Stephen Lang Talks ‘Sisu,’ ‘Avatar: Fire and Ash,’ and the Delicate Art of Playing “Gnarly Old Bastards”
The title itself, Sisu, represents a kind of manifestation of resilience in the time of crisis. How much in your life have you ever leaned on that feeling?
I have lived my life with some objectives in mind, motivated by feelings of fortitude and hopefully resilience. That’s a good word—and if you’re going to make a life in the acting business, it really does pay to be resilient. If you’re not resilient, I don’t know how long you’re going to last, and the fact that I’ve lasted over 50 years at this point, I suppose I’m pretty tattered and battered. But a certain amount of resilience has gone into it. Sisu is a beautiful concept, and I admire it and aspire to it.
As you’re preparing to play Igor Draganov, how much do you prefer to understand the backstory of a character that’s a ruthless killer with hardly any dialogue?
It can be as detailed as you need it to be, but there are certain basic facts that I really needed to understand about this character in order to play him with the authenticity and the integrity that he demands. I have the same allegiance to a bad guy as I would to a hero. He has been a victim. He is a product of the state—this Soviet kind of machine. He was probably a fatherless child who was shuttled from institution to institution when he had a certain talent or predilection towards cruelty or coldness or bullying. He gets tagged by the system. This is a guy we can militarize. There are certain similarities between Jorma’s character. They’re both gnarly old bastards. The big difference is that his character, Aatami, had stuff to lose and he lost it. He knew love, he knew family, and it was taken from him. I don’t think that Draganov ever had anything to lose. That makes that character make sense to me.
You have a great entrance in this movie, dragging a ball and chain through the prison yard. Did Jalmari have anything specifically written to describe this character as he introduced himself?
Oh, yeah. As I recall, the description mirrors exactly what we did. It’s raining, it’s cold. We’re in probably the shittiest place ever. And this dude looks like a Yeti or something and comes out dragging his ball and chain. I think the one thing that Jalmari wasn’t happy about that night was he didn’t feel the ankle cuffs were on tight enough. And I’m like, “Really?” I remember it was a cold night, but it fit the bill. And I had a wonderful opportunity to act opposite Richard Brake, who’s a fine actor as well. So in this really horrible way, it was a lot of fun.
A lot of your job in this movie is reacting—either with facial expressions or one-liners. Is there a key to pulling off a good one-liner?
I’m not sure I know what the key is. They don’t seem like one-liners when you’re doing them. Again, it’s in line with that kind of very dry, Jalmari Helander Finnish sense of humor, which has a commentary side to it. On the train, I do the entire monologue, which I’m very grateful to Jalmari for leaving that intact, because it’s a big piece of verbiage. It doesn’t justify the character or anything he does, in any way, but it does say who he is. And I like that.
Was it challenging to use the Soviet accent as well? Was it an extra layer of fun?
Both. It’s challenging and it’s fun. I worked hard on it. And I looked at it pretty scrupulously and critically and I’m pleased with it.
Did you get a chance to watch any set pieces unfold on set? Did you have a favorite one that Jalmari pulled off?
I was there for the train sequence—the grand finale. It’s the main course. And what I love about it is that’s where [Aatami] and I really finally go head to head. I asked [Jalmari], “What is this? What is this missile going to do?” And he said, “Well, it’s going to go right through your fucking head, man.” And I went, ”OK, OK, that sounds good.” So much of it, of course, you have to use your imagination. And that’s so helpful to have a director who is as specific in his vision as Jalmari was.
On that train sequence, you get involved with the action for the first time in a really physical way. What was your training process like? Did you work with a pretty intense choreographer?
Yeah, we had stunts on the day. But to be honest, you need to be in the environment itself to make it work. And if you think back on that train, by the time the fists begin flying, there’s furniture all over the place anyway. Things are pretty busted up. There’s no way you can really duplicate that in a rehearsal hall or on pads, because they’re always going to pad everything when you’re doing the rehearsals. When you actually get there on the day, everything is there to bite you in the ass. Shards of wood, glass, all kinds of stuff. And you just deal with it. But I was very fortunate. There was an excellent stunt coordinator and stunt team. And Jorma was an excellent acting partner as well. I think we both sort of take care of ourselves and take care of each other.
I noticed in the train car that you use your left hand to fire your pistol and your right hand for the machine gun. Are you ambidextrous when it comes to shooting?
No, but I’m pretty good with my left hand. I don’t know that this is true, but I’ve long suspected that I actually was born a lefty and just ended up being a righty. Years ago, I played Babe Ruth, who of course was a southpaw, and when I was doing the big turnaround to hit left-handed, and even to throw and catch, it wasn’t that difficult. I’m by no means ambidextrous, but I’m OK.
I thought it was an interesting character quirk, because it showed how long Igor had been in this business and was able to master the craft like that.
Oh he can kill with anything—he can kill with his feet, and he does! One of my favorite moments is actually when I make an entrance back to the table and I lean over very quickly and I slash the guy’s throat. And you almost don’t see that. It’s very, very fast. And I did actually say to Jalmari, “Make sure you do an insert of me putting the knife back in my boot. Because I’m not sure people will actually even know what just happened.” And he did. I think it plays really, really nicely.
