tf interview: rhys ifa ns
On his career and playing the Mad Hatter’s dad.
Full disclosure: Total Film is more than a little nervous at the prospect of talking with Rhys Ifans, the 48-year-old Welshman who has, to put it politely, something of a reputation as a tough interview. A couple of colleagues have shared terror tales concerning short answers and hard stares that grew increasingly belligerent, and, in June 2013,
The Times’ front-page splash declared its inside meet with Ifans as “The interview from hell.” It was indeed a horror show, the actors’ obstreperous remarks culminating in him reportedly telling the journalist to “fuck off” before adding, “I wanna end this interview now. I’m bored with you. Bored. Bored.”
Sauntering into the library room of a Soho Hotel in rolled up jeans with his straggly blond hair occupying a territory somewhere between flyaway and flyblown, he folds his rangy 6ft 2in frame onto the sofa, his hooded eyes impossible to read. “Fruit & Nut?” he enquires in a voice every bit as chocolate-y as the proffered treat. He snaps off two chunks and hands them over. “Thank you so much for doing this. I mean,
Under Milk Wood needs all the help it can get, you know? Because as great as I think the film is, it’s a difficult one to get people to come along to. So… thanks.”
Ifans, it turns out, is a treat to interview, his answers articulate and evocative, his smile easy, his laugh quick and sonorous. Sure, there are a couple of moments he clams up or joggles the conversation forcefully along to the next topic, but he does so with charm, and any silences speak volumes. Not once does he look bored or tell Total Film to fuck off. One thing’s for sure: his passion for new film
Under Milk Wood, which he co-produces, stars in and narrates, is prodigious. So while he’s under no illusions that this fever-dream rendition of Dylan Thomas’ celebrated radio play is a hard sell – set in the small Welsh fishing village of Llareggub (‘bugger all’ spelt backwards), the voiceover purrs Dylan’s rich, garrulous poetry as the camera drifts figure-eights around the lusty locals, all of whom seem to be consumed by madness and murder, dreams and memories – he’s damn well going to try.
“I wanted to make Under Milk Wood populist again,” he explains. “We wanted to reclaim it as a work of entertainment and blow the dust off it.” He nods enthusiastically when it’s suggested to him that it might be seen as a bawdy Welsh
Magnolia. Kind of. “It’s a trip,” he enthuses. “It’s like going to watch a great album.”
Whatever it is, it’s another bold credit on a startlingly eclectic resumé. Going from youth acting at school to the Guildhall School of Music and Drama to hosting anarchic kids’ quiz show
Stwnsh on Welsh TV, Rhys Owain Evans swaggered to cinemagoers’ attention alongside his younger brother Ll r in 1997’s anarchic comedy-thriller
Twin Town. He’s since invigorated everything from Notting Hill, Kevin & Perry Go Large and Enduring Love to Greenberg, Harry Potter And The Deathly Hallows: Part 1 and The Amazing Spider-Man. What’s more, he has a slate of belters lined up – including Oliver Stone’s Snowden and the Tim Burton-produced mega-sequel Alice Through The
Look Glass, in which he plays Johnny Depp’s dad. Best put aside the Fruit & Nut and chat, then… You’ve done Under Milk Wood before, at the National Theatre, directed by Roger Michell… Because of the dreamlike quality, Roger decided to pretty much fly the whole production on wires. It was an ambitious production! But there was a feeling I had then, that there was a sensuality and bawdiness and innate erotica and sense of mischief that we didn’t fully excavate in the theatre. I thought, ‘If ever I come across an opportunity to revisit Under Milk Wood, that’s something I’d draw out.’ It’s not an applied concept. It’s as clear as night and day in the writing. So then, when the opportunity came around to make this with Kevin, who obviously I’d worked with before on a very bawdy piece of Welsh cinema... It kind of made sense.
twin town coincided with a cultural shift. There was cool britannia, and cool cymru
Do you consider Under Milk Wood and Twin Town as bedfellows, in a strange way? Yes, as tenuous as that link may be. You have these slightly heightened characters that are rooted in a reality. And Twin Town is a kind of twisted, Technicolor-dream Swansea. Ironically, weirdly, Twin Town ends with the twins disappearing off into the ocean at night to a male voice choir, and Under Milk Wood begins with the ocean and the male voice choir. Richard Burton narrated the 1972 screen version. Was it daunting to follow in his footsteps? No. Burton’s voice is beautiful but the film, I don’t think, is such a good film. No offence, it’s of its time. It’s very linear in its interpretation; ours is more a jazz exercise, as opposed to some kind of little Welsh advent calendar, which I think the original film was. And while Burton’s voice is beautiful, it’s again of its time – the fashion was to have a plummy BBC-ness to everything. It’s alienating. I wanted to reclaim the verse and give it the Welsh vernacular.
