The Extra Man

Louis is duly fascinated by Henry’s eccentric, acerbic ways, and Kline delivers one of the best performances of his career, mining big laughs from lines like, “I’m against the education of women. It dulls their senses and effects their performance in the boudoir.” He also rails against such practices as recycling and charity to the homeless, which makes an interesting contrast to Louis’ newfound job at an environmental magazine, where he develops a crush on his vegan, uber-green co-worker, Mary Powell (Katie Holmes). Louis is also fascinated by Henry’s mysterious, bearded neighbor, Gershon Gruen (John C. Reilly), who can be heard through the vents each morning singing beautifully as he showers. Louis is hiding his own eccentricity from his new friends, and without giving away too much about the course this particular character development takes, I will say it is perhaps the most sensitive, realistic exploration of heterosexual cross-dressing since Tim Burton’s Ed Wood.

Co-directors Shari Springer Berman and Robert Pulcini, adapting a novel by Bored to Death scribe Jonathan Ames, clearly share Louis’ attraction to cranky oddballs such as Henry, as evidenced in their excellent first feature, American Splendor. Henry has much in common with that film’s protagonist, Harvey Pekar (Paul Giamatti), though there is a misplaced sense of class superiority in Henry that Harvey would undoubtedly abhor. Still, as mean-spirited and narrow-minded as Henry often seems to be, it is difficult as an audience member not to share in this fascination; as Louis says at one point, “You have a strange power over people, Henry,” to which Henry replies, “It’s my constant disapproval. People think it fatherly.” He might not be someone most of us would actually want to live with, but Henry is a wonderful cinematic creation, and probably Kline’s funniest role since A Fish Called Wanda. Though The Extra Man has much else to recommend it, it is this central character that buoys the film, and brings added life to all around him.

Hidden Netflix Gems is a new feature designed to help readers answer that burning question, “What should I watch tonight?” It will be updated every Saturday before the sun goes down.

Ezra Stead: I’ve noticed a strong fascination in your films for a sort of cranky and eccentric, but lovable, type of character, such as Harvey Pekar (Paul Giamatti) in American Splendor or Henry Harrison (Kevin Kline) in The Extra Man. From what I’ve read about your next film, Imogene, with the title character faking a suicide in an attempt to win back her ex, it sounds like that character fits the bill. What attracts you to these kind of characters, and what else can you tell us about Imogene?

Shari Springer Berman: I am attracted to cranky, lovable people. Bob and I … both are; I don’t know why, I guess my therapist could probably answer that question better than I could [laughs]. I guess I love the idea of someone who isn’t overtly nice, and I feel like so many movies, especially Hollywood movies, it’s so about people being nice. One of the biggest notes when I write for studio films … is that the character has to be likable, and I think that people can be completely lovable and not, on the surface, nice. Some of the most amazing people I’ve met in my life are people who are a bit cranky, not necessarily traditionally nice, but underneath, some of the kindest, most giving people you’d ever want to meet … My grandmother was kind of a little bit cold, and very snarky, but I knew she loved me more than anything in the world, and when she said something kind, it was very real. So I like characters like that … and Imogene is definitely a continuation of the slightly brittle but completely lovable, root-for-them, character. Imogene’s mom [Annette Bening] is not one of those people; she’s very out there and wears a lot on her sleeve – who she is, is very available.

ES: You started out making documentaries, and certainly some of the techniques you brought to American Splendor reflect that background. What kind of advantages and disadvantages do you think documentaries have over narrative, and vice versa?

SSB: It’s completely different. I love documentaries because you don’t know what you’re going to get. When you make a narrative film, your whole goal is to know what you’re going to get … In a documentary, when you’re approaching it the way I like to approach it, you go in with sort of a general idea and then you allow it to happen to you, and you’re open to all kinds of things, and there’s something really thrilling about that experience. It takes you in directions you had no idea you would ever go … Docs take years, and you have to just give yourself over to it. Sometimes it’s really boring, but I like the adrenaline of shooting verite footage – not seated interviews … but just going out and covering events – it’s this really crazy adrenaline rush, and I love it … I miss that sometimes. In this movie, Imogene, that we just shot, we wanted to shoot a scene of a guy walking around with this strange outfit … in Chinatown, and my ADs [assistant directors] were stopping everybody and we were just putting this guy in a crowd and letting him walk, and I was like, ‘Okay, you know what? We have to shoot this like a doc.’ I told the Ads to go get a cup of coffee … I’m gonna take over … and we got all this stuff … genuine reactions to this guy walking down this massive street, and it was one of the most fun days … Working with actors is probably my favorite part – that or writing – is my favorite part of the filmmaking process.

ES: How do you and your husband divide up the duties of directing a film? What is your working process like?

SSB: We have different strengths, and I think that’s why it works, because we sort of take different areas and run with it. I do a lot of … sort of organizational stuff, and he spends a lot of time with the camera, the shots. I used to be a casting director, so I do a lot of casting and, obviously, Bob’s involved in it and I’m involved in everything, too, but these are just the things that we each take the lead on … I talk to the actors, that’s my sort of arena, and if Bob wants something [from them], he’ll tell me … but usually, we see eye to eye. I mean, you have to have the same aesthetic approach; if you don’t see the world the same way and you don’t like the same films, then you’re gonna constantly be battling, so luckily, we tend to agree a lot.

