Irishmen McPherson and Hinds See the Light in "The Eclipse"

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Parent Category: Film and the Arts

Category: Interviews

Published on Wednesday, 24 March 2010 07:26

Written by Brad Balfour

It's no wonder that Conor McPherson's latest film, The Eclipse, should have had its world premiere at last year's Tribeca Film Festival. The Irish dramatist has enjoyed considerable support and success in New York City. Three plays he's written were produced here to much acclaim, with the last two — which he also directed — garnering various Tony Award nominations.

The playwright turned to film and has done several movies as the director, writer or both. With the recently released The Eclipse, he draws on his own experience with literary-festival traveling. This story of a man suffering both the loss of his wife and a lack of confidence in himself also has supernatural undertones. Though it's not really a ghost story, hints of the ghostly slip in enough so that an eerie tinge adds to this meditation on love and redemption — or maybe reclamation.

Supernatural occurrences have long been a part of Ireland's rich cultural history, especially given its pre-Christian Celtic traditions and Druidic mythos. Into this mix comes the fine actor Ciaran Hinds, who lends the right sense of unease and disquiet to his performance, providing balance to Aidan Quinn's bellicose writer and Iben Hjejle's anguish.

Q: This movie was loosely based on your friend Billy Roche's story?

CM: He was writing a book of short stories and as he finished each one he emailed them to me. One was set against the background of a literary festival; it's about a teacher who’s a volunteer at the festival and is driving around this lady who’s a writer and he becomes obsessed with her. He’s married and has kids so it’s how his life unravels because of his obsession with her.

We thought it might be fun to work on a screenplay of that story. My wife read an early draft and said, "In a story we can get inside the character’s head—we can understand what’s happening to him. But in a film, if we’re just watching some guy stalking this woman, women are not going to like him. It would be better if you got rid of his wife."

So I thought, if he was a widower, we’d sympathize with him better. Also, he could be haunted, and suddenly this whole thing took on a supernatural hue. About 20 drafts later we ended up with this love story and ghost story — a hybrid of genres. That's the journey it took.

Q: Have either of you had any experiences with ghosts?

CH: I believe I had one in my teens. In the North of Ireland, where I’m from, in a graveyard there are stones there from the 17th century. Disused now, it's on a little cliff, and in my teens I was up there messing around with some friends the way you do. Suddenly I looked over in one direction and there was this shape that formed that was very recognizable as old and human, but not complete, not exactly delineated. There was movement to it and also some sort of face. I didn’t know what to do because I wasn’t sure if it was a trick of the light or my own sensibilities as a teenager going, "Wow, this is crazy."

But a movement came from this image and I thought it was very weird. I looked around to the others to see if they could see what I see and they were messing around. I looked back, and at that stage, whatever it was, it was almost like free of gravity because it moved. But it didn’t sidle or walk, it just went to a place and then whatever energy, it just dissipated. I don’t know to this day whether it was a trick of light or it wasn’t. But all I remember is the gesture of it was sort of spooky and scary, and I wasn’t going to go over there because I knew there was a [quite a] drop after it.

CM: One time, I was driving along — we had just done a film which I wrote, I Went Down — with its director [Paddy Breathnach] and producer [Rob Walpole]. We were doing a tour of local radio stations in Ireland.

We were in a hurry, driving across this very desolate area, and as we drove along this very long, straight road—it was a very flat landscape where we were—I saw a figure standing on the side of the road. It was a woman, and there was something about her clothes that she looked like she was from the 1970s. She had a leather coat with a belt, boots, and just the way her hair was, was very 1970s. She was standing in the middle of nowhere, and as we drove by she seemed to be looking right at us; I remember her eyes and this half quizzical smile on her face as we drove by. Myself and Rob, we both went, "Whoa, that woman was spooky," and Paddy, who was driving, said, "What woman?"

We looked behind and there was nothing there. Maybe she was someone who was standing there and walked away, I don’t know, but I don't know what it was or why or whatever. That’s the only time I remember.

Q: Aidan Quinn plays the famous author Nicholas Holden, who has his own set of issues.

