I thought I knew all there is to know about Al Pacino, known affectionally as “Sonny Boy’’ by his mother and later friends of his.
After all, not only have I’ve seen most of his epic movies, I’ve been watching the Academy Award winner in television interviews for years, decades even.
What I especially like about Pacino’s television interviews is that he rarely discusses frivolous topics like, for example, being at a Hollywood cocktail party with Martin Scorsese. Instead, he usually discusses how he plies his trade by dissecting the inner-workings of an actor and how he approaches a scene. By getting into the weeds, discussing his own acting methods, the audience comes away with the added benefit of understanding what makes actors tick.
The last really good interview I saw Pacino in was on the Charlie Rose show in 2015.
Here in “Sonny Boy: A Memoir,” Pacino puts away discussing acting methods so he can bare his soul, recounting the good, the bad, and the ugly in an acting career that spans almost 60 years now.
Before meeting with worldwide success in The Godfather (1972), when director Francis Ford Coppola cast him, a relatively unknown actor, over Jack Nicholson, Robert Redford, Warren Beatty, and Robert De Niro to play the role of Michael Corleone, Pacino, a high school dropout, cut his teeth learning the mechanics of his trade at the Herbert Berghof Studio (120 Bank Street) in Greenwich Village. It was at the Berghof Studio where Pacino met another struggling actor, Martin Sheen. They both shared an apartment together in the South Bronx for a while.
Later, Pacino would hone his acting skills at the Lee Strasberg Actors Studio, a membership organization for professional actors, theatre directors and playwrights located on West 44th Street in Hell's Kitchen in New York City. This is where he met another young aspiring actor, Dustin Hoffman.
The Actor’s Studio helped Pacino pay his $50 rent from the James Dean Memorial Fund and it is where he was able to perform Shakespeare and Eugene O'Neill, giving him confidence, enough to stay focused, give up menial jobs and concentrate solely on acting.
As much as he learned from the Berghof Studio and the Actor’s Studio, and from his mentor Charlie Laughton (who introduced him to his favorite poets and novelists), it was Marlon Brando, who, according to Pacino, was the “influence, the force, the originator” of the method acting sweeping through New York in the 1950s and 1960s.
According to Pacino, there was a triumvirate of actors who were the originators of this movement: Montgomery Clift, James Dean, and Brando.
"Clift had the beauty and the soul, the vulnerability. Dean was like a sonnet, compact and economical, able to do so much with the merest gesture or nuance. And if Dean was a sonnet, then Brando was an epic poem. He had the looks. He had the charisma. He had the talent,” Pacino so eloquently wrote.
For the record, Pacino’s first professional screen debut was in an episode of the TV police drama, N.Y.P.D. in 1968.
Al Pacino as a youngster, with his mother, Rose Gerard Pacino
Source: "Sonny Boy: A Memoir" by Al Pacino
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He was born Alfredo James Pacino on April 25, 1940, in New York City to Salvatore and Rose Pacino. His parents split when he was only two; leaving his mother in her early 20s the hefty responsibility of finding a home for young Al and herself while supporting herself doing menial jobs and factory work.
It was a mighty tall order since his mother wasn’t getting any financial support from Al’s father, Salvatore; and there were no court ordered alimony financial assistance either at the time. They lived in furnished rooms in East Harlem before moving in with her parents in the South Bronx.
Though he lost his mother when he was only 22 years old from an apparent suicide, Pacino sprinkles readers with tender memories of his mother throughout his memoirs, as if she never left.
His mother first attempted suicide when young Al was just six years old. He raced home one afternoon, only to see his own mother wheeled out of their Bronx apartment. 16 years later, she tried it again. Al, however, believes, though prone to bouts of depression, she died choking on her pills and not from an intentional suicide.
Pacino wrote that his mother, Rose’s, real tragedy was poverty. She couldn’t get out of the mud.
Interestingly, it was his mother who gave her only son two gifts that served him well and blazed a path for him to meet with success later in life.
First, she frequently brought Al to the Dover Theater, a two-story building on Boston Road in the Morrisania section of the Bronx to watch movies from the balcony. Though Al was young at the time, the movies left a deep impression on him and he when he got home-without any television or playmates-he would often act out the scenes. “I learned at an early age,” Pacino wrote, “to make friends with my imagination.”
The second gift his mother gave him was in steering him away from some bad influences he surrounded himself with in the neighborhood; namely, Petey, Cliffy, Bruce, friends of his, who were getting into scrapes with local police authorities and often causing havoc on every street corner in the South Bronx. Though his mother struggled with depression, she had great instincts and insisted Al stay away from them, his only connection to the world. For the longest time, he hated his mother for this.
Petey, Cliffy, and Bruce, his three closest friends, eventually all died from heroin overdoses. If Al's mother hadn't intervened, her only son could have met the same fate.
It wasn't until Pacino was 52-years old and staring himself in the mirror, thinking about his acceptance speech he was about to deliver at an awards dinner, did he realize, as if being struck by a bolt of lightning, that the only reason he was standing here was due to his mother.
One of the benefits about writing your memoirs is setting the record straight about some misconceptions that have been erroneously floating around for decades.
Many have believed that Al Pacino snubbed the 1973 Academy Awards ceremony because he was upset that he was in the best supporting role category and not in the best actor category with Marlon Brando for The Godfather (1972).
