I always wanted to see Al Pacino on stage. Local stigmatism, albeit in a rather simplified form, provides such an opportunity. For 56 minutes of screen time, Al Pacino transmits such a spectrum of different moods of his hero, he uses such a range of acting techniques that at some point you stop blinking, afraid to miss a smile, gesture, sparkling eyes of the great master.
Breaking into the frame after an unsuccessful bet on dog races, Graham (Al Pacino) starts and doesn't stop gushing until the very end. This type of people is perhaps the most dangerous – they are unpredictable, you never know what to expect from them. Graham is changeable in terms of mood, then harsh and explosive, then deliberately friendly and sweet. Such a person does not need to score anything to half the death of a passerby, just to saturate and amuse his base instincts. He lives intuitively and impetuously, a broken line.
Ray (Paul Gilfoyle) is the exact opposite of his friend Graham. He willingly enters into submission, for the time being silent and only occasionally, as in well-rehearsed stage numbers, gives nodal replicas to his partner, who relies on them, erecting amazing game designs, striking the audience with his rich arsenal. Ray needs Graham also in order to always have something to occupy his ego, eager to woo someone. He irritates his friend (or partner - such a motive is also visible) with silence and talking, he evokes a lively response in him, opens a casket or rather Pandora's box.
It's just an amazing piece of acting. Al Pacino here learns to control his face so much that the viewer notices the amazing play of light and shadows on the physiognomy of the actor. And it's amazing how Al Pacino's face has a smile and comes off him. It works automatically, like tides: starting with the eyebrows, from the eyes it reaches the lips and chin, flooding the entire face and illuminating the space, and then also, with a light wave, rolls back - back to the eyebrows, and then completely - away from the face.
It is no coincidence that “Local Stigmatic” is reduced to a certain ideological unity with “Chinese Coffee”. It's the same beautiful piece of conversational film that you want to quote in its entirety. Only here I still want to somehow "quote" Al Pacino's game - all those smiles, gestures, looks, gait, head turns. But it cannot be conveyed, it must be seen.
10 out of 10