It's hard to know what to do with Al Pacino. There can be no doubt that he is one of the greatest living screen actors, a revolutionary talent whose best work is possibly the best work there is in the whole history of film. However, there can also be no doubt that somewhere between the last scene of Godfather: Part II and the opening credits of Two for the Money or The Recruit or S1m0ne or any of the putrid movies he's made in the last 10 years, Pacino's wheels went out of true. It's not as though he's incapable of good performances anymore—he was great in Angels in America, strong in Insomnia, decent in The Insider—it just seems like the movies he chooses don't deserve his A game, so he doesn't deliver it. Time was he was the most discerning actor alive. Then came Scent of a Woman, and Hollywood has been asking him to suck on the same hambone ever since, in movies that get worse and worse.

A new DVD box set suggests that his heart isn't in commercial work because it lies in the movies he directs himself. For years, Pacino profiles have hinted at the existence of homemade films directed by and starring the man himself, pictures he makes (and remakes) for his own edification. These projects, based on plays Pacino workshops at the Actor's Studio, are reportedly self-financed. You can hardly call them "vanity projects" because they're not for public consumption. Until now, anyway. The haughtily entitled "An Actor's Vision" collects Pacino's three humble directorial efforts—The Local Stigmatic (1990), Looking for Richard (released theatrically in 1996), and Chinese Coffee (2000)—and one bonus disc of Pacino "in conversation" with a sycophantic NYU professor.

Briefly, the parts in which the actor talks about acting, about directing, about plays, about cinema, are insufferable. While Pacino is articulate and thoughtful, he is not particularly insightful or witty about what he does (a baffling truth about many great artists). It's much better when he's doing it. The best stuff in Looking for Richard, a movie about trying to act Shakespeare in a manner relevant to contemporary audiences, is when Pacino speaks the speech and dispenses with the actor-on-actor rhubarb. The Local Stigmatic, a dark playlet about class violence in London, has been on ice for 20 years and is largely unwatchable; Pacino has many great talents—cockney accents aren't one of them. The real gem here is Chinese Coffee, a play about two aging Manhattanites, both unsuccessful, both literate, both bitter as hell about their failures, who clash over a book one of them writes. Paired with the late, great Jerry Orbach, Pacino is free to tear into dialogue, feelings, and ideas that are intricate, delicate, and powerful. By leaving his Hollywood tricks behind, he carves a performance worthy of standing alongside any of his great roles and lets Orbach take a well-deserved non—Law and Order curtain call.

It's nice to see he still cares about something.

editor@thestranger.com

editor@thestranger.com