Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: FRIDAY, July 21, 1995 TAG: 9507210007
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: By RIC LEYVA ASSOCIATED PRESS
DATELINE: LENGTH: Long
On short notice, with visitors waiting downstairs, it took mere minutes to transform Ben Kingsley's lived-in hotel suite from clutter and chaos to the height of tidiness and order.
Instant control.
``The A-team,'' Kingsley says by way of explanation.
Turning from the telephone, where he had been speaking in hushed tones when the doorbell rang, the actor sits and offers tea. He takes his with a little milk. Pouring complete, he's ready to begin.
Kingsley seems a tad nervous, maybe about the phone call, but he's hard to read. As quickly as unease surfaces it is banished, tucked neatly beneath a placid smile.
Instant control.
It turns out that control - both wielding it and surrendering it - is a major issue with the actor, who began in theater before turning to film.
After 15 years at England's Royal Shakespeare Company, Kingsley was in control of his career, top dog in the world's top theatrical troupe. But too much security ultimately made it all go stale for him.
``I was beginning to get restless,'' he says, holding his teacup and saucer in hand. ``I knew I was ready for something different, but I had no idea what it was. I was safe, I was well-nurtured, but I felt the pendulum had swung as far as it could go in that direction. I just had to wait for it to swing the other way.''
The swing came with the title role in ``Gandhi,'' Kingsley's second film. The biographical epic earned him international recognition and the Academy Award for best actor.
He'll forever be remembered as the skinny, bespectacled Mahatma, which is a shame. Out of costume, he's a remarkable looking man.
His features are a subtle, striking blend of his British and East Indian bloodlines, his skin the color of honey held up the light. Snow-white stubble coats his cheeks.
His brown eyes are broad as a fawn's, but there is a glint of heightened awareness making it clear the owner is predator, never prey. The ears are wide-set, not oversized, although they may appear so because they angle outward slightly, as if positioned for best reception.
``That's the most precious gift you can give, watching and listening,'' he says, leaning forward for emphasis.
Pleased with the observation, he takes the teapot and refills his cup. Turned out casually in a black T-shirt, brown slacks and black suede shoes, Kingsley blows away the steam and takes a sip.
The telephone rings. Kingsley lets it chime, as he strokes a silver eagle bracelet. A telltale look hints that he'd like to take the call, but that would be rude, so he allows it to ring through to the front desk.
After ``Gandhi,'' Kingsley worked in ``Betrayal,'' ``Turtle Diary,'' ``Testimony,'' ``Pascali's Island,'' ``Without a Clue'' and ``Slipstream'' before playing mobster Meyer Lansky in ``Bugsy,'' which brought a best supporting actor Oscar nomination.
Then came his highly acclaimed work as Jewish bookkeeper Itzhak Stern in ``Schindler's List.'' Next was his deliciously ambiguous portrayal of an accused South American torturer trussed up by vengeful Sigourney Weaver in Roman Polanski's ``Death and the Maiden.''
Once again, the topic of control comes up.
``In `Schindler's List' and `Death and the Maiden,' I was exploring the darkest side of the human soul, in one as a witness and in the other as a possible participant in another holocaust,'' he says.
``After that, as an actor, as a craftsman, every molecule in me was poised to do something completely and utterly different, in which I didn't portray a victim, a man who had absolutely no control over his destiny whatsoever.
``It was not a career master plan, it was a gut need to shift.''
As a result, he's retaken control of his career with starring roles in ``Species,'' a science fiction summer thriller, and ``Moses,'' a made-for-TV epic shot in Morocco.
``And this was, again, a natural pendulum swing to men who had supreme control over their lives,'' he says. ``Just as we were closing `Death and the Maiden,' the offers for `Species' and `Moses' came my way.''
Kingsley doesn't think they fell into his lap by accident.
``Show me someone who believes in coincidence,'' he says, leaning forward again, eyes gleaming, ``and I'll show you someone who hasn't been paying attention.''
In ``Species,'' Kingsley plays a government scientist who creates a fetching human-alien hybrid in a test tube, then chases it down to kill after it escapes the lab. As Moses, his power goes even higher.
``I saw immediately that the natural swing of the pendulum could be seized because both those characters are in complete, utter control of their lives,'' he says, excited now. ``You could even say they were control freaks, narcissistic control freaks.''
After splitting his roughly 30-year acting career evenly between stage and screen, Kingsley has no immediate plans to return to theater.
``In film making, if everything is going your way, you can piece together completely spontaneous moments in time into a whole that approximates actual behavior,'' he says. ``It's an entirely different matter on stage; and now I often wince in the theater while watching actors act, rather than simply behave, thinking, `I used to do that.'''
What's on tap for Kingsley now? Eying the telephone with longing, he admits negotiations for his next film are under way, lamenting his lack of control over that aspect of his career.
Afraid of jinxing the deal, he offers only a vague hint about where the pendulum swing is headed this time around.
``To capture the heroism of ordinary people,'' he says, ``and to be more loving and light are my immediate ambitions.''
by CNB