Yes, but Can They Act?

Just how good are the Oscar-nominated performances when dissected by a host of experts? For the fourth year running, three local acting coaches--Janet Alhanti, Howard Fine and Larry Moss--take a stab. Their comments are remarkably frank for such a politic town--a triumph of candor over diplomacy.

BEST ACTOR

TOM CRUISE (“Jerry Maguire”)

Fine: In “Interview With the Vampire” and “Mission: Impossible,” Cruise played his idea of a villain and hero. Here he digs deep. Rather than playing slick from the get-go, making a whirlwind transformation into an individual with the courage to speak his mind, we see both strains early on. A person is never just one thing.

Moss: This is the fullest use of Cruise’s comic ability to date. Very few actors allow themselves this kind of wacky theatricality--arching his back, skipping around the room like a madman. Like Harrison Ford, Cruise also lets us feel how scared the character is underneath the bravura. Though his voice still has an adolescent quality to it, Cruise is about to become a real leading man.

RALPH FIENNES

(“The English Patient”)

Alhanti: Ralph should not be pronounced “Rafe”--and the same lack of naturalness finds its way into his acting. Fiennes’ cold and distant technique worked for him in “Schindler’s List,” but here it conveys a twisted sense of love. Unlike Mel Gibson or Liam Neeson who freely expose their sensitivity, Fiennes’ character seems to regard love as a weakness.

Fine: Mannered and affected, the actor’s emotional life seems to be contained in a box. Even when the character is drunk and railing at the officers of the club--an ideal chance to let go--Fiennes continues to play only the notes he carefully selected. He doesn’t know how to invest himself in a part. It’s bloodless--all in his head.

WOODY HARRELSON

(“The People vs. Larry Flynt”)

Alhanti: There’s something inherently warm and likable about Harrelson--a boyishness to his look and speech that makes us see a totally unsympathetic character almost as a righteous man. And this is the same actor who did “White Men Can’t Jump”--he’s got incredible range.

Fine: Harrelson wisely chose to focus on the childlike, playful aspect of the character--especially in the carousing scenes--to deflect a bit of the political incorrectness. He never let outward actions define character. Still, there was a glaring inconsistency in this performance. Three-quarters of the way through, he adopted a heavy accent. It was as though he had cotton balls in his mouth.

GEOFFREY RUSH (“Shine”)

Alhanti: Though there were no walls to this performance, the actor avoided going over the top. Laughing, talking under his breath, sending out messages almost like a revelation, he was still in the confines of the piece. In “Rain Man,” Dustin Hoffman played the part. In this case, Rush let the part play on him.

Fine: Rush nailed the performance. But the work of Noah Taylor as the adolescent David Helfgott is technically more difficult and Oscar-worthy. Taylor’s character was a transitional one. As an eccentric, Rush’s path was more clearly defined.

BILLY BOB THORNTON

(“Sling Blade”)

Fine: I can’t remember the last time an actor’s physicality alone made me feel. Thornton had that halting speech, compression in the neck and head--and the guts to let himself be seen that way. He allowed the layers to peel off gradually, unafraid we’d write the character off.

Moss: Thornton says more in one grunt than most writers say in a whole script. He’s so deeply internal, he makes us move in close. There’s a wonderful underdog quality to the actor like there was with Ernest Borgnine in “Marty.” One second of self-pity would have killed the whole role.

BEST ACTRESS

BRENDA BLETHYN

(“Secrets & Lies”)

Alhanti: Blethyn is unguarded, responding to everything around her. The simplicity of her approach is what makes the role so touching. There’s something so girlish in her portrayal, so painful and unfulfilled. What makes it bearable is the optimism she projects. Blethyn’s character was hurt but she didn’t close the door.

Moss: Blethyn and the director allowed her character to be almost unlikable, hard to listen to. You wanted to tell her to shut the hell up. She seemed to be clutching at everything--grasping for connection. Somehow, Blethyn turned it around and made us love her. The moment she realized she was the mother of a black child was brilliant. Denying it at first, we saw her catalog the moments in her life and, in close-up, stumble on the moment of conception.