Gordon began the panel by proudly proclaiming the fact that Columbia has “produced more women directors than any other film school today,” but lamented that in spite of this, “the film world is predominantly white and male.” She then turned things over to the four filmmakers to discuss the challenges they faced in getting their own first features made. Berman joked that “only half my answers are valid [because] I actually work with a partner who’s male,” her husband and co-director Robert Pulcini, whom she met while they were both attending Columbia. Dabis spoke about the extra difficulties of finding financing for her first feature, Amreeka, which “was not just about women, it was about Middle Eastern women.” Cholodenko’s advice for aspiring first-time filmmakers was to “have your intention in place, articulate it and stick to it,” while Holofcener told an unhappy tale of how she and her first agent parted ways. “After a while,” she said, “he sent me a Xerox bill, and I knew that was the end of my agent.”

When asked about how they went from their initial success to their second features, Dabis, who is currently in this particular process, said, “It’s never going to be easy, and when you accept that, it is what it is, and you just sort of keep going.” Cholodenko echoed this sentiment by adding, “If you have the stomach for that, then you’ll make it, and if it turns you off, then you should maybe find another profession.” The conversation then turned to the work of creating believable characters and situations with which an audience can relate. Cholodenko offered this secondhand advice: “Someone said to me once, ‘Just write it until it breaks your own heart.’” Holofcener responded the question of how much description she uses in her scripts, as opposed to dialogue, by saying, “I hate reading scripts that tell me about the character in the description of the character,” as opposed to dramatizing it through action.

As the discussion moved on to casting and working with actors, Holofcener spoke about her close working relationship with Catherine Keener, who has appeared in all of her features. “Just looking at me,” Holofcener said, “helps her access what I need from her … It’s a very intuitive connection. If she’s crying in a scene, I’m crying.” Berman spoke about the importance of casting the right actor for any given part: “I really believe that if you cast the wrong person, there’s little you can do to save the film.” Holofcener added to this by addressing the pressure felt from studios to cast a star: “One time, I did buckle and … offered this actor the part, and I had this sinking feeling … and she passed,” she said with a sigh of relief.

The panel wrapped up by addressing the topic of its title: the idea of “women filmmakers,” a moniker that Cholodenko said she doesn’t feel is “particularly modern.” “If it has to be modified, it’s like a handicap,” she expounded, while Dabis said that “because it is that much more difficult … I’m proud to be doing it.” “The statistics [of women in the industry vs. men] are horrible,” Cholodenko continued, “but I don’t think it’s going to go backwards, to where there’s this invisible other gender with no representation.” As to why Columbia seems to be a breeding ground for female filmmakers, Cholodenko said, “The energy there is really … what’s the word?” “Feminine?” Holofcener offered. “No, it’s not,” Cholodenko responded, “it’s androgynous. You go there and you don’t feel like it’s a boy’s club.” With a new semester of Columbia’s Film program beginning in the fall, we’re sure to see many distinguished filmmakers, both male and female, ascending from its ranks in the coming years. The panel can be viewed in its entirety here.

A highly accomplished stage actor, trained at Julliard under the tutelage of such exacting instructors as the legendary John Houseman, Kevin Kline pretty much started his film career as one of the best of the best, a genuine “actor’s actor” and also something of an old fashioned movie star with the presence to match. His first movie role was opposite Meryl Streep in Alan Pakula’s 1982 Oscar-winning film version of “Sophie’s Choice.” That was followed by Lawrence Kasdan’s Oscar-nominated ensemble dramedy, “The Big Chill,” and a leading role opposite Denzel Washington in Richard Attenborough’s portentous 1987 apartheid drama, “Cry Freedom.”

Though that was followed up by a part in Kasdan’s lighthearted homage to classic westerns, “Silverado,” Kevin Kline’s comic gifts remained under-recognized until his utterly ingenious, deservedly Oscar-winning turn as the murderous and hilariously insecure and pretentious Otto in the farce classic, “A Fish Called Wanda.” After that Kline became one of the screen’s most reliable comic leading men with parts in such high-quality mainstream comedies as “Dave” and “In and Out,” was well as the occasional part in such hard-edged tragicomic dramas as “Grand Canyon,” again with Lawrence Kasdan, and Ang Lee’s “The Ice Storm.”

Kline, who recently completed a successful stage run in Edmund Rostand’s Cyrano de Bergerac opposite Jennifer Garner, has — like other outstanding actors of his generation — gracefully moved from the A-list to the art-house. Though once noted for turning down movie roles in favor of stage work — John Stewart reminded him of his “Kevin Decline” nickname on his recent “Daily Show” “Colbert Report” appearance — Kline has been a busy and hugely reliable film actor for decades. More recent roles include the screen’s first correctly gay Cole Porter in the 2004 musical biopic “De-Lovely,” Garrison Keillor’s radio detective Guy Noir in Robert Altman’s 2006 swan song, “A Prairie Home Companion,” Jacques in Kenneth Branagh’s version of Shakespeare’s “As You Like It,” and the 21st century’s version of Inspector Dreyfus opposite Steve Martin‘s Inspector Clouseau in the rebooted “Pink Panther” series.

