My Left Foot enjoyed tremendous critical acclaim when it was first released that translated into a number of nominations for the most prestigious awards in the film industry. Indeed, many of those nominees would go on to take home the trophy as one of the big winners of the night. Of those that failed to win or even sometimes get nominated at all was the director, Jim Sheridan. This oversight is in keeping with the general attitude expressed toward the film by critics and fans: it is a feast for those who love great acting rather than great directing.
Which raises the question: what, exactly, constitutes great film acting? My Left Foot is a perfect film for examining this question. A huge difference—much bigger than most people genuinely appreciate—exists between a great performance on stage and a great performance on film. That difference is usually summed up in the idea that acting on stage exemplifies “pure acting” while film work is somewhat more corrupted by impurities. How does this apply specifically to My Left Foot is a question that doesn’t really need to be raised, but nevertheless must be in analyzing the influence of its director upon a film that is universally praised as a wall-to-wall panorama of great film acting which is led, of course, by the astonishing performance of Daniel Day-Lewis in his first Oscar-winning role.
Could My Left Foot have been presented as a stage drama? It seems unlikely. The centerpiece of the film, after all, is the way that Day-Lewis manages to bring to life the historical person he is playing. It is beyond doubt a truly amazing physical performance, but is it actually as true-to-life as it seems? The answer, alas, is no. The simple fact is that no matter how jaw-dropping the physical reality Day-Lewis recreates, ultimately, he is not genuinely bringing Christy Brown to life and for one very monumental reason, titularly speaking.
All those amazing things that Christy Brown actually did do with his left foot are done by Daniel Day-Lewis with his right foot. This is not to take anything away from the performance—probably ninety-nine percent of those actors who would otherwise be acceptable casting choices could not have done what Day-Lewis does—but, still, after all is said and done, this is a movie titled My Left Foot and not My Right Foot.
Since Day-Lewis could not control his left foot to the degree he could control his right foot, the film could not be presented one hundred percent accurately. And, thus, as far as the idea of “pure acting” goes, it could never have been presented on stage even with the admittedly brilliant Day-Lewis in the role of Christy. Stage acting is collaborative, but not to nearly the degree of film. Ultimately, the director and editor and lighting crew and camera crew and even musical composer all at one time or another contribute to a film performance, even one as singularly amazing as Day-Lewis as Christy Brown.
Applicable to all the fabulous acting in the movie is the idea that director Jim Sheridan was an essential collaborator—an assertion made even more true by the fact that his subsequent films continued to produce multiple nominations in acting categories—but especially true in the case of its leading man is that the director is an instrumental element in crafting great acting. And so, when it comes to My Left Foot, the most lasting influence of the director must be identified as plugging in the last empty space when it comes to one of the most powerful acting performances in film history. For without Sheridan’s ability to literally use mirror—if not smoke—to create the illusion that Day-Lewis is doing all those things with his left foot, the world would have been left with a movie titled My Left Foot in which the actor was obviously using his right foot.
And that just would not do.
