If you’re here because you’re interested in dance, I’d like to make you aware that Sarah Kaufman – dance critic for the Washington Post – was awarded the 2010 Pulitzer for criticism.

I’ve already linked to a couple of her earlier articles here and here.  You can also find her article on Michael Jackson here.

I’m going to reprint the first part of her excellent article, “One-Man Movement”, but you can find the rest of it at this link.

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One-Man Movement: Cary Grant Set a Pace for On-Screen Grace That’s Left His Followers Mostly in the Dust

By Sarah Kaufman
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Washington Post Staff Writer

“North by Northwest,” Alfred Hitchcock’s sprawling 1959 thriller that takes us to the top of Mount Rushmore by way of a near-miss with a killer crop-duster, begins with the basics. A man is walking down a corridor.

But because the man is Cary Grant, the moment is anything but ordinary. He has us at the first step: that long, brisk stride and its driving rhythm, a ticktock pace that telegraphs purpose, clarity and elegant efficiency. We watch him stroll out of an elevator toward the street, dictating correspondence to the secretary at his side. He’s not some stiff, starchy suit. There’s a relaxed, easy give in Grant’s body as he moves, and as he leans toward his secretary while he speaks to her — he’s so very pleased with his own labors, and yet so exquisitely courteous to his assistant. A nice guy, and smooth as whiskey, too. He’s getting further under our skin with every move.

What Grant’s character, advertising executive Roger Thornhill, is actually saying in this scene isn’t nearly as important as his movement. It’s the movement that hooks us. It always does. Intuition? Training? Astute directors? Whatever its source, Grant knew a timeless truth: There is nothing we watch so keenly as the human body in action, because the way it moves tells a story.

The art of moving well, call it kinetic acting, has nearly vanished from movies today. I don’t mean among dancers on the big screen — that’s a different subject altogether — but among actors. The attention to physical expression, to one’s carriage and gestures and their dramatic and emotional implications, has faded. I’m talking about a sense of grace. About acting that involves a meaningful motor impulse. A signature style of moving, bigger than just body language or bits of what actors call “business” — lighting a cigarette, picking up a drink. Think of Gary Cooper’s quick, impatient stride across town to the church in “High Noon,” when he thinks he’ll be able to round up a posse among the worshipers, folks to join his fight against a group of killers. And then his stiff, pained walk back to town after he fails to find help. He doesn’t say a word, but the heaviness he feels is right there in his legs. You ache watching him.

A person’s way of moving through space tells us something on a base, primitive level. It’s animal to animal. It’s something so subtle you may not consciously notice it, but when an actor moves honestly and with intention, your eye will follow him anywhere.

The trouble is, you don’t see it that much. The buzz around this year’s Oscar favorites got me thinking about how the artistic trend in acting has gone from the external to the internal. We’re in the age of the close-up. Realism and psychological truth rule, and you find them in facial expression, in the little muscles around the eyes. The focus has tightened. Sure, there’s gobs of emphasis on sexy bodies, but the body as an expressive instrument just isn’t much in the picture.

Perhaps this is because actors aren’t formally trained in dance and movement much anymore, as they were in the early years of filmmaking. There’s also the invasion of psychoanalysis, and the rise of Method acting starting about a half-century or so ago, with its emphasis on emotion, interior motives and lots of mental preparation. Actors started questioning the precise blocking of action — the choreography of the scene — that was so prized by Grant, Cooper, Carole Lombard, Katharine Hepburn and other stars going back to the 1930s and ’40s. For that era, physical elegance signaled inner elegance. Actors today seek more of a warts-and-all approach.

More at this link.