The Vincent van Gogh of Acting? HINT: He Played “Fredo”

And we continue with our American Stories. It’s a well-known bit of movie trivia that all five films in which actor John Cazale appeared were nominated for Best Picture; three of them received the Oscar. Furthermore, he appeared posthumously in archival footage in The Godfather Part Three, which was also nominated for Best Picture, maintaining his perfect record. He’s the only actor in American history to have this distinction. John Cazale played one of the most iconic characters in film history, Fredo Corleone from The Godfather, yet today most people don’t even know his name. Here to tell this story is Jon Joe Powers, author of A Small Perfection: John Cazale and the Art of Acting. Let’s take a listen.

Even though it’s been fifty years, I still remember the first moment I saw John Cazale. I had gone, like most of the planet had gone, to see The Godfather, a movie that had exploded onto the popular culture. If you were a young actor in the seventies, as I was, it was mandatory viewing because it showcased the once in future legends of film acting: Marlon Brando, Al Pacino, Robert Duvall, James Caan, Talia Shire, Diane Keaton, so many who would go on to other great performances. In the opening wedding scene, we’re introduced to the main players in the film.

One by one.

The major characters are featured for a moment or two, which brilliantly sets up the story. The last of them we meet is Fredo. Naturally, in a family of strong termin men, he’s the weak one, the run to the litter. He’s the forgotten one. I remember when the camera finally fell on John Cazale as Fredo. I immediately thought, ‘Who is this guy?’ In a scene populated by so many wonderful actors. This guy wasn’t acting. He was just Fredo, an ordinary guy in extraordinary circumstances, the guy we wouldn’t think twice about if he weren’t so perfectly out of place. Is one of the many ironies of John’s life that this fellow who never seemed to be acting was, in fact, one of the greatest actors in cinematic history. In the following six years, I would see him four more times. I found his portrayals riveting. His acting was audacious in the company of some of the most celebrated actors of the age. I always considered him to be their equal. Often, they’re better among the lovers and the heroes and the villains. He, the unforgettable, forgotten one, the easy-to-pass-over one, the weakling, the loser. He was the one in relief, set back from the spotlight when everyone else gathered in the center of the screen. John roamed the lonely edges, finding truth in each step, and he was fascinating in the process. John Cazale led a short, ironic life. He was primarily a stage actor but made his feature film debut in one of the most influential films in cinematic history. It’s a rather well-known bit of trivia that John is the only actor with multiple roles to appear in only films that were nominated for Best Picture, and every actor with whom he worked—people like Pacino, De Niro, Hackman, and Streep—all said the same thing. Working with John made them better. Yet most audiences don’t even know his name. Everything about John’s participation in The Godfather is drenched in irony. He was seen by director Francis Ford Coppola in an Off-Broadway play called Line. Francis thought he was perfect for Fredo, and he was right. But at the same time, John’s actor-friend Al Pacino was having a very hard time holding on to the lead part of Michael, and the studio was completely opposed to the casting of one of John’s idols, Marlon Brando, in the title role. For weeks, Francis, Marlon, and Al were always in danger of being replaced, but John was safe from the start. ‘Who cares about Fredo?’ It’s another irony that in a film that runs just under three hours and in which he’s only on screen for about ten minutes, John has as much impact as the leads. He took the part that no other actor would choose and, by virtue of his portrayal, turned it into the role every actor wished he had played. He stood equal to all the other brothers in the Corleone family, with as much importance to the story as Sonny, Tom, or Michael, but with a lot less screen time. Even so, he made Fredo truly iconic. After the movie was released, there was a joke that circulated for years. Someone would say something like, ‘In our group, you’re Fredo,’ and everyone would laugh because everyone knew.

What that meant.

Weak, stupid, ineffectual. No one had to explain the joke. It was clear and vivid because John Cazale made Fredo clear and vivid and very human. John excelled at bringing his characters to full human life. As Al Pacino said, he really ‘occupied the space,’ meaning his characters had height, width, and depth. He never seemed to be acting at all. In fact, he was so convincing as Fredo that casting directors often couldn’t see him any other way. Meryl Streep, his co-star on stage and on screen, and his lover off, described his gifts perfectly, saying that he felt a responsibility to the fictional character as if it were a real soul. What a great sense of humanity for an actor to have!

He was such a special human being and a uniquely talented actor. His compassion for his people that he was portraying, and the sort of responsibility he felt to a fictional character as if it were a real soul, that made him go that deep into his characters and do beautiful, beautiful work.

