Robert Davi is an Italian actor with over forty years of career in cinema, television and stage. With more than 170 titles, he took part in films that marked the collective imagination, including 007 – License to Kill, The Goonies and Die Hard. Known for its intense scenic presence and its charisma as “tough guy” that made it unmistakable, Davi embodies one of the most iconic figures of American cinema.
You have often interpreted “bad” and power figures, characters that dominate the scene. What makes that power really credible on the screen?
As an actor, you do not judge the character. That’s up to the public. Your job is to understand his choices and justify them. Even when they are extreme, they must have internal logic. If you really believe it, the public perceives that truth – and that’s where power is born. I have always tried to give humanity to my characters. Nobody wakes up in the morning thinking they’re bad. Everyone acts according to their own logic, their wounds, their purpose. When that truth is authentic, power is not something that you impose: it becomes something natural. Power is not necessarily screaming or forceless. Sometimes the most powerful people speak slowly. It’s presence. It’s internal energy. It’s a security that’s coming before you say a word. It comes from who you are and how you channel that force. The technique helps, of course – but the true power comes from a deep conviction. I also played many good men. And let’s remember that I have a vocalist training. That romantic part is there. But also romanticism must have a margin of hardness. Each character needs balance: the good with a shadow, the bad with a conscience. That’s what makes everything interesting. When the audience thinks they understand you, and then he hesitates. The flat characters have no power. The real power comes from complexity.
Your screen debut was in Contract on Cherry Street, alongside Frank Sinatra. Was it some kind of mentor for you? And how did that meeting affect your path to Hollywood?
Frank Sinatra was an extraordinary artist – but before that he was an extraordinary man. For us Italian Americans, growing up, there were two figures: the Pope and Sinatra. And not necessarily in this order. He gave dignity to a community of immigrants who was not always respected. He showed us. He voiced us. At the time, I studied with Stella Adler and worked hard to pay for acting and singing lessons. I also worked as a waiter in a restaurant in New York, but I was fired under circumstances… let’s say questionable. I was young, naive, just trying to survive. Then came the opportunity of Contract on Cherry Street. It was his first movie after years. It was something huge for me. Sinatra saw the shots and came to me on the set. He said: “Your is the truest performance of the film. You’re extraordinary.” It meant everything to me. Then he noticed my scars on my neck and face and told me: “Don’t let them intimidate you. They’re part of your story. Bring them proudly.” This was mentorship, but not only. It was something deeper. He gave you security. It made you feel comfortable in your skin. One night he invited me to dinner. We stopped right in front of the restaurant where they fired me. We went in together. The director paleed. After ten minutes they put me in front of an envelope: my liquidation. Sinatra smiled. He didn’t say a word. There was no need. He took me to L.A. He let me stay at the Beverly Hills Hotel. He introduced me to everyone. I never took a plane before. He made me feel part of that world. We used to talk about opera and classical music. It was a passion we had in common. And I will never forget: the two of the morning in Little Italy. He looks at me and says
“Robert, drink something” “I don’t drink, Mr. Sinatra.” You’re fired.”
So drink my first Jack Daniel’s with Sinatra in 1977. Two fingers of whiskey, four ice cubes, water. He said: “This brings you wherever you want without hurting you.” That was Frank. An immense but deeply human figure.
During your career, have your Italian origins been more an advantage or a limit?
The only limit I have encountered had nothing to do with being Italian, but with my appearance. Stella Adler told me from the beginning: “They will always give you the role of the hard. Don’t let me condition you. You will come out – you are a great actor”. I had a classic training. I graduated in acting, studied Shakespeare, poetry, always ready for very different roles. I never wanted to get labeled in one way. Yes, I interpreted men of power, authoritarian figures – but also complex, stratified roles, in different genres. Being Italian-American has never been a disadvantage. If ever, he gave me an identity. There was only one episode I remember about this. They offered me an important role in Blood In, Blood Out, but there were resistance because I was not Hispanic. It was disappointing. We actors do this: we turn. Andy Garcia is not Italian, yet he played Italian. I have interpreted characters of all kinds, including an Orthodox Jew, a Palestinian, the Merlin wizard, a Colombian drug dealer. It’s the job. Industry changes with time. Today there is a different sensitivity to identity and casting. The question is one: can the actor give authenticity to the character? If the answer is yes, that’s what really matters.