Add to those the role of the suave but irascible platonic male escort Henry Harrison in Shari Springer Berman and Robert Pulcini’s adaptation of the Jonathan Ames novel, “The Extra Man.” Taking in a confused and nervous younger protegee (Paul Dano of “There Will Be Blood”), Harrison is an utterly reactionary self-made throwback to another time and place, and an ideal role for an actor gifted with the finest of old fashioned acting virtues.

In person, Kline seems almost exactly the coolly confident and funny man you would expect — though he was also surprisingly soft-spoken, as if saving his voice for a theatrical production. In any case, like any fine theater actor, his voice carries beautifully and was delightfully easy to transcribe after about four or five other writers and myself sat with him to discuss his newest film and his long and distinguished career.

We had just spoken with directors Berman and Pulcini (see my earlier interview with the husband-and-wife directing team), who relayed some humorous anecdotes relating to the fact that the actor did his own driving in certain scenes which required him to be rather aggressive at the wheel. According to Berman and Pulcini, that came rather naturally to Kline who they described as a less than perfectly cautious driver on the New York City streets where the movie was filmed.

“The fact is,” said Kline, “the movie was done inexpensively — notice I didn’t say ‘cheaply’ — on a very tight budget. So, usually when you’re doing a driving scene you have a police escort, or you own the street and it’s all filled with extras and all the cars you see, they’re all driven by stunt men. Not us.”

“We’re out in the street and it’s rush hour and everybody’s moving about five miles an hour. Stop and start. And I’m supposed to be racing around and [Paul Dano] is supposed to be saying ‘slow down!’ So, I just did the best I could. Is that what they told you?”

No, not quite.

“The guy in the back with the camera thought he was going to die. But he didn’t. I just did a lot of swerving and stuff.”

And then I brought up another driving-related incident, in which Kline’s stage and screen acting contemporary, Jeremy Irons, happened to be crossing the street in front of the very decrepit ’74 Buick Electra driven by Henry Harrison.

“Oh that,” Kline said. “‘Jeremy, hi. Shooting right now. How nice to see you.'”

But, did he ever explain to Irons that it wasn’t his car?

“Oh God, I never even thought of that. ‘He really has fallen on bad times.’ No, I haven’t seen him since. He might have seen the guy in the back with the camera and put two and two together.”

Kline did not go on to assure us that, despite whatever we might have heard, in real life he is a very safe driver and has never had an accident.

Changing the subject, I returned to the old-school nature of Henry Harrison and noted what I’ve always seen an old-school quality to Kline’s acting, somewhat reminiscent of legendary stage and film actor John Barrymore, who died in 1942.

“I loved everything about the character but you’re right, there is that — I don’t what you’d call it — but panache and extravagance and style and the way Barrymore spoke. Yeah, [Harrison] would have been a fan of John Barrymore’s for sure.”

But, I couldn’t let go of the topic so easily. Wasn’t there something about Kline’s acting, even in other, more “regular guy” kind of roles, that was of another era? From me, that’s nearly always a compliment as my tastes habitually lean towards the retro side of things, but the actor didn’t know that about me.

“Are you saying I’m outdated and passe?”

Laughing, I doubled down. I meant even his roles back in the eighties. Somehow, that seemed to relieve him.

“It’s probably because I grew up watching those films and those [older actors] were probably models of mine. And, I guess, working in the theater, doing a lot of classical theater… going to drama school and learning how to speak in that orotund, plummy way. But I hope I wasn’t like that in movies like ‘The Big Chill.'”

And how did that connect to his great work as the hilariously vile Otto from “A Fish Called Wanda”?

“I’ve always really been attracted to outrageous comedy. I like pushing the envelope as much as possible while keeping it real. That’s the fun challenge, to make the implausible still seem within the realm of human behavior and believable as such. But I grew up watching the Marx Brothers, and W.C. Fields was my favorite comedian. Different. Harpo Marx, Chaplin… I love all that big, physical, crazy stuff.”

One of the other writers picked up the theme. Considering his love of outrageous comedy and characters, would he label Henry Harrison as “outrageous”?

“Yes. Definitely.”

How would he rate Harrison’ outrageousness on a scale from 1 to 10?

“He’s up there. Nine and a half or ten. This guy — an aristocrat who can pee in the street. There’s a way to do it. He’s at the bottom and just desperately poor but he lives this delusional, grandiose existence because he has a self-image which is full of grandiosity and self-esteem. That’s why I loved him when I read it. He’s his own man. He’s living life the way he wants to live it. If it doesn’t come up to his standards, he scorns it. He’s a poor snob. He’s in no position to be as snobbish as he is, but it doesn’t stop him.”

Speaking of being poor, were they any tricks Kline used as a struggling actor low on cash that were similar to Harrison putting black shoe polish on his feel in lieu of socks? How about the scene where Henry and Louis sneak into the opera?

