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    Clifton Collins Jr. Hopes ‘Jockey’ Makes Him a Familiar Name

    Every time Clifton Collins Jr. boards a flight midproduction, the possibility of the aircraft crashing petrifies him. “I’ve got to finish the film,” the actor thinks to himself midair.Once the movie is completed, turbulence, ups and downs? None of that matters, because he knows “I got another film in the can, especially if I’m hopeful that it’s going to be good,” he said. “I don’t care if it goes down. I’d feel bad for the other people, but me personally, I’m OK. I finished.”Collins, 51, has maintained such intense focus for more than 30 years as a character actor embellishing the ensembles of renowned directors like Steven Soderbergh (“Traffic”), Alejandro González Iñárritu (“Babel”) and Quentin Tarantino (“Once Upon a Time … in Hollywood”), though you might know him better for scores of appearances on television series like “Westworld” and “Ballers.”Now the actor is breaking through, finally, with a rare lead role. In Clint Bentley’s heartfelt indie, “Jockey” (in theaters Dec. 29), Collins plays Jackson Silva, an aging horseman confronting physical ailments and potential fatherhood. The visceral performance, born of immersive preparation, has already earned him a best male lead nomination from the Independent Spirit Awards, a first for him, and a special acting prize at Sundance. It’s not his only role in a prominent picture this season — Collins plays a carny in Guillermo del Toro’s lush noir “Nightmare Alley” — but it may be the one that makes the biggest difference.Collins, pictured here with Moises Arias in “Jockey,” worked as a grunt at a racetrack so that other riders would see him as one of their own.Adolpho Veloso/Sony Pictures Classics, via Associated PressDuring a recent interview at a restaurant in the Studio City section of Los Angeles, where he wore a fittingly unpretentious Pink Floyd T-shirt, Homeboy Industries cap and cozy flannel shirt, he explained, “I’ve had other leading roles, just not like this.”The distinction isn’t only about screen time but also about his continuing collaboration with Bentley, a first-time director, and the producer Greg Kwedar, who cast him in his directorial debut, “Transpecos,” a 2016 thriller in which he played one of three Border Patrol agents forced into an illicit drug-trafficking mission. For “Jockey,” Collins expanded his investment, and put his money on the line as an executive producer.To play Jackson, Collins dropped some weight from his already thin build to match the scrawny frame of a jockey. But that was only the superficial transformation. At Turf Paradise, the Phoenix racetrack where the film was shot, he became a grunt, hanging around every day and helping with the horses, to rid himself of the performer label in the eyes of the real riders.“I didn’t want to be seen as an actor. I didn’t want to be treated special,” he explained, adding, “To be embraced by the very people you are portraying is the biggest gift that any actor could ask for.”When it comes to the integrity of a character, Collins goes all in, however small the part. For the 2001 prison drama “The Last Castle,” he consulted multiple speech therapists before agreeing to play a character with a speaking impediment, even if it was only a supporting role. On another job, the 2009 comedy “Sunshine Cleaning,” he nearly refused to embody an amputee because the director hadn’t thoroughly considered the details of the fictional man’s condition.His requests weren’t self-aggrandizing but a way of respecting the experiences of individuals for whom these circumstances aren’t a costume but their truth. “You can’t just desecrate the challenges real people out there are trying to overcome,” he said.The actor was inspired by his grandfather, a self-made entertainer who appeared in the western “Rio Bravo” and “was the only person who said, ‘Yes, you can do it,’” Collins said.  Carlos Jaramillo for The New York TimesOn “Jockey,” Collins shares scenes with actual jockeys whom he tried to guide through the cinematic process with patience and space for spontaneity. The affecting banter in a hospital scene with an injured jockey, played by a real rider, Logan Cormier, resulted from the camaraderie he built over time with nonactors.“You might take it for granted when he’s being generous alongside Clint Eastwood” in “The Mule,” Bentley said. “But to have that same generosity with somebody who’s never acted before and in some cases is never going to act again speaks volumes to his quality as a person and artist.”Collins, who was born and raised in the Los Angeles area, also channeled memories of his father, who, when sober enough, would take him and his sister to his trailer in Inglewood, Calif. When his father met friends at Hollywood Park, a racetrack nearby, he would occasionally let Collins tag along and taught him how to bet on horse races from a tender age. The final speech Jackson delivers in the film — about Jackson’s father being an angry man who only showed affection while drunk or gambling — came precisely from these bittersweet childhood memories.Del Toro turned to Collins for “Nightmare Alley” (their second collaboration, after the kaiju epic “Pacific Rim”) because the actor “seems incapable of anything but being truthful and present and brimming with ideas,” the director said via