WHERE STARS ARE BORN: A report on this year's Little Rock Film Festival

The annual Little Rock Film Festival is glorious, first and foremost, for the high number of cinematic surprises it provides. Even the most avid cinephile is unlikely to be familiar with the majority of the small and mid-sized movies being shown. But that's good! It's official: the programmers of the Little Rock Film Festival can be trusted. Our advice for next year is that you challenge yourself with the idea of watching as many movies as you can that you've never heard of. Do that, and you will leave the Festival punch-drunk with awe and new enthusiasms.

This year I came away with the notion that Clay Jeter's Jess + Moss, a fictional portrait of unlikely friendship between a teenaged girl and much younger boy, might have been a perfect matching of visual artistry and groovy storytelling. Henry Thomas's depiction of Hank Williams in Harry Thomason's The Last Ride was a hoot (although it is somewhat unwise for actors to do movies with our pal Ray McKinnon, who, in a few brief scenes, steals the show). I was also entranced by Robert Greene's documentary Kati With An I (about a girl on the cusp of adulthood) and the second half of Kathryn McCool's Sand Mountain (about a New Zealander's visit to the home of a forgotten Sun Recording artist named Cast King). And, of course, I completely agree with our decision to give The Oxford American Best Southern Movie of 2011 Award to a riveting and vital documentary about the coal business in Appalachia called The Last Mountain (director: Bill Haney).

(We'll have more to say about The Last Mountain in July.)

We've also now ordered movies that reliable sources were buzzing about at the Fest but which we just could not see at the time: Natural Selection, Marathon Boy, etc.

That said, the movie I was most glad to see at this year's Little Rock Film Festival was K. Lorrel Manning's Happy New Year, an imperfect but intelligent—if not wise—portrait of a group of war veterans suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder.

While the movie is choppy in places, it is always searing, and the main reason for that is Michael Cuomo's seamless performance as Sgt. "Cole" Lewis. I can't properly describe what Cuomo does with this character, other than to say he completely becomes him.

Many of my all-time favorite performances in movies—Sean Penn as Matthew Poncelet in Dead Man Walking, Robert Duval as Sonny Dewey in The Apostle—tend to be ones in which various complexities and contradictions play out and against one another. This seems to me more realistic, more human, than the typical Hollywood character whose black or white totality is laid out by the end of the first scene (think: James Bond, Adam Sandler, et al.). I like characters who grow over the course of a movie, even if they grow more elusive. And it is on that level that Cuomo fleshes out his character: we may not agree with the decisions Sgt. Lewis makes in his life but, even after the movie, we can't stop thinking about him or his haunted choices.

Amazingly, the role of Sgt. "Cole" Lewis in Happy New Year is Cuomo's first lead in a movie. It will not be his last. Born in Baltimore, Cuomo was on his way to a life of writing (he was studying creative writing at NYU and had even interned for Baltimore Magazine) before he decided to give his first love—acting—an honest try.

Since he is currently returning phone calls, at least for the nonce, I couldn't resist asking Cuomo some questions about what went into the making of Sgt. Lewis.

The filmmakers anticipate a fall theatrical release for Happy New Year, but for those of us living outside L.A. and New York, you'll have to check local film fest schedules for upcoming showings or visit the movie's website: www.happynewyearfilm.com.

—MAS

Lead Actor/Producer Michael Cuomo and Writer/Director K. Lorrel Manning at the Little Rock Film Festival. Photo courtesy of the Arkansas Times.

THE OXFORD AMERICAN: One great thing about how your character is written and played is that instead of learning everything we need to know about him instantly, we learn about him over the course of the entire movie. He's a puzzle we have to solve, or at least work to understand better. After reading the script, did you understand immediately how you wanted to play him or were there things that even you learned about him along the way?

MICHAEL CUOMO: Lewis is definitely the most complex character that I've taken on in my acting career. I still remember reading writer/director K. Lorrel Manning's one-act play called Happy New Year on my laptop nearly four years ago. It was an incredibly powerful story of two veterans reuniting on New Year's Eve to discuss their post-war futures. Afterwards, I tried to email Lorrel, but my screen seemed blurry, so I stepped away. Then I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and noticed tears on my face. I didn't even realize it, but I had been crying—not sobbing, but more like unconscious reaction to something. The idea of losing that sense of yourself—it was deeply tragic and overwhelming.

