El Pais Magazine
Thanks to Lallum

INTERVIEW EPS (El País Semanal - October 29th 2006)

He has achieved success by portraying tough guys, and he is reputedly one himself. But at 42, the Newzealand actor defies the expected and reunites with Ridley Scott to shoot a light comedy, while he appears as a sensitive family man.

Russell Crowe. The tough one goes soft.

He has been an incorrigible seductor, an irate and aggressive star, a misunderstood rocker and an awarded professional. Just a few of the roles Russell Crowe has played out, not on the screen, but in magazines, public awards and events or on television. A full gallery of incarnations to which now, the Newzealander strives to add yet another one: that of a sensitive man fully devoted to fatherhood. “Hangovers do not mix well with babies”, he states in the text accompanying his new album, My Hand My Heart, released after the birth of his first son, Charlie, in December 2003. With his wife Danielle Spencer, he had another son this past July, named Tennyson. And these are the three names that Crowe repeates the most during his short visit to Madrid for the promotion of his last film, A Good Year, directed by Ridley Scott.

His good humour puzzles the crowd during the press conference, the photocall and subsequent TV interviews. And any prevention is broken down by his kind, talkative manners. Where is the frowning man, impolite, disagreeable and ferocious that all interviews portray? The raving lunatic [the exact term used is “energúmeno”] who throws phones to concierges? Whether he exists or not, today he does not show up. Crowe speaks about a luminous, happy movie, and his tone is likewise. He has joined Scott again, but no epic battles this time. The actor is a man prone to loyal, long creative partnerships. He has worked with Ron Howard twice, and the third project with Scott (which will not be the sequel to Gladiator, as announced) is in post-production. But he has taken the less travelled road for the director of Blade Runner: a film about wine, love and sympathy based on a novel by Peter Mayle (author of the best-seller A Year in Provence).

A change in his interpretative range, something that Crowe delights in, as he usually likes to deliver the unexpected. He started acting as a child, in the productions where his parents worked as caterers, but he never was a child actor.

“A child extra, at the most”, he clarifies. In fact, despite his precocious approach to the business, it wasn’t until he was in his twenties when he started working seriously. His teeth, which he did not fix until he was 27 years old, are partly the reason for the delay. He was over 30 when he seduced Hollywood in 1997 with L.A. Confidential, but Crowe did not waste time. Since 1999, he has received three consecutive Oscar nominations for best actor, and he took the award home for Gladiator. That was his first collaboration with Scott, and the movie that unarguably cast him as the indisputably virile icon that the metrosexual generation needed.

If George Clooney is the sophisticated leading man, with nonchalant manners and an ironic pose, then Crowe is tough and awkward [the exact term used is “torpe”], untamed and rebellious. Clooney gets away from Hollywood and finds peace in lake Como; Crowe chooses to tour with his band, which plays music apt for garages and beers. Sitting in a low armchair, relaxing after an accelerated schedule of three-minute interviews, he appears gentle, rather than surly. His brow is characteristically frowned, true. But he soon relaxes, and his blue [term used for colour] eyes clear up, with a look that promises to be radiant. He has a compact body, not too imposing, and his physical strength can also channel a soft sensation. He listens attentively and speaks calmly, taking himself very seriously, relishing the depth of his own voice.

In the booklet of your new album you state that after more than 20 years writing music, finally you have been able to leave your imprint in your songs. What about your movies?

I really think I achieve that much earlier with acting. It is very easy for me to get into the roles and have fun. My first real movie did not happen until I was 25, so I had a lot of experience, I was no kid. Acting is something relatively easy for me, whereas reaching a specific level as a music writer has been more difficult. Being able to describe my feelings with music is not as spontaneaous for me, to tell you the truth.

Does this have something to do with the changes that took place with your band?

The previous band did not dissolve, really. It became obvious that some band members were not as involved as others, so we took a break and only the ones really interested stayed in touch. Those guys are my buddies, they are the people I really enjoy spending time with. And since we were on a change trail, we decided to change the name. I was tired of Thirty Odd Foot of Grunts. It is nonsense, it does not mean anything. It started as a joke, and ten years later we were still living with it. So I am much happier with The Ordinary Fear of God.

A new name, with the same initials...

