My Response to the Critics...
(or, Why you should never overlook Julian)

In searching for all of the available information on Julian Sands on the Internet, I came across quite a few reviews of his films. Most of these were not by professional film critics, but rather by people who, for one reason or another, decided to express their opinion on a particular film. Some they liked. Others they hated. But one disconcerting thing a significant number of these commentaries had in common was a generally dismissive attitude toward Julian's acting skills, sometimes even becoming harshly critical.

I actually read one comment that called Julian "wooden and uncomfortable" and complained about being subjected to his acting like it was Chinese water torture. Needless to say, I disagreed. Vehemently. But bumping into such attitudes on a semi-regular basis, I determined that I would be better off putting my energies toward analyzing why someone would feel this way in order to better explain to them where they were wrong, rather than merely dismissing their criticism as invalid. I reviewed each performance in my memory, looking for moments where perhaps Julian might have indeed seemed wooden or uncomfortable.

To my utter surprise, I did find a few. However, when I did discover this, it was not justification for their criticism, but rather the very crux of my argument as to where they were wrong. One particular moment that came to mind: George Emerson, having committed the horrific act of stealing another kiss from Lucy Honeychurch (under Cecil's pointy nose, no less...) is confronted by an agitated Lucy, who reads him the riot act. George, being the passionate but philosophical creature that he is, must respond to her dismissal of him. Does he tell her he loves her, and insist that this means they must be together? Does he tell her Cecil's an idiot, and he can't see why she'd want to marry him? No. Well, not quite. In a heartfelt speech which tells you quite clearly that while this is something he's pondered long and hard, that it is not something he's rehearsed saying, George gives her his own insight as to why Cecil is not the man for her, and why he himself is. But, despite the lovely language provided by the original novel, George quite obviously is choosing his words as they tumble from his mouth. As he speaks, he sees that Lucy has decided not to listen to him, as each word is spoken, thinks of what he must say next to convince her of his deepest truths. Hakes these moments to collect his words, and says what his innermost self knows is true. And there is no question in watching him that he is both honestly desperate, and utterly convinced of his every word.

Is he uncomfortable? Indeed I would hope so! Put yourself in his shoes: the woman he loves more than life is engaged to another man; he's had one last chance to steal her away before she's forever out of his reach; he knows deep in his soul that her marriage to Cecil would spell misery for both of them, but instead of being able to save them, he is instead being banished from her life forever. He's considered all of these things for months. He knows exactly where the wrongness of the situation lies, but he's got mere moments to convince Lucy of it. And here she is with her disapproving cousin Miss Bartlett, not only rejecting his advances, but throwing him out on his ear! In the face of it all, he collects himself and manages to express himself both thoughtfully and passionately.

I can see where someone might call this performance "uncomfortable", but I thought acting meant you did your best to portray a character as convincingly as you could. In the case of an actor who is among the very few considered good enough at the craft of acting to be selected for a leading role in a major film, it would be to, ideally, become the character for the audience. If you see Julian as uncomfortable in the performance, perhaps it is better to consider whether, in fact, he was supposed to be! And, applying that yardstick to the other performances in which I thought it was even vaguely possible to call him "uncomfortable" (considering that Julian is often cast in the roles of repressed or frustrated men, there are quite a few), I found very much the same thing to be true: if the character was uncomfortable, then so was Julian. If he was passionate, so was Julian. If he was dispassionate (perhaps even "wooden"?), then Julian was as well.

This realization led me to some even deeper consideration of Julian in his roles, and beyond that, of the criticism that has often been leveled at him for his acting. Many criticized his performance as the Latvian pimp in Leaving Las Vegas, most particularly the accent necessary to the character. If I had to pick one criticism of Julian to accept without much argument, this would be it. I've heard him do a Russian accent before, in Murder by Moonlight, and I don't think accents are his strong suit (though he's a lot better at them than some others....). They do tend to slip off. (On the other hand, it would be hard to beat Kevin Kostner as Robin Hood if we're having a contest between accents that didn't quite make it...). But that's a peripheral issue to the actual performance, and frankly, I haven't heard that much criticism of his Leaving Las Vegas performance other than repeated jokes about the accent.

Julian's performance as the wily minister Basil March in End of Summer was another performance that has often been criticized. I think the criticism of the rest of the production provides a better perspective on the particular criticism of Julian than one would get comparing it to his other performances. The film was widely panned as being an overblown romance, reminiscent of a Danielle Steele novel brought to television, with little about it to redeem it, either in the other performances or in the direction or script. And I think the script is precisely where we will find the problem lies. You see, Julian's performance was criticized as being two-dimensional, of making the unscrupulous minister a stereotype. Again, considering the rest of the production, it seems rather more than a coincidence that much the same was said of the other characters as well. The things these performances all have in common (other than the nature of the criticism) is that they were based upon the same script. While it is hard to believe that the entire cast of a film (including Jacqueline Bisset) would manage poor performances in precisely the same way, it is easy to see that a script written in a way that virtually insures two-dimensional characters would result in an entire production being criticized My only remaining question on the subject is not why Julian couldn't manage to pull a rabbit out of his hat and have the only good performance in the film, but rather why is it that Julian can't seem to get better scripts?!?

