When it comes to undermining yourself, i’m Worldclass. i’d take on anyone in this particular area
Bill Nighy
From Love Actually to Their Finest, sharp-suited national treasure Bill Nighy is Britain’s go-to scene-stealer. But after 40 years in the business, he still can’t watch himself on screen. Next to be seen in idiosyncratic indie Sometimes Always Never, as the Scrabble-obsessed father of a missing son, the beloved Brit actor sits down to trade words with Total Film.
Forget death and taxes, there’s only one certainty in life: that on any given day, someone, somewhere will sheepishly approach Bill Nighy to tell the 69-year-old national treasure how much they love Love Actually. Or of their fondness for About Time. As if to prove the theory, Nighy has two such encounters with strangers during our hour-long chat in a secluded Soho bar. At 3pm on a wet Wednesday.
But while Total Film basks in this aura of adulation, Nighy is unfailingly gracious; even during the most ‘direct’ flybys. “One bloke recently said, ‘I watched that film of yours the other night,’” Nighy recalls, putting on his best cabbie impression. “‘I thought it was going to be fucking awful, but it turned out alright!’ Talk about a backhanded compliment.” Perhaps that’s just who Nighy is. Or perhaps that’s what happens when you’ve spent 30 years becoming an ‘overnight’ success.
Love Actually was the catalyst for a now16-year purple patch. Nighy’s Baftawinning performance as no-fucks-given rock god Billy Mack helped him kick down the doors of Hollywood and gave Nighy the clout to get Brit indies made. Like Sometimes Always Never, which the Surreyborn star is here to talk about today.
Directed by musician-turnedfilmmaker Carl Hunter, the film stars Nighy as Alan, a Scrabble master seeking closure after the disappearance of his son. But far from a kitchen-sink slog, it’s a film with “vision” - a word Nighy is loathe to use, but applies to Hunter’s fairytale depiction of his native Merseyside. “[Carl] has a great deal of style and wit about him,” says Nighy, sporting a loose-fitting dark blue suit that has become something of a uniform for the famously dapper actor. “I never get those kind of calls, but I was very pleased to be in what he unashamedly calls an ‘art movie’.”
Given the rate at which he works, something tells us Nighy gets “those kind of calls” often. But his self-deprecating sense of humour forbids showboating, unless it’s with a twinkle in his eye. After flirting with writing in his twenties and moving to Paris – where he ran out of money and was flown back on the British embassy’s dime – Nighy turned to acting. Despite crippling imposter syndrome, success on stage in the late ’70s soon translated to the screen. There were nearbreakouts, such as ’91 miniseries The Men’s Room and a lead role in 1998’s Still Crazy as a proto Billy Mack, but it was the 2003 triple whammy of Underworld, State Of Play and Love Actually that turned the tide.
A newly crowned national treasure, Nighy became the first port of call for rakish men of a certain age. But while Nighy may claim he’s happy being typecast, his track record tells the opposite – a performance-capture pioneer on the first two Pirates sequels, an SS officer in Valkyrie, an all-action guinea pig in G-Force and a prima donna actor with a heart of gold in Their Finest. If that wasn’t enough, later this year he’ll appear in Pokémon Detective Pikachu, in which he’s rumoured to play the sinister mayor of Ryme City.
Sometimes Always Never marks something different again for Nighy, including his first collaboration with Hunter, an experience he’s keen to replicate in the very near future. “He wants to make really good films, not be in the film business,” Nighy explains. “There’s a big difference, and it’s quite rare.” Nighy, too, is a rare talent indeed.
Alan is a Scrabble master. How’s your Scrabble game?
It was pretty non-existent. I had a tourist’s view of Scrabble. I just thought the longer and more glamorous the word, the more likely you were to win. And the reverse turns out to be true. The two-letter words are key, apparently. So I know quite a lot about Scrabble now.
One of the first things we see Alan do is hustle a grieving father out of £220. How did you relate in that moment?
It’s one of those idiosyncratic things which you just think has the ring of truth about it, in as much as they’re both possibly about to view the dead body of their son. And the fact that, after the hustle, when Alan’s son says, “How could you do that?” his only excuse is that he used it as a superstitious strategy. So if he won, it wouldn’t be his son; and if he lost, it would. People do all kinds of things under extraordinary circumstances, and it can still be someone you take a shine to.
There’s a fairytale quality to the film. Does that give you the freedom to take your performance to a more heightened place?
