#the experiment was if the human liaison could take two spikes at once

[rungssparemodelpieces]

Perceptor, Brainstorm, and human walking into meeting

Brainstorm: “Sorry about the tardiness, we were doing experiments.”

Human, looking all razzled up and smirking: “I’m experiments.”

[letterboxd]

Watching John Malkovich.

To understand better why Letterboxd members set out on quests to watch specific actors’ entire filmographies, we invited Tim Rod to describe her dangerous and seductive journey through John Malkovich’s screen history.

For many film lovers, 2020 has been a year of catching up: on franchises, on directors’ filmographies, on historical gaps and top 100s. But for some Letterboxd members, the year indoors has been an opportunity to hyper-focus on a single actor and their work.

Jeremiah Lambert is on a Bacon Fest, Naked Airplane has embarked on a wild ride through the works of De Niro, Hackman, Hoffman, Nicholson and Pacino. Joey is preparing for next year’s centennial of The Kid by churning through Charlie Chaplin’s catalog (with David Robinson’s biography Chaplin: His Life and Art in hand). A quick Twitter survey found others churning through a performer selection as wide-ranging as Burt Lancaster, Parker Posey, Maggie Smith, Nicolas Cage, Cary Grant, Kevin Costner, Robin Williams, Adèle Haenel, Alan Arkin, Sam Rockwell and a Seth Rogen thirst project.

It can be a bumpy journey. In one performer’s oeuvre the quality will range widely, the genres too. But the rewards are many in a close study of craft, and there are revelations, whether it’s that Australia’s Miranda Otto deserves more recognition, or it’s “the total acceptance, lack of judgment, and vulnerability with which Alan Arkin has played so many of his flawed and wonderful characters”.

With Christian Bale in ‘Empire of the Sun’ (1987).

In 2020, no fewer than three movies and two television series starring John Malkovich have been released: Arkansas, Valley of the Gods and Ava, as well as The New Pope and Space Force. The legendary actor has kept himself busy, and I know this because I have seen most of his filmography—41 films and two series—in the span of a single month. I adore Malkovich, always have, and I came out of this experience with a deeper admiration for him, and with some thoughts about his unique, remarkable skills as an actor. (And, I had a really good time.)

Allow me to begin by saying that John Malkovich is the best part of every movie he is in. No matter the movie, Malkovich will always steal the spotlight, and he can turn a good movie into a masterpiece, or an average movie that wouldn’t catch anyone’s attention into one worth watching, if only to see him do his thing.

He’s starred in movies that are considered masterpieces by many: Being John Malkovich (1999), The Killing Fields (1984) and Empire of the Sun (1987). Movies that may be considered the opposite of masterpieces, like Supercon (2018), Eragon (2006) and the most recent Ava (2020), and he’s also starred in some gems that I knew nothing about but am glad to have discovered, such as The Convent (1995), Eleni (1985) and The Ogre (1996). Malkovich has brought to life iconic characters including Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, Tom Ripley, Hercule Poirot (in BBC’s The ABC Murders), the artist Gustav Klimt, and several of David Lynch’s people, in the short film Psychogenic Fugue (2016).

As Mitch Leary in ‘In the Line of Fire’ (1993).

Malkovich has received two Academy Award nominations, for Places in the Heart (1984), in which he played Edna’s lodger, the solitary yet kind Mr. Will, and for In the Line of Fire (1993), where he played the complete opposite: the psychotic Mitch Leary, determined to kill the President of the United States. Though Malkovich is not a classic action-film actor, his work in that genre is driven by logic, intellect and emotion, and the delicacy that he employs to challenge concepts of masculinity and keep us guessing. His soft and collected voice threatening Clint Eastwood over the phone is scarier and more effective than a deeper one would have been.

That voice. Malkovich has admitted that he hates the sound of it, that he would always avoid listening to it, just like so many actors avoid watching their own films, but I’m bewitched by his voice and I could never get enough of it. It can be tender, sweet and calming, seductive when the role requires it, and terrifying. With that versatility, it’s not surprising that he has done some narrating work as well, for films including Paul Newman’s The Glass Menagerie (1987) and Alive (1993).

