All in the Act

Move over Dakota Fanning! Take a seat Jonathan Lipnicki! The curtains are drawn, the audience sits in silent anticipation…as Jack Durbin takes the stage.

I’ve often wondered if child actors are born with natural talent or if they just have amazing coaches, pushy parents, and very patient directors. I’d imagine it’s a combination. I remember sitting in awe as I watched little Dakota in I Am Sam, and was impressed and charmed by Abigail Breslin in Signs. How in the world do these little children understand enough of the story and script to portray feelings and emotion through facial expression and particular delivery of lines? So impressive…at least I used to think so. Now I’m not so sure.

After observing Jack this past week I’ve started to wonder if it has more to do with just being a kid than any particular measure of “talent.” He’s pulled a few stunts recently that could be considered Oscar-worthy performances. For example, last week we were enjoying dinner at a friends’ house while Jack and their daughter Sophie played in the kitchen. Somehow Sophie managed to bang her head on the floor, causing myriad tears and garnering much affection and attention from all the adults. Jack watched in fascination, even coming over to check on her. Then, right before my eyes, he went back to the exact spot where Sophie had fallen, carefully laid down on the floor in the same position, and began to whimper this pathetic, obviously fake cry. While he laid there he turned his head slightly so that he could peek at Eric and me, and once he discovered we were watching him, he squeezed his eyes shut and whimpered a little bit louder, this time putting his hand to his head in dramatic fashion. He finally got up and came lumbering over to us, still holding his head and whimpering, all the while sporting a half-pout on his face. It was all quite impressive, and almost would have been sold on me if I hadn’t watched the whole thing play out, if I hadn’t seen his calculated moves and caught the hint of a smile in the corner of his little mouth. And of course the miraculous healing (a kiss from Mommy and Daddy) was a dead give away. But all in all, it was a job well done.

This was not an isolated incident, either; he’s performed repetitious “injuries” a number of times now, usually shadowing a tumble or bonk on the head of poor Simeon. It’s always amusing and very hard not to laugh and encourage this odd behavior. Today we were outside playing in the cold, wet leaf pile. We finally decided it was just a little too cold and wet and we began to pack up to go inside…unfortunately, Jack was not too happy with that decision and started to throw a fit. Eric set him down on the sidewalk; we were a little concerned that he would throw himself down on the hard, cold cement and consequently hurt himself, as he is used to throwing tantrums on nice, soft carpeted floors. Instead, he gently lowered himself to the ground, carefully laid down, and THEN continued screaming and kicking. We just burst out laughing.

One final example of our son’s amazing toddler antics. This evening, after being repeatedly told that, no, he could not watch another video, he pulled out all the stops in a moment of acting brilliance. Eric and I were sitting on the couch and he was walking around the living room pouting, recovering from an F-1 tantrum, when he suddenly spotted the remote control on the mantle. He exclaimed and pointed, and began to babble at Eric in this sing-song voice, all high and gentle, and you could almost make out words, “Oh, Daddy, look! I understand that we couldn’t watch a video before because we didn’t have the remote, but I FOUND it! Don’t you see? Daddy—I have come to the rescue! Now we can watch movies TOGETHER! Isn’t that so wonderful, Daddy?” What made this little sweet-talk so funny was that it was totally obvious that he was intentionally sweet-talking Eric…the sweet pats on the knee and the tippy-toes walk and sudden smiles, all after minutes of sulking and pouting. And as soon as we said, “No, baby, sorry,” his body language completely changed and he melted on the floor once again. But BOY was it a performance!

I’m starting to wonder if the likes of Fanning and Breslin and even those Olsen twins really do have talent beyond their age, or if they are, in fact, just acting their age. Because my son has had no professional coaching, no one telling him how to “act hurt,” no one shaping and forming his knack for tantrum drama. It just seems to be innate. But perhaps I shouldn’t knock the child-acting business…if Jack is that good—we could have college paid off with one gig. Hm…

Anyone know what Spielberg is working on these days?