“It’s called ‘second acting.’ You just go and you wait for someone to leave and you go watch the second act… You just know how to kind of be loitering in the lobby and then, ‘Oh, look, an empty seat.’ It backfires sometimes when you take a seat and the guy who’s still in the men’s room comes back. ‘Oh, there’s my seat,” and then you [go]. I did that a couple of times.”

Yes, it turns out there was a time when Kevin Kline was a fiscally deprived young actor.

“The rich friends of John Houseman or Margo Harley, who ran Julliard, would leave clothes. My overcoat was from them and I got a couple of shirts. In [“The Extra Man”], there was a scene in the book and the screenplay, but we never had time to shoot it, where [Henry] takes Louis [Paul Dano’s character] where he does all his shopping, which is at thrift stores up on the Upper East Side, where you can find really elegant suits from the rich who’ve grown tired of last year’s beautiful three-piece suit.”

“But all of my costumes were by a brilliant, brilliant lady [Suttirat Anne Larlarb] — we went to thrift shops on the Upper East Side. It all came from thrift shops. In the book, his trousers all have rips in it and everything is sort of strategically covered. His zippers are all broken. I had my zippers open in every scene. And the costume person would say ‘your fly’s open.’ ‘I know, I want it that way. I almost forgot to leave it open.’ You never see it, but his fly’s always open. It’s subtext that I think adds a texture to the character, that no one will appreciate,” said Kline chuckling.

Speaking of method acting, I noted, we had already been told that Kline really did learn to urinate publicly while wearing a raincoat as Henry Harrison claims to do in the film. One writer was doubting Thomas and declared this form of semi-public urination impossible to accomplish (neatly, in any case).

“No, it’s not at all,” declared Kline. “It’s not that hard. If you have the raincoat — and that’s actually an old raincoat of mine because the one they got didn’t have the pockets… It’s important that you have the pockets,” said Kline miming holding a coat in front of him to create a sort of large tent and walking slowly backward. “It’s all pretty simple, though he says it’s an art.”

The other writer was still not quite getting it. “So you’ve actually done that?” he asked.

“Listen, it’s a low budget film,” said Kline getting a big laugh from the table. “And, ‘Oh we’re about to roll? ‘Cause I have to pee.’ It’s 20minutes to go back to the trailer or the nearest men’s room. So, hey, it’s research. It’s late at night… I wasn’t doing it in front of the crew or anything to see if anyone would notice, but yeah, I tried it once or twice.”

Someone brought up the issue of what he called “balancing” the performances, since Kline was working a lot with two very strong actors with equally quirky characters in Paul Dano and John C. Reilly as the humorously hirsute Gershon.

Kline seemed slightly befuddled by the question. “I basically told them what to do in every scene and they wisely followed my advice,” he joked. “No, we never talked about it. I mean all three [characters] are just off the wall. We never thought ‘If I do that, you can’t do that,’ you just kind of do it instinctively.”

The conversation turned to the scenes involving Louis/Paul Dano’s onscreen flirtation with crossdressing. How would Kline rate Dano as a tranny on, yet again, a scale from 1-to-10?

Kline was either starting to get tired and didn’t really hear or seemed to want to sidestep that question. (If you see the movie, you might understand why.) “Like Paul in real life, he’s very literate. He loves Russian literature, we talked a lot about, you know, intellectual things.”

“While he was dressed as a tranny?”

“I kind of stayed away from him on those days,” Kline responded, unfazed. “I wasn’t quite ready for that. No, but Paul and I worked together on ‘The Emperor’s Club’ when he was 16… did I tell you that already?”

No, he hadn’t, that was another group of journalists at the roundtable chat next door.

“Same shape table. Sorry. No, but yeah. He was one of the students in [the 2002 educational drama], I was his teacher there. Different, different tone. Serious teacher, trying to imbue my students with the highest values as opposed to this guy, who’s a misleader of youth. But we had worked together, so we had this past. It’s a while ago but I think he’s a terrific actor and I’ve loved watching him since… especially the most recent being ‘There Will Be Blood.’ [Putting on a funny, quasi-parental voice] That’s my little student.”

But, the inquiring mind of the questioner, who was starting to reveal something of a hang-up with numerical ratings, wanted to know, how would he rate Dano as a transvestite — naturally on a scale from 1 to 10?

Kline got humorously annoyed in a highly John Barrymore-esque fashion. “I don’t rate my fellow actors! They’re all 10s! I happen to be an 11, but that’s just me!”

That led to a question about a remark from directors Berman and Pulcini, who noted that one major reason they pursued Dano for the part of Louis is that they needed someone who could hold his own with Kline onscreen. Dano had already very much held his own with the similarly potentially overpowering presence of Daniel Day Lewis in “Blood.”

Kline found it “sweet” that the directors thought it that way, however…”We don’t think about that. ‘They’re not standing up to me.’ ‘They’re not holding their own in this scene.’ That’s a filmmaker talking. [To an actor] it’s all about love, you love one another and try to bring out whatever you can.”

But how had he seen Dano grow over the ten-plus years since “The Emperor’s Club” was shot?

