You can feel Nick Nolte's intense physicality even as he's at ease in his
Malibu house, wearing his slob-chic gear of pajama bottoms and faded work shirt. On the
screen, it's not the physicality of a Stallone or a Schwarzenegger, who turn their bodies
into cartoons on the hoof. Nolte's physical force has an emotional eloquence that powers
his award-winning performance as Wade Whitehouse, the raging-bull small-town cop in Paul
Schrader's "Affliction." Now Nolte is odds-on to get two Oscar nominations, for
"Affliction" and for his role as the equally raging Lt. Col. Gordon Tall in
Terrence Malick's "The Thin Red Line." There are many who think that Nolte is
the best American screen actor today, and his stunning performances in these films show
him at the peak of a talent that has never stopped developing.
It was only seven years ago that Nolte was dubbed "the sexiest man
alive" by People magazine, after his performance in Barbra Streisand's "The
Prince of Tides." That wimpy accolade was surpassed this year when both the New York
Film Critics Circle and the National Society of Film Critics named him best actor for
"Affliction." The film, based on Russell Banks's novel, is as close to Greek
tragedy as movies come. His performance evokes the pity and terror that Aristotle
identified as the key ingredients in tragic drama. Brutalized as a boy by his drunken
father, Nolte's Wade embodies the repressed violence transmitted from father to son. Add
to that the ferocious Colonel Tall, and you have the Darwinian philosophy that is an
article of belief for Nolte. "There's this violence that's in us that's partly
genetic and partly taught," he says. "In this century more wars than ever killed
more people than ever. You say, 'It's them over there, it's drugs, it's this or that.' But
it might be indigenous to mankind."
In a way Nolte recalls the great expressionist actors of the '20s, like
Emil Jannings, who spoke with their bodies in silent movies. But Nolte is more subtle.
After the battle in "Thin Red Line," the colonel's face literally collapses from
an exhaustion that's both physical and psychological. It's an unforgettable image. Wade's
agonizing toothache in "Affliction" is also an expression of his angry pain at
his loser's life. Nolte, legendary for his detailed research and preparation, had four
progressively larger prosthetic teeth made, which he popped in as the ache got worse,
"to give me a reality of something in my mouth." For his role as a sadistic
detective in Sidney Lumet's 1990 "Q&A," Nolte wore shoes with six-inch
lifts. "I was literally 6 foot 6," he says. "And I had them pitched so that
I could not lean backwards. So whenever I was talking to somebody I was right in their
face."
Paul Schrader loves the way Nolte "is able to show this man's mind
working. You can see him adding up one and one and getting three." For a long time in
his own life Nolte, now 57, was adding up one and one and getting three, or maybe minus
three. Born in Omaha, Neb., Nolte bounced around various colleges and didn't avoid his
generation's near-compulsory trip into drugs and booze. In 1962 he was convicted of
selling counterfeit draft cards and received a suspended sentence of five years. He has
said that it was seeing a production of Arthur Miller's "Death of a Salesman"
that changed his life. "Acting was a savior for me," he says. "I'm not
comfortable in life. It's a little scary for me, it's a little too violent. I had to grow
up with the idea of the atomic bomb. So psychologically when I saw a play I realized that
you not only can see and read this play but you could be in it. At that time I was going
through some heavy questioning of self and everything else. At the same time I'm reading
Stanislavski's 'An Actor Prepares,' and I'm saying that's the exact process I'm going
through right now. So I went and got in a play. I was petrified going onstage. But the
minute I hit out there I knew I was home."
Work in rep companies led to television, and in 1976, at 35, he won an
Emmy for his portrayal of the wastrel Tom Jordache in the mini-series "Rich Man, Poor
Man." That led to a series of film roles including the drug-smuggling Vietnam veteran
in "Who'll Stop the Rain," the disaffected pro football player in "North
Dallas Forty" and his big box-office breakthrough as the cop opposite Eddie Murphy in
the 1982 "48 HRS." In the 1984 "Grace Quigley," his costar, Katharine
Hepburn, said to him, "I hear you've been dead drunk in every gutter in town, and it
has to stop." "I can't stop, I've got a few more gutters to go," answered
Nolte. In 1986 he put those gutters to good use as a homeless man opposite Bette Midler in
Paul Mazursky's comedy "Down and Out in Beverly Hills." Mazursky recalls how
Nolte's penchant for realistic detail led Midler to complain, "Method is one thing,
but he stinks!" Mazursky's comment, both amused and admiring, is, "I'm telling
you, Nick goes very, very deep."
This desire for depth led to Nolte's disaffection from the big-bucks
mentality of mainstream Hollywood. Movies like "I Love Trouble" (1994), in which
he and Julia Roberts failed to revive '40s-style romantic comedy, literally disheartened
the actor. "You become what they call 'hot' and these wads of money come at you and
this dance, this seduction takes place, and you forget why you act. I would actually get a
heart murmur if I was working on a film that I knew I was in for the wrong reason. It
would go ba-boom, ba-boom, ba-boom. So I went to the heart specialist." The doctor's
diagnosis was simple: "You're doing something you don't want to do."
Since then Nolte has stayed away from the ba-boom movies. In 1996 he did
"Mother Night," a Kurt Vonnegut adaptation about the dark days of Nazism, and in
1997 "Afterglow," costarring with a radiant Julie Christie as a couple with big
marital problems. Alan Rudolph, who directed him in "Afterglow" and in the
upcoming "Breakfast of Champions" (another Vonnegut adaptation), says,
"Nick is just growing. He recognizes that there are darlings and demons in every one
of us, and he wants to roll around in the mud with his. Nick is a superstarbut it's
on his own terms." Today Nolte, a veteran of three divorces, a recovering alcoholic
in great shape, lives in his Malibu compound with TV actress Vicki Lewis. In
"Breakfast of Champions," Nolte plays a cross-dresser. He took the role on one
condition. The sexiest man emeritus insisted on designing his own dress.
With Corie Brown in Los Angeles
Newsweek, January 18, 1999