Haven’t you also recorded a voiceover in Welsh, too?
Yes. We have two versions. That was like gargling a box of Scrabble.
Under Milk Wood overspills with dark urges, including lust and murder. Was that your experience of growing up in a small Welsh town? It’s completely true. I don’t think it’s a Welsh phenomenon; it’s a small-town phenomenon. Any small community, the secrets are so close to the surface. That’s what we love and hate about small communities, actually. When you’re living in a small community, you hate those twitching curtains. When you move away to the big city, you miss exactly the same thing that you hate. Do you still feel the pull of your roots despite having gone off to make some big movies? Absolutely. Wales is very, very much home for me. There’s a place of peace and safety that sits inside me that looks like Wales. If ever I need to get away, I go home. But you’ve travelled extensively. Many people probably aren’t aware of just how varied your career has been… It’s either interesting or a big mess. I’m not sure. My criteria is literally to do whatever I fancy doing at the time.
Which films are the most important to you?
Twin Town was the first film I was in that I would love to watch. It happened at a time, in the ’90s, that kind of coincided with a lot of other cultural phenomena. You really felt present in a cultural shift. I was aware of it at the time. A lot of the time, when these shifts happen, you’re only aware of them in retrospect. But in this case, there was Cool Britannia, but also Cool Cymru.
Twin Town came out the year after Trainspotting, which rather put a rocket up the arse of the British film industry… Yeah, yeah. That was an important moment.
Enduring Love was another landmark for me. It was the third time I’d worked with Roger Michell – Roger did Milk Wood [ on stage] and then Notting
Hill. And Notting Hill of course was a great career landmark. But Enduring Love was almost Roger putting it right for me; readdressing the balance. I’d given too much of myself to Notting Hill, so he was reminding me – and consequently the public – that maybe I’m a good, serious actor as well, you know? I think that Enduring Love is a really elegant movie in terms of its shape and its economy.
Was it fun to stalk Daniel Craig?
It was great! Just kind of rewarding, really.
How do you prepare for roles? It’s different each time. I don’t have a go-to rulebook. It’s not something I’ve really questioned. Sometimes it’s easy and commonplace. Sometimes it takes a bit of effort. Sometimes it’s painful. It’s not really something I can be arsed talking about. Let’s talk about Notting Hill. Your answering the door in your pants became weirdly iconic… Fucking hell. I had no idea. Of course, I knew it was a Richard Curtis film, and Hugh Grant was in it with Julia Roberts. But I wasn’t really a kid who grew up wanting to be a film actor. I wanted to act, but films seemed like something Americans do. Wealthy… I don’t know. It just didn’t seem part of my experience. Anyway, so Notting Hill, it was mad. Though filming it didn’t feel alien. Really, it was kind of a domestic story. I was
playing the guy’s flatmate, which was in my realm of experience. When the film came out, that was a bit of a shock. I didn’t realise the impact the character Spike would have, to the point they wanted to add me to the poster and stuff. I have to say, it freaked me out a bit. It freaked me out.
Did it also freak you out to work with Julia Roberts? Credit to her, she was fucking lovely. Just a proper grafter. She might have had an entourage the size of QPR, but as an actor, she was brilliant to work with. It was only after the film came out that I realised, ‘My God, this is a fucking juggernaut.’
It must be hard to keep your head screwed on right… You don’t. There were a few lost years after that, really. I will say this: I wish I knew then what I know now. There was a tsunami of Spike-like offers from America. That was really frightening because I never considered myself as a comic actor. [ Pause] I do wonder where my career would have gone if it wasn’t for Notting Hill. I’m forever grateful for it, but I did realise acutely at the time how lazy Hollywood is. And still is. I mean, you realise what a commodity you are in a vast moneymaking machine. That’s kind of disheartening. Did you feel like a commodity when you played The Lizard in The Amazing Spider-Man?
Anthropologically, it was fascinating. If I was an anthropologist, it would have been very valuable.
And as an actor?
As an actor, it was a lesson.
A lesson you’ve learned from?
Yeah.
Were you into the comics before you were cast? No. Well, I did know who The Lizard was. But as I got into it, I remember looking into The Lizard and there was one of the comics where Dr Curtis Connors goes home, and he’s messing about with his Lizard-ness. He takes his work home with him, and he eats his kids. I remember thinking at the time, ‘That’s the film I want to be in’. Not necessarily Dr Curtis Connors eating his kids, but in terms of exploration, in terms of what this film could be about, that was the film. And of course, it could never be that. Whatever you’re told and promised at the beginning of something, when it comes to franchises like that, it’s never ever going to be what ends up on the screen.
