Last time we convened on this website I shared a conversation with Debra Granik, the director of the beautiful independent film Winter's Bone, which tells the story of native Ozarks teenager Ree Dolly and her search for her missing father. Here we have an interview with the ever-remarkable actor John Hawkes, who plays her uncle Teardrop—a fascinating character who is not intrinsically likable upon his first appearance but comes to be an invaluable ally for his intrepid niece. Enjoy the article.Debra has mentioned your saying that “Teardrop didn't change; the audience changed.”
Well, I feel like one of the great things about the character—even reading the book and the script—was that in my experience Teardrop didn't have an epiphany or a revelation that makes him a better man. I think he's kind of the same guy at the end of the movie as at the beginning, but hopefully our perception of him changes, as mine did when I read the book, and that was interesting to me.
Because at the at the beginning, for example, when Ree keeps pestering him about her dad he threatens her physically. But then later he takes it upon himself to be her champion and almost serves as a father figure for her.
I think there's a change in him, but not the usual kind of the person you think is a bad person turning into a good person. I feel like there's a lot of gray area within all the characters.
That sounds like a unique task for an actor, in terms of their arc, to remain the same but have people think about you differently. How did you approach that?
I just played what was there. I mean, I had that experience as I read the book the first time, and the script; that was kind of my feeling. I did want to—I guess to heighten it a little early on, as far as him grabbing her and his face-off with his wife. But there was no different approach, really; in terms of story, for me, what is the story and how can the character I'm playing best help to tell that story? What can I bring, I to the character and the character to the story, to make it sing?
You've played a lot of roles in films like Miami Vice and psychological thrillers. A lot of “dark” films, as it were. Did you draw from these other characters you've played, or otherwise from the people and environments with which you grew up?
I definitely don't consciously draw from people I've played before, although that may just be inevitable, but you do raise the point of the people around me that I grew up with on saw in both Minnesota and Texas; they're definitely present in what I do, and I guess how couldn't they be? I don't look for someone to model a character after or anything, but there are brief moments where I'll wake up in the morning or something like that and remember something I saw in a bar or think, “Wow, it's a lot like this one person.” It's invaluable, even a physical movement or the music of a voice, a walk or a gesture...
Well, you're a musician as well. Speaking of which, did that help you feel more connected to the Ozarks, and did you do research in terms of the music?
Well, I wish I could say yes, but I didn't really connect with the music of the film and of that region until afterwards, in an odd way. I'm not a Method actor—I'm untrained; I made up my own approach, I guess—but I wanted Teardrop to be lacking, to not have everything that he would need. So I don't know if it was really a conscious effort for him to avoid things that were enjoyable or interesting, but, it's odd, I got the idea to not bring enough warm clothes and things like that. Just to have him be unsatisfied, I guess, or not taken care of. I don't know how to describe it; I hope you're getting the vibe of things just not being quite in place for him. I feel like he's a guy who's figured out his world, but it's a rugged world, and I guess in an odd way I didn't want to be too comfortable. I'm not a Method guy, particularly, but it came to me as I was leaving for the set that it was going to be cold there and I wouldn't have quite enough of what I want or need.
So [as an extension of this] you sort of avoided the music of a region?
Sort of. I don't think I consciously did, but I guess I didn't seek it out.
Well, your character doesn't pick up a banjo til the end.
But he's not a real player anyway, as he mentions; I think the idea is that his brother could get around it moreso than he could, and my feeling is “If Teardrop had that outlet, would he be the guy that he is in the story?” I feel like if he had a creative outlet that changes a person and in my opinion just betters a person—I'm not saying that he's not a good guy, but...
But he's incomplete.
Yeah, on some weird level, as we all are. We're all mysteries to ourselves.
You said that as an actor you've made up your own approach. Could you describe what it is?
It's different every time, I guess, each project, but generally it begins with story—with what the story is and for me to have an idea of how the character can help it—and often a character will have a particular expertise or be a fixture in a certain region, so if I can get to that region ahead of time and just feel it and wonder, as I was able to do on this project, or if on a studio movie like The Perfect Storm you get to long-line fish and learn how to do that, there's that bit of research. There's asking a lot of questions about the character and what I guess would be sort of their worldview on some level. There's a lot of questions that are not even pertinent but I'll ask the question anyway of myself: reading matter, political affiliations. I guess “overprepare and then forget everything when the camera rolls” might be the simplest way of putting it, but I've gone into films and not done all of that work ahead of time and it's not as fun. For me to put a hundred hours or 200 hours into things for a part, when you add it all up, and then to get two seconds onscreen that are better for all of that work, then it's worth it. Like I said, it's really fun for me anyway to immerse, to pretend, to wonder what it would be like to be that person. Again, not in a really crazy Method way; I don't forget who I am. But, that said, if you're pretending something over and over it does get in a little bit.
Are you aware of yourself when you act as well, or are you not observational about yourself when you're acting?
You mean when I'm in the moment of doing it? I think there's strange levels that I'm not even sure I quite understand, but the greatest moments are these very brief moments I refer to as “getting air” where you feel like you've left the ground and you may have a chill or something like that. It also happens musically once in a while, often for like a split second. But usually there's so much going on, particularly with a film; one glance to you left and you see equipment, and there's a boom here, and you see a camera over there, and it's an interesting trick, trying to be aware of where the camera is but not be too aware. I think I always know who I am, that I'm still myself, except for split seconds. I think to work for twelve hours a day on a film and to lose track really of who you are would be a dangerous thing, and I don't think anyone could last too long doing that, and I don't think it's the best approach anyway.
For many of your roles in the past, you've played I guess weaker-willed characters. What's it like for you to now play such a badass?
Well, it's odd, because I feel like I'd done so much of this type of work but it's mostly in things that people haven't seen—maybe in movies that haven't come out, maybe in plays that are therefore ephemeral. It's great; I mean, a great character is a great character, and I've never seen myself as a victim in too many of the roles I've played. Some may see it that way, but I think the trick for those kinds of roles is to fight self-pity and focus on solving the problem, because it's not really fun to watch someone wallow in their poor-me kind of world. I always feel like I play a lot of underdogs that are ill-equipped, really, to deal with the circumstances around them but are doing their best with what they have, so maybe that makes them endearing or somehow gentle. This was great. It made me a little nervous; I'm not a physically imposing person, size-wise, but when I read it, I thought, you know, “I could do this.”
Winter's Bone is still playing in select theatres.
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