Benedict Cumberbatch successfully reveals the heart behind the brilliant mind, troubled socialization, and tragic end of Alan Turing. It's remarkable how Cumberbatch so easily proves that both the fictional Sherlock Holmes, a character once dubbed a "machine" by his best friend, and the very real Turing, who asks the police detective investigating him to give him the Turing test (to determine AI), are so movingly, memorably human. The characters also have nothing in common--Cumberbatch, contrary to what some reviews suggest, is not playing Turing as a Holmes cousin.
This week I saw The Imitation Game for the second, but far from last time. During the first viewing, at the Toronto International Film Festival, I was excited to see a new, much-hyped film and buoyed by an audience of several hundred who cheered, gasped, and cried largely because of their immersion into Cumberbatch's performance. This time I went on a weekday morning in a much smaller U.S. city. Because I've written books, academic papers, and popular articles or reviews about this actor's work, his performances have become part of my ongoing popular culture research. In short, I primarily went to this second screening to see Cumberbatch.
However, I was disappointed--about ten minutes into the film, during Turing's interview at Bletchley Park, I realized that I had forgotten about Cumberbatch. I know--realizing that I'd forgotten about the actor means that I remembered to concentrate on the actor--but once the film began, I immediately had been drawn into the story and forgotten about the "technical side" of the portrayal. Even though I knew the plot (from reading biographies) and had already seen the film, I lost myself in the movie. I got to know the film version of Alan Turing, and I empathized completely with him. I may have come to the cinema to see Cumberbatch, but I became deeply invested in Turing and emotionally involved with the story. I didn't see Cumberbatch, the man or the celebrity, much less any of his other characters, on screen--the performance alone drew me in and held my attention for the nearly two-hour run time. Only afterward, when I mentally replayed scenes and returned to analyzing them, did I understand why the performance moved me. In the cinema, I felt instead of thought, reacted instead of analyzed.
I hope that I will always relate to Benedict Cumberbatch's performances that way--to see the character instead of the actor on screen or stage when I relax into my seat in a darkened theater.
Much of the time, once an actor becomes famous and can carry a film or a television series, I may like the character or story but am well aware of my split viewing. I simultaneously watch the character and analyze the actor's portrayal. I much prefer, on a first viewing, to enjoy the story and later to analyze the mechanics of the performance or production. However, with an actor's increased celebrity, the distinction between character and actor is more difficult to overcome. George Clooney is a good example. I like to watch George Clooney in a movie--I like his smile or smirk, his easy confidence, and the way he can drop his chin to look sincerely into the eyes of another character (and the audience) to convince him/her/us of the sincerity of what he is about to say. But I know every moment that I'm watching George Clooney playing a character, and I think of the mannerisms being Clooney's as much as the character's. It's not that Clooney isn't a believable actor or doesn't play different types of characters, but his celebrity and star power outshine his performance. I may have liked The Descendants or (probably more than most) The Monuments Men because of the story, but I went in knowing that I would see a George Clooney movie, and that perception colored my viewing experience.
At this point in his career, and during this Oscar campaign, Benedict Cumberbatch may be at a "Clooney-esque" tipping point for many of his fans. Certainly his (and Harvey Weinstein's) promotion of The Imitation Game have made not only the Academy voters but a huge portion of the Western world's film audiences aware that Cumberbatch stars and is in almost every scene. Early in the campaign, Cumberbatch determinedly directed every interview back to Turing, not his performance or personal life, and he successfully made potential audiences (back in November) aware of the film's subject matter and the significance of Alan Turing.
Although the announcement of Cumberbatch's engagement often redirected conversation toward the actor's private rather than professional life, focusing on Cumberbatch more than the film itself was a practical, effective strategy. The film is good, but it is not perfect. (I tested my reaction to the structure of the film with those of viewers in Toronto after the screening and with friends sitting around chatting on New Year's--not the most scientific research, but an approach that gave me insights other than my own.) The framing story surrounding the criminal investigation of Turing still seems a bit forced--difficult for some viewers to understand because of the time jump from present to past and back again or awkward in the sense that a man defined by the secrets he kept would reveal them so readily to a detective. As well, the issue of Turing being blackmailed into keeping quiet about a Russian spy undermines the character's heroism. Thus, the performances--and the film's impetus to make more people aware of Turing--are the primary reasons to see The Imitation Game, and among a strong cast (especially Keira Knightley and Mark Strong), Cumberbatch stands out.
