From time to time, there's talk of creating new Oscar categories. Just this year, Brad Pitt spoke about the need to give stunt coordinators some love and appreciation during his acceptance speech. Maybe he's right, maybe there should be a stunts category. Another arguably necessary addition is a casting award that reflects that job's importance in creating the movies we love – it's much more crucial than original songs, for instance. Casting is not just a matter of hiring good actors, but the challenge of getting the right people for the right roles. It's knowing how to capitalize on a star's persona and energy, the performer's fame, the tonal register they bring and the audience's perception of them. In the right circumstances, a limited actor can be a better choice than a consummate thespian with a greater range.
Ron Howard's delightful Splash (available on Disney+) is a pertinent example of the importance of good casting for a movie's success, humor, and dramatic functionality. With different performers, it probably wouldn't work half as well as it does…
Splash tells of the romance between a charming young man and the mermaid who falls in love with him. During a sepia-toned prologue, we see their first meeting, when both were children whose paths crossed by chance in the silvery waters of Cape Cod. Years later, Allen Bower, the boy who saw the siren, has grown up and runs a business with his horndog brother. He's a beloved boss and generally liked by all that surrounds him, but something's missing in his life. Love is out of the question for him, the space in his heart already filled by fantastic longings for creatures he might not even believe exist. Clouded by fantasy, he's uniquely obtuse and, when the woman of his dreams reappears, poor Allen is too lost in his head to realize everything he always wanted is standing right in front of him.
She's the Ariel to his Eric, rescuing him from drowning one fateful day and then tracking him down to New York, set on spending six fun-filled days in his company. Allen isn't too sure about what's happening, but he's certainly not going to refuse the romantic advances of a beautiful if odd woman who's just wandered naked out of the Atlantic and starts kissing him at the first chance she gets. What happens henceforth is a literal fish out of water comedy mixed with a good dose of schmaltzy romance, so sweet it nearly gives you cavities. That said, Splash comes close to derailing into wish-fulfillment chauvinism more than once, the power imbalance between the leads being particularly distasteful.
Thankfully, its actors are always ready to sand off the flick's most problematic edges and to charm the audience into submission. That's certainly the approach of young Tom Hanks, making his jump from sitcom stardom to the pantheon of big-screen A-listers. While his Allen is never a child-friendly sexless hero, Hanks brings a necessary boyishness to the role. During the trickiest parts of the romance development, the actor is so nakedly earnest and good-humored that his advances never come off as creepy. Better yet, he's a master at illustrating the gradual process of sexual attraction mutating into genuine love. We must believe Allen is ready to sacrifice everything for this whirlwind romance and Hanks makes us believe.
If the choice of Tom Hanks is a trump card that allows the movie to overcome the script's seediest undertones, Daryl Hannah's casting is of no less genius. The role of Madison (her mermaid name is impossible to translate) isn't any sort of unsurmountable acting challenge. However, it does require someone who can play childish wonderment and the self-assuredness of a sexual woman at the same time. She must feel awkward when talking, but endearingly so, guileless but preternaturally confident. She must be beautiful with a sunny smile, and, above all else, she must have great chemistry with the man playing Allen Bower. In other words, she must be Daryl Hannah. At least, the Daryl Hannah that exists onscreen and the public's imagination.
With a halo of crimped blond hair that's the movie's best special effect, Hannah's Madison is a miracle of casting rather than a stunning achievement of psychological characterization. That doesn't mean it's any less wonderful to watch. A filmmaker's accomplishment, and that includes the craft of cast and crew, doesn't exist in a vacuum. That's one of the beauties of cinema, an intrinsically collective feat where everyone must work together to create great art. It's why a limited actor isn't necessarily a bad one. Get a smart casting director, the right project, a crew capable of using the performer's idiosyncrasies to the best effect and you may get a symbiotic triumph of Hollywood entertainment like Daryl Hannah in Splash.