When choosing a project, what matters most: role, script or director?
Depends. It’s a set of things. Sometimes it’s the role. Sometimes the script. Sometimes even the location. If I feel there is a connection with a character – if there is something new to explore – for me it is already a sufficient reason. I’ve never been afraid to work with directors at first experience. Everyone starts somewhere. You never know who’s gonna get something important. If the material interests me and I feel like I can give something, I’m going to jump. After Bond’s film I was offered Hunt in Red October. But eventually I decided to make a small independent film, filmed for ten weeks in the Amazon forest, where I played a pilot involved in the world of gold seekers. I didn’t know the director. But experience intrigued me. The character, the adventure… I have always tried to alternate great productions and independent. Then the Profiler series came. There the pace of things has changed. It’s been four years, and I’m grateful. But television is tied to you. There were films that, unfortunately, I had to refuse because I couldn’t get rid of the shooting. It’s part of the business. Even there, however, I imposed myself. The character was called Bailey Malone, Irish. After choosing me they wanted to give him an Italian name. I said: “No, leave it like this. » I never wanted to move in one lane. In the end I choose instinct. When I feel there is something alive to discover, then it is worth doing it.
You worked in great Hollywood productions, independent films and television. What really changes when the size of a project changes? What not?
The biggest difference is in production times. On television you often have to turn a number of pages a day. It’s all very organized, sometimes very fast. But it depends on the project. I’m working on Tulsa King with Sylvester Stallone. It’s a series, but it’s filmed like a movie for the cinema. They take the necessary time. They take pictures, cover the scene well, make sure it works really before moving on. It’s a luxury. In independent films, you often have to run. Less resources, tighter times. But that doesn’t mean less value. Indeed, sometimes there is a cruelty, an urgency, even a social dimension that in the great productions does not find. There is something alive in that pressure. Large productions can take months. Four, six, sometimes more. I’ve had 15 ciaks for a scene with a director like Paul Verhoeven. Then you work with someone like Clint Eastwood and maybe you do one or two ciaks and go. Different styles. Different rhythms. Neither of them, however, guarantees the result. In the end, whether it’s a blockbuster or a small independent film, it counts what’s in front of the camera. The story. The performance. The effect it leaves on the public. The size changes organization, means, times. But the heart of work remains the same.
Current and future projects?
As I said, I’m working on Tulsa King. It’s a fantastic experience. I interpret a very interesting character – and yes, even rather intimidating. In addition to that, I have several developing films. I’m about to go to Oklahoma for a project called Honor, and there’s another working film, The Jungle Rules. I just finished Bad News on the Doorstep, shot in Rhode Island. It was a special project because my son Nick is one of the protagonists along with Dante Palminteri, the son of Chazz Palminteri. Chazz and I are in the movie, too. It was special for us to share that project with our children. Music continues to be an important part of my life. I have concerts scheduled in different countries and a new album released next year, which I will probably coordinate with the release of Tulsa King. And then there is the family. I have eight children – including a six-year-old – so, as you can imagine, I’m not bored.
One last question… is a question that divides fans for over thirty years: Is Die Hard or not a Christmas movie?
A couple of years ago – maybe last year – I published a photo on what was once Twitter, today X. I wore a Santa Claus hat and held a white cardboard in my hand with writing: Die Hard is a Christmas movie. He did more than two million views. That made me think. When we turned it around, I didn’t think so. It was an action film for me. But over time I started looking at him differently. It’s set at Christmas. Bruce Willis runs barefoot, with his feet bleeding… there is an almost sacrificial element in all this. Christmas is not only a background: it is an integral part of history, emotion. I was in London, at the Action Film Festival, for a Q&A with John McTiernan. I even sang “Let It Snow” in front of about 1,200 people. I finally said: “Die Hard is a Christmas movie. » The theater exploded. So, yeah, I changed my mind. I think it is today. And every October, when they start broadcasting it again and the debate starts again, my position on IMDb stands. And not just my royalties.
L’articolo Beyond archetype: Robert Davi and the complexity of power comes from IlNewyorkese.