email. Collins “has a cadence, rhythm and delivery that no one else has,” del Toro added. “He has cinema in his bloodline and his eyes. His eyes command the camera and our attention completely.”For the actor, wandering through the set of “Nightmare Alley” felt like stepping into the bygone realm of his maternal grandfather, Pedro Gonzalez-Gonzalez, a proud Tejano and self-made entertainer whose career began in traveling tent shows, or carpas. The vaudeville-esque Mexican American diversions, like La Carpa Garcia, were popular during the first half of the 20th century, and Collins’s grandfather mostly performed for other Latinos working the fields in Texas. He would go on to work as a contract player for John Wayne, most notably in the seminal 1959 western “Rio Bravo.”Where you’ve seen Collins: In “Transpecos,” above.Samuel Goldwyn FilmsIn the drama “One Eight Seven.”Warner Bros. Opposite Amy Adams in “Sunshine Cleaning.” Lacey Terrell/Overture FilmsAnd in the series “Westworld.”John P. Johnson/HBO“My grandpa was the only person who said, ‘Yes, you can do it,’ and all it takes is one voice, one person you respect, to say it,” said Collins, who first tried to go college for engineering before dedicating himself full-time to acting, with his grandfather’s blessing.Collins said that it was his work on “Capote” (2005), in which he played the death-row inmate Perry Smith, that convinced Gonzalez-Gonzalez he’d have a future in acting. “He was really worried if I was ever going to be successful or make it in this business,” Collins said.One evening while shooting “Nightmare Alley” in Toronto, del Toro encouraged Collins to write a screenplay about Gonzalez-Gonzalez. Collins began writing that very night.Gonzalez-Gonzalez himself received a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame in 2011, five years after his death and decades after he first sought it. Instinctively switching to Spanish whenever quoting his grandfather, Collins recalled: “When he got cancer, the second he told me, ‘Mijo, I’ve had a life bigger that I could ever dreamt of, the only thing I never got was that pinche star,’ and I said, ‘Grandpa, I promise you I’m going to get you that star.’”The promise was kept thanks in part to the advocacy of Samuel L. Jackson, whom Collins considers a father figure. The two starred together in the 1997 crime drama “One Eight Seven,” in which Collins played a young gangbanger opposite Jackson’s high school teacher, and have remained close friends ever since.Collins embodies the “there are no small parts, only small actors” truism, Jackson said, citing “the preparation, the attention to detail, the love of the craft.” Collins is “the kind of actor that demands your best and gives you his.”Onscreen, Collins has walked on both sides of the law, as a border agent on several occasions, and many others as men behind bars, like Cesar in “One Eight Seven.” But there’s a double standard for Latinos, he said, when it comes to roles that, while psychologically three-dimensional and rich, are not positive portrayals or seem to perpetuate stereotypes. With “One Eight Seven,” mainstream critics discredited him, the actor said, by suggesting the production had simply found a real criminal for the part, as if he couldn’t have been an actor who worked on the role. Meanwhile, he said, the ALMA Awards, which honor American Latinos in entertainment, wouldn’t consider his performance because they only highlight what they consider to be edifying representation.“How come Robert De Niro and Al Pacino can get awards for playing gangsters of their communities? But when we play gangsters of our communities, they say, ‘Don’t do that. We got to be the good immigrants.’”Collins said he and other Latino actors faced a double standard with roles that are psychologically rich but not necessarily positive. Carlos Jaramillo for The New York TimesOne of his most notable criminal characters was the morally conflicted robber Jack “Bump” Hill in the mini-series “Thief,” for which he received an Emmy nomination. The show’s creator, Norman Morrill, recalled that Collins wasn’t enthusiastic about doing more television work. The actor admits his hesitation came from arrogance. He had romanticized the struggling actor persona.Convinced of his magnetism, Morrill persuaded him to join the cast opposite Andre Braugher. “A lot of actors need words to communicate; the really great ones don’t. Cliffy’s silence sizzles,” the showrunner said. “The camera can just sit there and you go, ‘I’m going to watch this.’ That’s about as great an accolade anybody can get.”Bentley also saw the silent fire within, notably in the very last scene of “Jockey,” when Jackson is walking away after a defining moment. “It’s about three minutes long on his face, and he’s going through this whole color wheel of emotions,” the director said. “You could not write dialogue that would get across what he’s giving the audience. We get exactly what he’s going through.”With “Jockey” and “Nightmare Alley” behind him, a determined Collins has shifted focus back to polishing the script about his grandfather. Having honed his storytelling skills for years helming music videos for country performers like the Zac Brown Band (“Chicken Fried”) and Jamey Johnson (“High Cost of Living”), he also aims to direct it.“That’s the only singular goal I have,” Collins said. “I can’t see past that.” More