After The Godfather wrapped, it was entirely possible that John might have returned to New York and worked the rest of his life on stage in relative obscurity. But Francis Ford Coppola knew he had discovered a unique talent. He revised a screenplay he was writing for his next film, adding the part of an assistant to the main character, specific for John to play as Stan. In The Conversation, John does the hardest thing an actor can do. He plays a guy who’s just normal. No eccentricities, no quirks, just a guy who goes to work and does his job. Actors are so inclined to do something that they often are unable just to be normal. It’s deep within us to want to be noticed. But John had a way of being normal that made it impossible for an audience to overlook him. He was life in the midst of performance. He was reality in the midst of naturalness. Far from stealing the scene, John instead enriched it. He didn’t detract anything from the other actors; by creating vivid characters, he added to their reality. Coppola would find himself competing against himself at the Golden Globes and the Oscars in 1975. The Conversation was nominated as Best Picture for both awards, as was The Godfather Part Two, the continuing story of the Corleone family, which was in fact both a sequel and a prequot. As a further testament to John’s talents, Francis and Mario Puzo, the co-writer of the films based on his novel, move the character of Fredo into the center of the action. For those of us who loved John’s acting, I call us Cazalots. This film gave us what we were craving: the chance to see far more of John’s unerring talents and to see how the rest of Fredo’s story played out. If The Godfather saga, comprised of all three films, is the story of Michael Corleone, the first two parts can also be considered Fredo’s story. They are the two characters who grow and change the most. Fredo is a prince that will never see the throne. He will never be head of the family, but will do instead the bidding of his younger brother, and he secretly resents it. This is the stuff of high drama. It’s Shakespearean and its structure. The man who sits in the seat of absolute power is betrayed by those around him. To retain his kingdom, he must destroy many of his subjects, all those he fears may be disloyal. That includes his brother. In another ironic twist, the least threatening of all the Corleone brothers becomes the most dangerous when he’s talked into a deal that promises that there might be something in it for him. Instead, he becomes a traitor to his family.

And you’ve been listening to Jon Joe Powers, author of A Small Perfection: John Cazale and the Art of Acting. When we come back, more of the story of John Cazale, an American icon, an actor’s actor, here on our American Stories. And we returned to our American Stories. Let’s return to Jon Joe Powers, author of A Small Perfection: John Cazale and the Art of Acting. Powers picks up his story with John and his Dog Day Afternoon co-star Al Pacino.

Now, if a joke came from John’s first appearance as Fredo, this one brought an imitation that was no less repeated. We just suddenly shout, ‘I’m smart, not like people say, like, dumb.’ ‘I’m smart and I want to respect.’ It was Fredo’s pathetic protests when Michael confronts him about his betrayal. Most actors would want to be up on their feet and in Michael’s face to play a scene in which they finally get to vent their frustration. But John knew Fredo would never go toe-to-toe with Michael, so he played the whole thing lying in a lounge chair like a helpless turtle on his back, never daring to stand up, and it’s one of the most famous scenes in cinematic history.

‘I’ve always taken care of you, Fredo, taken care of me.’

‘You’re my kid brother, you take care of me? Do you ever think about that? Do you ever once think about that? Save Fredo? Off to do this? Sen Fredo, off to do that? Sen Fredo to pick somebody up at the airport. I mean, your older brother, Mike, and I was stepped over. Ain’t the way I wanted it. I can handle things. I’m smart. Like everybody says, like, dumb. I’m smart and I want to spect.’

Three films into his movie career, and John was showing just how deep his talent went. Still, in reviews in award shows, he wasn’t noticed, like Fredo. He was passed over, but it was impossible to ignore him. In his next film, many believe it may be his crowning achievement in movies. And it almost didn’t happen because, ironically, he was wrong for the part. Dog Day Afternoon was based on a real incident: a Brooklyn bank robbery that turned.

Into a hostage situation.

The film was developed as a vehicle for Al Pacino, who by then was one of the hottest stars in movies. Al had a slight resemblance to the actual robber, but in real life, the enforcer, the gunman who assisted the robbery, was an eighteen-year-old kid named Sal. Sidney Lumet, the brilliant director, was determined to make the film as realistic as possible, building a replica of the bank in an abandoned store, lighting the interior with fluorescent bulbs, and even asking the actors playing the bank personnel to bring in their own wardrobes from home. To find just the right actor for Sal, he auditioned every eighteen-year-old actor he could find. Then Al Pacino made a suggestion: ‘Read John Cazale for the part.’ Well, Sidney was hesitant, feeling the same actor who had convinced the world he was Fredo Corleone was completely wrong, and he was too old—thirty-nine at the time of filming. Still, Sidney had a great relationship with Al, having just directed him two years prior in Serpico.

John read three lines for the skeptical director, and Sidney relented. ‘He broke my heart,’ the director later confessed.

‘I remember we were casting, and Sidney Lumet wanted a nineteen-year-old boy. He thought that would be very important, and he was sort of right.’

‘I’d been reading a lot of people for it, and Al kept asking me to read John.’

‘So of course Sidney think, with John, that’s not what I’m thinking.’