Yeah, that’s true. When I was on my way to meet the producers and the director, Carl Hunter, I was thinking that I didn’t want to find myself in indie hell. Frank Cottrell Boyce is a sensational writer so I was already well-disposed, but I just wanted to be sure, and I didn’t know these people at all, so when I got to the meeting, I thought, “I’d better be direct.” I said two things. One was: “With all due respect...” – which is always a risky remark – “...I don’t want to end up in a film where they wobble the camera and call it ‘truth’.” Which is one
version of indie hell, where they mimic the documentary thing, in lieu of any real ideas about how to dramatise anything. I was really talking to the wrong guy. This is not indie hell; this is some other thing entirely.
And the other thing?
The other thing I said was, “I’m going to wear bright red.” Because in indie hell everyone looks terrible, and there’s no colour, and it’s raining, probably. I said, “My vision is” – ‘vision’ is a tall word for it – “a zip-up red leisure-wear thing, under a longish coat.” Again, I could have been talking to the wrong guys. I was looking at them as I was speaking, and I could see that they are very discrete ‘top mods’, as we called them when I was growing up. Nothing to do with scooters and parkas, but to do with certain iconic, modernist brands. Iconic street wear, where you attempt to look normal, when in fact you’re deeply not. Those were my two things that were supposed to clear the air. They were very eager to reassure me that they had no plans to wobble the camera, and that I was perfectly at liberty to wear bright red.
The enigmatic title refers to the buttons on a suit jacket and how they should be fastened. Famously, you’re a man with high sartorial standards – did that come from you?
Frank had a refreshing habit, which I’ve never come across before: as he was writing a new draft, he would YouTube me to find out things I’d said in other situations. For instance, the whole Marmite speech about how Marmite was banned in Canada – that’s lifted from something I said, and made much more beautiful and amusing by Frank. “Sometimes always never” was told to me years ago by a tailor. Of course, it’s slightly out of time now, because we’re in the two-button era. But it was explained to me meaning “top button, middle button and lower button”. But there are crimes against that law all the time. You see people walkingaround – football managers – with all three buttons done up. You think, “This is the end of civilisation as we know it.”
Have you ever intervened when such crimes were being committed by your fellow actors?
I used to get phone calls from young actors on their way to a premiere or something, saying, “What is it? Middle button… Top button…?” Why is it so hard to remember? If you look at it, it’s obvious. People used to take the mickey out of me all the time – so-called friends. It’s a really good title. And beyond three buttons on a jacket, it becomes a vaguely philosophical remark.
Do you take a keen interest in your costumes on all of your films?
I take a minutely keen interest, because they’re so important. Most actors do. I’ve talked about clothes a lot in interviews because, like most things you talk about in interviews, it’s a way of not talking about other things. And also, it’s a genuine enthusiasm. How you feel is everything. If you’re required to do something as alarming as act, you want to feel as good as you can. If you wear something wrong, it’s a liability. It can really undermine you. This was a bit of a field day because it gave
prima donnas are very rare in film. you wouldn’t get away with it
me an opportunity to wear all the things that I don’t have the front to wear personally, Italian cycling cardigans and things like that, which was delicious.
As someone who assigns so much importance to costumes, was it difficult to put on something like a Nazi uniform every day for
Valkyrie?
There’s something about putting on that particular uniform. You find that people start doing silly things in it. It’s to take the curse off it, to ridicule the fucking thing. I had to wear an SS uniform in a miniseries that I did years ago. They put me on a street in Munich at 9 o’clock in the morning, in an SS officer’s uniform, which is illegal – quite rightly. And the camera was on the top of a very high building for a wide shot. So I was effectively on my own. A couple of women came around the corner, and they nearly dropped their shopping.
Love Actually was a major turning point in your career. How did it feel to be thrust into the spotlight at a relatively late stage in life?
It was glorious, frankly, because it changed the way I go to work, in as much as it made me much more useful around the place. And one of the great joys was that I didn’t have to audition anymore! It was traditionally, as they might say, late in the day, but I had already been above fortunate. I had a very familiar English career. I was in the theatre, on television, and I could play reasonably principal roles in independent movies. But then Love Actually… I was aware that if I delivered it half-decently, it would change the air, because it’s a Richard Curtis movie, and you know that millions and millions of people are going to see it all over the world.
Is it surreal to think that it has become a Christmas institution?