Now, in the final days before Academy Award nominations are revealed, the campaign is emphasizing Turing once again. The campaign, like the movie's structure, has come full circle with the spotlight returning on the movie's subject matter instead of the actors. Whatever happens with the Oscars--and Cumberbatch and Knightley already have received numerous nominations, from the Hollywood Foreign Press and Screen Actors Guild, for example--the performances make this movie and should be recognized ahead of the film itself. I don't think that Turing's significance will be lost if the actor who portrays him on film receives an Oscar nom or wins several awards this season.
What sold me, on second viewing, about Cumberbatch's performance is his voice and eyes. Yes, of course, his physical mannerisms, such as a tilted head-forward walk, a primly set mouth, or a runner's punishing pounding of a country road, are impressive and important in creating the character, and clips shown during awards presentations likely will focus on the final pivotal scene between Turing and Clarke featuring Cumberbatch's heartbreaking embodiment of a weakened Turing. However, scene to scene, especially on a big screen, Turing's eyes explain exactly what is going on in his mind. When he impulsively proposes to Joan, audiences see the moment that idea is born because Turing's eyes lock and light up when he draws the conclusion that marriage is a logical action. When, in a later scene, Turing realizes that the detective cannot/will not help him avoid prosecution, his eyes deaden in resignation. Cumberbatch is well known for his brilliance in conveying a character's inner life, and Turing is an exceptional example.
During the U.S. publicity jaunt in November, Cumberbatch chatted with Jon Stewart about the film. Stewart significantly commented on the actor's stutter, which was true to Turing's. However, instead of just noting this aspect of the performance, Stewart astutely emphasized that most stutterers "bounce" on a consonant, whereas Turing most often stutters on a vowel (e.g., in "and"), something that is much more difficult to do. As well, Cumberbatch effectively changes pitch and cadence as Turing--a much higher voice and precise, if atypical, emphasis on words in sentences. Often the most emotional, halting statements are accompanied by rapid blinking, or Turing's eyes sliding away to focus on something other than the person to whom he is speaking. These "minutiae" of characterization help audiences empathize with Turing--and illustrate the actor's ability to get audiences to suspend disbelief. This performance encourages fans to become immersed in Turing's story rather than to gaze adoringly at a favorite actor.
That's why I think that Rotten Tomatoes, as of the time I'm writing this blog, lists a 90% critics' approval rating of The Imitation Game but, perhaps more important for box office and Cumberbatch's career, 95% audience approval (i.e., Liked it). When I first wrote about The Imitation Game, I worried how it would compete during the holiday (and awards-nomination) season against a seemingly similar British biopic, The Theory of Everything, as well as high drama from Unbroken and the joy of a holiday musical, Into the Woods, starring Meryl Streep, a perennial audience and critics' favorite. As of today, The Imitation Game is eighth among the top U.S. box office draws. Both times I've seen the film, the audience has reacted vocally--they are involved with the characters and vicariously sharing the experience. As in Toronto, the Florida midmorning audience laughed, gasped loud enough I could hear the response rows away, and caught their breath more than once. I haven't seen this consistent audience reaction to a drama for a very long time. When I asked my friends what they thought, they loved the film and uniformly praised Cumberbatch--and they aren't particularly Cumberbatch fans.
As a film critic, I recommend this movie, but not for the usual reasons. It's not perfectly executed, highly controversial, or mind boggling. It's not a "feel-good" film, but it can be inspiring. Its story is timely (or perhaps long overdue). Its score is amazing in conveying emotion and providing a soaring main theme. However, the film is worthwhile because of the performances, especially Benedict Cumberbatch's, but don't go to the movies just to see a "Cumberbatch film". Go to become immersed in The Imitation Game and invested in Alan Turing. I'm looking forward to doing that yet again and hoping that the film finally arrives at more cinemas closer to home.
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