“He stood up to me just fine when he was 16, but I never thought of that way. But now that you mention it, yeah, he’s the real thing. It’s not a question of can he hold his own against you. If you’re a good actor you do your job. If you’re working with an actor [does a funny voice] ‘Oh my God, it’s Laurence Olivier’… no, you work maybe that much harder or try not to work too much, and don’t make it overworked. You just do your job. I never sensed that he was intimidated. I wish he’d been a little intimidated by me, but I don’t think he was. You’d have to ask him. I tried, God knows, I tried to scare the crap out of him. To no avail.”

Then I trotted out the artist-pleasing question crafted by Will Harris. Which of Mr. Kline’s many projects did he feel didn’t get enough attention?

“Hmm. It’s funny, but I remember when I did ‘I Love You to Death.’ No one saw it in the theater. Came and went in a week. ‘Soapdish’ came and went in a week. No box office. ‘Grand Canyon’ for Larry Kasdan. These are, I think, really good films. Didn’t do that great theatrically but have had a life on cable and DVDs. People come up to me and say, ‘Oh, I loved “I Love You to Death” or ‘I loved “Grand Canyon,” what a great movie.’ So I have no [movies where I think], ‘it’s too bad nobody saw it.’ They found their audience eventually, but it’s too bad they didn’t see it in a theater on a big screen.”

Of course, those films, particularly “Grand Canyon,” did get a fair amount of press attention, I noted, but that’s obviously not the same thing as generating major box office.

“Even ‘The Ice Storm’ — which is now a real masterpiece of early Ang Lee — didn’t do that well at the box office. It got critically [praised] but people said, ‘Oh, it sounds ewww.’ The same thing with ‘I Love You to Death’ about a woman [Tracey Ullman] who keeps unsuccessfully trying to murder her husband, who’s a philandering idiot. It’s a dark comedy, but when they found it on television, it found its audience.”

Then someone brought up Kline’s family. In 1989, Kline threw generations of males into paroxysms of jealousy when he married 80s It-girl Phoebe Cates (“Fast Times at Ridgemont High“). After the pair worked together in the 1994 comedy “Princess Caraboo.” Cates retired — so far, semi-permanently — to raise the couple’s son and daughter. However, she, Kline, and both children made a memorable appearance, presumably playing versions of themselves, in 2001’s underrated low-budget slice-of-Hollywood life, “The Anniversary Party.” In 2005, Owen Kline, now 19-years-old, won praise for his work in Noah Baumbach’s darkly comic, “The Squid and the Whale.”

So, is there any chance of a re-teaming for the Kline family?

“At the moment, none of them are interested in acting. I don’t see that happening. My son’s going into art school next year. Just graduated high school. He might be a filmmaker, but he says at the moment he’s more interested in being behind the camera. That could change. I didn’t know what I wanted. I went to college to study music. How’d I end up here?”

Then someone mentioned his other “family” — if that’s the right word — from a “A Fish Called Wanda.” Might there be one more go-round from him, John Cleese, Jamie Lee Curtis, and Michael Palin, last seen together in 1997’s non-sequel “Wanda” follow-up, “Fierce Creatures”?

“Oh, I hope so. I’d love to do something with John. He tells me he’s writing a musical of ‘A Fish Called Wanda.’ So, maybe I’ll play Otto’s father.”

Then some discussion turned to Kline’s supporting role in the upcoming film from Robert Redford, “The Conspirator,” a post-Civil War legal drama with some important parallels to modern-day civil rights and constitutional issues. Someone brought up the 19th century costumes for the film — which led to some crossdressing jokes from Kline — and it occurred to me that the classical actor once dubbed “the American Olivier” by then New York Times drama critic Frank Rich, hadn’t done as many period dramas as you might expect, especially considering how often he’s done period drama on stage.

“It’s not a big deal to me, dressing up. I’ve dressed up in frocks from many periods. There was ‘Princess Caraboo’… Not a lot of period films. I’ve got to do some!” (He later remembered “As You Like It,” which does count.)

Having just watched some of the television version of his “Cyrano,” I suggested he might try a film that required some fencing, as he seemed to be pretty good with a blade as the big-nosed French swordsman and poet.

“Thank you very much. I had a broken shoulder at the time of filming and it was more sort of like this,” he said, miming how he manipulated the sword without using his shoulder much. “You should have seen me the week before.”

Then I brought up “The Anniversary Party” which, while the Kline-Cates family are definitely supporting characters in the film, felt like a glimpse into the real family. That verisimilitude led me to a bit of a factual error when I asked if he’d done anything else that was “quasi-improvisational.”

“It’s funny you’re asking me that. Leonard Maltin just asked me that. He really loved it. And the fact is there was hardly any improvisation. It was just so well-written it sounded like improvisation. There was a little bit, but not much. It was actually scripted, and it was one of those films that my wife’s dear old friend, Jennifer Jason Leigh, wrote and said, ‘I’m writing this thing. Will you guys be in it if I write parts for you? ‘Yeah, sure.’ I had no idea she was really going to do it or that anyone would. I read it and I thought, ‘That looks like fun.’ But the whole thing was like 12 or 13 days and it was like going to a party… that was when I first worked with John C. Reilly.”

