A Man Without Creases

Two things about that visit stay with me to this day. First, the voice. Heston handled his like a musician. He had superb breath control, and an ability born of years of training to change the coloration of his tone from one phrase to the next. That surprised me less than his animation. Talking about his craft, Heston used his hands so often to illustrate a point that the teaspoon he was using to scoop up his strawberries waved like a baton in his long fingers. I recall remarking that his animated manner contrasted with the exquisite stillness at the core of his style in those epics. He launched into an account of how those epic roles had required "a new style of acting." His challenge had been to find a way to convey nuance beneath the "protean" surface those roles required. In "The Ten Commandments" Cecil B. DeMille had been no help at all, Heston said, so he'd turned for advice to his co-star, Edward G. Robinson. But William Wyler—"once we got on terms"—was the one who ultimately helped him perfect his approach in "Ben Hur" three years later.

The greeters came to summon him again. "Acting for the big screen is all about knowing what to leave out," he said as he rose to follow them.

His trousers, I noted as we got up, were still uncreased. I still don't know how he managed that. What I do recall is the passion of a consummate professional talking about his craft. And the lesson that even demigods may turn out to be very nice guys.

© 2008