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    The 1947 ‘Nightmare Alley’: A Dark View of Class as Destiny

    With Tyrone Power in the lead, the first adaptation had to find ways to tell a story of soul sickness that wouldn’t offend censors.At the premiere of his new drama “Nightmare Alley” this month, the director Guillermo del Toro told the audience he had read the 1946 novel by William Lindsay Gresham — the film’s official source material — before seeing the classic 1947 adaptation with Tyrone Power. But there’s no question the first movie was a significant influence on del Toro and Kim Morgan, who wrote the screenplay together. Their parting line comes straight from the original script, by Jules Furthman.Like the update, the 1947 version (available to stream on the Criterion Channel), follows a carnival worker, Stan, eager for higher stakes. Stan (Power, in the role now played by Bradley Cooper) picks up some tricks from a washed-up vaudeville couple, Zeena and Pete, whose former ambitions have been reduced to a small-time fairground routine. Eventually Stan runs off with a co-worker, Molly, and they start a mentalist act targeting Chicago high society.The movie has long been a favorite of repertory programmers and noir festivals. But its enduring appeal is not easy to pin down.You can’t chalk it up to auteurism. The director was the British-born Edmund Goulding (“Grand Hotel”), whom Andrew Sarris, in his pioneering survey of Hollywood filmmakers, “The American Cinema,” placed in the “lightly likable” category: “talented but uneven directors with the saving grace of unpretentiousness.” Sarris noted that even Goulding’s best films, “Nightmare Alley” included, were seldom thought of as his, and pointed out that “Grand Hotel” won best picture without a nomination for direction.Sarris also called Goulding’s career “discreet and tasteful,” but “Nightmare Alley” is hardly that. In an extra on the Criterion Channel, Imogen Sara Smith, author of “In Lonely Places: Film Noir Beyond the City,” notes that Goulding may have had an unexpected affinity for the material. In private life, she says, he “had quite a scandalous reputation,” adding that “he struggled with drinking and drugs, and he was rumored to host wild bisexual orgies.”“Nightmare Alley,” made under the restrictions of the Production Code, would never have been able to show anything that sordid. But it is a dark and cynical film, and it makes a good test case for film noir, a category that resists clear definition. As has often been written, noir is not quite a genre, a mood or a style. “Nightmare Alley” isn’t a mystery or even much of a thriller. But it induces a soul-sickening feeling that courses through your system like the wood alcohol that poisons one of the characters. The sense of fatalism, a noir staple, is pervasive.The original film also isn’t subtle in its depiction of class as destiny. Early on, it’s made clear that Zeena and Pete (Joan Blondell and Ian Keith) have “already been in the big time” but have reverted to their natural place: an unsatisfying life of traveling carnival work, with Zeena performing a mind-reading act while a perpetually soused Pete provides covert assistance. A main attraction of the carnival — and an act that fascinates Stan — is the geek, who appears to bite the heads off chickens. (“I can’t understand how anybody could get so low,” Stan says at the film’s beginning, in an indication both of his confidence and his poor awareness of his station.) When Stan finally meets his match, Dr. Lilith Ritter (Helen Walker, in the role Cate Blanchett plays in the 2021 movie), it’s significant that she’s a psychologist — not just someone who understands how Stan ticks, but a person with money and status, which give her a decisive advantage over Stan as a con artist. (Blanchett’s introduction is another element del Toro borrows more from Goulding’s film than from the text.)Rooney Mara and Bradley Cooper in the same roles Gray and Power played in the first adaptation.Kerry Hayes/Searchlight PicturesWhile the new film has Zeena making advances on Stan, the 1947 adaptation had to be more allusive. There’s a real smolder in a simple moment when Power plants kisses on Blondell’s arm and she returns them with a caress. But for Stan, in the 1947 version more than in the book or the new film, sex seems to be an ancillary interest. “I’ll not even look at another fella. Never,” Molly (Coleen Gray) promises him shortly after they are married. But at the moment she makes that promise, Stan isn’t even looking at her. He’s staring offscreen with stars in his eyes, thinking of the money they’ll make together.The positioning of the actors — with Power slyly grinning and looking away from the prospect of a happy home life — is the kind of touch that suggests Goulding knew what he was doing. The cinematography by Lee Garmes isn’t filled with the smoky, jaw-dropping shots that Garmes did for Josef von Sternberg on “Dishonored” or “Shanghai Express,” but the cluttered, tarp-filled carnival scenery affords him ample opportunities to bathe the actors in menacing shadows. (On rarely screened, flammable nitrate film, Garmes’s images pack an especially silvery chill.) Apart from two street shots in a taxi scene, Chicago is conjured almost entirely through set design, dialogue and rear projection.Ultimately, what makes “Nightmare Alley” enduring may be its suggestion that we’re all susceptible to being taken in — and perhaps even want to be. In both movies, the story builds to a moment when Stan, nearing the bottom of a downward spiral, suddenly comprehends that he’s become a sucker.While del Toro’s update adds details from the novel that wouldn’t have passed censors in 1947 and closes with more of a gut-punch, on a bleaker line (while overelaborating much else), the 1947 version is still the definitive one, leaner and meaner. More

