The Acting Round Table : Once again, we asked a panel of drama coaches to size up this year’s nominees and the pitfalls of their roles. Once again, the experts don’t agree.

It’s that time again: The third annual analysis of Oscar-nominated performances from a trio of acting coaches--Janet Alhanti, Howard Fine and Larry Moss--who burrow in deep. Herewith, their assessment of the actors’ strengths and weaknesses, as well as the challenges and pitfalls of the roles each played.

BEST ACTOR

NICOLAS CAGE (“Leaving Las Vegas”)

Fine: Why this cliche-riddled performance was nominated is beyond me. Watching scene after repetitive scene with no sense of the man before his decline and nothing new revealed, I found myself uninterested. If Sean Penn can make us care about his rapist-killer, Cage could have shown us the human being under the drunk.

Moss: Cage’s delicacy in defining the different phases of alcoholic decline was masterful. I can’t recall another instance in which an actor was required to be drunk for an entire film. Though some thought the actor was over the top, I found his jazzy improvisational line reading--high and low sounds, syncopation, startled yelps--completely original and courageous.

RICHARD DREYFUSS (“Mr. Holland’s Opus”)

Alhanti: In this movie, Dreyfuss never shows any empathy for his character--a small individual who indulges his weaknesses and talks about passions we never feel. What comes through is a man insensitive to his son and everything around him. Mr. Holland is no Mr. Chips.

Moss: Dreyfuss gives us his best work in a long time. The role, unfortunately, doesn’t let him use his greatest strength as an actor: the fierce, manic intellect that made him so brilliant in “[The Apprenticeship of] Duddy Kravitz.” It was brave of him not to try to make the man inherently more exciting.

ANTHONY HOPKINS (“Nixon”)

Fine: Hopkins missed the boat on this character. Whereas Nigel Hawthorne in “Madness of King George” gives us a well man unraveling, the filmmaker and the actor pointed out Nixon’s neuroses at every turn. With no evidence of charm and charisma, we see no reason that his family is devoted to him--let alone the nation.

Moss: Hopkins played Nixon like a gargoyle Ed Sullivan, bringing out through posture, burning eyes and clawing hands a man so haunted I sat in awe at the actor’s bravery. Though Hopkins faced “acting death” playing a world icon, classical training enabled him to bring a Shakespearean grandeur to the role that American actors could not.

SEAN PENN (“Dead Man Walking”)

Alhanti: Penn is one of those rare actors who can phrase behavior so well there’s almost no need for dialogue. Like an onion being peeled, shades and expressions revealed themselves. Though the actor went for every cliche in the book--the pompadour, the Cajun/white trash accent, palming the cigarette--he did it just this side of the truth.

Fine: The standout performance among the nominees. By not labeling the role “killer,” “white supremacist,” “psycho,” etc., Penn allowed us to feel for the character. Far more unsettling to deal with a lonely, misguided young man who has done evil things than with an evil, angry character to whom we can’t relate. Anger is the easiest emotion to get to--and also the least interesting.

MASSIMO TROISI (“The Postman”)

Alhanti: A simple but profound performance in a role that could have been self-indulgent. Instead of seeming pathetic and victimized, there was something affirmative, almost childlike, in his portrayal of an everyman with a dream. That Troisi [who died a day after the movie wrapped] was critically ill added a fragility to his acting.

Moss: Watching Troisi grow was like watching a baby learn to walk. The only other person who could have played this part was Charlie Chaplin, who also walked a fine line between laughter and tears. The fact that he was close to death may have helped Troisi rid himself of machismo and the defenses of adulthood. He had no strength--or time--to lie.

BEST ACTRESS

SUSAN SARANDON (“Dead Man Walking”)

Alhanti: This character could have been one-dimensional--a caretaker or martyr--but Sarandon, like Penn, underwent a very subtle evolution. Displaying a teenage awkwardness when she and the convict first met, she matured into a sensual woman. On a religious level, she camein a novice and emerged a full-blown nun.

