Laura wrote:I was not sure what to think of Clay being so reserved and quietly in charge. I DID expect him to be a much more dominant leader. He was clearly in charge, but there was a distance in him that I found disturbing. IF the loss of the children bothered him so much, where was the emotion??? He was upset about it, and the fact that the helicopter blew up, but it was so controlled. I knew that the teddy bear tat that Clay got was due to the little boy dying, but it did not come across that he was as upset as I thought it would. Maybe a leader has to be remote with his feelings.
For me, Laura, that was a large part of the
power of Jeff's portrayal of Clay. What you're interpreting as distance from his feelings is what I view to be the very crux of Jeff's unique and stunning capacity to portray men like John Winchester and Eddie Blake and Franklin Clay so convincingly that, as aware as I am that Jeff is playing them, I forget that Jeff is playing them. Forget they are being played at all. Forget they aren't real, mistake them as flesh-and-blood individuals rather than characters. And that's something only the best actors can accomplish, and even most of those (the best actors) can't accomplish it with men as subtle and emotionally combustive-and-yet-contained as John and Clay.
Military men (particularly black ops) don't respond to stress the way most do, and their emotional construct must be such that they don't feel/consider/fret over most of the collateral damage they inflict by virtue of doing their job the way it has to be done. If you'll recall, in one of the many, many, many toss-off brilliant details in the film, the cartel guys come out the door with guns on the girls in bikinis, and Clay, being the charmer he is, after removing the immediate danger to them, winks at them with a flirty "ladies" while they run off shrieking.
You remember that scene?
Now place it in the emotional context of the man Clay really is by remembering that Clay is only there to save the kids. Those girls in bikinis who appear to be nothing more than girls who are at a party on a rich man's estate? Those girls who aren't much older than the kids he's there to save, and who Clay took a half a moment to save from the bad guys who had guns on them? Those girls he winked at with a charming "Ladies" before going inside to get the kid he's after? Clay's already killed those girls. He killed them the moment he called in the air strike on the estate. He didn't come in to save them. They are collateral damage to his mission, and he's fine with that. Totally innocent teenagers at their uncle's pool party or molls for the cartel enforcers, he doesn't give a shit. Those girls are NOTHING to him. And every single one of them died when that bomb hit the compound. Just as Clay knew they would when he winked at them and said "Ladies."
THIS is the man Clay is. He is black ops to the BONE. The biggest suspension of disbelief required by the whole movie (
including the flaming Dukati flipping over his head and into the jet winshield) is that Clay would go in after those kids in the first place, risking the mission objective and leading his team on a suicide mission. Because no black ops guy would ever actually do something like that. If he were capable of doing that? He wouldn't be in black ops at all, let alone a Colonel in charge of his own team. But you suspend your disbelief on that point because the whole point of telling a story is to tell the story, and
this story is about American soldiers, and American soldiers don't kill kids. Period. Even when they do. They don't. Because they're American soldiers, dammit, and John Wayne simply does not DO shit like that. So in order to tell this story, and in order to be told this story, you must suspend your disbelief that a black ops team leader would risk his mission
and his team to go in after a bunch of kids he doesn't know simply because they are kids.
And part of the power of both the story they are telling and the character they are portraying Clay to be is that while they ask you to suspend your disbelief on this point, they don't ask you to suspend it enough to think he'd also be driven to get those girls he winks at out of the kill zone. They don't point it
out that he killed them by failing to save them, and he is so morally and emotionally indifferent to the reality of that fact that he can flirt with them four minutes before he ends them. But they do leave it there for you to see if you are watching. Because this is the man Clay is. He's black ops. He's wearing the black suit because, despite being the hero of the story, he is also the guy in the black hat. He's the archangel Gabriel who will burn the eyes right out of your head for daring to look upon him in his full glory not because you are wicked or you deserve it, but rather because he is a fucking archangel and has much bigger big-picture concerns than whether or not you get your eyes burned out of your head because you're in the wrong place at the wrong time, looking at the wrong guy.
And the power of Jeff's portrayal of this character? Starts really early on in the first scene. He cares that there are kids on site. He tries to call off the mission based on their presence, but his request is denied. He tries to sabotage the success of the mission, but fails. He throws the chain of command out the window and starts swinging his own stick in his own yard in an effort to stop this atrocity from happening, and again fails. These are all choices that require no suspension of disbelief to believe that a black ops Col might do this. They are all within the realm of believable behavior for a man of Clay's training and background and moral construct, and Jeff plays them that way.