Everyone had their cap and their stuff with those initials, and it was cheaper to keep it that way, so you did not have to do nothing new. Anyway, when we started thinking about a new name the first thing that came up was the idea of the Fear of God, something which we all feel, including agnostics.

It would seem that you have a complex relationship with religion. You’ve explained that you were not baptized as a child, and later on as an adult started searching amongst different options. Have you reached any conclusion?

No, no decision taken yet. I am still learning, but I have baptized my son Charlie and I plan to do same with Tennyson. In fact, I am considering the idea of getting baptized at the same time he does.

Then you have made a decision.

Well, I do know that there is some sort of superior power. The only thing I do not agree with is the way this idea is used, as far as organized religion is concerned. My viewpoint is that, when there are so many explanations surrounding the very same idea, this must mean something. I belive that spirituality is very important, but that religion can be dangerous.

In what sense?

War, radical positions, fundamentalism.... I wish that at some point, everyone on the planet would understand that we are all essentially the same. We all want the same, we all wish for and fear the same things, the same priorities. For instance, our children to be safe. I used to say that I could see humanity in the ten commandments, because it is something so basic and simple... the basic parameters to attain happiness. In truth, if people followed them you wouldn’t even need anything else, not even traffic regulations....¿Does any of this make any sense? I am so tired...

The star’s words triggers all the alarms in the company people, but Crowe stops short the approach of his guardians with a single, deterrent gesture. He is willing to go on, to answer more questions. It is possible that some of the sweet syrup that Scott’s film distills is clinging onto him. Perhaps Crowe has undergone the same process that Max Skinner, his character in A Good Year, experiments. In it, Skinner leaves behind the sharpened jaws of a finantial shark and tries on the soft palate of a wine-grower. At first sight, a very different role from the tough and fighting men that have brought fame and fortune to Crowe (from the brutal cop of L.A. Confidental to the tragic hero in Gladiator). And yes, it is a change towards light comedy, but also a hymn to optimism and romanticism that blends well in a career that has stood for second chances (of a boxer in Cinderella Man), the redemption from madness through love (A Beautiful Mind), and family love beyond death (Gladiator). Who would have thought that such a tough guy was a romantic.

Is there a conscious choice behind the movies that you make, in favour of an optimistic message, slightly idealistic even?

You speak of romanticism, of idealization. Those are fundamental concepts for me, but in real life you jump from movie to movie without thinking about the coherence or unity of the decisions you take. Each role is chosen because of itself, not in terms of what the others have been. But the basics, the common thread.... Obviously my choices express partly my political and ideological views, what I think about life and people. A look at my body of work as a whole will give you the clues to who I am. I fervently believe in visualization: if you truly pursue the things you dream about, they become true. You have to strive, and never give up, never think that what you wish for is impossible. And I guess that this makes me something of an optimist, so it is possible that it shows up in the roles I pick. But I am not naive, either, and I also want to point out that nothing happens magically, that everything comes from effort. My life philosophy is not about lotteries, and this is valid for everything else: if you want to change things in your country, politically, it means that you have to do something about it. Even if your actions may seem insignificant, they are not.

Are those words an effort to stay away from the banality that is usually associated to Hollywood?

If you life is about making empty movies solely in exchange of money, if you choose based on what is trendy, there is nothing left of you in your work. It will become irrelevant. There are whole careers built on the idea of getting rich, but then there are other actors, the ones that I look up to, that do belong to the creative development of a narration. However, you have to put that into perspective, too. If I have to play Shakespeare, I won’t pretend I can rewrite and improve it.

Crowe laughs, and the sound is a bit scary. A tight wave of loud laughter that, for some mysterious reason, brings to mind the worst of his reputation. The aggressiveness. The bad temper. In an article published in June in The Sydney Morning Herald, an Australian journalist depicted Crowe as a Machiavelli, deliriously trying to control the press and ready to use the most aberrant tactics to do so. Jack Marx, the author of the piece, claimed that he was a pawn in one of the biggest propaganda operations of the man who is, according to him, the most powerful in Australia after the Prime Minister and the recently deceased media mogul Kerry Packer. “I was Russell Crowe’s victim”, was the title of the story. Crowe’s reaction to his bad press is relaxed. He does not remember this press piece in particular, he says. And he claims that there is no way to keep track of all the lies that are printed about him. One would think that it is possible, though, that some things hurt more than others.