Malkovich is at his best when seduction and villainy combine, as they do in Dangerous Liaisons (1988). Vicomte Sébastien de Valmont has been performed by many actors over the years, but I find Malkovich’s take to be the most memorable and exquisite. He captures perfectly the depravity and evilness of Valmont, but also the nuances, his journey from womanizer to man genuinely in love and, ultimately, his tragic redemption. He even brings a comedic aspect to the character that adds more depth and dimension.

With Glenn Close in ‘Dangerous Liaisons’ (1988).

Valmont is an awful human being, a monster even, and yet, every time I watch this movie, I find myself fascinated by his mastery of the deception, his sensuality and complete control of the situation, until the situation is “beyond his control”. In her review of the film, Catherine Stebbins calls John Malkovich “a sexual force of nature”, and I completely agree. If you want to see more of Malkovich’s sensual side, other notable mentions include The Sheltering Sky (1990), The Object of Beauty (1991) and Beyond the Clouds (1995).

And then there’s Being John Malkovich (1999), in which ‘John Horatio Malkovich’ displays so many facets of his craft. The fictionalized Malkovich is possessed by different characters, one of them a woman. Catherine Keener’s character falls in love with a subtly different version of Malkovich, when he is a vessel for Lotte (Cameron Diaz). Even though Lotte doesn’t have full control of Malkovich, he uses his femininity to bring the character-inside-the-character to center stage, delivering a subtle-yet-perfect performance. Even when we don’t see Lotte, we know she’s there.

John Malkovich as John Horatio Malkovich possessed by Lotte, in ‘Being John Malkovich’ (1999).

Not many actors could pull this off as brilliantly as John Malkovich does. To be fair, not many actors have been given the chance that Spike Jonze and Charlie Kaufman gave Malkovich: a film with his own name in the title.

I’ve discussed some of the most well-known of Malkovich’s performances, but I’d like to mention an overlooked one that I found heartbreaking and noteworthy. I didn’t know of the existence of The Ogre (1996) until I took a closer look at Malkovich’s filmography. It’s not without its flaws, but I found myself absorbed in the fairy-tale story of Abel, a naïve French prisoner of war who is taken to Nazi Germany and used to recruit children for Hitler’s Youth. Once again, the actor’s duality is on display, as Evan writes in his Letterboxd review: “Malkovich is both queasy and endearing as the (ig)noble simp who just wants to save the babies.” The Ogre tells a tragic story, but thanks to Malkovich’s tenderness, we can’t help but have sympathy for his character. At times it reminded me of the innocence of Lennie in Of Mice and Men (1992), another of the actor’s more noteworthy performances.

One of Malkovich’s great contributions to cinema is elevating an average movie just by being in it. One such role is as English conman Alan Conway in the bizarre true story, Colour Me Kubrick (2005). Malkovich admitted in an interview that he thought his performance was good, and I agree. If there’s one reason to watch that film, it’s to see Malkovich playing an eccentric conman who poses as Stanley Kubrick, using different voices and accents. As TajLV writes, “if there were anything to commend this film other than Malkovich, I’d happily rate it higher”.

As Alan Conway in ‘Colour Me Kubrick’ (2005).

One fun fact: I sometimes forget John Malkovich is American. Maybe it’s because he has starred in many European productions—out of the 41 films I watched, 18 were European. Malkovich is of European descent, has lived in France for a decade and speaks fluent French, which allowed him to star as the mysterious Baron de Charlus in Time Regained (1999), with entirely French dialogue. He also delivers lines in French and Portuguese in A Talking Picture (2003) by Manoel de Oliveira.

You’ve probably heard Malkovich use words, expressions and even entire lines of French dialogue on more than one occasion. He does this often, which gives him a certain European vibe, consistent with his own character, mannerisms and dress sense—elements that he sometimes brings to his characters. Maybe that’s the reason he has played so many intellectuals and artists: professors, scientists, detectives, painters, writers, a scientist and a robot, and even the Pope… It seems there’s nothing John Malkovich can’t do, including directing.