I immediately called Lorrel and said, "I'm terrified of this character, but we have to do it." And so it began. I played Lewis in the Off-Broadway production and the short-film adaptation—two experiences that were essential steps in my overall approach to the character—especially since that original piece now serves as one of the final scenes in the feature film.

Throughout the process, I immediately connected with Lewis's loss of identity, but I was constantly discovering elements as to what affected him the most and how he was trying to cope with it, because Lewis is hit with many surprises in each act of the film that greatly impact his ability to regain a sense of control and normalcy.

THE OA: What part of Lewis's character was the hardest to convey?

MC: Lewis is a strong-willed Marine who is most comfortable when he's in control, but throughout much of Happy New Year, he's slowly unraveling from within. Co-existing in these two vastly different psyches was incredibly challenging, especially when there would be times when Lewis would switch within the same scene. Occasionally, I thought to myself, "Am I going crazy over here?"

THE OA: How did director K. Lorrel Manning help improve your performance?

MC: Lorrel comes from a theatrical background and approaches directing as a true "actor's director," in the spirit of Elia Kazan, George C. Wolfe, or how many folks describe Clint Eastwood. I most appreciated the space he gave me to take risks and make unconventional choices, which gave me the confidence to go deeper and be constantly surprised. And when he really liked something, he gave just enough praise to let me know I was on the right track. As the writer/director, I know Lorrel had very specific ideas about Lewis's arc, yet I always felt like he was open to a collaborative process, which allowed me to inhabit Lewis in a guttural way.

THE OA: You've got intense eyes. The best I can to do to describe how you seem to use them in the performance is that while Lewis often tries to hide his torments behind polite facial expressions, his eyes always suggest something else—the truth. Was your use of the eyes purposeful or intuitive?

MC: There's been a lot of talk about a specifically "forlorn" look in Lewis's eyes, especially among veterans and trauma clinicians who have witnessed this in their daily lives. I never look at footage or even film stills until after a production has completely wrapped, so I had no idea what I was projecting during the shoot. I can only say that I remember a particularly "lost" expression in several of the veterans that Lorrel and I interviewed during the research process and this definitely stayed with me. 

THE OA: Tell me one moment of your performance that still kind of startles you every time you see it—as if that moment were a bit more than even you thought you were capable of.

MC: There's a physical-therapy scene late in the film, where Lewis is struggling to walk on the parallel bars. His trainer Brian suggests that they stop and rest, but Lewis continues to push it. This scene was scripted, but Lorrel asked us to improvise and kept the camera rolling for several minutes. I vaguely remember what happened, but it wasn't until I saw the rough cut that I had any idea—I honestly don't recognize myself in this scene.

THE OA: I talked with a few people at the Little Rock Film Festival who also loved David Fonteno who plays Gunny D, a Vietnam vet and leader of a small circle of patients. You guys have a few perfect scenes together. How is working with a great actor different from working with a less talented one?

MC: We have some critical scenes in the film, so it was important for us to have a strong connection. David made sure to rag on me as much as possible during rehearsals, since the ribbing between Lewis and Gunny D is very much a part of their bond. And David is the consummate professional, so he was constantly coming at me with new line readings with each take. He really invested himself in the role, which made our scenes together so challenging and rewarding as actors.

Lewis talks with Gunny D about life and war.

THE OA: My favorite Gunny D moment is how he reads the line "It keeps you alert!" when he talks about early morning booze and playing checkers against himself at 6 AM. What is your favorite Gunny D moment?

MC: That's definitely a great moment. I would have to say that my favorite Gunny D moment is also in that scene, when he pours Lewis a drink and they toast one another. For me, it is the most vulnerable shot of Gunny D in the entire film and it rocks me every time.

THE OA: I know that you did a lot of research for this role: you talked with a lot of veterans (from different wars and eras) and you even participated in a one-on-one boot camp with a former Marines Drill Instructor. I take it you did all this research after you had read the feature-length script. So how did all that research change your first conception of the role?