Clearly, A Room With a View is one film where you have no chance of a bad script. The novel is one of the best written in terms of dialogue and vignette in the modern era, and most of that writing was taken directly into the screenplay. And even the most acerbic of critics responded to Julian's performance in the film with approval. This begs the question of just how much you can hold an actor responsible for a poor script. If he's fine enough an actor when the script's good, then how is he all of a sudden a poor actor in another production? It's no coincidence that in these types of cases, both the other performances and the production as a whole fall completely flat. Oh, that we could have E.M. Forster writing all of Julian's roles. Or at least someone with a speck of talent!

Now, you will also see some criticism of Julian's role in the Warlock films, but these remarks reside in an atmosphere where the films themselves were generally panned by most, but also commanded an immense cult following. I think that rather than being an issue of "bad writing" (though the second film suffers in comparison to the first), these films are instead the victims of a particular horror film aesthetic which says that your monster should be hideous or masked and slay many interchangeable victims, preferably with something mechanical, and always leave the hero or heroine for the very last victim, so that they, facing tremendous odds, can triumph over evil. With the Warlock films, you instead have an adversarial relationship, essentially between two solitary characters (or two sets of characters in partnership), one representing good and the other evil. And in a unique twist that turns the usual Hollywood slasher villain on his ear (if he even has one), the evil character is not disfigured or mutated, but rather a vision of unearthly beauty, nearly screaming "fallen angel" at you, rather than hell-spawned demon.

Beyond this leap forward in plot and casting, you have another thing which sets the Warlock films apart from your box-office blockbuster Zombies from Mars, Part XIV: the films actually know where to leave off taking themselves seriously, and use that point as a pivot upon which some amazing satire is hinged. I mean, how many horror villains are going to end up in a Wild West-style "shoot-out" with their intended victims, let alone in broad daylight? It's a perfect way to give the villain a chance to be more than just a killing machine or an unpredictable demon. And Julian's able to play it to the hilt. He's a thinking-man's (or woman's!) villain, as much a strategic challenge for our hero or heroine as an evil force to be overcome. A worthy enemy in a battle between good and evil.

Unfortunately, there will always be some who don't get it, who'd rather see some teenager get their head chopped off with a chainsaw (knowing that his best friend will meet the same fate another ten minutes into the film) than be challenged to enjoy the satirical and the intentionally camp. They'll also prefer buckets of gore for two hours straight to a judicious display of blood and body parts, and knowing that at least one person will survive and defeat the monster to having to wonder if perhaps the villain really is smart enough to best the hero.

So these films prove, rather ironically considering their "camp" nature, to be another example of how a good script gives Julian ample opportunity to show off his acting talents by truly becoming the character. When one is a fan of an actor, particularly one as handsome as Julian, it is often difficult to watch that actor, even in playing a villain, be killed or otherwise harmed in the course of a film. However, with the Warlock films, Julian has made the character so real that while one is watching the film, one accepts him as evil, and can even relish when he is tortured, maimed and finally killed. (And yet we can still believe him as George Emerson, sighing romantically over that passionate, intellectual young man, or as the bittersweet vampire, Alex, in Tale of a Vampire, who swiftly draws us in much as he draws in Ann.)

That last further points out where Julian shines when given a good script and a well-written character. In Alex, we have an immensely complex character, fearsome in his vampiric nature, but sympathetic in his lingering humanity. He is both repellant and charming, fearsome and loveable, and never is there any question that he should be all these things at once. He is many things, some contradictory, just as all human beings are. Julian becomes for us this intriguing character, and likewise Alex becomes Julian, because on screen the two are the same. Again, I can see no greater hallmark of fine acting than to make the audience forget that they are watching an actor in a film, and not a real person living a real and vibrant life.

Having been immensely intrigued by Julian's ability to do this, I watched Tale of a Vampire several times in a row, looking for small things I had missed in my first viewing, and becoming more and more impressed with the role (though I will admit that perhaps the film as a whole would be improved if the production quality were higher). And I am forced, with that experience firmly entrenched in my mind, to wonder if many (or indeed, any) of those who so sharply criticize Julian's acting have actually seen many of his performances at all. We are again faced with the simple reality that Julian's films have been by and large obscure, not particularly commercially successful, and in many cases not even shown outside of Europe. It only makes sense that a good portion of those who are superficially familiar with his work have not seen enough of it to be good judges of his acting abilities. Indeed, when you have a fine project like Tale of a Vampire that is virtually unknown even among fans of vampire films, you have to wonder that there is anyone who really knows enough of Julian's work to be a fair judge of his acting, particularly in cases where he is subject to a bad script or poor direction and production.

My response to the vast bulk of these critics and their criticisms has got to be "Have you really watched any of his work?". I'm sure some of them have, and moreover, I'm sure some of their criticism is indeed rooted in valid points. But I've seen him criticized far too often, and far too harshly, to just sit back accept it without first analyzing who is doing the criticizing, and whether they might indeed be mistaking a poor script that is being well-acted for truly poor acting. Beyond that, I've got to suggest, or rather to beg, that someone (in addition to being rather more careful in asking him to do accents) do their utmost to find some really excellent scripts for him. He has proven himself a truly fine actor on numerous occasions (whenever given a real chance, actually), and is more than deserving of well-written characters and dialogue. He will do such projects proud every time, and we'll all be thrilled to see him do it. After all, we knew he could!