To end my marathon, I watched his directorial debut, The Dancer Upstairs (2002), an assured movie adapted from a novel about the Maoist uprising in Peru in the 1980s, starring Javier Bardem. It was a nice surprise, and a strong start to what could have been a career as a film director, if not for the fact that he doesn’t have the patience to do it again. I recently read an interview where Edgar Wright revealed advice he always gives to directors, which is to make their second movie the one that will define them. I wonder if we will ever see John Malkovich’s second film, but for now, I hope he keeps gifting us with more unforgettable performances. At least we know that in the distant future, along with all the movies he has already appeared in, people will enjoy a never-seen-before performance when Robert Rodríguez’s short 100 years is released in 2115.

If there’s one thing I have learnt after watching most of his filmography, it’s that John Malkovich is one of the best and most versatile actors of our time, with the most unique voice I have heard in cinema, and with a rich filmography that encompasses every genre. And he’s not only a brilliant actor, but also someone I find personally fascinating. I truly find comfort in him. I hope we all get to enjoy his art for years to come, because his talent is limitless and I know he still has so much more to give. John Malkovich deserves all the praise for being a force of nature in the theater and film industry for over 40 years.

Tim is a Letterboxd member based in Spain, who has recently moved on from her John Malkovich marathon to a Sacha Baron Cohen quest.

[slamncram]

As Careful and Precise as Our Fate

Because I can, I wrote Steph giftfic for our anniversary. We have a Domesticverse for Fitzward that we’ve been building since about January of 2014, and that continues to grow. I wanted to write something in that verse, because it’s the original, and the one that started everything off. Our Homebase-AU, if you will.

So, without further ado…

When Grant thinks back on what Leo’s hands did the first time they met, he can’t entirely believe that those same hands are in his, a gold band shining on one.

[Also on ao3]

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When Grant first met Leo, one of the first things the other did was take the communicator unit from his hands. That was, probably, the first time Grant noticed them.

Leo was – is – an engineer. He worked with his hands. It was what he did, and because of it, his hands were skilled, controlled and careful. There was no difference in the skill and care that they used in taking the communicator from him or in smashing it, perhaps only the level of force. If he hadn’t been so thrown off by the sight of this slight, Scottish Sci-Ops agent destroying his brand-new equipment – while his lab partner forcibly swabbed his mouth – he might have taken the time to notice the elegance of those hands then.

Of course, they do always say that hindsight is 20/20.

That was the first time that they’d met. Grant had heard of Leo. Leo Fitz and Jemma Simmons. Two of the youngest graduates of SHIELD Academy to date, brilliant minds, and a duo to be reckoned with. In the early days, Grant was assured that the reckoning would only come in the form of extreme annoyance. The two of them could be freaky, in a Doublemint Twins kind of way, now and then. That didn’t account for the way they went into the field; she, bright-eyed and ready, he with a level of trepidation and uncertainty that seemed wise until it got in the way of Grant doing his job.

Grant specifically remembered being in Peru, and glaring at Leo while he barely managed not to tear his hair out with those hands, calling Grant ‘mad’ for expediting the removal of an 084 in the middle of a firefight. He remembered, later that day, glancing behind him to see those same hands gripping thankfully to a post in their barely saved Mobile Command Center, blue eyes hidden behind lids closed in an expression of bone-deep relief.

It was after that mission in Peru that Grant started to reassess his idea of Leo Fitz and Jemma Simmons.

How could he not? They really were brilliant, and brave, in their own ways. There was no way to deny how drawn in he was, how lured by the two of them. What had started as grudging acceptance soon turned to actual fondness.

And in his bunk, the night after the South Ossetia mission, that fondness, for one of them, turned to something more.

Maybe Grant had never really looked at himself that deep. There was always something to occupy his time, and the default setting had always seemed the easier path to follow. It didn’t change that when Leo’s hands curled in the front of his t-shirt, and then pulled him into a hug, fingers spread against his shoulder blade, he didn’t understand what that heavier, deeper feeling was. All he had known, at the time, was that he wanted to chase it. He needed to chase it. There was something about it that was so addictive, so attractive, and he couldn’t let it go. He wouldn’t.

Their team had been pulled back to New York. Coulson was needed more there, as the Avengers’ Liaison, and it was time that Earth’s Mightiest knew the truth. They had all accepted it, in turn. Leaving the Bus behind, but having left her desk job first, May was free to fly agents of all levels and divisions all over the globe for missions. She would go dark for weeks at a time, only to resurface, usually along with a brigade of agents telling stories that only added to her legend.

