Opening Friday, Extra Man packs Kline's prodigious theatrical gifts and his underrated knack for physical comedy into one scrappy bundle. His chemistry with Dano elevates both actors to rare heights, few more dizzying than their slow burn through the culture of "extra men" clinging to the good life by any means necessary -- until they realize it's right in front of them.
Kline spoke with Movieline about the Henry Harrison's anachronistic New York, why the best free-form choreography might be none at all, and what he might be up to soon with the folks at HBO.
I know this is the question everyone starts with, but I promise to mix it up from here: What specifically drew you to this role?
[Affects a whisper] Isn't it obvious? No, you're right. That is the first question, but at least it's not, "What drew you to that role? Why would you want to do that?" This one is just so juicy. It's well-written, and even though to play a wildly eccentric character is not a new type, I think he transcends the type. I think he's an eccentric's eccentric in a way. He's unique, he's particular. The cliche of the eccentric is exploded here. He's so wonderfully... extravagant and outlandish. But I just love his spirit, which is this indomitable, Nietzsche-esque life force. Nothing is going to destroy him.
He seems to be living in a certain era of New York society, but I was never sure which one. What was your impression?
It's funny, because several people told me when they see a cell phone come out, they go, "Wait a minute..." There's a sense it's [old New York] even though it's contemporary. It takes place now. The novel is set in the '90s during the Clinton Administration. It feels like a period film, and I think that's because they very cleverly created this kind of bubble that Henry and Louis have invented for themselves -- that life shouldn't be about the vulgarity and crassness of what Henry sees around him. He wants to erase and crate his own environment. There are so many areas -- the whole confessional transparency, the crazed ethos of today... He prefers the opacity: "The less you know about me the better." There's a mystique. I don't know if you saw piece [recently] in the Sunday New York Times about Greta Garbo and that lost age -- it was by Ben Brantley, the theater critic. It's about the era of old Hollywood and creating a mystique and not talking about your latest stint in rehab -- not being stalked and gawked by paparazzi in your every move.
That's interesting, because there's a lot of speculation about Henry's back story by other characters in the film. How much of the back story you developed was informed by what those characters thought -- if any?
In the book, of course, there's more extrapolation, but there are always unanswered questions. I think there's enough reliable information because it does come from others. There's one woman who says, "He's a gifted writer, but unfortunately very rude." The scene around the table in the Russian Tea Room: "He had his heart broken by a woman." He was a Protestant, but now he's a Catholic; he wants to give all his worldly belongings -- all three of them -- to Catholic charities. But it's a snobbish thing that had something to do with this woman who broke his heart. Or is he gay -- but "gay" of a certain period where if you're gay, just ignore it and don't do anything about it? Now that homosexuality has been politicized, you either have to be out or you don't. When I did In & Out, I was asked "Do you believe that everyone should have to be 'out,'" and I said, "No!" In that way I'm like Henry Harrison: Whatever your sexual preferences are, whatever you decide to do in your own mind or bedroom is your business.
I miss mystique. I miss mystery. I think we live in the too-much-information age. And it's indiscriminate information. What is to gained by knowing that? Especially when it's an actor. Actors should be kind of mythical. The less you know about them the better, the more you can believe that they're Hamlet or Henry Harrison or whomever.
What about the history of a part? Take Hamlet, or Cyrano de Bergerac. How does a part's performances over the years influence how you interpret a character?
Interesting question. [Pause] Sometimes I play roles that I've seen a dozen different renditions of -- enough so they kind of cancel each other. You either steal judiciously from other performances that have resonated for you and eschew what doesn't. When I did Richard III, I spent the first week trying to forget Olivier's performance and trying to quote-unquote make it my own, because you have to. But if there are certain things that have worked so well, and if it resonates -- if you can make something another actor did a matter of historical record -- that's a good thing. It's more of a question in Hamlet or King Lear than anything, really. There are so many different theories, but ultimately what it comes down to are the exigencies of putting on a show. What works for me? What works for this production, with these other actors, on this set, on this night, in this moment? The problem with Shakespeare is that a lot of literary scholars approach it as literature, but theater practitioners look at in a totally different way: He didn't write this to be pored over at leisure. This is for a show to be put on for one night.