‘No.’

‘Finally, because I’ve got such respect for Al, John came in.’

Is stunned. He could not have looked wronger.

‘And then he read, and it was just the most extraordinary connection, heartbreaking—a scene—and what are we talking about? Talking about a totally anti-social and properly terrible man, and Cazale broke your heart.’

Despite diverging wildly from his historic counterpart, John created a character unlike any other. Sal was completely closed, tight against the rest of the world—a total enigma. Sal is unpredictable in the truest sense of the word. Tightly wound, with a history of military service and prison in isolation. No one, not even Al Pacino’s Sonny, can know what he’s thinking or when he may come unwound. He’s the ticking time bomb that gives the film its relentless suspense, and, strangely enough, he also gives the film its heart. One of John’s greatest gifts was his ability to draw compassion, even love, from the audience. For the many portrayed. He didn’t play good guys. He played a pimp, a thief, and perhaps a killer; a braggart who waves a gun in the face of his friends and at least once punched a woman. The most normal of his characters was a professional voyeur. Yet somehow we have affection for each of these men. That’s because John never judged the characters he portrayed. He understood them. Such understanding can only come through exploring their human motivations by asking perpetual questions. According to Meryl Streep, John was known as ‘Twenty Questions’ in the industry because he never stopped asking them. And nowhere was his gift for explorations so completely demonstrated that in Sal: there was, behind those sunken eyes, a deep well of sadness, sorrow even, and our inexplicable urge is to know what had wounded him so savagely. We want to get to know the guy with the gun better. Ironically, we never do. There’s no big moment for Sal when he reveals his pain. Instead, as the situation grows more and more desperate, he retreats further and further into himself, growing ever more still, ever more quiet, and ever more dangerous. Dog Day Afternoon, like the previous films in which John appeared, was nominated for both the Golden Globe and the Oscar for Best Picture. And like the three previous times, there was no Oscar nomination for John, but the Golden Globes gave him his only nomination for a movie where, when they put him up as Best Supporting Actor, Richard Benjamin took home the.

Award that year.

If the lack of award recognition bothered John, he didn’t complain much about it. He was far more interested in art than an awards. While making his final film, he was asked about it and responded by saying, ‘If you have any inclines, a nation toward paranoia, that sort of thing…’

Will bring it out in you.

You say, ‘What do I have to do to get recognition of that sort?’ But then you put it back in perspective and ask yourself how much that or any award really matters in one respect. I’m sorry awards can generate other work. No actor knew as much about being a supporting actor. That was never truer than in Dog Day Afternoon, in which his Sal urged Al Pacino to one of his greatest portrayals.

‘I’ve done a lot of work with John, so I know. I did a lot of theater with John, and he became whoever it was he was playing. And John would be afraid of, you believe that’s who he was, of course, and I watched him do it. Every role I did Dog Day with him. I did several plays with him, and it was amazing to watch. It was a lesson in itself. I think I learned more about acting from John than anybody.’

And that was Al Pacino’s voice, you which is listening to, and you’re hearing the story of John Cazale as told by Jon Joe Powers. His book, A Small Perfection: John Cazale and the Art of Acting, is available at Amazon and all the usual suspects. John never judged the men he played. He understood them. And it’s so true: at its best, that’s what acting is. It’s an exercise in superhuman empathy. When we come back, more of this remarkable life story. And if you get a chance with your family, watch Godfather One, then watch Godfather Two. I mean, at the age-appropriate time, because it is Shakespearean. The acting is remarkable. The discussion points for a family, they don’t get better. What is the nature of man? What is good? What is evil? This is not a movie that glamorizes evil. There are consequences. The story of John Cazale, his work and his profession. Here on our American Stories. And we returned to our American Stories. Let’s return to Jon Joe Powers, author of A Small Perfection: John Cazale and the Art of Acting. Powers picks up his story with John and his Dog Day Afternoon co-star Al Pacino.

One of the great joys of the film is to see these two actors, who had so much trust than each other, engage in a brilliant duet. Al said all he wanted to do was to act with John for the rest of his life. In fact, he admitted that John was not only his dear friend and acting partner, but he was one of his acting idols, so much so that when John came to Sel on Broadway, Pacino went overboard and trying to impress him.

‘I was doing a play called The Basic Training of Pablo Hummel on Broadway, and it was a really great role, and I had done things with it, and I had done the Tony Ward, and I was really… but John was coming to see it. And I don’t like to know when anyone’s in the house, but I knew John was in the house, right? And every single thing I did, every scene, I was trying to impress John. And I knew, ‘I’m doing this, I’m saying this, I’m not doing this,’ so I’m trying to impress John. You and uh, it was over, and I was really unhappy because I knew I hadn’t done.’

And John came back.

‘He said, ‘Very impressive, very impressive.’ Yes, yeah, I sai’