Then someone else asked if the English had forgiven him for playing Otto, the ultimate ugly American who made probably the funniest anti-Brit putdowns ever captured on celluloid. “They love Otto. They’re the most self-deprecating race of men. [Doing a plummy “public school” accent,] ‘Oh, I’m sorry. I’m terribly sorry. Thank you for being so critical of us.’ No, they love that movie.”

What made it even more impressive was that this was the first fiction film by its makers. Prior to “American Splendor,” Berman and Pulcini were the documentararians behind a pair of films focusing on film and show-business landmarks. They chronicled the death of a venerable, movie-star-beloved Beverly Hills restaurant in “Off the Menu: The Last Days of Chasen’s” and the rebirth of the ultimate movieland cemetery into the world’s hippest burial plot in “The Young and the Dead.” The pair also made a 2006 IFC documentary about road movies, “Wanderlust.”

Their return to fiction films, 2007’s “The Nanny Diaries,” was less well-received, but now Berman and Pulcini are back with an imperfect but enjoyable comedy. Co-written with author Jonathan Ames (HBO’s “Bored to Death”) from his semi-autobiographical novel, “The Extra Man” stars Paul Dano as Louis Ives, a courtly 20-something with a fixation on 1920s literature and a certain amount of sexual/gender confusion, who finds himself spending a lot of time with his new roommate — an aging, ultra-obscure, ultra-reactionary playwright named Henry Harrison (Oscar and Tony winning veteran stage and film star Kevin Kline).

Berman and Pulcini are also preparing their next film. “Cinema Verite,” with James Gandolfini, Diane Lane, and Tim Robbins starring in a screenplay by veteran scenarist David Seltzer (“The Omen,” “Punchline”). It’s a tailor-made premise for the couple: the making of “An American Family,” the groundbreaking and highly controversial PBS documentary series which essentially created the modern reality television genre in 1975. The series was also the inspiration for the 1979 Albert Brooks comedy, “Real Life.”

When I was escorted to the room at L.A.’s Four Seasons where I was to meet with the writing-directing pair, I was surprised to see only one person and at first I wasn’t sure I had arrived at the right place. Robert Pulcini and I talked about our shared first name (he’s a “Bob” too), and he explained cordially that his wife would be returning in just a moment. Shari Springer Berman arrived and then somehow got into the topic of the unusual spelling of my last name. All very fascinating — to me — but I figured I’d better talk about Berman and Pulcini’s movies instead.

I should also probably note that this conversation was actually held a few weeks before Harvey Pekar’s death.

PH: First of all, I’m a huge fan of “American Splendor.” A lot of people name it one of the ten best of the decade and I definitely agree.

Berman and Pulcini: Thank you.

PH: It’s interesting though, everything you’ve done has been at least slightly fact based. “The Extra Man” is based on a autobiographical novel, obviously “American Splendor” is from autobiographical comics, then came “The Nanny Diaries,” and of course you’re also documentary filmmakers… The more recent films are fairly traditional story films that are very different from “Splendor” in terms of style. Do you think you’re heading towards doing something completely fictional at some point?

Pulcini: We just sort of look at what the source material tells us to do. With “American Splendor,” it just seemed very natural to tell the story that way. It was all derived from the way Harvey put his comic books together. The way he represented himself with different artists. The idea that [the comics] were all autobiographical and it just made sense to put him in it as well. I don’t think we really have any kind of plan. If it sparks an interest, we just figure out whether or not we can do it and figure out a way to do it.

PH: Have you ever thought about doing something completely original, not an adaptation?

Pulcini: Sure. We’ve written things that are completely original. We came very close to making them.

Berman: It was actually green-lit and then it fell apart. We were going to do a contemporary version of “The Bride of Frankenstein.”

PH: Oh, wow.

Berman: That’s definitely not fact based, unless there’s something I don’t know, but the studio wouldn’t make it. It’s a tough time to get movies made now that aren’t either sequels or big action movies or very raucous comedies. I’s a very tough time.

PH: They’re playing it safe.

Berman: It’s funny because we’re about to start shooting another movie. It’s called “Cinema Verite,” and it’s about the making of the documentary “An American Family,” which was this 1970s…

PH: I’m old enough to remember that.

Berman: It’s funny because you can almost tell what year people were born because if they’re over a certain age they remember and if they’re younger it’s like “what are you talking about?” — unless they saw the Albert Brooks movie. That is a narrative story about a documentary, so it’s a little bit more in the “American Splendor” mode.

PH: That sounds really interesting… I noticed that all of your documentaries are actually about filmmaking to one degree or another and I wondered if you’d ever bring that into your fiction films.

Berman: This is definitely about filmmaking. Very self-consciously about it.

PH: Talking about “The Extra Man,” I was looking at the production notes and they mentioned that you debated whether to set the film today or in the 90s and whether the characters should have cell phones.

Berman: Right.

PH: I was about 30 seconds late to the screening and it wasn’t until I saw [Paul Dano] pick up the cell phone that I was 100 percent sure we were now and not at some time in the past. These characters are so out of time. Was that one of the things that attracted you to this?

