Pacino's method with madness

Al Pacino enters the room and finds himself a seat, a task that proves somewhat easier than at the European premiere of his latest movie, The Merchant of Venice. That infamous night, at the Venice Film Festival, the Oscarwinning actor was left standing after an administrative error produced 200 extra tickets for the screening.

At the after-show party, the ominous presence of his bodyguards suggested a scene from The Godfather and you would have been forgiven for thinking he was about to exact a Mafioso-style revenge on the festival director. But in these days of Hollywood-star power, it says much for Pacino that he remained calm. He is, after all, no vanity-driven diva. One look at his surgery-free skin, more "leather" than "scar" face, should tell you this.

While now handsome in a grizzled sort of way, it is his distinct, sandpaper-rubbed voice that still sets pulses racing. Looking trim, he is wearing a black T-shirt and a dark pinstriped suit in need of a good dryclean. With the odd blotch stained into the fabric, this is not the immaculate apparel of a Michael Corleone but the garments of a man whose mind is on higher matters. At 64, he still lives and breathes acting.

"I don't work at night," he admits. "But when you're working on a project, at night you dream about it. You engage with it and it gets into your psyche."

Next month he stars in his first full Shakespearean role on film, as Shylock in British director Michael Radford's faithful version of the so-called anti-Semitic play. But Pacino's first screen engagement with the Bard was one of his most personal film projects to date. He conceived, directed and appeared in Looking for Richard in 1996. The warmly received labour of love followed a starry cast researching, rehearsing and performing Richard III. It was, if you like, an attempt to demystify the history play.

"I don't think my film made any difference," he sighs. "I don't think it changed anything. But I hope it becomes something used in schools. I do think Shakespeare should be on the curriculum."

Famously bad as Richard III on the New York stage back in 1979, Pacino's latest Shakespearean performance, as the mistreated Jew in Merchant, is stunning, with unforgettable scenes of him prowling like a caged animal by the Venetian canals. "I haven't been as excited since I was doing Looking for Richard," he says. "I'd wake up every day with the excitement of enquiry and, hopefully, invention." With a largely British cast around him - including Jeremy Irons, Joseph Fiennes and Mackenzie Crook - Pacino freely admits that he is in awe of the tradition of acting that comes from the birthplace of the Bard. "First of all, the British do Shakespeare great, because they've had a history of doing it. I love the way they do it - especially certain actors, some of the great ones. Today, we have Mark Rylance, who runs the Globe - one of the greatest Shakespearean actors I've ever seen. The British have encouraged us Americans; but I don't think anybody will ever have the elocution and the taste of words the way some of your actors have." Pacino has the tendency to ramble in great paragraphs, as though he were on stage delivering a soliloquy. But although it feels like a performance, it's not affected. Just as he becomes intensely embroiled in his characters, so he becomes lost in his thoughts as he tries to explain them. In the case of Shylock, Pacino dismisses, in a roundabout way, accusations of anti-Semitism surrounding the character. "We can identify with his condition; the condition of his life and his deprivation. Once you see the images, Antonio [played by Irons] spitting at Shylock, you start to understand his motivations and relate to them."

His preparation for the role was, says Radford, as rigorous as ever. The director admits he and Pacino had "a couple of set-tos" during the shoot, testifying to the fact that the actor still adheres to the Method approach, cultivated by teacher and mentor Lee Strasberg at the Actors Studio, which Pacino joined in 1966. "He's an absolute pain about wanting to get it right," Radford says. "He's like a lot of Method actors. He likes endlessly to do hundreds of takes. He's neurotic about that."

Often dubbed the greatest actor of his generation, Pacino remains worthy of such acclaim, even if back-toback hits of the Seventies such as Serpico, The Godfather films and Dog Day Afternoon now elude him. Burnt out and disillusioned, he did endure a four-year period in the wilderness following the monumental flop of Revolution in 1985. But after returning finally to win an Oscar - his seventh nomination - for his performance in Scent of a Woman (1992), the iconic status is intact. He has since worked with Oliver Stone (Any Given Sunday), Christopher Nolan (Insomnia) and Michael Mann (Heat, The Insider), and this year won his first Emmy for his role in HBO-drama Angels in America.

With his professional life in order, his personal life is as fractious as ever. Although he no longer drinks or pops pills to combat the pressures of fame, Pacino recently settled a longrunning, bitterly fought custody battle with his former partner, actress Beverly D'Angelo, over visitation rights. The pair have three-year-old twins, Olivia and Anton, and Pacino is said to be paying a staggering $35,000 a month in child support. He also has a 14-year-old daughter named Julie Marie, whom he dotes on, from his time with acting teacher Jan Tarrant. "She makes little films on the camcorder, y'know?" he grins. "She made one for my birthday - Looking for Al. She did a take-off on my films. Very clever."