Scene Stealers Tagged Articles at Cinematical

Most American audiences know Chiwetel from his small part in Love Actually; he played the groom to Keira Knightley's blinding ultra-white toothy smile. Americans who don't know him from that probably know him from playing the antagonist in Serenity, where he almost single-handedly managed to outshine Nathan Fillion and crew. He played the lead in last year's Sundance hit Kinky Boots, where he literally walked away with the entire film. If you haven't seen Kinky Boots, I can't recommend it enough, last year I found myself liking it despite the predictable storyline and the hit-you-over-the-head message. This guy has so much charisma that he should be marketing and selling what's left over.

Although classically trained as a Shakespearean actor in the UK, his first film role was in Spielberg's 1997 Amistad. Since then he's also been seen in Dirty Pretty Things, She Hate Me, Four Brothers and Melinda and Melinda. He had four major film roles in 2005, and so far this year he's been in both Inside Man and Children of Men, which isn't too shabby. He has four big projects lined up in 2007, including two that pair him with Don Cheadle, and he can be seen in HBO's Tsunami: The Aftermath on Sunday, December 10.

Chiwetel ("Chewie," to his friends and Han Solo) is one of those actors who can be difficult to describe. He really has a commanding screen presence, but he doesn't have the forced "I'm the star!" quality of someone like Russell Crowe. He's more quiet and imposing without chewing up the scenery. He's played both a a cross-dressing drag queen (is that redundant? Like, a drag queen who dresses like a man? I think I just confused myself) and an interstellar bounty hunter in equally convincing and different manners. It's hard to be the Scene Stealer when you're not someone who tries to completely fill the screen with your presence, like Alan Rickman and Parker Posey do pretty well, but Chiwetel (I know that sounds like I'm on a first-name basis with the guy, but it sounded better than typing Ejiofor over and over) pulls it off in every role he's been in so far. Here's hoping he'll keep his streak running.

Besides, when's the last time we've been rooting for someone named Chewie that wasn't covered in fur?

There's not a single frame in James Cameron's Aliens that I don't love. (OK, there's ONE scene from the director's cut that really irks me (it has to do with hamsters), but why nitpick?) I love the music, the sound effects, the script, the brilliant (practical!) effects, the pace, the tone, the mood ... Hell, I could probably watch this movie four times a year and never get sick of the thing. (And get this: I think the original Alien is even better!)

Fresh off of The Terminator, James Cameron employed a powerful new weapon for his first big-budget* flick, and that weapon was The Ensemble. After only a few short scenes you could identify the players: By-the-book Lt. Gorman, oily company man Carter Burke, quietly creepy "synthetic" Bishop, tough-as-nails Vasquez, cigar-chompin' Sgt. Apone, and the quietly noble Corporal Hicks. Toss this crew behind Sigourney Weaver's Ripley and a little girl called Newt, and you've got yourself one helluva platoon. Having read the Alan Dean Foster Aliens novelization, I even know the difference between Ferro, Dietrich, Crowe, Spunkmeyer and Wierzbowski! (* Produced in 1985, Aliens cost less than $20 million to create. Think about that.)

Ah yes, I did forget someone. Good ol' Private Hudson. He starts out as your typical alpha male, a swaggering braggart with more guts than brains ... but when the mayhem gets underway, Bill Paxton's Pvt. Hudson becomes a stand-in for you, the viewer. He whines and blusters and cries and complains as the endless waves of aliens come storming in; he basically does what you or I would do in the exact same situation: Misery, denial, plain old panic. But Paxton, a damn solid actor even twenty years ago, knew how dangerously close this character came to being plain old obnoxious, so he brings an eye-rolling, quick-tempered bravado to the role -- and almost manages to steal the whole damn movie.

I don't think it's a stretch to say that Thelma Ritter was a genius of sorts. Nondescript in appearance, middle-aged, sporting a constantly-irritated expression and the kind of Brooklyn accent actors are no longer allowed to have, she spent her entire career stealing both scenes and entire films -- Rear Window, Pillow Talk, The Misfits, The Mating Season, etc. etc. etc. -- from glamorous, big-name stars. She stole them, however, not through hamminess or attention-getting ticks. Instead, she was simply so real, and so convincing that it was impossible to meet her on screen, and then forget her. Once spotted, we instantly want to know everything about her character: Where is she from? Does she live alone? Why is she so pissed off? Or, alternately, why does she pretend to be so pissed-off when we know her heart is broken?

Ritter was nominated for six best supporting actress awards, including nominations four years in a row between 1950 (All About Eve) and 1953 (Pickup on South Street). The fact that she never won is somehow fitting for an actress whose career was built on of unappreciated characters, but if you watch Sam Fuller's Pickup on South Street, you'll realize that it's also a crime. In the film, Ritter plays a small-time crook named Moe. She looks and acts like she's about 400-years-old, worn down by the street, and the daily tedium of survival. One of her friends, Skip (played by an unusually subdued Richard Widmark), has gotten them both into big trouble, and the two grab a safe moment together in an all-night diner. The scene is a wonder to behold, and Ritter is glorious. Every day of Moe's life is etched on her face, and the resignation in her voice somehow lets us see every single day of her grinding, hard-scrabble life. There's no weeping or gnashing of teeth here, simply an adult letting her guard down for a second, in quiet a moment of shared regret. Ritter lost that year to Donna Reed in From Here to Eternity; I like to think that, knowing the truth, she just laughed.

I haven't ever been able to actually prove it, but I swear I remember hearing, many moons ago, that the Tim Matheson role in Animal House was originally written with Chevy Chase in mind. Now, considering how slick, smooth, and smarmy "Otter" is throughout the flick, I don't find that very hard to believe. And while I'd love to see how Chevy Chase would have fit into the Animal House ensemble, I don't know how much I'd love a version of Animal House that doesn't feature Tim Matheson.

One of the undeniable classics of modern Hollywood comedy, Animal House packs a lot of familiar faces and memorable characters into the mix. Peter Riegert's "Boon" is a silver-tongued nice-guy; James Widdoes' "Hoover" strikes a great balance between maturity and childishness; Stephen Furst's "Flounder" is a lovably chubby dork; Tom Hulce's "Pinto" makes for a solid 'reference point' for an audience member ... I could go on an on: John Vernon's hilariously evil dean, Mark Metcalf's absurdly obnoxious jerk, Bruce McGill's profanely inscrutible troublemaker, and (of course) John Belushi's maniacally entertaining party animal. (And that's not even including names like Karen Allen, Donald Sutherland, Verna Bloom, and young Kevin Bacon!)