Then you get to a place where you start having to suspend your disbelief, but they only ask you to do it in terms of how important he considers those kids in the kill zone. If Clay was indeed capable of caring as much about those kids getting killed simply because they are kids? Then everything he does in trying to save those kids is utterly believable. So the only suspension the movie asks of you is in believing that Clay would care that much about the kids getting killed on his watch. So you believe that, and you do so both because that is part of the pact you make in going to the movie in the first place -- you tell me a story, and I will do everything I can, within reason, to buy into the story you are telling me -- and because Jeff makes you WANT to believe it. So you believe it. And you're off.
You see the look in his eye when he tells Roque "plenty of time"? That's not "I care so much about those kids that I can't live with myself if they get killed." Instead, that's "I'm an adrenaline junkie and this sounds like my kind of fun ... and I can't live with myself if those kids get killed on my watch." So they're off. Balls to the wall head-on attack to save kids. And they get all but one. But Clay's not a "well, you only lost one" kind of guy. He's a winner. All or nothing. He can't leave that one kid there any more than he can leave all of them or it invalidates his entire reasons for going in to save all of them in the first place.
So he goes after that kid. He flirts with girls in bikinis he's already accepted as collateral damage to his mission without it bothering him in the slightest. He tells the drug dealer, give me the kid and I let you live, knowing the bomb is going to kill the drug dealer no matter what he does. It's a flat out lie, and who cares? He's the bad guy. Your word is only worth as much when given to him as his would be if it was given to you: meaning nothing. The drug dealer puts down the knife, and you kill him anyway.
All that plays like the man Clay is designed to be. Jeff plays it all as if Clay is not bothered for even a passing moment by any of it. He's almost having fun here. He's playing a game, and he's going to win. He's not going to save all the kids but one. He's going to win by saving them all. Period.
And he does. Game over. Bad guy dead. Kids safe. Chopper on the way to the LZ. Load the kids on the chopper. Every fairy tale has a happy ending. Kid being used as a drug mule by a drug cartel is still innocence personified enough to try and give Clay his teddy bear.
And this is where Jeff's flat out stunning instinct for and skill at playing this kind of character really kicks in. Because black ops bad ass adrenaline junkie wet works specialist gets offered a teddy bear? And he gruffs the importance of it off. "No thanks kid," he says with that "I'm a bad ass, but you can see underneath it all that I'm actually touched by this gesture" attitude. "You keep him safe for me." Kid salutes him. Chopper pulls away while badass looks properly badass while still showing just a wee sliver of being touched under all that badass.
Only Jeff doesn't go there. Jeff is down on that kid's level, lookin' him in the eyes, saying, "No, you keep him. You keep him safe for me, okay?" and the man he is, at that moment, in his expression and his eyes and his voice and his posture? Would totally have risked his mission and led his team on a suicide run to save this kid. This specific kid, who he doesn't know at all. And he wouldn't do it because it was the right thing to do. Or the heroic thing to do. Or the scripted thing to do. He would do it because this
is that man. The one who doesn't exist. The suspension of disbelief you were asked to make for the sake of buying into the sell proposition of the tickets you purchased to watch this is right there in front of you, on the screen, looking at that kid in a way that you 100% believe with every fiber of your jaded soul.
Here's the magic in movies. Dragons exist. Horses can fly. Pandora has tall blue chicks who can kick your video game avatar's ass. And black ops colonels can look at kids they've never met before like this kid right here, this specific kid, this individual kid is someone he would absolutely risk his mission and his team to save. No doubt about it. You can SEE it right there on the screen, in this man, and that makes it real.
So
now the chopper pulls away. Your heroes high five each other in victory. They have won. Saved 'em all. And just as those kids are one step short of living happily ever after, Jason comes surging up out of the lake and snatches their poor, doomed asses out of the boat and drags them under. You can
see it coming. Worse still,
they can see it coming. These heroes who just risked EVERYTHING to do the right thing for a bunch of kids they don't even know get just enough warning to know what's going to happen to those kids because those kids are one step short of salvation, but also one step beyond their reach to save.
And they lose it all. Boom. Because The Losers can't stop at a mostly-win by leaving those kids there in the jungle now that they're no longer at ground zero of an air strike. No, The Losers had to be The Winners by putting those kids on the chopper in their stead, so when that chopper gets RPGed into oblivion not because the kids are in it, but rather because The Losers are
supposed to be in it ...
Game over, man. Game over.
Everything they risked. Everything they sacrificed. Everything they won ... means nothing. Might as well not have bothered. A difference that makes no difference is no difference.
