Celeste Oon - Core Response #5

Similarly to Nina, I would like to explore McDonald’s discussion of impersonation versus personification in acting. McDonald says that “Arnold Schwarzenegger’s performances in Predator (John McTiernan, 1987, US), Twins (Ivan Reitman, 1988, US) and Terminator 2: Judgment Day, display many similarities in the uses of the body and voice. Schwarzenegger’s ‘personification’ foregrounds the continuities of the star’s image over and above differences of character” (p. 185). When I read this, I immediately thought, “oh, I finally have a formal framework I can use to understand the discourse around Dwayne Johnson.” Ha! Johnson, much like Schwarzenegger, faces heavy criticism for “always playing the same role.” I know many people on social media who would consider the two actors-by-profession, but not necessarily actors-by-artistry.

I found McDonald’s discussion of the body in relation to personification especially interesting, as he says “the muscularity of the male action hero associates stars such as Schwarzenegger with a physical culture of manual work” (pp. 185-186). Likewise, the perception of Johnson’s body positions him for particular roles as a tall, extremely muscular and bulky, racially ambiguous man with tribal tattoos. In this vein, his characters are frequently dressed in vaguely safari-like khaki or rainforest exploratory attire (see: Jumanji, Jungle Cruise, Journey, Rampage, etc.), hinting at his status as a tough, strong guy that is naturally out on the terrain. Because of the associations that people make with his body, along with his past status as a wrestler, and his star image that continues to reify itself with every role, this construct becomes extremely hard to break out of. Extending this further, we can think about how other body types may restrict the roles stars can play (as determined by studios, casters, presumed audiences, etc.). I mentioned this in my midterm essay, but there have been many stars over the years who have been severely limited to playing the “funny fat friend,” such as Jonah Hill, Melissa McCarthy, Rebel Wilson, etc. These actors acquired star images as extremely comical and charismatic people, but it was a particular type of comedy that was tied to their fatness, which became the subject of humor itself. We could compare them to someone like Akwafina (controversial as she is), who is also known by the general public as funny and charismatic, although these qualities are not particularly tied to her body. Many times, it is not until the actor changes their body (i.e. loses weight) that they are able to gain other roles—and this was evidenced by the aforementioned actors.

On this note, perhaps the ties between the body and impersonation are most evident when actors change their bodies for different roles. Actors are frequently praised for undergoing extreme diets and exercise regimens (whether this is in service of losing or gaining weight/muscle) in preparation for their roles. This is not because of the routines or the outcomes themselves, but because it displays to audiences the type of dedication that actors have in fulfilling their roles, in making their characters believable. (The physicality of characters is, evidently, extremely important to their believability.) Interestingly, as McDonald notes when he cites Meryl Streep’s change in accents as evidence of her talent, a change in body types evokes a similar perception. See below, where Christian Bale’s morphing physicality is acknowledged as a form of praise for his acting “range” (and see the reply!).

Simply poking around the internet, I find the discourse around impersonation versus personification fascinating, seeing as how impersonation is upheld as the superior form. This is not to say, though, that personification is completely shed, even while practicing impersonation. As McDonald goes on to say, sometimes a level of star image may manifest subtly through repeated mannerisms (p. 186), which can be endearing or annoying (e.g. Florence Pugh’s (in)famous frown). Overall, despite possessing a high level of skill and talent in acting, actors tend to have particular charms that follow them across works and contribute to their star image.

To close, I return to considering the limitations of the body—or rather, the perception of the body—in predetermining the type of acting that one may acceptably employ, or the types of roles that one may take up. Saoirse Ronan is frequently casted in period pieces, and she excels in them, but other actors may have a harder time convincing audiences if their faces are perceived as too “modern.” For example, see the “iPhone face” discourse here, wherein actors themselves feel like anachronisms against their diegetic settings for “having a face that has seen an iPhone.” And sometimes, it is not the face, but the voice. For example, the actress in the new film, Late Night with the Devil, was criticized for not having a voice that matched the 1970s setting of the film. (A case of the “iPhone voice,” as the user suggests? Other users attributed Sydney Sweeney to this same phenomenon.)

Notably, the examples I used in my response today highlight the significance of the mutual relationship between stars, studios, and audiences, who all work to co-create the star image and set boundaries for what seemingly can and cannot be done.