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    ‘Nightmare Alley’ | Anatomy of a Scene

    Film directors walk viewers through one scene of their movies, showing the magic, motives and the mistakes from behind the camera.Film directors walk viewers through one scene of their movies, showing the magic, motives and the mistakes from behind the camera. More

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    How Bradley Cooper Deceives Cate Blanchett in ‘Nightmare Alley’

    The director Guillermo del Toro narrates a sequence from his film noir.In “Anatomy of a Scene,” we ask directors to reveal the secrets that go into making key scenes in their movies. See new episodes in the series on Fridays. You can also watch our collection of more than 150 videos on YouTube and subscribe to our YouTube channel.Bradley Cooper graduates from the sideshow to the big show in this scene from “Nightmare Alley.” But will the tricks up his sleeve be uncovered?The sequence features Cooper as Stan, a carny who has moved to the city to perform his mentalism and clairvoyance act with his professional and romantic partner, Molly (Rooney Mara). Stan is blindfolded but able to guess the objects that belong to audience members.One attendee has doubts about the act. Lilith (Cate Blanchett) believes that Stan and Molly are using verbal signals. Narrating the scene, the director Guillermo del Toro discusses how he sets up the cat-and-mouse game between Lilith and Stan, partly by the way he shines searchlights on them, and partly by how he positions them within the performance space.Read the “Nightmare Alley” review.Sign up for the Movies Update newsletter and get a roundup of reviews, news, Critics’ Picks and more. More

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    ‘Nightmare Alley’ Review: Seeing Is Believing. (Suckers!)