MC: One of my good buddies from high school joined the Army after college and some of my relatives served in WWII and Vietnam, but it was Lorrel's initial script that really made me focus on veterans and their experience in a completely different way. I had read about some of the problems at Walter Reed when the Washington Post launched that shocking investigative report on Building 18, but the interviews we had with veterans and VA personnel (most of whom asked to remain anonymous) really put a human face on the harsh reality of post-war trauma that many vets and their families were dealing with. During the development process, I also had the opportunity to experience a simulated Marine boot camp with our key military advisor Joseph Harrell (Joe was a drill instructor in the Marines from 1999-2008), which really helped me understand the mindset of a what it means to be a Marine—the way you speak, the way you hold your head, the intensity in your eyes. Working with Joe was tough, but so important.

THE OA: How hard was boot camp?

MC: I don't back down from a challenge, but I must say that Joe's simulated boot camp was mentally exhausting at times, especially when I had to list the rank structure and the general orders, while in a seated position against the wall. Each time I screwed up, I had to start over from the beginning. After a while, my legs started to buckle, but Joe wasn't letting me leave until I listed all of them correctly. At one point, I really thought, "I can't do this. I give up. Anything to get out of this phantom chair position." But I kept going until I got it right. Then I collapsed from the pain!

THE OA: Isn't there a danger in an actor becoming a slave to research, which could, I'm guessing, cause a lessening of intuitive powers? Since you and Manning have such obvious and deep respect for vets, I would think the possibility of over-research was even trickier for you all. Was there ever a moment when you had to forget about what you learned and just go with your gut?

MC: Absolutely. The intense research seeps in, almost unconsciously, so I just tried to trust that and follow my instincts. As a director, Lorrel is also quite instinctual, so we made an excellent team, which is so important because the relationship between the director and lead actor has a ripple effect on every other actor in the film. 

THE OA: In the movie, Martinez, the chief VA hospital administrator we get to see, and the Dr. Keith, the chief doctor, are insensitive and, well, kind of crummy. In interviewing vets, did you hear a lot of complaints about VA staffers?

MC: There were wide-ranging accounts regarding treatment at the VA. Some veterans and clinicians were quite satisfied, while others were largely disappointed, echoing some of the sentiments revealed in the national press over the past five years. However, this conversation is incredibly layered and Happy New Year isn't aiming to champion, nor vilify the VA system, but rather illustrate the complexity of the situation. Is Martinez insensitive or overworked and underpaid? That's honestly a question for the viewer and there's no right answer.

THE OA: What was the most unforgettable thing you learned in talking with all those vets?

MC: Honestly, there are certain things that I cannot publicly discuss, but I will say that I was amazed by how many of the veterans we spoke with said they would go back in an instant, especially the ones who were badly injured. But their motivation wasn't always about "ridding the world of terror,"—there were several guys who just wanted to be back overseas with their unit. I had a sense of the brotherhood within the Marines, but this was on a totally different level. These guys are literally trained to take a bullet for one another and many of them do it over and over again without inhibition. That type of loyalty is amazing. 

THE OA: The scene where you lead the other...patients—I keep wanting to say inmates—in a rebellious rendition of "Folsom Prison" is pretty amazing because it never feels acted; it feels spontaneous (which, of course, I know you all were after). Your fractured, messy singing is even more potent than if you had sung the song perfectly.

Lewis and the guys sing "Folsom Prison Blues."

MC: I can carry a tune, but I'm definitely not a trained singer. For the "Folsom Prison" scene, Lorrel wanted it to feel slightly reckless. I knew the words (it's one of my favorite tunes) and we had a few sing-a-longs beforehand with the guys, but it was largely directed "in-the-moment," which really works for the scene. We did about twelve takes, so I was completely hoarse by the end of the night!

THE OA: Besides the role, you also helped write the story and you are one of the movie's producers. In the future do you just want to focus on acting?

MC: I am primarily an actor, but I will continue to write and produce—it honestly depends on the project. I originally came to New York to pursue an MFA in creative writing, so I was honored when Lorrel asked if I wanted to collaborate on the story for the feature length version. Once we had a locked treatment, he went off and wrote the first draft of the screenplay. As lead producer, I was the first to read the various drafts and provide feedback, a process that gave me incredible insight into the character at a very early stage in the process. But yes, I look forward to future projects where I'm not taking investment calls from my dressing room between scenes.

