While watching Pollock for maybe the sixth time, I found myself intrigued anew by Ed Harris as the titular splatter king. Once again, I wondered what it was about his performance that kept me tuned in. It could have been the conviction with which he conveyed his alter ego’s determination to express himself as an artist. It could have been the balletic grace with which he dripped and dropped his paint. Then it hit me: It was his brow.
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