Your music has not been very well-received, in terms of the critics, and the industry does not seem to take you seriously.

I have had to hear the most absurd accusations from everyone in that respect. It’s been said that I take advantage of my acting career to promote my musical one, by people who do not know that I was a musician long before I was an actor. Why should I abandon something that I feel passionate about, just because I have been successful in another professional aspect of my life? Besides, I do not want a musical career, I just want to make music. I try to sum up everything that goes through my head in those small packages that are the songs. I do not really think of myself as a musician. Pop songs probably arise out of my childhood desire to be a poet. Obviously, nobody would want to read a poetry book written by a 15 year old, so my yearn for expression was focused on music. As a rock musician, I can become a poet. And the more I do it, the closer I get to what I would really like to, the better I feel with it. I am closer to saying what I want to say.

If you are a poet as a musician, what are you as an actor?

I am an instrument for the director’s goals. There is nothing I will not do to help him tell the story in his head. If they ask me to jump from a tree, I do it. This is my job. Not only it is about not limiting the director’s imagination, but also about expanding it. Accepting his needs and contributing however I can. Because when an actor gets involved with a character, he ends up knowing more about him than the director himself.

Would you say that your philosophy of work, the way you conceive your job, is the reason why directors want to work again with you? How is your relationship with Ridley Scott, already on your third collaboration?

After Gladiator, of course, I wanted to work again with him. At that time, however, I had not realized yet how strong is our connection. Now, I guess what he is thinking and what he wants without him having to say antyhing. We know and understand each other perfectly. We function with our body language, with one single gesture. This is what happens with really intense relationships, like in a marriage, like in the best friendships. You have a deep understanding of one another.

At first, you turned down the role in Master and Commander because you did not like the script, and recently you left the project Eucalyptus for the same reason. Are you highly demanding in that respect, or scriptwriters are simply not good enough?

The problem here is the industry. Most of the times, it is not about a writer that individually conceives an idea from scratch to end. We are talking about texts that go from hand to hand, everyone giving their opinion about it. Every single executive in the whole production chain will have his say and modify the original idea according to what he believes is better, which is usually equivalent to more lucrative. In the end, twenty people who will not be involved in the actual shooting of the film have had an effect on the script with criteria such as “what is on now” and “the market niche that we target”. A ton of arguments that have nothing to do with the essence of telling a story.

Those interferences also happen with such acclaimed directors as Ridley Scott?

Even with someone like Ridley, you get stuff like: “You have to end the shoot before day X. Costs will have to stay under X. Choose two of the actors from this list of four.” But Ridley prefers to work with someone like me, because I am not going to quit. I am working everyday to improve, and I am not going to stay the bare minimum time and leave at 5 sharp. Today it is most unusual to have a two-week rehearsal time. It is ridiculous: they spend thousands of millions in the special effects of the movie, but will not suffer the scarce hundreds necessary to pay for rehearsal. That is the way the business works.

In A Good Year, a book Peter Mayle wrote thanks to Ridley Scott’s suggestions, from a piece in Time magazine, the script is written almost in parallel to the novel. What has been the relationship amongst those elements?

The process with A Good Year has been completely particular. Ridley had an original idea while reading this article about boutique wines. He passed it on to Peter Mayle and he liked it. He started writing the novel, and scripwriter Michel Klein wrote a book version with his own sensibility. When Ridley got the script, he said “How did we get so far away from the original idea?”. Our process together consisted in getting the story a bit back to its starting point, to what he wanted to do from the beginning. This is the type of work that interests me, the ones I can be involved in, creatively.

With the script as such a pivotal piece, how is your experience from written to filmed?

It is a complex process. What makes sense in the page and what does in the screen are so different. Writing a novel is a completely different thing from building a movie. Sometimes the director is obsessed with certain angles and shots, so much that he is careless about the peculiar chemistry of what is happening. And it is not until the shot is completed, that he realizes that what he had thought would work, does not. What seemed obvious in one dimension is totally ridiculous in three dimensions. Film’s extra dimension is what allows you to fill the space with one single look, what turns the most banal dialogue line into a moment of blinding intensity. And that is not easy to write.

Who do you think can do it?