DIANE KEATON

(“Marvin’s Room”)

Alhanti: This performance was very different from past Keaton--devoid of kookiness and one-liners. She reached places she hasn’t gone before. Vanity-wise, exposing herself without the wig was the height of bravery. And, rather than going for the “martyr,” she went against the obvious and made it about everyone else.

Fine: Keaton has extraordinary access to her emotions and her reactions are always spontaneous. Laughter is one of the hardest moments to create--much harder than crying. That joy ride with her nephew showed us how much she needed the release. In “Leaving Las Vegas,” Nicolas Cage was about dying in the middle of dying. Keaton is about dying in the middle of living--far more tragic.

FRANCES McDORMAND

(“Fargo”)

Fine: A work of comic genius--and it’s unusual for a comic performance to be nominated. McDormand plays a scene without commenting on it. Her gargantuan appetite is a running gag. A Jim Carrey would point out the comic behavior, heaping his food on the plate. She lets us find our own humor, which is funnier in the end. This is not a patronizing performance. The actress makes virtue seem hip rather than naive.

Moss: Very difficult and risky work. If she went too far, we laugh at her and distance ourselves. If we don’t believe her, the movie becomes a gratuitously violent clown show. Projecting an effortless, zany radiance, McDormand was the conscience of the film.

KRISTIN SCOTT THOMAS

(“The English Patient”)

Alhanti: In this femme fatale role, the danger would have been to ooze sex. Scott Thomas used her body in a suggestive and reckless way without being blatent. It’s hard to make a character sympathetic when she’s violating her marriage vows. We started to feel for her when she comes to the realization that the affair is destroying her--that she can’t play the game anymore.

Moss: A subtle, sexy, brave performance. I got the feeling Scott Thomas tapped her own darkness and eroticism in the role. She didn’t run from her desires, which can be very scary.

EMILY WATSON

(“Breaking the Waves”)

Alhanti: This performance was very one-color--and that color is sympathy. It’s always “Poor Bess,” victimized by family, husband and, finally, her murderers. I would have liked to see a passion, a glory in her crucifixion, rather than having every sexual encounter a rape. Where was the joy she felt in healing her husband? So much pain was hard to watch.

Moss: Watson’s acting is incandescent--like Joan of Arc, she burned her way to God. This was a very childlike performance. I worried for her even as my mind said, “This is absurd.” That doesn’t mean she’s a great actress, however. It means she found a great role and hit a home run.

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR

CUBA GOODING JR.

(“Jerry Maguire”)

Alhanti: Gooding was snap, crackle, pop . . . bouncing off walls--yet so centered at the same time. Everything in him was heightened--the walk, the attitude. He’s a great showman. Instead of playing the role with a chip on his shoulder, he displayed vulnerability. He lets his wife be in charge.

Fine: The actor actually makes us fall in love with an egomaniac--in lesser hands, we could have hated this character. What makes Gooding so charismatic is his comfort in his own skin. The actor has such a free range of expression, it’s like watching a raw nerve exposed.

WILLIAM H. MACY (“Fargo”)

Fine: The key to this performance is Macy’s physicality and halting speech pattern. He lowers his chin, looking up with his eyes, which gives him a smallness. You get the impression of a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. His physical discomfort also gives the role a bungling quality that leads others to underestimate him.

Moss: Macy plays the most insincere man in the world, someone whose smile seemed to be invented in the mirror. Filmed mostly in close-up, like a puppet mask, he lets us see the terror in his eyes. Terror is the basis for most comedy. It was for Lucille Ball stuffing her mouth in the candy factory. And Inspector Clouseau was always in a terrible bind trying to avoid public humiliation.

ARMIN MUELLER-STAHL (“Shine”)

Alhanti: The actor plays a damaged man carrying the ghetto on his back--someone for whom his son is almost his “invention.” His is the point of view of all minorities: “You have to be better. . . . Trust no one.” Instead of acting brutal out of nowhere, he masterfully walked the tightrope between love and hate.

Moss: Mueller-Stahl was unafraid to let the audience dislike him. He showed the monster inside with fangs and blood intact. The actor was almost Hitler-esque in his body language. It’s no easy task to play as hateful a character as this father and still show his desolate heart.