It feels very good, because the film is a good thing. I try to do things that, broadly speaking, help. It does emphasise how decent we can be with one another. And I love the fact that it’s entered the language. Who knew? In this country, you watch the Queen’s speech, then Love Actually and maybe It’s A Wonderful Life. I’ve had people all over the world come up and thank me for getting them through their chemotherapy and all sorts of things because of that film. But About Time, the last film that Richard directed, that’s become the film that most people talk to me about now.
Why’s that?
Well, as usual with Richard, it wasn’t terribly well received here. But you don’t know until some years later if they’re going to be a stayer or not. They all say the same thing: “I came out, and I called my dad.” Somebody left a napkin on my café table the other day, saying, “Thank you for About Time. It completely transformed my relationship with my children. I will never take them for granted again.” These are the kind of things you live for. And Richard is a believer in this stuff. He’s not trying to manipulate people’s feelings in order to get ahead. He’s on a mission.
The same year as Love Actually, you were also in Underworld. Did you enjoy your stint as a vampire?
I would like to continue my time as a vampire! I love all that stuff. I’m not mad about werewolves. Why would I be? They’re messy and they dribble and they’re unattractive, but being a vampire suits me. The thing about it is, it’s very difficult to keep a straight face on set because it’s so stupid, but it’s also very exciting.
Shaun Of The Dead...
I thought that was one of the best scripts I’d ever read in my life, because the jokes are absolutely world-class, and it was unusual in that they invented a genre – the rom-zom-com. I remember going in and saying, “This script is incredible.” They were like, “Really? Do you think?” But when you’ve written it, you don’t know. They’re so clever those guys, Simon and Nick and Edgar. I was very, very touched to have a small part in all of them, the trilogy. I’m one of the very few actors who does, so I must have been very good in a previous life.
You also got to play a zombie a year later in Was it exciting to be on the technological frontlines playing Davy Jones in the sequels?
Pirates
It was a bit of an act of faith. Gore Verbinski, who directed them, always said, “Whatever you do on the set, every move you make, every sound you make, every twitch, will make it onto the screen.” I knew very little about the process. And then when I finally saw the creature, it was
i never watch things i’m in, but i quite happily watch the squid
so incredible. When they presented it to [Gore], the first thing he said to the makers was, “Get your acceptance speech ready.” And he was right. But when I saw it, I said to him, “Well, you did tell me that everything I did would make it onto the screen.” He said, “Yeah, but I was lying!” Because he didn’t know. He was just trying to get me to do the job.
There were few film franchises bigger in the mid-2000s. Were you aware of what you were signing up for?
I didn’t know about the first film. I hadn’t seen the first film. We made two films more or less at the same time, so it was quite a long thing. But you spent a long time with some very nice people in very exotic places. Once I got over wearing those computer pyjamas, or rather when everyone ran out of jokes, it was fine. And I also watched them. I never watch things I’m in, but I could quite happily watch the squid.
Is that because you feel selfconscious watching your performances?
Yes. I think it’s perfectly natural. There may be certain people who are perfectly happy [watching themselves], but I’m not one of them. Even when I was younger and less complicated to look at, I couldn’t bear it. It’s not so much to do with how I look, but it is to do with how I look. It’s not so much to do with getting older, but it is to do with getting older. But it is to do with the acting, because I know too much, and I know what I didn’t quite pull off, and I know those little bits of cowardice or compromise where I do that default thing I always do when I can’t quite pull something off. People sometimes say, “You should watch this one.” And I’ve made the mistake of thinking, “OK. If they say…” And you get two minutes in, and you want to kill yourself. So I gave it up.
So why act? Is the creativity enough?
I act because it’s better than the other things that were on offer at the time. [laughs] And it’s my living. There’s always an interface – I think the word might be – between you at your best, and you at your most self-conscious… your ability to undermine yourself. I’m world-class. I’d take on anyone in this particular area, paranoia. But it is a fabulous feeling when you think you’re doing it right, and you’ve hit the tone, vocally or physically. You can coast on that feeling, because it supports you. People have all kinds of systems, and they are all basically for the same thing – to not be self-conscious, to not be frightened to any degree.
Is it nerve-wracking to put so much control in the hands of a director?
One of the great benefits of never watching the films is I’m never going to know! They’ve cut the only bit of the whole movie you thought you really nailed? Well, I don’t know that. It would drive me crazy, because there’s always a thing where you do seven takes, and take three is the one you know is better, and you sidle over to the continuity person and – as a joke – you say, “Actor’s preference – can you put ‘three’ on there?” If you saw the film, it’s bound to be take five. So no, I trust people.