THE OA: You've mentioned elsewhere that even as a kid you loved acting but that you were too shy to perform in front of other people. Have you ever noticed that every actor—be it Jim Carrey, or Jack Nicholson or Nicole Kidman—all claim that they were utterly, devastatingly shy as kids? Yeah, when they weren't too busy being BMOCs, class clowns, and homecoming queens. So I have a hard time buying this. Please make a case for how shy you were.

MC: As a kid, I would memorize scenes from films and act them out in the mirror. I remember my mother saw me doing this and said, "Hey, you're good—maybe we should take you down to the children's theatre to audition?" It was a nice thought, but I didn't have the guts. For years, I entertained close friends and family, but I didn't have the courage to get onstage and really go for it, so I became a writer instead. Then I moved to New York and my whole life changed. It wasn't easy, but I suddenly realized that I had to give acting a chance or I would always wonder, so I left graduate school and began studying theatre. I've never looked back.

THE OA: Before you started acting, you studied writing. I notice that you were an intern at Baltimore Magazine. What did you learn from that experience?

MC: Baltimore Magazine was my first professional writing job, where I predominantly did research and fact-checking for Max Weiss, now managing editor of the magazine. Occasionally, I would write a small piece for a section called "B-Side," which was essentially B-Mag's take on The New Yorker's "Talk of the Town" section. I also wrote a few pieces for the business section, since, in addition to writing, I was also a finance major at Loyola University of Maryland (you could say there was a bit of parental influence on that decision). After I left NYU to study theatre, I freelanced as a love-and-relationships writer for a national women's magazine under a pseudonym. Now that is a film waiting to happen. 

THE OA: The legendary acting teacher, Joseph Chaikin, took you on as a student before you had any experience. He liked how you handled your audition...a reading of Edmund's tender speech to his father in Eugene O'Neill's Long Day's Journey Into Night—a hard speech, I would guess, to be original with. Did Mr. Chaikin ever say what he liked about your audition?

MC: My good friend, stage/screen actor Marc Scrivo coached me on Edmund's speech from Long Day's Journey, but I was very nervous at the audition. At the end of the speech, I looked back at Joe and his teaching assistant Wayne who smiled and said, "You're very green, but you have a lot of natural talent. I hope you're ready to work." A few days later, they assigned me the role of Hamlet, the scene beginning with Hamlet's "To Be or Not To Be" soliloquy and going through the "Get Thee to a Nunnery" scene between Hamlet and Ophelia. It was truly baptism by fire, but I made it through and eventually performed the scene for a small public audience.

THE OA: What was the most important thing you learned from Joseph Chaikin?

MC: More than anything else, Joe always stressed that we "find the music" in the text. He believed that it was essential to understand the melody within the beats of strong writing like Shakespeare, O'Neill, Beckett, Albee, et al. Even now, sometimes I'll be working on something and I'll hear his voice, "Michael—more music—listen carefully now."

THE OA: What performance in a movie do you never tire of watching and rewatching and why?

MC: My favorite film character is Daniel Day-Lewis as Christy Brown in My Left Foot. I'm very attracted to these types of stories, probably because I connect with the idea of being an underdog and having to fight for self-expression. Daniel Day-Lewis is revelatory in every performance, but this particular character is so nuanced and emotionally complex—I have to say this is still his best work. My favorite scene is when he writes the word mother across the floor in chalk with his left foot—even though I know it's coming, that scene wrecks me every time.

THE OA: The role of Sgt. Lewis could be called the role of a lifetime, your Christy Brown, without too much exaggeration. How are you going to top it?

MC: Lewis has certainly left a mark on my soul. As my first lead role in a feature film, I am so grateful to have played such a complex character. Going forward, I will continue to seek out multi-layered characters that get underneath the surface and give voice to the voiceless. Lorrel is currently outlining his next script called Red House—a road movie about a priest on the run. He's anticipating a spring or fall 2012 shoot and I'll be taking meetings with agents/managers in New York and L.A. over the next few months, so we'll see what happens. Here goes!

Trailer for Happy New Year.

Lead image: Michael Cuomo as "Staff Sgt. Cole Lewis."