Not that she ever encouraged them. Grant was sure that he’d heard more agents told off than thanked for their praise.

Basing the team in New York, in the new, more public SHIELD headquarters, was a big move for a lot of them. Jemma and Leo went back to their jobs as Sci-Ops agents, and Grant was kept as a Specialist in the city, helping to deal with the spike in individuals hell-bent on disturbing the carefully held together peace that had fallen in the wake of the Battle of New York. Skye, with her newly minted SHIELD trainee badge, continued learning how to be a field operative, while putting to use her skills with computers. Her wildly impressive skills, as it would turn out.

Life had changed, but it had also stayed the same, in some ways.

For Grant, that feeling that had settled in his chest the night that Leo had hugged him and restated that he’d meant every word he’d said in that warehouse in South Ossetia, had stayed. It hadn’t weakened, or dissipated, had not given a single indication that it might, someday, go away. It wouldn’t have been so bad, if it hadn’t scared him. If he hadn’t been in the middle of briefing a superior over the phone about a severed hand left with a local, SHIELD-connected musician, and heard Skye ask if he’d talked to Leo recently, and immediately tuned out his superior, keen on news about the engineer. If he hadn’t felt inexplicably drawn to the Scot, any time he gave the slightest indication that he might be open to Grant’s company.

The two of them were alone on Valentine’s Day, with a free evening, and Skye and Jemma having a ‘girl’s night’ that both of them knew wasn’t nearly as uncomplicated as it seemed. There seemed nothing complicated about what they did, either, but, when Grant looked back on it now, he wondered if that was the first time he’d really asked Leo on a date.

That, or the night he invited him to his apartment for a meal cooked entirely by Grant himself.

Or the night Leo had invited him over to allow Grant to truly introduce him to Game of Thrones.

That night was the catalyst for nearly everything that Grant should have seen coming since South Ossetia. That night, when he’d stood in Leo’s bathroom, and stared at his own reflection, he’d truly grasped something about himself for the first time, and the reality of it had been terrifying. It had turned everything slightly sideways, given it all a light and tilt that it hadn’t had before. It hadn’t been bad, but it had been different, and while Grant was adaptable to change, the sheer scale of it, and of what he was realizing about himself, had been a lot to take.

That was one of the times that it had been damn good to have Skye around. She hadn’t been willing to pull the punches when it came to reminding him that, despite what some could hope, sexuality was fairly fluid. She hadn’t coddled him when he’d told her how being with Leo made him feel; there had been no hesitation when she’d stated that Grant’s fondness for him went beyond the brotherly affection he had for herself and Jemma.

And armed with that, more at peace with that heavy feeling in his chest, Grant had felt more ready to tackle what stood before him. Namely, Leo Fitz, and every little thing about him that drove Grant crazy.

That, of course, had been approximately when Madam Masque had made her move.

Hell-bent on getting a rise out of the most notable Avenger in the ranks, she’d snatched up an unassuming SHIELD agent, and when she was done, Leo was in a hospital bed, with a thankfully not broken jaw, and angry red welts on his arms, chest, and those skilled, beautiful hands. Leo had woken up in a hospital bed, and those hands had clung to Grant, begging him not to leave, not to go, and Grant, who hadn’t planned on it, had stayed.

It hadn’t taken much more to break down Grant’s flimsy hesitation.

He still remembered the feeling of those hands – barely healed from the attack – pulling him in, holding him close while they kissed. He remembered lacing his fingers with Leo’s, and smiling at him in a bed Leo had barely fit into an alcove in his little apartment. He remembered Leo’s hands rubbing against his hair, and the sound of his laugh, when he’d managed to bang his head against those closed-in walls the first time they’d made love.

They hadn’t lasted long for SHIELD, after that. New York was getting more and more dangerous every day, but more and more people were cropping up with powers and abilities that far outdid anything that Grant could do with a gun when it came to super-villains. After what had happened with Madam Masque, neither of them were keen to keep playing bait – or human shield – for people with grudges, focused on getting to the Avengers. Before the incident with Masque, Grant’s own run-in, with his old partner, had left him with a dislocated collarbone. The two of them had seen enough of each other in hospital beds.