Fine: You can rely on Sarandon to turn in an extraordinary performance--so much so that people may take her for granted. This is an actress who listens, who’s present in each moment without planning her next response. In film, the powerful moment is the reactive one signaling to the audience what it should feel. Her heartbreaking sympathy when Penn receives the lethal injection gives us a point of view.

ELISABETH SHUE (“Leaving Las Vegas”)

Alhanti: Shue and Cage reverberate around each other with no discordant notes. He’s all brass and she’s the strings. Though Shue plays a prostitute, she shows no hardness. Unlike Cage, who has given up on life, she sends her body out but protects her essence. Shue’s light touch--her hopefulness and vulnerability--made the movie bearable.

Moss: It was smart of [director] Mike Figgis to discern this role was in Shue, who played against type. The only problem was believing that someone that beautiful could have such low self-esteem. Shue made us see that she’s a masochist. She played it like a gunslinger looking for a fight. There was a toughness, a masculine quality, in her walk.

SHARON STONE (“Casino”)

Alhanti: Though Stone played the part capably, this film was not written for women. It’s how a man looks at a bimbo . here are no layers to her role, which remained on the drawing board. Her character was a hustler, a bad mother and a worse wife. I was unaffected by her supposedly unbearable life.

Fine: Although more of a supporting role, Stone did a very good job. She evidences a delightful ease and spontaneity, adding life to a film that felt so labored. When playing drunk, she wisely chose not to unplug the character so much that we stopped caring about her about as a human being.

MERYL STREEP (“The Bridges of Madison County”)

Fine: This is what great acting is made of: the Italian accent flawlessly executed, the use of her hands to express feelings--touching her face as if to check that she’s really there. No gesture was meaningless.

Moss: Streep at her best. Though most American actresses have to be beautiful, she lets herself be plump and matronly--true to a character living a life in which looks don’t matter. Her body language conveys tremendous shyness and flirtatiousness which blossoms into real erotica. Only Glenn Close equals Streep as a technician.

EMMA THOMPSON (“Sense and Sensibility”)

Fine: Good acting focuses on a character’s possibilities instead of its limitations. Her Miss Dashwood is no cold, unfeeling spinster but a vibrant woman who is the strength of her family and whose potential is always evident. Because of her warmth, we care about her plight.

Moss: Though Thompson reveals little on the surface, we sense her torrential inner life. She exudes the wit of Noel Coward one moment and the emotional rawness of Anna Magnani the next. Her vulnerability permitted her to be very modern instead of a “reserved English lady.”

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR

JAMES CROMWELL (“Babe”)

Fine: Cromwell does a great job of playing the understated man who relates better to animals than to people. Masterful at relating as much with a look as others do with a monologue, he was the perfect counterpart to his over-the-top family. His sensitivity--along with the pig’s--was the anchor of the film.

Moss: Though Cromwell looked like that farmer in the Grant Wood painting and turned in an economical, slyly humorous performance, there was no risk involved. A few well-played notes are not a symphony. What was the academy thinking?

ED HARRIS (“Apollo 13”)

Alhanti: There’s something so centered about this actor, I wish he was my air traffic controller every time I fly. He’s both masculine and sensitive--a father figure-disciplinarian coming from a loving place.

Moss: As always, Harris plays it simple and direct in a role that’s tough because you can let so little show. Because of the sergeant-like demeanor of the character, it’s touching to see the slump in his body when the men come back alive. The actor reminds me of a Jimmy Stewart or Gary Cooper: You believe he’s a good man.

BRAD PITT (“12 Monkeys”)

Alhanti: In a courageous move for a handsome leading man, Pitt captures the essence of paranoia / schizophrenia. It’s the Marilyn Monroe syndrome: He wants to be taken seriously. Though he was over the top at times, he made a choice and followed through.

Moss: Pitt could almost be in silent films because his physical life is so specifically chosen. Waving his arms like a mad conductor, his body language virtually screamed “anarchy”--and since the movie was a mad, surreal clown show, it worked. Like Paul Newman, Pitt seems to be going from leading man to character parts, refusing to be put in a mold.

TIM ROTH (“Rob Roy”)

Alhanti: Roth took a traditional role--the heart of evil--to the ultimate. He reminded me of a gnat flying around your ear that you can’t smack. Instead of playing it all costume and wig, the actor conveyed a contemptuousness and such pomposity it squeaked like a starched shirt.