EDWARD NORTON (“Primal Fear”)

Fine: Norton has an easiness about him rare in a young actor. He’s a young Jimmy Stewart. He was so convincing as the stuttering, shy Aaron Stampler that we were taken in like everyone else. His physicality was wonderfully delineated between the hunched Aaron, afraid to make eye contact, and the extroverted Roy, staring into the eyes of his accusers.

Moss: Norton makes us believe in him and want to protect him. When he unmasks the demon, we feel betrayed--but secretly delighted we were fooled. He understood that men without conscience are brilliant chameleons. The fragility of his body and speech conveyed the kind of post-traumatic stress the vets brought back from Vietnam.

JAMES WOODS

(“Ghosts of Mississippi”)

Alhanti: Like Joan Allen’s, his part was so small I’m surprised he was nominated. But no one can play the outsider, the misfit, like James Woods. Embracing the warts, he projected a smirky, condescending attitude--as though impatient at being subjected to all this.

Fine: No one sees himself as evil. That’s for the audience--not the actor--to judge. But unlike the human being created by Sean Penn in “Dead Man Walking,” Woods plays a one-dimensional, leering villain that distances us. He hid behind makeup and a scowl.

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS

JOAN ALLEN (“The Crucible”)

Alhanti: There’s a quiet strength in Allen, a beauty in her plainness. She makes a lot of small moments. Still, this role wouldn’t fill a thimble. It’s nowhere near what she did in “Nixon.” For this, they passed up [“Shine’s”] Lynn Redgrave?

Moss: Still waters run deep. Allen turned from a tight-lipped, vinegary wife into an open, powerful, loving woman--and all of this in subtext. She’s an interesting mix of fragility and confidence. Originally a stage actress, she’s made for film because she believes the camera will find her.

LAUREN BACALL

(“The Mirror Has Two Faces”)

Alhanti: She was the glue that held the film together. Streisand was a 50-year-old playing a teen so Bacall--with her sharp wit and tongue--was the only one we could relate to. The actress reminded me of someone who had long awaited a good meal--and went for it when it came. She’s worthy of more than this.

Fine: Bacall taps into her own glamorous past and light sarcastic touch. It’s extraordinary to know who you are and be able--and willing--to reveal it in your work. She had to share her vanity in this part--not a flattering light in which to be seen.

JULIETTE BINOCHE

(“The English Patient”)

Alhanti: Binoche reminds me of Ingrid Bergman in “For Whom the Bell Tolls.” She’s pretty but is not “playing” it. A kind of purity comes through. There’s a childlike quality to the performance, as though this is her first day at the fair.

Moss: Binoche radiates the best of what it means to be human--a vulnerability as great as that of the burn patient she treats. She has a rare gift of appearing un-self-conscious in front of the camera. It takes many actresses years to reach that place.

BARBARA HERSHEY

(“The Portrait of a Lady”)

Fine: The liveliest part in a deadly film and Hershey’s best work yet. While the other actors are locked into a mood and attitude, she takes action to get what she wants. When the actress accuses John Malkovich of turning her into a monster, she manages to use his low-energy, disengaged performance. She makes him look like he’s playing in the scene with her when he’s actually not.

Moss: Hershey has evolved from an attractive ordinary ingenue into a mature character actress. She played this role like a woman having an out-of-body experience: watching a fatal car crash in which she was driving. Her stone-like stillness conveyed not only the repression against women during the 1800s but an animal about to strike its prey.

MARIANNE JEAN-BAPTISTE

(“Secrets & Lies”)

Fine: Jean-Baptiste radiates a natural goodness. And her biggest moments are when she’s not speaking. When she’s working up the courage to call her mother, we see desire and fear. When her mother invites her to a family get-together, we see a longing to be part of something--as well as uncertainty about whether to accept. You can tell from her expressions what’s at stake.

Moss: A wonderfully restrained, uncommonly human performance. Though the actress keeps everything locked down tight, we feel her desire and embarrassment. The balance between her and Blethyn is like that of a great comedy team: one so hysterical, the other--through sadness, grace and patience--steadying the whole film.

*

Janet Alhanti’s students have included Salma Hayek, Courtney Love and Ann-Margret. Howard Fine has coached Brad Pitt, Val Kilmer and Elle Macpherson. Larry Moss has worked with Jason Alexander, Helen Hunt and Sharon Lawrence.