David Yates must be someone you trust a great deal given how often you’ve worked together. By the time he cast you in
Harry Potter And The Deathly Hallows: Part 1, did it feel long overdue?
We did have that joke. I looked at my imaginary watch. “I’m glad you got around to me, finally.” I thought I was going to be the only English actor of a certain age who wasn’t in Harry Potter. I’ve done four things with him. All very different. One of which, The Young Visiters, spelled wrong, I’ve always thought got him Harry Potter.
And then a year later The Best Exotic
Marigold Hotel was a hit with audiences at the other end of the age spectrum...
It’s always good to work with Judi Dench. I’ve worked with her on stage. We did The Seagull together at the National Theatre some years ago. And I also had done a television film with her called Absolute Hell. She’s just dreamy to do business with. Those films were like the travelling supper club of Great Britain. People would pay money to sit down with Judi Dench, Maggie Smith, Penelope Wilton, Celia Imrie while they told stories. It was a festival of anecdotal frenzy.
Pride is a fantastic film, and an important one. Were the themes of the film the appeal, or the character?
It was mostly to do with the themes that the film explored. It’s such a big story. If you’re old enough to have lived through the miners’ strike then you’ll know it was almost completely misrepresented at the time. You wouldn’t get any real information about it. To have a film that treated those decent men and women with respect that was a long time coming. And also, I remember when gay friends of mine could go to jail for any public display of affection. So those two elements dovetailed in such a sweet way, in such a powerful way. Excuse the atrocious pun, but I was proud to be in that film. And I loved playing that character. I got very
attached to him just walking about and talking quietly in a Welsh accent. I’d love to play that character all the time.
Recurring characters are something of a rarity on your CV – is that out of choice?
You get offered things, but if it’s going to be on television, everything has to be perfect. I’m not averse to it at all. In fact – come on, let’s get something going! There have been things, but they haven’t been quite right. I’m waiting for the right one.
Would you ever move into producing to get the right project off the ground?
Page 8 is your only executive producer credit to date.
David Hare, who I’ve worked with all my life, who wrote and directed [Page 8], did, very kindly, involve me in some of the process, so it wasn’t just nominal. But I have another executive producer credit for a Lone Scherfig movie which is about to open the Berlin Film Festival, The Kindness Of Strangers. I don’t I think I was even aware of it, but I am apparently an executive producer. We did a film called Their Finest a couple of years ago, and we’re working together again this year.
It must have been fun to play a prima donna in that...
It was very beautifully written. And Lone’s very encouraging. She laughs, which I find very endearing when you’re out there trying to get laughs. I’m averse to the usual way actors are presented when they’re part of a story. They’re not brought on often to demonstrate how wonderful human beings can be. Prima donnas are very rare in my profession. It’s not part of the modern, British acting experience. No one would let you get away with it. But because it was so well-written, and because he does change, and he’s quite serious about acting, it was a great part.
And later this year you have Detective coming up...
Pikachu
You can guess how much I knew about Pokémon before I did the movie! I know a bit more now. I met the head of Pokémon, the seventh richest man in the world, I think, and the man who drew all the Pokémon. And I bought the Pokédex, which is a fabulous book, actually. It was great fun. Justice Smith and Kathryn [Newton] are exemplary. I’m a live-action character, but I’m not at liberty to tell you who. They’ve got 60 Pokémon in there, and they will be meticulously realised. But there are 820 Pokémon in all, aren’t there?
You would know better than us! (There are actually 809.)
I sent the Pokédex to a small boy in Canada, and kind of regretted it, because it’s such a beautiful book. It’s got a plastic ball in the cover, with a Pikachu inside. I got very interested in the thing. In fact, I have two decorative panels made of plaster, to look like stone, with classical figures next to Pokémon figures. They look like ancient Grecian works of art. They were on the set and I admired them, so they gave them to me. I’m the only person in the world who has these things. I might have to eBay them for charity or something.
You turn 70 this year and show no signs of slowing down...
2003 was the best year for that. I had Underworld, and Love Actually, and that year also had State Of Play, which was a six-part miniseries. I knew they were all very different, and I knew that if they came off even half-decently, it would constitute some kind of shift. I loved that variety. I’m very fortunate. Not everybody gets those chances.
SOMETIMES ALWAYS NEVER OPENS IN JUNE (TBC). POKÉMON DETECTIVE PIKACHU OPENS ON 10 MAY.
judi dench is just dreamy to do business with