with Tadanobu Asano
You’re a very versatile actor, moving seamlessly between introspective, eccentric, and comedic masks. Yet your performances also have a consistent depth. Is there anything that you consider particularly important when preparing for a role?
Tadanobu Asano – When I met director Shinji Somai, he said: “Everything is in the script. Read it over and over again.” That piece of advice has really stuck with me. Ever since, I’ve read my scripts repeatedly and have come to believe that studying the script is of the utmost importance when preparing for a role.
If a script doesn’t excite me upon first reading, I’ll pause and think about why. Is it simply because the story itself is uninteresting? Or does it still seem uninspiring when I envision the acting of my co-performers? This process leads me to notice many things. By rereading the script, I can reassess my initial impression from another perspective. Moreover, this process helps me understand the features of my role and the significance of my role vis-à-vis the larger story. Next, I think about what lines I could say to make the scene more interesting. In response to each doubt that arises, I seek answers and extract that essence to inform how I will begin preparing for a role. Both naturalistic acting and over-the-top acting are essentially the same on a fundamental level. I’m always trying to put myself in the viewer’s shoes and search for what they will find interesting.
Scripts are just text, dialogue and stage directions. So, I try to think about what’s not written on the page, and bring that to life on my own. You could say that these interstitial spaces, what comes between the lines, are where the actor can shine, or are in a sense the essence of creating a role. The same is true with music. What can you express in the space between notes? That’s what’s most interesting and also the one place free from constraints.
Tadanobu Asano – When I met director Shinji Somai, he said: “Everything is in the script. Read it over and over again.” That piece of advice has really stuck with me. Ever since, I’ve read my scripts repeatedly and have come to believe that studying the script is of the utmost importance when preparing for a role.
If a script doesn’t excite me upon first reading, I’ll pause and think about why. Is it simply because the story itself is uninteresting? Or does it still seem uninspiring when I envision the acting of my co-performers? This process leads me to notice many things. By rereading the script, I can reassess my initial impression from another perspective. Moreover, this process helps me understand the features of my role and the significance of my role vis-à-vis the larger story. Next, I think about what lines I could say to make the scene more interesting. In response to each doubt that arises, I seek answers and extract that essence to inform how I will begin preparing for a role. Both naturalistic acting and over-the-top acting are essentially the same on a fundamental level. I’m always trying to put myself in the viewer’s shoes and search for what they will find interesting.
Scripts are just text, dialogue and stage directions. So, I try to think about what’s not written on the page, and bring that to life on my own. You could say that these interstitial spaces, what comes between the lines, are where the actor can shine, or are in a sense the essence of creating a role. The same is true with music. What can you express in the space between notes? That’s what’s most interesting and also the one place free from constraints.
Looking at your filmography, I notice many foreign film titles beginning circa 2010. Was there a reason for this increased presence on the international stage? Did any elements of the film set culture and approaches to shooting encountered abroad influence your approach?
TA – Thankfully, I was afforded many opportunities to work abroad from a young age. So, it was a natural progression. I auditioned for The Last Samurai but didn’t get the part. I beat myself up about the rejection, as I felt that I hadn’t brought my sincere best to that audition. The Last Samurai was an excellent film. I think it opened a lot of doors for Ken Watanabe and Hiroyuki Sanada. I made sure not to repeat the same mistake when I subsequently auditioned for Mongol. I was able to seize a big break with that film. It was screened at theaters across the U.S. and I was introduced to an American agent. That opportunity jump-started my career in the States.
As a young actor, I had my most interesting experiences on set with Wong Kar-wai. Famously, his films have no script. The short film that I appeared in was similarly unscripted. I flew to Hong Kong. After the costume fitting, I asked Wong: “What kind of film are we making?” He said: “Oh, right. I guess I didn’t explain. Can somebody bring me a boombox?” He then proceeded to play a CD by an orchestral band from Spain or thereabouts. I was vibing to the music and he said, “This is what we are going to do.” I was like, “Wait, what? OK.” (Laughs.) Although he didn’t articulate his vision in words, he clearly conveyed the mood he had in mind. Once we started shooting, he would give directions on the spot, and we would act in response. “Now, smoke a cigarette.” “Pretend you’re holding a machine gun and shoot everyone up.” I learned a lot from that film and also had tremendous fun. The experience made me want to work with more creative people like him.
Films need to have a “mood.” This is something that international audiences understand very well. I’ve learned that if you can’t express a “mood,” then the film won’t be universally received. In Japan, there’s more of an emphasis on dialogue and acting. They tend to be preoccupied with time-blocking, to the detriment of creating a “mood.” For example, antagonists always saddle some kind of deeper baggage. From their externalized dialogue, you have to read deeper and consider what meaning lies behind their words. In order to captivate the audience, an antagonist has to have a desperate earnestness at his core, beyond his spoken dialogue. English scripts are liberating for me. I’m not necessarily able to pick up on the detailed nuance, so feel unconstrained, and am able to prioritize creating my own mood. On international film sets it’s also normal to discuss one’s own thoughts and interpretation of the role. They actually listen and if something’s difficult to express in words, we can act ideas out and discuss them. If you can convincingly articulate your position, they’ll even rewrite the dialogue at times.