Well, Henry has a play -- his self-described masterwork -- stolen. Can an actor have his or her work stolen?
Sure, but I think it's a compliment. It's emulation. I saw Hamlet once, and I thought, "This guy saw our production, because he's stolen... not acting things, but certain costume things, certain period things. I guess I wouldn't say "stole." Maybe "borrowed." I did a production of Hamlet that was quasi-modern dress. Why? The budget. Because if we did it in Elizabethan garb it would have been cheesy Elizabethan costumes. Better to get good versions of a more contemporary [style]. And also because Shakespeare, when he did it, he did it on a bare stage -- which is how I directed it -- and he used contemporary clothes. Little pieces of this and that might suggest a period. Olivier did Hamlet the film in black and white. Why? Because he was having a row with Technicolor. In retrospect, though, we say "Black and white! That's the only way to do Shakespeare. Black and white is not real." Shakespeare's not real! People don't talk like that! It's not natural! But as I say, when you're doing those parts, it's what works for you.
Is there a specific literary figure or character to whom you relate or wanted to be?
Oh, sure. When I was younger, at a more impressionable age, I always loved the character of Sydney Carton in A Tale of Two Cities. There was something of a reprobate about him, and yet he does one of the most heroic acts. And he says, "It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done." His last act is so unselfish, so selfless, so heroic. Maybe that's my Catholic upbringing, but it's about the ability to redeem yourself. But I also love irredeemable characters like Falstaff -- if you want to look at it that way, which is not how I look at it. Do you know how Falstaff ends up?
No.
Well, apropos of The Extra Man, he's a great misleader of youth. He's a bon vivant and a drunkard -- but who is the wittiest men in England and one one of the most intelligent men going. But he's a scoundrel and a corrupter. And ultimately Hal -- who's his sort of drinking buddy who's destined to become the king -- when then king dies, says, "Go away. You're exiled." And he dies of a broken heart. "The king hath killed his heart." Shakespeare knew he couldn't have Falstaff alive in Henry V because he knew he'd steal the play the way he steals Henry IV. He's a brilliantly, brilliantly drawn character. And there are pieces of characters throughout literature that I've always liked. But I mentioned Sydney Carton because I would loved to play that role, but the movie's been made twice -- and rather well -- with Ronald Colman and Dirk Bogarde. Leave it alone. But I always wanted to play him.
There was a choreographer on this film, but I had a hard time believing Henry's dancing was choreographed in any way.
It wasn't. We had a choreographer, Patricia Birch, with whom I worked on In & Out. There was a dance at the end of In & Out -- not the dance that ended up in In & Out, but a scene that they cut where I'm dancing down the street of the town with the wedding bouquet or something. She choreographed a dance when I was in drama school. She was an old friend of John Houseman's. I've worked with her a number of times over the years, and we got together on a Saturday and toyed with different ideas. She said, "Just do that wacky dance that you do. Just a parody of... [He extends and twists and weaves his arms arrhythmically, fingers splayed and shoulders raised] Bob Fosse meets... Nijinsky meets... Martha Graham meets... Frederick Ashton..." And if you see the whole dance, which was about four or five minutes -- [it was] very exhausting. Maybe it'll be in the DVD extras.
But we just thought that his references, with him being this cultured New York man about town, would probably be these dancers, right up to Twyla Tharp and Paul Taylor, what have you. It just comes out. I don't know how it plays because it's just a piece of what I did. But I know he says, "You could never imitate it. It's based on jungle rhythms." It's different from the book; in the book he listens to Ethel Merman listening to Cole Porter and does a kind of foxtrot sort of thing, but moving his arms around. Jonathan even demonstrated what the real guy did for me, but we kind of took it to the next step.
You're listed as appearing in an upcoming Untiled Kevin Kline Project on HBO. What is that?
Good question. It's in the process of being written now. I think they tend to announce these kind of things rather prematurely. It's hypothetically a series that I would do for HBO. It's in development. I might be shooting it in October; I may never shoot it.
Can you elaborate as to who you'd play?
[Pauses] It's probably best not to. It's not a done deal. I hate even talking about, "Oh I just made this wonderful comedy..." I don't know it's a comedy until I see it. It wants to be a comedy or a tragedy or whatever. But there are so many elements that come into play between the original idea and the...
Finished product.
Exactly.