CM: In the short story, he is the writer who has persuaded Lena, played by Iben Hjeje , to come to the festival so he can reignite this affair with her. What Aidan really understood about it was he thought this is a guy who’s obviously successful, he’s a writer who all his novels would be on the stand at the airport bookshop, and his books are made into movies.

What’s great about Aidan in that role is that while he is very good looking, he's gotten a bit older, so perhaps the character is feeling the hand of mortality on his shoulder, and he's sort of worried about his prowess and attractiveness; this is causing him great panic and pain.

It was Aidan who actually said to me, "This guy is in great pain," and I realized that he understood something about that as an actor because Aidan says, "I’ve always been cast as this good-looking leading guy. I never get a chance to express this kind of stuff, this panicky, freaking out, I'm losing it, I'm a jerk, kind of stuff." He really embraced it enthusiastically and developed the character and took it to a place that I actually didn't quite expect.

CH: He's obnoxious, arrogant, a jerk, and he's suffering something inside. That often produces the humor in the story because of the extremity of his confusion.

Q: The fight scene was very convincing.

CH: The way he comes in and says, "I’m not drunk." You know he's gone somewhere else.

CM: When you have to say that, you're probably not sober.

Q:  In the last few films I've seen you getting abused in one way or another. Mentally, if nothing else, in the upcoming Life During Wartime. I was really sure you were beaten up in that scene. You liked having him abused you...

CM: Absolutely. He has to go through pain and suffering to be redeemed. They were very committed during their fight scene, that's for sure.

Q: How was it shooting that?

CM: We shot it in one day. Iben broke her toe at about half nine in the morning and continued through the whole day doing the fight. I have to say in my own defense, I didn't realize her toe was broken until after.

CH: She didn't tell anyone. She just felt the pain and taped it up.

CM: It was pretty hairy.

CH: I know Aidan once warned me I was getting a bit too close.

CM: Except that he was really hitting you and then said, "Hey, you’re getting a bit close."

Q: So who was more the boxer?

CH: He is. He's American, Irish-American, so there's bit of the jock in him. Me, I'm a dancer.

Q: We haven't seen you do this kind of movie before; you even won the Best Actor prize at the 2009 Tribeca Film Festival. So what was the most challenging aspect of playing this role?

CH: The job description as an actor is to do what’s required for the story, whatever that entails. Because I'd worked with Conor while we were doing the play The Seafarer, we got to know each other—not just about work, but personally. When I read the outline of the story, I thought there was something beautiful and touching and serious and rather profound about this. But then there are some crazy bits in it that how the fuck do you get to there? In the end, I think I tended to be just as open as possible and not to prepare.

Obviously, you need to know the dialogue to be able to bounce off somebody, but to be as open as possible to every moment that you’re on camera. And what’s so wonderful about Iben when you work with her is just the purity of her truth. When you work absolutely direct with someone, it’s sort of beyond acting, it's about real communication, and there may not even be a camera there. There are moments where you put yourself in the situation, and you believe in the situation; therefore you are that situation. And you hope the way Conor uses the camera, he picks up the truth of it.

Q: So this one of your most vulnerable roles?

CH: For sure. I'm not always playing emperors or presidents or strong men, because of the way my face looks—it looks quite tough. It's not particularly my nature, it's the way your face hangs, but this is probably one of the most vulnerable roles I've had to play.

Q: You wanted to get that side of him out there a little more?

CM: I know that Ciarán is a very warm guy, and I thought, "Yeah, he probably sometimes gets cast as guys that are tough and cold in a way." But I knew that Ciarán is actually a very warm heart and I knew the camera would pick that up. The character he plays is a kind of an everyman in a way who gets to be everything — a father, a son…

CH: He's not quite a holy ghost.

CM: He's a lover, he's a fighter…

Q: He's a writer.

CM: He's a writer. Ciarán just has a wonderful presence as an actor which can allow all of those things to be. The world can be revolving around him and yet he's not ever having to be explicit about any of those things, we just get it, we understand. It's a mark of his great talent.

Q: This movie is dealing with characters facing their fears, so what scares you as an actor or you as a director? How do you overcome them in your line of work?

