Duke Johnson is primarily known for his work in stop-motion animation, and he was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Animated Feature in 2016 for co-directing Anomalisa with Charlie Kaufman. Johnson made his live-action feature debut earlier this year as the co-writer (with Stephen Cooney) and director of The Actor.
The Actor is a slow, quiet and often dreamlike story about memory and place, reality and artifice. It’s about the roles actors play in films, on television and on theater stages, but it’s also about the characters we all inhabit at home, at work, in love and in crisis. The Actor sometimes feels like a Twilight Zone episode — in the best way — and Johnson’s formalist flourishes make the material into something more than a mid-century reboot of Memento. Unlike Memento’s intricate, nonlinear thriller structure, The Actor weaves a theatrical tapestry of identity and ambiguity.
Paul Cole (André Holland), a New York actor, is brutally attacked in 1950s Ohio, and he wakes with amnesia in a mysterious small town. Stranded without money or memory, he struggles to piece together his identity and find his way home. The film, based on Donald E. Westlake’s novel Memory, follows Paul’s disorienting journey through an uncanny, dream-like world where time and appearances shift unpredictably.
After the attack, Paul finds himself penniless and vulnerable, and he takes a job at a stinking local tannery to survive and manages to find a cheap room to rent. He meets Edna (Gemma Chan), a pretty and quirky costume designer, and begins a tentative romance after the pair first cross paths at a local cinema. As fragments of his past emerge, Paul grapples with fleeting memories of his life as an actor, unsure of what’s real. The townsfolk, including characters like Mrs. Malloy (Tracey Ullman) and others played by Toby Jones, May Calamawy, and Youssef Kerkour, often appear in multiple roles, adding to the town’s eerie atmosphere.
Paul’s quest to return to New York drives the narrative as he navigates cryptic clues about his former life. His interactions with Edna deepen, offering moments of connection amid his confusion. The town’s changeable environs and inhabitants play into Paul’s fractured state of mind. As he chases elusive truths, Paul questions which parts of himself are authentic and which belong to the roles he’s played.
This narrative is just as confusing to viewers as it is to Paul, but Johnson is brave enough to trust viewers to empathize with Paul and stick with him in the midst of this murky story. The disorienting atmosphere is enhanced by the perpetual fog that seems to isolate the town and the theatrical lighting effects and dreamy cinematography Johnson employs to dial in a tone I’m calling vintage paranoia. The score mimics the vibe of early rock ‘n’ roll and be-bop jazz, creating an eerie, unfamiliar soundscape that sounds like an alternate 1950s reality. Thankfully, Johnson and Cooney’s story is fueled by a steady drip of details that keeps the action moving without breaking the spell of the mystery at the center of the film.
By the time Paul reconnects with old friends, their shared memories hint at a past where he may have been cruel to or pranked a homeless man, raising questions about what kind of person Paul may have been in the past. Once he begins to uncover who he really is, will Paul even want to be himself again? In The Actor, the past persists, the future is unknown, and the present is for memories in the making, no matter which role Paul — or viewers — may decide to play. Stream The Actor on Hulu to step into this haunting, thought-provoking world.
Joe Nolan is a critic, columnist and performing singer/songwriter based in East Nashville. Find out more about his projects at www.joenolan.com.