You played the first stage version of Colonel Jessup in A Few Good Men, George Pickett in Gettysburg, Quaritch in Avatar, and Medal of Honor recipients in Beyond Glory. Now you’re a Red Army militant. What draws you to the military or leadership positions? What’s so appealing about playing those kinds of characters?
Look, I take direction well, which is very helpful in the military. But most of the military men that I’ve played, whether they be Jessup or Quaritch or Draganov or any of the eight Medal of Honor recipients in Beyond Glory, are mavericks in their own way. They all go outside the military structure. By definition, that’s what the Medal is—you’ve gone above and beyond. Generally speaking, they’re intelligent fellows, which of course is a stretch for me, but what are you gonna do? It also can be as simple as: If you are successful playing a type of role, you’re probably going to get offered more of them. I try never to repeat myself, but I have no objection to taking the same phenomena, the same world, and continually turning it a little bit to examine the military persona from a different perspective—from the Russian, crazy-man perspective, to the marine, to the blue Avatar. I think part of my attraction to the military roles is linked up with aspiring towards a certain kind of courage.
It does seem that a lot of these roles—and that includes the blind man in Don’t Breathe—also contain real anger, resentment, or frustration. What is that like to embody for lengths at a time?
I like to turn the heat up when I need to turn the heat up—and then turn it way down to simmer. I’ve noticed that people ask Jalmari about working with me and his go-to answer is like, “Stephen can fall asleep anywhere.” Which is kind of true, and it’s sort of the answer to your question. When I’m in the zone, I do become Igor and I am consumed by whatever anger or rage he has dramatically. And then when they say “Cut,” I go sit down and close my eyes and just take it all fucking down and just meditate and be calm, be myself. I can turn it up again when I need to. I’ve been doing it for long enough that I kind of intuitively understand what I need to to keep myself mentally, emotionally, and spiritually healthy.
I don’t know. I’m the father of four. So you’ve got to have an intimidating voice at some point. My boys were tough, but my girls were tougher. But they’re all great. I don’t know where it came from. When I work on a character, I don’t really think about the voice. I do the work I need to do and then I open my mouth and I’m always amazed or surprised by what emerges from the voice that does come out of me. Somebody once asked Robert Mitchum, “Why are you good at villains?” And he said, “Because I have a good baritone voice.” I suppose there’s certain things that we’re just kind of endowed—and although this is more my normal voice right here, I can go into the badass thing pretty easily if I have to.
When you were thinking about playing Quaritch in Avatar, was that how you approached the character? I want to go into badass mode. Or was there some nuance you could explore with James Cameron?
Well, with Quaritch, the task was just building myself as big and as strong as I possibly could. We wanted him to be a square peg in a round world there. We wanted him to be all straight, right angles and hard lines in a very fluid environment. And there’s an emotional component to what I was just saying there as well. I can translate a 90 degree angle into an emotion if that makes any sense.
There was a large gap between the first movie and The Way of Water. What was it like to tap back into that character again after so many years?
As I recall, it was more organic and simpler than I might have thought it would be. In a sense, I’d never really left the character. The project was always alive. And sometimes it would be on the backburner, sometimes it would be simmering, but I don’t think a day probably ever went by where I didn’t address Avatar in my mind, because it’s such a significant thing in my life and it was not over. And indeed, the last few years have been kind of amazing with Way of Water and now with Fire and Ash coming out. We’ve been busy as hell, which is great. But I found Quaritch to be a persona that was not difficult to slip back into. Of course, adding the whole avatar aspect of it is its own kind of work. And plenty of discussion with Jim that has been going on for 17 years. And hopefully will go on for another number of years as we continue to work on it.
At least in The Way of Water, your experience was much different because of the motion capture elements in your performance. It’s funny to think about you as a thespian of the stage putting on this motion capture suit. How difficult was that barrier to get over?
Well, it’s very interesting that you bring that up because a couple of weeks ago I went out to Lightstorm in L.A. and I shot a piece that I wrote called Infinite Space: Performance Capture and Method. It’s about a 15-minute speech, sort of like a TED Talk. I juxtapose these two very, very misunderstood disciplines. But in my experience, they’re extremely complementary. The structure of performance capture is a kind of shell for the method, for the richness and the depth of the method. It’s not alien to me. Fellini used to say that the character transformation happens in the makeup chair. I’ve always subscribed to that in a way. And to be honest, the markers, the dots on my face, and the bodysuit that I’m wearing—that’s my makeup and my wardrobe. Any adjustments have to be made, I make them.
How much did you have to calibrate your performance when you saw what your avatar looked like on the screen? Did you reconsider how you were performing?
Well, I try not to. Once I’m in it and once we’re in the scene, I try not to do too much or be too self-critical as I’m doing it. There’s always a little demon on your shoulder—your own self—that’s kind of watching you and judging you. And you’ve just got to say, “Shut the fuck up and let me do my work.” Once in a while, sure, I’ve got a face cam on me. If I need to throw in a little facial twitch to convey anxiety, I’m not above it. I’ll do that. But basically, I try to let it happen. You want to set up the circumstances so that performance can happen rather than manipulating or calculating.