    Guillermo del Toro’s latest movie tracks the sordid adventures of a carnival grifter played by Bradley Cooper.Festooned with gargoyles, Guillermo del Toro’s “Nightmare Alley” gets its game on in the sleazoid world of 1930s back-road carnivals. There, amid worn tents and garishly painted signs, a psychic reads gullible minds and a contortionist twists like a soft pretzel. The whole thing seems like fertile ground for del Toro, who’s drawn to the stranger, spookier corners of the imagination. So when a carnival barker promises a crowd a good show it is easy to imagine del Toro nodding along as he murmurs, Step right this way, folks.You get why Stan (Bradley Cooper) looks all agog when he wanders in. As a filmmaker, del Toro likes to lay an overflowing table, and there’s a lot to take in at the carnival, like the pickled baby, baptized Cyclops Boy; and a poor soul called the Geek, an ostensible wild man who bites the heads off chickens. It’s icky — that’s the idea. Stan has empty pockets and a mysterious past, and while others might run screaming, he soon joins the show’s roster of creepy and putatively charming charlatans. He proves a natural hustler and, as the story evolves, his grifting grows more sophisticated, lucrative and dangerous.You might have seen Tyrone Power navigating a similarly shadowy setup in the 1947 noir of the same title, directed by Edmund Goulding. Like the earlier movie, del Toro’s is based on a novel by William Lindsay Gresham, a desperate, pitiless book filled with exotic slang and steeped in the soured milk of human unkindness. Written by del Toro and Kim Morgan, the new adaptation hews more faithfully to the novel, partly because it’s not constrained by Hollywood self-censorship. But fealty isn’t always a productive strategy, and while the first film greatly tempers the book’s shocks, it doesn’t sentimentalize the source material, as this one does.Shortly after Stan becomes a carny, he begins cycling through women, beginning with a clairvoyant (Toni Collette) whose broken-down husband (David Strathairn) once had a successful mentalist act. The act uses a code that allows the performers to guess, more or less accurately, the answers to audience questions. It’s a perfect fit for an opportunist, which is a role that nicely suits Cooper, an actor who can let you see his characters’ internal whirring. Stan and another love interest (Rooney Mara) leave the carnival, taking the mentalist act on the nightclub circuit. They make bank and also meet a smooth number (Cate Blanchett) who steps out of a different, less engaging movie.Cooper adds charisma and an anxious backbeat to the story, while the old-timey carnival gives the movie texture and novelty. Part of the queasy appeal of Gresham’s novel is that it vividly brings to life the kind of low-rent carnivals that once entertained audiences with so-called human oddities, people who were often just disabled or marginalized. However exploitative, these shows provided performers with wages and homes, a community like the one immortalized in Tod Browning’s scandalous 1932 film “Freaks,” a favorite of del Toro’s. The attraction to outsider realms like the one immortalized in that film runs deep for del Toro; if nothing else, movie shoots are themselves nomadic tribes of a kind.Whatever his reasons, del Toro adores his monsters, and he’s right at home in the carnival, which he dotes on lovingly. He puts his frequent collaborator Ron Perlman in strongman tights, turns up the amperage on Willem Dafoe’s cadaverous smile and gives Collette time and space to leave an impression. Collette’s scenes with Cooper send out electric sparks, generating heat that briefly takes the chill off Stan and draws you to him. Their scenes also give Cooper a chance to flesh out the character, a mystery that unravels scene by scene. You miss Colette when her character exits, which happens all too fast because Stan has other places to go and more people to cheat.As del Toro peers into the carnival’s corners, he also folds in one of the movie’s recurring motifs: eyes. “Nightmare Alley” turns on the logic of the visible: what Stan sees and doesn’t, what patrons (you included) see and don’t. In the carnival (and in movies), seeing is believing, including in illusions, yet at what cost? Early on, Stan stumbles into an attraction decorated with eyes, an echo of Salvador Dalí’s designs for the Hitchcock film “Spellbound.” Later, when Stan develops his mentalist act, he wears a blindfold decorated with a single eye, evoking the Cyclops Boy. By the time he meets a shrink, Dr. Lilith Ritter (Blanchett), it is obvious that what Stan can never really see is himself.Del Toro is a world builder, but he can have a tough time bringing his creations to life, which is the case here despite the hard work of his fine cast. The carnival is diverting, and del Toro’s fondness for its denizens helps put a human face on these putative freaks. But once he’s finished with the preliminaries, he struggles to make the many striking parts cohere into a living, breathing whole. It’s as if, after opening his cabinet of curiosities, he expected you to continue gazing appreciatively at his collection of wonders alongside him. And while it is a nice display — everything gleams, having been lovingly polished and repolished — it’s also inert, more museological than cinematic.The problem is that this display is in service to a drama that needs narrative tension and modulation to fully work. The scenes with Lilith are particularly crucial in this respect, and also where the movie’s already logy pulse slows to a crawl. It’s no surprise that Blanchett makes quite the spectacle — she doesn’t walk and sit, she slinks and drapes — yet the performance is so mannered and self-consciously indebted to noir sirens of the past that you can almost see the quote marks framing it. In theory, Lilith should be a sharp foil for Stan. But she isn’t a character, she is a cineaste’s nostalgic plaything, and like too much of this movie she is less bathed in del Toro’s love than embalmed in it.Nightmare AlleyRated R for bloody violence. Running time: 2 hours 30 minutes. In theaters. More