Akiva Goldsman, for instance. I have worked in three projects with him. He is the uncredited writer in Master and Commander. He rewrote the whole script. The structure and the narrative thread were there, but there was no personality in the characters. Peter [Weir] was reluctant about letting him in, but he finally accepted how good that was, when he saw the change in energy in the actors. They would read the written pages and they were moved, because they could understand the men they portrayed, because they had humanity in them, at last. To me, Akiva is a genius, but a lot of people out there are very prejudiced. “He wrote Batman forever or Mr, & Mrs. Smith”, they say, “how can you say he is a genius?”. But to me, the way you become a genius is by exercising your talent, being prolific, with passion and focus. That is how you increase your possibilities, the opportunities of doing an excellent job. And when he did Batman, he fully met what the director and the producers wanted. When he wrote A Beautiful Mind, he did the same. The difference this time was that director and producer demanded more of him. And he delivered.

You speak about being prolific, but you are not that prolific yourself... Five years, four movies.

It is true I am not. But again, you have to take into account I have been acting since I was 6. And everything I have done, bigger or smaller projects, is part of my experience as an actor. I did not go to castings for TV shows just because I believed I was good-looking (which is the motivation for most of the actors today), I looked for different ways of educating my skills. I was genuinely interested in the art of interpretation, and anything that served that purpose suited me. From bingoes to being a disc jockey, having something to do with acting was what really mattered. I am quite shy, but with experiences like that you learn to control yourself, you learn about nervousness and standing before an audience. You can keep those butterflies quiet in your stomach. Once you’re familiar with them, you learn to enjoy and appreciate them. But it is true that I am not the type that jumps from one movie right onto the next one.

In fact, you are known for having turned down a number of projects.

I hate the people that think you are bound to accept anything they offer. A lot of industry people are disappointed with me because I turned them down. When you become an item that they can dispose of at will, when you have no say in what you choose, then it is over. You need to stand for your own right not be used as an object, and I have said no to a lot of people in Hollywood, much more than the ones I have said yes to. A lot of enemies.

Your distance with Hollywood is both physical, because you live in Australia, and emotional. Besides music, your spare time is filled with activities such as buying and relaunching a rugby team in Sydney, from a deprived neighbourhood.

This is very important, where I come from, because we can teach a whole generation of kids never to say never. I guess it’s part of my life philosophy. Any sports competition, I always root for the underdog, the one with the lesser chances to win. Because, in the end, I am a Wellington-born Newzealander, what were the odds of winning an Oscar? But I got it.

How’s the team doing?

Our actions have not yet had an impact. Well, a little. Before we came, the team never won and we have three victories already. But next year will be much better, because we have hired some players and we changed the coach. We have better managers and better sporting facilities. We do not expect an inmediate success. There is a lot to be done, but the key is not to go backwards.

What is your goal with all this?

If we can change the team’s tendency, then we become an inspiration. To teach a 10 year old kid that the impossible is possible. Maybe he was born in a difficult neighbourhood, with a broken family and his mum’s a drugaddict, but this does not mean all is lost for him. He is an individual that can reach his goals. I like to think we can put together people with different origins, stories and serious problems, and give them hope.

Crowe’s entourage stirs impatiently. At the hotel door, a dark-window vanette is waiting and according to plan, it should on its way to the airport, where a private jet awaits. The actor will not even stay in the city for the night. He returns to London. “To be with my son when he wakes up in the morning. He has slept in four different rooms in five days, and he is very disoriented”. Before he leaves, he insists on showing me the video for his last single Weight of a Man. A song dedicated to his wife, and another proof of the Crowe paradox. Opaque in his acting interviews, overexposed in his songs. The video was filmed during scene pauses of A Good Year and was shot by Ridley Scott. Some journalists have laughed off his interest in showing images where he appears dressed up as a bullfighter. But it is something closer to tenderness, and moving, than ridiculous. There is an authenticity in such an improbable attitude. Anyway, the computer is already packed. Resolved, Crowe asks for an e-mail address where he can send the video. He keeps the piece of paper torn from a notebook in his backpocket jeans and says goodbye with an broad smile. The promised e-mail arrives two days later. And there is some authenticity in such an improbable attitude.

The film A Good Year will be released on November 3rd. www.fox.es/agoodyear

Thanks to Lallum for the translation