Pacino makes it abundantly clear that wasn’t the case.
“The real truth,” Pacino says, “is I was overwhelmed with the newness of this. I was young, younger than even my years, and I was afraid to go. If you want to be honest--and I don't know if I do--I think I was playing the Garbo card. I was reclusive and I just wanted to be alone.”
Pacino did attend (though he might have wished he didn’t) the 1974 Oscar ceremony, when he was nominated, once again, this time in the best actor category for Godfather II.
On the night of the ceremony, Pacino was drinking heavily and popping Valium. When he got out of the shower, he thought he would go with the wet look. Marty Bergman, his agent and producer, took one look at him and told him he was an idiot and started frantically blow-drying his hair, which made his hair rise higher and higher, looking like he was wearing Abe Lincoln’s stovetop top hat. While he was in his seat at the ceremony, Pacino was still popping Valium.
He never prepared a speech because he didn't think he had a chance against the likes of Jack Nicholson, Jack Lemmon, Robert Redford and Marlon Brando. But then he had a terrible thought. What if they give me the statue just to get back at me?
So, Al started shaking, he was pumped with Valium and scared to death of winning. Just when his anxiety reached fevered pitch--he heard the words: “Jack Lemmon for Save the Tiger.” (1973). Pacino wrote that he just smiled and screamed inside with joy. If you watch the presentation on YouTube , Pacino looked cool, calm, and collected, but he was anything but.
The well-seasoned New York actor additionally comes clean on why he agreed to do Godfather III (1990), a film that was met with widespread criticism, many wondering why it was even made at all since it came 16 years after Godfather II.
Pacino admitted he did it solely for the money, because he was flat broke. The film’s director, Francis Ford Coppola, did it for the same reason, he was broke as well.
Pacino said, among other things, Godfather III suffered a severe loss without Robert Duvall, who played the consigliere, Tom Hagen, in Godfather I & II. He never understood why Duvall didn’t want to do Godfather III.
I could have told Al why Duvall refused.
In a 1991 interview on the NBC show “Later” (with Bob Costas) Duvall said that if they had offered him two or three times less than what they offered Al Pacino, it wouldn't have been ideal, but I would have accepted it. When they offered Pacino five times more than what they offered him, it became unacceptable and he refused to be in it.
In describing the many highs of his career, which included nine Academy Award nominations (winning one for “Scent of a Woman” in 1993), Pacino writes about the not so pleasant moments of his career, which usually centered on being broke and falling prey to excessive drinking.
His drinking became out of control after “Dog Day Afternoon” (1976), when fame became too “intense” for him and only got through the day with heavy amounts of alcohol and drugs until his manager and producer, Marty Bergman, finally convinced him he had to give up the sauce. Al surrendered. He started therapy soon after realizing Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) wasn’t for him. From the motion picture “Bobby Deerfield” (1977) on, Pacino had licked the booze.
Pacino never married, but he has four children with three different women. In “Sonny Boy”, Pacino lists most of the actresses he was dating from Jill Clayburgh to Tuesday Weld.
Two times in his career, Pacino lost heaps of money because of crooked accountants; the first time was in the late 1980s, the second time was in 2011, when his accountant was arrested and charged with running a Ponzi scheme and sentenced to seven and a half years in prison. “I had fifty million dollars and then I had nothing,” Pacino wrote.
As a result, arguably the most celebrated actor in the world, now in his 70s, was forced to do some really bad films that he declined to mention, just for the cash.
After reading “Sonny Boy’’ I certainly had a stronger appreciation of how much effort Pacino puts into movies once he commits to a project.
During the filming of “...And Justice for All” (1979), there was a courtroom scene in which he wasn’t happy with after seeing the final edit and insisted it had to be redone. He really went to battle with the producers and the director before they agreed to the reshoot.
That happened again in Scarface (1983), involving the famous scene of Tony Montano completely plastered in a black-tie restaurant. The director (Brian De Palma), for budgetary reasons, wanted that scene shot in a Miami nightclub instead of an aristocratic, snobbish restaurant. Pacino exploded and said they were ruining the poignancy of the scene. Studio execs finally agreed to do it Pacino’s way.
And in Godfather II (1974) Pacino wasn’t happy with the original script and started typing out rewrites on his own before the script was collaboratively redone to his liking.
Al also did a number of artsy films, such as “Wilde Salomé” and “Looking for Richard” (both docudramas), for next to nothing or even pouring some of his own money into the project because he believed in the project so much, which might be the reason he ran into cash flow problems a couple times in his adult life.
Pacino was nominated for an Academy Award nine times, finally winning for "Scent of a Woman" (1993)
Photo Credit: Sky News
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What I admired most about Pacino’s career is that he never gave up on the theater; he started in the theater and to this day is still doing theater or stage productions in one form or another, from Richard III to Shylock in the Merchant of Venice. He could have coasted along, quite comfortably, eliciting big paydays doing motion pictures from major studios, but his attachment to the theater was too great.
At age 84, is there a final act for this South Bronx actor?
He’s hoping to put together a very ambitious film adaptation of King Lear. Pacino mentions he has the director, the screenwriter, the producer, and himself, of course; what he doesn’t have is the financing, not yet anyway.
What a fitting ending that would be to his distinguished career. If there was any actor who was every inch a king, it’s Alfredo James Pacino, Sonny Boy.
--Bill Lucey
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March 15, 2025