Berman: I grew up in New York and I have a great uncle — he’s passed away now — whose a lot like Henry Harrison. Actually maybe stranger in his own right than Henry Harrison. Less mainstream, believe it or not. I think that there’s something about New York that allows people to stay in their apartment and live in their own era. You know, be stuck in their own time.

E.B. White wrote a thing about New York that says that everybody has their New York. I feel like my New York was maybe the 80s/early 90s, like that’s my perspective of New York. My mom, who grew up in New York, it was like the 40s. People have their New York. Kevin [as Henry Harrison] because he’s stubbornly committed to his way of life and who he is and Paul [as Louis Ives] because he admires this era and wants to be a part of it. He’s chosen [it]. He’s not someone whose stuck in a certain era, he’s aspiring to be a part of that era.

PH: And so it’s a natural match. If it were me and he were a prospective roommate… I’m actually looking for a place right now…

Berman: You can ask Kevin if he’s looking for someone.

PH: [Laughing] Well, Kevin’s character would be a real nightmare for me. I’d stay away from that guy, there’s no way you’d get me in there. And I just found it interesting that he has the opposite reaction. There does seem to be an odd sort of push and pull. I don’t want to say it’s like S&M exactly, but there’s the great line that “people respond to my air of disapproval.” [The actual quote is in the context of Henry’s acknowledgment that he has a “strange power’ over people: “It’s my constant disapproval. People think it fatherly.”]

Berman: Paul’s character lost his father. He has that car [that belonged to his parents] and it means something. He’s looking for a father figure and Kevin sort of fits right into that mold in every possible way, good and bad.

Pulcini: I think it’s a story of mentorship, but Kevin’s also a cautionary tale for Paul as well. He’s definitely working something out, but comes out on the side of really appreciating Henry Harrison for who he is and what he’s created.

PH: It used to be that there was only one director on movies, and lately we’ve had more and more teams, brother teams…

Berman: A lot of brother teams.

PH: How do you two break down the duties?

Pulcini: It’s interesting, on documentaries sometime we used to have two cameras. I wouldn’t see her footage, and she wouldn’t see my footage, until we got into the editing room because we would just try to cover everything the most efficiently that we could. On this kind of filmmaking, I tend to focus more on the visuals and the camera and Shari works with the actors and things like that a little bit more, but we’re always kind of crossing that line and it’s not like [there’s a strict separation].

Berman: It’s very organic for us because we met at film school and started working together before we were a couple and just sort of got the work relationship figured out…

PH: First.

Berman: Yeah, and then the couple thing, which is harder, came later.

PH: Obviously, you were going for a sort of old-fashioned look on “The Extra Man.” I noticed that it was kind of reddish/pinkish. Am I just seeing it wrong? [Note: I’ve had a chance to take another look at the film via a screener and my own verdict is that either the projectionist did something at the screening I attended, or I really did see it wrong. Sadly, no mind-altering substances were involved.]

Pulcini: I think there were a lot of browns. We definitely had a pallet for this movie and we really wanted to stick to it. There were kind of these bursts of color in surprising places. That was kind of our thing. Like in Henry’s apartment we had these Christmas balls that jumped out at you, literally.

Was it “pinkish”? I don’t know. [To Berman] Would you say that we went for [that]?

Berman: I don’t know.

PH: I don’t know how to put it. Like a slightly rosy glow.

Berman: It was probably something that came out in the timing, to give it a certain look. I mean Vivian Cudlip [Marion Seldes] and that world — she’s all lavender. The room, her clothing and everything. The Russian Tea Room is very red and pink naturally. You don’t have to do anything.

PH: I’m glad you mentioned that, because I noticed the way it popped in the movie, much more so than the scene [set there] in “Tootsie,” say.

Berman: Oh, I know!

Pulcini: I went back and looked at “Tootsie” lately…

Berman: It was wasted in “Tootsie”! I mean, I love “Tootsie,” it’s a great movie and the scene was great, but the place itself… You know, they did a renovation between “Tootsie” [which was released in 1982] and when we shot. We were the first movie to shoot there since “Tootsie.” Maybe they actually spruced the place up a little bit. Maybe when “Tootsie” was shooting it was a little bit [less bright].

Pulcini: The [film] stocks…

Berman: It could have been the stocks. I don’t know. If Sydney Pollack were alive, I would ask him, but I don’t know.

PH: In the 80s they did have a lot of muted…

Berman: Weird stocks. But, definitely, when I looked back at “Tootsie” I was shocked at how it was sort of not as glamorous looking as I expected.

PH: Speaking of color, I didn’t know whether this was a mistake or a running joke or exactly what, but Kevin’s hair keeps changing from gray to…

Berman: It’s a running joke. We were afraid that people might think it was a continuity error. Our continuity woman was having like a nervous breakdown. “People are going to think this is the worst continuity!”

Pulcini: There is one shot of him in the car, leaning forward and putting a mascara brush in his hair.

PH: Oh, I missed that.

Pulcini: It’s the first time you see Celia Weston’s character. But it was funny because he has that one fight with Paul Dano in the rain and the coloring was just dripping down his face, but we loved it and it looked like he was bleeding.