TA – Thankfully, I was afforded many opportunities to work abroad from a young age. So, it was a natural progression. I auditioned for The Last Samurai but didn’t get the part. I beat myself up about the rejection, as I felt that I hadn’t brought my sincere best to that audition. The Last Samurai was an excellent film. I think it opened a lot of doors for Ken Watanabe and Hiroyuki Sanada. I made sure not to repeat the same mistake when I subsequently auditioned for Mongol. I was able to seize a big break with that film. It was screened at theaters across the U.S. and I was introduced to an American agent. That opportunity jump-started my career in the States.
As a young actor, I had my most interesting experiences on set with Wong Kar-wai. Famously, his films have no script. The short film that I appeared in was similarly unscripted. I flew to Hong Kong. After the costume fitting, I asked Wong: “What kind of film are we making?” He said: “Oh, right. I guess I didn’t explain. Can somebody bring me a boombox?” He then proceeded to play a CD by an orchestral band from Spain or thereabouts. I was vibing to the music and he said, “This is what we are going to do.” I was like, “Wait, what? OK.” (Laughs.) Although he didn’t articulate his vision in words, he clearly conveyed the mood he had in mind. Once we started shooting, he would give directions on the spot, and we would act in response. “Now, smoke a cigarette.” “Pretend you’re holding a machine gun and shoot everyone up.” I learned a lot from that film and also had tremendous fun. The experience made me want to work with more creative people like him.
Films need to have a “mood.” This is something that international audiences understand very well. I’ve learned that if you can’t express a “mood,” then the film won’t be universally received. In Japan, there’s more of an emphasis on dialogue and acting. They tend to be preoccupied with time-blocking, to the detriment of creating a “mood.” For example, antagonists always saddle some kind of deeper baggage. From their externalized dialogue, you have to read deeper and consider what meaning lies behind their words. In order to captivate the audience, an antagonist has to have a desperate earnestness at his core, beyond his spoken dialogue. English scripts are liberating for me. I’m not necessarily able to pick up on the detailed nuance, so feel unconstrained, and am able to prioritize creating my own mood. On international film sets it’s also normal to discuss one’s own thoughts and interpretation of the role. They actually listen and if something’s difficult to express in words, we can act ideas out and discuss them. If you can convincingly articulate your position, they’ll even rewrite the dialogue at times.
You have also modeled for fashion campaigns such as Undercover in 2001 and designer Takeo Kikuchi’s wkw/tk/1996@/7’55”hk.net, shot by Wong Kar-wai. In recent years, you appeared in a photoshoot for the brand Brain Dead. I feel that these campaign visuals somehow marry the ambiance between fashion and film. I’m curious, what do you think is important when it comes to fashion projects?
TA – I’m not a pro when it comes to fashion, so generally leave the decision-making to the experts on fashion jobs. The Undercover campaign coincided with the shooting for Ichi the Killer, so my hairstyle was dictated by the film. I was thrilled to be tapped for Takeo Kikuchi’s wkw/tk/1996@/7’55”hk.net. Takeo Kikuchi was big at the time, so I was impressed that he gave Wong Kar-wai complete creative leeway. Growing up, my mom ran a used clothing store, so I love clothes. My mom taught me a lot about style. I do think that fashion photography can be a vehicle for cinematic expression.Yet if the story isn’t clear, the fashion won’t shine through. Again, I think that “mood” is essential. If asked to design a “cinematic” fashion line, I wouldn’t concern myself with trends. Jeans and T-shirts are enough. That’s very cinematic to me. I might also propose ridiculous designs that I’d simply like to see, such as a massive paper bag or something. I’m always bored by fashion shows where the models just strut out one by one in an orderly row. By contrast, I’m more interested in imitating Bruce Lee, fighting in his bright yellow jumpsuit. Or when I watch James Bond hop on a beautiful motorcycle, fire off a few rounds with his pistol, and then check his watch, I end up going down a deep rabbit hole: What watch is on his wrist? What suit is he wearing? What kind of bike is that…? Fashion should be a cinematic medium. So I wonder why fashion shows just have models walking the runway. I think it’s important to give audiences more of a story, more of an aspirational model. “Hey, where did that man buy his suits? How does he feel when he struts about in that suit?” Taxi Driver had a great story and mood. Watching the film, I find myself wanting to copy De Niro’s hairstyle.
Interview Akio Kunisawa
Photography Jason Renaud
Excerpt from Issue No. 5 (2024). Read the full interview by ordering your copy here.