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The Actor Reviews
It’s easy to appreciate The Actor’s ambition – on paper. In reality, the film never finds its rhythm or dramatic momentum.
Andre Holland is The Actor, and Duke Johnson is The Director, and these two come together to create the cinematic equivalent of a Jackson Pollock painting. You might not get it, but some people will be blown away by it. Art is in the eye of the beholder.
As a technical exercise and demonstration of Holland’s acting prowess, The Actor more than shines. As a surreal thriller, it has the striking images but none of the execution to warrant Lynchian comparisons.
Hearing the movie’s plot summary might not be much more interesting than hearing someone recount a dream they had, but actually experiencing it will make you want to stay asleep a while longer.
The theatricality of this movie... worked pretty well.
It’s a risky gambit, one certain to alienate the percentage of The Actor’s audience bent on unspooling a cogent narrative from the movie’s tangled ambitions, but the strength of Holland’s performance offers firm footing.
There is plenty to be found here with Paul and his deep fear of losing his identity. And his desperation to find it, even when you only have the ability to see yourself through the eyes of other people.
This is an unusual, fascinating movie, taking the main character's iffy memory as a visual theme and creating an unreal atmosphere in which, despite moments of peace, things seem to be a bit off.
Surreal thriller that relates identity to memory.
Like [its lead character], the movie lacks a distinct sense of self. All the lighting cues in the world can’t make up for a story about a person granted no personhood by the camera.
While no one in The Actor is exactly playing against type, that’s specifically because its titular character struggles to know what his “type” is meant to be.
Intriguingly off-beat, Johnson’s solo directorial debut is so caught up in emulating a disorienting effect that it never transcends feeling like an imitation of its obvious influences.
The Actor is an intriguing blend of retro noir and sci-fi drama. This adaptation of Donald E. Westlake’s Memory novel (about an actor who has amnesia) has a more optimistic ending than the book but still demonstrates how identity is rooted in memories.
The Actor is a true film experience — artistically and intellectually gripping, or confusing and boring, depending on the audience. The arthouse crowd will surely gush while the Average Joe may want to steer clear.
While Mr. Holland is a clear talent with a screen presence at once natural and vivid, his character is passive to the point of emptiness.
It’s a film that leaves you admiring its craft but wishing for more: more depth, more engagement, more to hold onto beyond its aesthetics.
An undeniably haunting piece of work, a story that’s out of place and time in a world that’s like our own but not quite. Rod Serling would have dug it.
Scenes snap off, as if the thread of events between has evaporated, and this sense of being unmoored pervades Holland’s beautifully controlled performance.
Burdened by a hazy and mannered style that drains it of urgency and feeling, it’s a self-conscious curio that’s less dreamy than dreary.
While Johnson's solo debut could be considered slight at moments, his direction stands above it all, which lends itself to an often stirring drama about what constitutes a good life, let alone who we are.