The only difference between sitting on that hill and watching their own jets drop a bomb right on top of those kids and standing there in the jungle watching an RPG blow up the chopper they put those kids on instead of getting on it themselves is that now they're fugitives from the same government they've been working for, been sacrificing everything for, their entire adult lives.
THIS is the Clay we watch for the rest of the movie. This man who not only snatched defeat from the jaws of victory at the cost of all those innocent lives, but who also led his team, who followed him without question because they trust him without reservation, right into the mouth of their own annihilation.
And he did it all for nothing. He lost everything, took everything away from the people most important to him, his team, for nothing. It's all his fault. The weight of every choice made is his. He led them to this. And now he's got absolutely no way to save them from it.
And just like it did with John Winchester, that level of loss and despair and emotional annihilation put Clay to the kind of rage that will drive him after Max with the same kind of fevor John pursued Azazel. And for the same reasons ... to protect his kids, and to get revenge for what Max took from those kids, and from him.
Which I'm sure is part of the reason I love this movie so madly, deeply and truly. Because Jeff? Plays the John Winchester archetype like no one else can. And that's the basic design of Franklin Clay, too.
The press harps and harps and harps on how similar The Comedian and Clay must be because both were born in the comic genre, both are career military men, both are black ops capable of great violence with little or no apparent emotional and/or moral backlash, and both laugh in the face of darkness. And they (the press) totally miss the whole fucking point in doing so. The Comedian couldn't
be more different than Clay. While Clay is a brother born of a different mother to John Winchester.
And just as the undercurrent of inexpressible grief and rage drove John Winchester like gasoline in an engine on the road of get-the-fuck-out-of-my-way biblical vengeance, so does it equally drive Clay down that same dark road.
Which brings me back to how Jeff plays Clay as anything BUT (IMO, at least) a distant man of remote emotions, or a less-than-dominant leader. Quite to the contrary, I feel Jeff captures a stillness to Clay's command style that's a bright-red-on-a-poison-frog level warning to the wary of who will take you out fastest if you are stupid enough to fuck with him. He commands the team so absolutely and effectively that they run head first into suicide mission after suicide mission because he points them that direction and says "go." They trust him that much. The follow him that completely. And they do so even after what happened in Bolivia.
And equally, Jeff captures the substratum of pure, ferocious
rage that drives someone to the extremes of vengeance to which he is willing to go in the name of punishing Max. And he equally captures that rage in how it blinds Clay to the potential for disaster this vengeance represents not only for himself, but also for those he leads into the breach behind him, not because they have any particular drive to go there on their own, but rather because they trust him enough to follow him through the gates of hell, come what may as a consequence to choosing to do so.
And he does all that while managing to play the rest of Clay's character moments with the casual charm and ease of someone who is mostly reasonable and productive but for the glaring blind spot he has on the subject of Max.
And he also plays the guarded vulnerability Clay displays when it comes to Aisha with a beautiful, deft confidence. Does Clay go for her because she has a fine ass? Maybe that's part of it on some level, but if the fine ass was the preponderance of the attraction between them, Clay'd not be willing to stick a stake in Aisha's throat in that initial fight scene as that final pose clearly shows that he is. And he'd also not be up and shooting to kill right alongside his men while she dives for the tub after he finds out she's been lying to him about who she is and what her real agenda is. No, Clay connects with Aisha because Aisha is as driven by rage and starving for the taste of vengeance as he is. He can sense that about her, just as she can sense it about him, and that commonality between them is really the only relief either one of them can feel from inside the darkness they've become off embracing the level of hatred they share for Max.
And that desperation for relief translates so well to the screen, I think. It comes off almost like a physical hunger, particularly in the scene where Aisha just walks into his room and jumps him without ever saying so much as howdy, boo, or fuck me, baby. Both Jeff and Zoe fairly
simmer with the intensity of the barely contained heat and violence their respective characters personify very time they come within touching distance of one another, and that heat fuckin
ignites the love scenes between them that, but for the chemistry and emotional intensity both are playing as the driving force behind their characters' mutual attraction, might otherwise play much more vanilla than they do for how little skin and anatomical detail is actually anted up to a visual display.
So no. When it comes to Jeff portrayal of Clay both as a man and as a leader, the performance I saw of the character I saw in the movie I saw didn't have much quiet to it so much as it had a whole bunch of subtle, intense, emotionally charged still. And as far as I'm concerned, the power of a dangerous still is always going to be
much harder to do and do well than any level of gruff, tough badassery as is the far more familiar fare of traditional action movies ... thus why Robert DeNiro and Russ Crowe get Oscars while Sly Stallone and Arnold Schwarzenegger get hokey one-liners and big SFX budgets.
Dodger