thick moustache, De Niro’s Tuttle is like the Che Guevara of heating who treats his job with the precision and care of a surgeon, which wasn’t coincidental. Gilliam had told him, “You’re a plumber, but I want you to treat the plumbing like it’s brain surgery.” So, taking his prep for the role wholly seriously, De Niro prepared for his role as a plumber by watching an actual brain surgeon.
Like much else in the movie, Harry Tuttle is an entirely bizarre role especially for De Niro, who at the time had only played serious roles. And clearly he did the most sensible thing you can do when presented with a bizarre role, he prepared in a bizarre manner. Apparently, he also provided Tuttle’s unique magnifying glasses and toolkit himself.
Despite the sheer ridiculousness of his role, De Niro brings a playfulness and nonchalance to the performance that acts as a palate cleanser to much of the odd bureaucracy, awkward interactions and ethereal dreamscapes of the rest of the film. His usual suave American accent stands in unexpected juxtaposition to the stiff, upper-lipped English accents of the main character, Sam Lowry, and the other characters of the film.
And, really, Tuttle is the hero of Brazil. He might not be successful in liberating Mr Lowry, but he’s the only person getting anything done despite the third and final of his three appearances being a figment of Lowry’s imagination. Given that we get to see a revolutionary Robert De Niro consumed by his character’s nemesis – paperwork – it’s hard to remain upset by the ambiguous ending of the film.
Just as there are plenty of people at Central Intelligence who would love to get their hands on Harry Tuttle, there are many in Hollywood and beyond who would have loved to get their hands on De Niro. And Terry Gilliam managed it. And not only De Niro but a De Niro who “came into this game for the action, the excitement” long before he’d decided to sign that promotion into family comedy cushiness.