And they had something, now.

There was a lot to protect, working with SHIELD. It was important, and it was good, selfless work. The issue that came up was that they had things to feel selfish about, now.

Each other.

The idea of losing one another, after what they had come through, after the realization Grant had finally opened himself up to, was beyond consideration.

They had been standing in the wind atop of Eiffel Tower, on a well-earned vacation, when Leo had held out his hand, and proposed the idea. They had a wealth of experience between them, and SHIELD paid well. Very few agents left through retirement. Many less than the number that left through body bags.

Taking Leo’s hand, Grant had agreed.

They weren’t going to add to the total of those who left in the usual way.

Settling down with a house and a dog in Washington state had never once been something that Grant had expected to find in his future. He had expected more of the same; firefights, espionage, missions in deep cover in foreign countries.

He hadn’t expected early mornings, kissing Leo awake and leaving him to get his bearings, only to have two curious hands announce his presence in the shower minutes later. He hadn’t expected nights sharing popcorn bowls and talking about their days. He hadn’t counted on goodbye kisses in the morning while Leo pinned on his NASA badge, and hello kisses at night when Grant hung up his FBI jacket. There had been no plan for weekends spent on hours-long hikes with the dog.

The domestic life had not once been something that he’d expected he would suit, or that he would get. SHIELD didn’t have much of an allowance for it, and there was nothing in his life but SHIELD.

But that, really, had been before that morning on the Bus, when Leo had taken his communicator from him, and those skilled, practiced, careful hands had smashed it to pieces, much like Grant’s resistance to what Skye and Jemma insisted was fate.

Grant’s fate had been sealed long before those hands did other things.

He’d been caught in its clutches long before Leo’s hands had pulled him into that calming, sweet hug in his bunk. Long before he’d lifted his beer bottle against Grant’s in the steakhouse on Valentine’s day.

Fate had a hold on Grant months before Leo laid in a hospital bed, his injured hand curled around Grant’s sleeve, keeping him there. Its claws had been in him for a long time before Grant had kissed the dull red spot on Leo’s palm, gentle and more loving than their platonic feelings had been able to account for.

Grant had been unarguably been fate’s plaything before they’d shared their first desperate kiss in an elevator, before they’d messed up Leo’s bed and probably bothered his neighbours. Before Leo had climbed into his lap in the middle of a play-off hockey game and distracted him until Grant took him to bed, bolstered by his team’s victory, but eager to give Leo what he’d wanted for the entire last period.

Grant had gladly given himself over to fate months before he’d spread Leo out on the bed in their new home, and undone him careful and slow. Fate had owned him for a very, very long time by the time Grant had lost count of how many times he’d felt Leo’s fingers carding through his hair before tensing and pulling when he arched and whimpered ‘don’t stop, don’t you dare stop now’.

There was no doubt in Grant’s mind that he and Leo were both prizes of fate the evening he’d been down on one knee in the sand at sunset, sliding a ring onto Leo’s finger, and feeling the warmth and surety of Leo’s ‘yes’ burrowing deep in his soul.

It that had never bothered him. He had never been able to see the future. He wasn’t gifted in that way, but he’d always maintained that he knew some things were meant to be.

Watching the gold wink at him from Leo’s left hand as they laced their fingers together and stood in the moonlight at the edge of their backyard, he knew that this was one of them.

“What are you thinking about?” Leo asked, moving in to settle against his chest, breathing him in. It was late. They’d gotten home from the restaurant a long time ago, but the warm night had brought them out here, talking, sharing kisses, and sharing smiles, for nearly an hour.

“Not much.” Grant answered, smiling and running his thumb over Leo’s. “Mostly about how you’ve changed my life. For the better, obviously.”

Leo snorted, pulling back to look up at him. “I should certainly hope for the better.”

“Mm.” Grant turned Leo’s hand in his, rubbing his thumb over the thick gold band on his third finger. “I’m pretty sure it’s for the better.” Pulling his gaze away from Leo’s hand and the ring that matched his own, he looked down, returning the soft, warm smile Leo was giving him, and feeling that warm, heavy feeling in his chest.

He knew its name, now. He had known for a while. Before they’d ever left New York.

It was love.

“Happy anniversary.”