CM: I don't think any of us overcomes the thing that scares us, we just sort of learn to accept that they scare us and we're going to have to just get on with it. If you're asking me what in my professional life scares me, as a writer or director, it's all scary, it's all crazy. When you're writing something you wonder, "Is anyone going to understand this, what am I doing, is this a real job?"

All of that stuff is pretty heavy. When you go to direct, it's like, we've got to get all these people to work on this thing; they've all got to want to do it; they've all got to get on with each other. Then we're going to let an audience in and are they going to even get this, or are they going to hate it? It's all scary.

You don't overcome it, you just bite your lip and cross your fingers and hope to god it's going to work. But actors, I mean I don't know how an actor steps out on stage; that's crazy to me.

CH: With most of us, I think, there's fear wherever you go and it's a daily battle. But usually you fight that battle because somewhere deep down you believe in the craft and the work that somebody has started and that you owe it to them. And once you get a real sense of trust and a debt to the writer who's going to share these stories, you've got to conquer those fears somehow. I mean it is scary, taking that deep breath and going, "Shit, here we go."

Ego gets in the way—it's always all about me, people are watching me—and no, it's not about you, it's about you playing a creative role in something that they want to see. And sometimes you have to fool yourself that you can do that.

Q: Which is tougher to do — making films or the plays?

CH: The plays. Once you are in something as open and you believe in everybody around you, you can breathe collectively and celebrate. Even if it's not soaring, there's something about "we are together supporting each other." Film is day to day, depending on what you are required to do that day, the amount you're required, the concentration, how much you feel really ready to deliver—and those can be scary days.

Q: You're writer-director of a play or of a film — which is scarier?

CM: Well a play is probably scarier because it's live and it's happening, and you're sort of at every moment willing the play to keep moving forward, and if someone near you is shifting in their seat you're like, "Oh, God, this is terrible." If someone gets up and leaves to go to the toilet, you're like, "Are they going to come back?" So that's pretty scary. But then films are scary because it's like every day you're trying to get something done. Especially if it's a small little film and you don't have much resources, if it doesn't work it's like, "Oh, my God, what are going to do?" So it's all scary, but it's all very rewarding,  too.

Q: I was also wondering, what was the turning point for both of you when you decided to go into the creative arts? And how is your family reacting to this? Your immediate family, your parents, siblings, children.

CM: Well, we're back where I started out. My parents were really worried because all I seemed to have an interest in was playing music and playing the guitar and that kind of stuff, and they were like, "Listen, what are you doing with your life?" They convinced me to go to university because they thought, "Look, you've got to have something to fall back on." But what happened to me was then I really got interested in that and then, to their horror, I became very interested in writing plays, and they were like, "What the fuck is going on here?" So it was pretty worrying.

Q: So university had the opposite effect of what they were anticipating.

CM: Yeah. But the thing is, as soon as I started making a living … they're just worried about you. It's not like they're trying to stop you because they don't believe, they just don't know anyone who's ever done it. But then as soon as I started making a living at it and they could see that I was happy doing it, they're incredibly supportive and proud and absolutely thrilled. So they've been really supportive and they still are to this day. They believe in everything I do; they would hate to think that somebody didn't like something I did.

CH: My mother, who's about to turn 90, used to do amateur drama when she was younger, but then she settled down with my father and had a family. I suppose she understood somewhere the idea, not to stand up and show off, but to be a part of something that is celebrating the human condition. Then again, I never expressed a desire, never did say I want to be an actor, ever. I did school plays and things, but I never said that's what I want to be, because I didn't know.

Sure as eggs is eggs, I was told to go to university to get a degree, so I ended up studying law for three months and that was about it. Your parents want to protect you and they know that it's a very precarious life. They don't know how you will survive, and they're right because I have many friends my age as talented as I am who haven't had the breaks, who have had to find other ways, and I understand that.

So what they're doing is trying to protect you, but then you surrender yourself and offer yourself up to whatever is calling you. And then we have the idea where you meet somebody, you have a relationship with them, they become your partner in life, you have a daughter who thinks it's all glamorous for a moment and then comes to see you in two things and then couldn't care less, which is great.