Fine: Roth gives us a fop with a deadly disposition, achieving the perfect balance. If he was too foppish, we wouldn’t have taken him seriously. If he was too sinister, there would be nothing likable about him. Roth also displayed a lack of self-consciousness and confidence in his own masculinity. Instead of mocking the foppish affectations, he “lived” them.

KEVIN SPACEY (“The Usual Suspects”)

Fine: By creating a shy, awkward personality and slowing down his thought process, Spacey presented a mental and physical cripple who could never have masterminded anything. As an actor, he walked a tightrope, sending a few signals but not giving it away.

Moss: Spacey has real intellect--you can sense his mind working. He has a wonderful arrogance in all his roles and the ability to bring out the humor in a script. Though his character is a psychopathic murderer, he seems like a victim--which is why his performance is Oscar-worthy and why the film works.

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS

JOAN ALLEN (“Nixon”)

Fine: Instead of playing Pat Nixon as a victim, Allen gives her a quiet strength, a poise and sensitivity which acts as a counterpoint to her husband’s ambition. Though this woman’s “stand by your man” approach is out of date, Allen didn’t make her less intelligent or developed. There was nothing patronizing about this performance.

Moss: Like Geraldine Page, Allen is so unassuming she’s easily overlooked. Her carefully modulated performance is like watching shattering porcelain. She reveals, through great economy of gesture, a woman of her times in deep isolation, sexually starving, waiting for her day that never comes. That she loved her husband anyhow, however, was at the core of her performance.

KATHLEEN QUINLAN (“Apollo 13”)

Alhanti: This was a dicey role. Too much sugar and the cookies could have been overly sweet. But Quinlan gave us goodness cut with her weaknesses and fears--a woman who put herself in the picture and wasn’t totally selfless.

Moss: This is not a bravura part, but Quinlan’s gift to “Apollo 13” is the way she makes us believe in this marriage--with a minimal amount of screen time. A June Cleaver with sex appeal, her respect for, and attraction to, her husband gives his return more impact.

MIRA SORVINO (“Mighty Aphrodite”)

Alhanti: Sorvino displays something so innocent and upfront at the same time. Instead of playing the hooker with the heart of gold, she’s always making plans, never a pushover. This is a major leap for the actress. Though she never overplayed, she was the one actor most identified with the film.

Fine: Comedy can be approached through antics--adolescent behavior--or through motivation, which is much harder to pull off. Rather than making her character stupid, Sorvino plays her as someone with limited exposure in the world. Antics make us laugh but never make us feel. The performance succeeds because Sorvino accomplishes both.

MARE WINNINGHAM (“Georgia”)

Fine: Jennifer Jason Leigh had the role with the range I associate with Oscar-caliber performances. Still, Winningham does well with what she’s given. Her vision of the successful older sister is tense with repressed emotions. The tendency would have been to overplay to match the dynamic performance of her co-star. She gave the role what was needed: no more and no less.

Moss: Without seeming to act, Winningham let us know that she was a mother-wife-performer-perfect person--and that it cost her everything to keep up the facade. Performances like these are often overlooked because they look so easy. Winningham personifies the phrase “less is more.”

KATE WINSLET (“Sense and Sensibility”)

Alhanti: For someone so young, Winslet had tremendous understanding of the role. We seea graceful transition from a girl of reckless abandon to someone who has suffered and grown from experience. If Winslet was any weaker, she would have seemed spoiled and self-indul-gent rather than likable, as she was.

Moss: Keenly intelligent and surprisingly confident, Winslet injects a moment-to-moment improvisational quality into the role. She delineates clearly the horrible pain of rejection and the wisdom that comes after. This is what’s called a “breakthrough performance.”*

Janet Alhanti counts Diane Lane, Ann-Margret and Courtney Love among her clients. Howard Fine’s recent students include Jim Belushi, Brooke Shields and Kathy Najimy. Larry Moss coaches Jason Alexander, Helen Hunt and Patricia Arquette, among others.