Ever wonder what Richard Armitage struggles with?

Probably for obvious reasons, I’ve been wondering lately what Richard Armitage fights with himself about.

We know he fights a bit with his roles. Armitage has used the metaphor of “climbing a mountain” so regularly with reference to his roles (I remember that he made this remark in particular with regard to North & South, The Hobbit, and now The Crucible; there may be more). At the same time, since mountain climbing and skiing seem to be two of his favorite free time activities, we can hypothesize that he enjoys the struggle. He also seems to pick quite archetypal roles — men who are struggling with their past, their future, their pride, their desire, their shame — and has stated repeatedly that in his character construction he seeks the contradictions in characters and looks for the positive qualities in ostensible villains and the weaknesses in heroes.

Personally, he’s dropped intriguing clues all along — an early remark about struggling with fidelity, for instance; worrying that he wouldn’t be good enough as a teen; his frustration with the demand to feign cheer and enjoyment in musical theater; his fears of being unemployed with the result that he became afraid to turn down work; his concern that he might not be suitable for the role of Thorin Oakenshield and his conviction that others thought similarly. Recently, in an interview around the premiere of The Crucible, he talked about not liking laziness and especially not liking his own tendency to lie about having done work he hadn’t done. In December, we witnessed his remark that the thing that he covets (his Arkenstone) is respect, for instance. (I found that interesting because it is the inability to let go of the Arkenstone that leads to Thorin’s downfall.)

And then there was that intriguing statement that Sonnet 144, which speaks inter alia (there are dozens of readings of this sonnet, of which I am aware, and so is wikipedia, if you are interested) of the conflict between two angels, a fair / good one and a dark / evil one in relationship to the author. While he clearly sought at least in some measure to tease or provoke his audience with this choice, given that sonnet 143 and 144 have roughly the same subject matter, it’s interesting that Armitage selected the one darker in tone.

And so now I turn to the latest conundrum, which is why — apart from professional considerations that have to do with making wise career moves — Armitage would choose to play Francis Dolarhyde, a serial killer, in Hannibal. Several years ago he mentioned that roles that are not much like him are easier to play; and this came up again in the Chinese publicity for The Battle of the Five Armies, that a role like this was an opportunity to try on the skin of a very different personality than one’s own.

That remark intrigued me, because it pointed to something that I wondered frequently this summer while watching the flood of reactions to The Crucible, my own among them, and then after seeing the play myself: is part of the attraction of being an actor precisely the enhanced capacity it offers to abandon, expand, alter one’s identity in every role? Could you even choose a role based on the interest you had in exploring a particular problem in your own psyche? I wonder, then, given Armitage’s next choice for a new persona to wear for several weeks — is there something he’s working out for himself in this role? And if so, what?

~ by Servetus on February 6, 2015.