Q: Has your daughter been to visit you on any movie sets?

CH: Just one.

Q: How old is she?

CH: She's 18. It happened about eight years ago when she was about 10.

Q: The eerie soundtrack is very effective; how did you chose it?

CM: My wife [Fionnuala Ni Chiosain] wrote the music for the film. She's a painter but plays the piano and we play music at home. She composed the music and we got an amateur choir from Trinity College in Dublin to do the choral pieces. I just wanted to have that really Catholic feel to the film, like The Exorcist. We used that kind of sound. But you're right, people do scream when they're watching it.

Q: In the movie, you addressed the idea of who is an artist or not. Ciaran's character is a writer, but is he really? People don't always know they're a writer until they finally allow themselves to see themselves in that light;  that was an interesting dynamic in the film.

CM: I always think that at least 80% of doing anything creative is fighting for the confidence to do it. It's very hard to put stuff out there, I think a lot of people find that aspect very hard and probably don't move forward purely because of that.

Aidan's character has a lot of confidence, he's out there. How talented is he? Maybe he's moderately talented, but he's really a great networker, great at pushing himself, and a great self-publicist, which is half the battle. When we see Aidan talking about his books, he's talking about a movie that was being made of one of his books. That's where his head is at.

When Iben is reading, she's talking about when someone saw a ghost it made that person realize that they would die, that her husband would die and that her children would die, and she knew in that moment that she was looking at reality. So she's sort of really getting into what does it all mean and what do ghosts mean. So when Michael sees that, he's like, "Oh I could talk to this person," where he probably couldn't relate to Aidan's character. He's the person wondering, stuck in the middle, "Where do you go, what do you do with your writing, what's it for?"

Q: In a way, he's the real artist.

CH: Well, he denies that he's a writer. But he must also be quietly doing things that he hasn't been. He's reticent and unsure.

Q: What are you doing next?

CM: I'm just starting again now, to write new stuff so come back to me in a year or two.

CH: I'm finishing off John Carter of Mars and after that, if something comes in, it'll come in.

Q: You'll be back here for a play?

CH: That'll depend.

Q: How was the experience working on the last two Harry Potter films?

CH: It was short for me. I was very surprised that I was suddenly asked to see the director [. Of course your agent works for you and suddenly he says, "they would like to see you for this part" that I didn't know because I hadn't read the whole book. I met the director, who was very warm, and suddenly he said, "We're going to try and fit it in with your theater schedule. We need four serious days from you and maybe a couple of days in six months time."

There was a gap in my theater schedule so I went. And I have to say, the preparation they do from the costume to the amount of money, time, and consideration invested in something is [incredible]. They go into a way where they realize this has to be as perfect as we can make it because people have followed this all the way, this is the last piece. Just to be witness to that—especially because the film I'd done before that was with Conor—it's committed as you can get to it.

Q: And you're in the upcoming John Carter of Mars.

CH: Why, I'm suddenly doing green screen for the first time in my life. I have to say I'm thrilled to be, because he's a great writer/director, Andrew Stanton. It's a genre that I wouldn't particularly go for. It's really strange because I don't look back. You do the work, and then it's behind you. If you look up and you've done that, it's sort of, "Did I do all that?" because you're in the present, and you have to do what you do.

Q: What are you looking forward to about that movie in terms of your character?

CH: It's functional, it's not anything extreme. It's a thrill to be asked by somebody and be offered up something inside a huge experience like that. In a way you're a cipher inside the story, but it's exciting. I've done three days; I might get bored by day seven. I believe in his storytelling and in sense of humanity, which comes from those animated stories he's told. It's just very nice to be involved.

Q: Making Todd Solondz's Life During Wartime must have been interesting since you play a character played by someone else in its predecessor.

CH: It was a great experience to work with Todd. He's a great humanist; he presents all these people with all their strangeness, their difficulties in life, their awkwardness, and yet, he doesn't' judge them and he doesn't patronize them.

Todd allows it out and says, "Have a look at that, because there are bits of us all over it." Maybe not as extreme as the character I play, but just doing it I remember as being quite a lonely journey.

For more by Brad Balfour: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/brad-balfour

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