Berman: It looked like he had got shot or something.

Pulcini: We had to dial it back.

Berman: The whole idea is that he’s putting something [in his hair] — Grecian Formula or something. It was definitely intentional, I’m glad you noticed it.

And that point, we ran out out of time for the official one-on-one interview, but I also attended a roundtable interview with Berman and Pulcini and below are a few highlights.

About finding ‘The Extra Man’ and working with Jonathan Ames

Berman: Our manager sent us the book to read to maybe direct. Bob sat down and read it, and he was cracking up in the other room. And I was like, “What are you doing?” and he said, “This is the funniest thing I’ve ever read. You have to read it.” I sat down and read it, thought it was hysterical. Then, that Monday, we got a call from our manager saying “Don’t read the book. I sent you the wrong book.” We were like, “too late.” Luckily, it was available…

So, we optioned it from Jonathan and then sat down and talked and made sure we were all on the same page and really had the same perspective and vision. We decided to work together on the script. Even though we live in the same city, Jonathan was really busy traveling…so we would sort of e-mail drafts to each other and do work on it.

We talked about who we wanted. In our first meeting, Jonathan said, “Henry Harrison has to be Kevin Kline and we [said], “Well, Louis has to be Paul Dano.” We got both of them. It’s kind of amazing.

Noting the brilliant casting work on “American Splendor” and the quality of the “Extra Man” supporting cast members, including a newly kind of interesting Katie Holmes, I asked about their approach to placing actors in roles.

Berman: We’re doing it right now, so it’s a good question.

Pulcini: It’s the usual process [but] it’s always fun to think about someone maybe doing something a little bit different. We don’t do anything different than anyone else, we just think about the roles and who would be best suited and who would be interesting. Then, sometimes you do meetings and then you see a different side of someone and then you think, “they might be really great for this.”

Katie Holmes was really interested when she read the script and then we met her. She was delightful and it suddenly dawned on us, she has this kind of great flapper quality that Louis would really be attracted to…even though he’s completely projected that on her. He has nothing in common with her, whatsoever.

Berman: We also try to cast faces. Like the way you sort of production design a room… you think about how they’re going to look in a movie, how they’re going to compliment each other and how they’re acting styles will compliment each other. [For example, with] Paul being a more interior actor and Kevin being a more external actor, how they might work together.

Regarding the topic of “faces,” I asked about John C. Reilly‘s humorously ultra-hairy and, initially, somewhat menacing character of “Gershon.”

Berman: [laughing] It was very specifically described in the book.

How much of Reilly’s over-the-top beard and hair in the film was real?

Berman: Mike Marino, fabulous hair and make-up person, laid all that hair. [John] had no beard…

Pulcini: And he wouldn’t block scenes without it. He wouldn’t do anything without speaking in that voice. [Note: Describing Reilly’s highly unusual voice in the film would spoil at least one of the film’s big laughs. No reason to blow it here.]

Berman: He’s really very method and had to be in character. It was really funny because — it was shot all in New York City — and he was walking down the street [to his trailer] and I saw a little girl running away crying.

Did Reilly always maintain his unusual voice?

Pulcini: Always. And it was really funny because he got upset about something and he walked up to our producer to complain and he starts to, like, argue with him but he always did it in the voice. My producer did not know what to say.

What about that thoroughly beaten down ’74 Buick Electra that is the preferred mode of transportation for Henry Harrison?

Pulcini: It was a mess, that car. It was amazing. We were really obsessed with finding that right car and, when we saw that car… [Laughs] It had that kind-of makeshift side-mirror that was kind of clipped on, and it was perfect, but it barely survived the shoot.

Berman: Well, Kevin is also a very crazy driver.

Pulcini: Was that the car he was in when we ran into?

Berman: This is a funny story. This was a very low-budget movie and there was a lot of shooting going on in New York at the time. We were supposed to be shooting a scene where Kevin was driving like a maniac, but we didn’t have any police escort because the police were busy with bigger movies. So, we’re just driving down the street. There wasn’t a process trailer, and the cameraman and the sound guy are crouched in the back of the car.

Pulcini: And Kevin is apparently notorious for driving like a maniac, anyway.

Berman: So, he needed no coaching to do this.

Pulcini: We stopped at a light and Jeremy Irons is walking across the street, and we’re hiding in the back filming and Kevin’s in this [seedy] outfit. And he’s like “Hello Jeremy!” and Jeremy’s like “Oh, hi Kevin!” They’re having this conversation and it’s looking like Kevin really fell on hard times. There’s no acknowledgment —

Berman: — That he’s doing a movie. Nothing.

Pulcini: [Kevin] said “I loved your show!”

Berman: And then the light changed and then Kevin turned to Paul and said, “He’s a fellow Oscar winner. He’s worth talking to,” he said in a very [haughty tone] because he was Henry Harrison. Paul had a great comeback. “Yes, but he won for Best Actor, not Best Supporting Actor!”

A few of these topics and more will be covered from a different perspective in our upcoming roundtable chat with the star of “The Extra Man,” Kevin Kline. Stay tuned.