What’s your viewpoint on the Spider-Man reboot? I have absolutely no opinion on it. No opinion. I hope that when they reboot, there will be more emphasis on the “boot” than the “re”, because it needs a kick up the arse. You seem to be down to earth. How do you deal with it when you have to work with a diva? When an actor behaves badly, it’s always because they’re frightened that they don’t know what they’re doing. They have questions they’re either too afraid to ask, or they’re too proud to ask for help. So I always have empathy – or try to – however badly someone behaves. So when someone’s shouting their head off at you or a director, it’s always because they’re frightened of looking like a fucking idiot.
Can you ever knock on their trailer for a quiet word? No, you can’t, because more often than not, they’re more famous and more successful than you are. Talking of fame and success… You’ve mostly played colourful support characters. When you’re the lead, like in Mr. Nice, does that change the game? Yeah, it’s kind of different. I don’t know which is easier. The leading man thing is nice because you do get a sense that… I did a film called Len
And Company with Jack Kilmer and Juno Temple. For the first time really, I was very much the elder statesman on that set. I relished it. I was acutely aware of setting a work ethic. Not that I needed to with those two. And Tim Godsall was a first-time director, so my experience had some currency. That’s a really nice feeling. You have an enticing slate. Alice Through The
Looking Glass is another huge movie…
Alice is different to Spider-Man. It’s similar to Harry Potter. Harry Potter’s great. Being called up was a real honour. I have to say, that was a joyous working experience from beginning to end. Fantastic. You walk onto the set, into a wellestablished community of people who are at the top of their game, and they’re so utterly welcoming. That’s one of the happiest working experiences I’ve ever had, as brief as it was. And similarly with Alice, I play a little role, but it was just a great experience, again working with a few legends. You play the Mad Hatter’s dad. How was Johnny to work with?
Yeah, yeah. Johnny’s just a dude.
Have they built many sets or is it mainly greenscreen? There was a lot of greenscreen, but there was, in all fairness, a lot of built stuff as well. That’s always thrilling. That was something on Spider
Man as well. When a scene was set in a sewer, they built a sewer you could drive a train through. Working on Potter and Alice, with all the costumes and sets, does it re-spark the magic of the movies for you, like when you were a kid? It does. With kids’ films, you live vicariously through your godchildren or whatever. There are glimmers of, ‘Oh, I remember Chitty Chitty
i have no opinion on the spider-man reboot. it needs a kick up the arse
Bang Bang, or the first time I saw Wizard Of Oz.’ Just a glimmer of fear or joy or whatever it is. That movie magic – they’re glimpses, but they come at you like insects in the night. I’m like, ‘Wow! I remember that feeling. That’s amazing. I love that feeling. I want it, I want it.’
It’s important to not get jaded with the years… Totally. I also weirdly feel the ‘magic’ when I get ‘man alone in a landscape’ moments in a film. I remember watching spaghettis with my dad in the afternoon, on telly. The curtains would be closed and there’d be a shaft of sunlight coming through. My dad’s smoke would hit the shaft of sunlight. And through that shaft we watched
The Good, The Bad And The Ugly. I’d lie next to my dad and I’d smell his jumper. Sometimes I’ll be on a film set and I’ll just be standing alone with a mountain in front of me, and it’ll kind of flip to Flex appeal: Ifans made his name as Spike in Notting Hill. that living-room moment. I love those moments when you’re transported back to your childhood. I remember going to a tiny cinema in west Wales in a place called Nefyn, a tiny little town, with my dad to see James Bond. Extraordinary.
When are we going to see you in a Bond film?
I don’t know, I don’t know.
After doing Enduring Love, can’t you lean on Daniel? You nearly saw me in James Bond in Enduring
Love, actually – if my character had had his way [ laughs]. But I don’t know about that. We’ll see. My God, I’d love to be in a Bond movie.
A film you’re definitely in is Oliver Stone’s Snowden… You don’t say no to Oliver Stone. He’s one of my favourite directors of all time. I admire his films, I admire his politics. I haven’t seen Snowden yet, but it was an incredible experience. Oliver’s films in the past are big political dramas, but they’re set in history. Whereas Snowden, we’re probably being recorded now [ looks around room]. There’s probably some guy in fucking Langley, as soon as he hears the word “Snowden” [ makes
sound of a whining electronic bug]. It gave the whole filming process… I don’t know… It felt covert because Snowden was in Russia. His Russian lawyer was on set, frequently. When I was sent the script, it was sent to three addresses in three separate pieces. It felt suitably cloak and dagger.
How was Oliver to work with? Do you watch those TV shows, like Michelin star kitchens? The one-star kitchens are really noisy. There are lots of pots and pans and all that. But you get those high-end Spanish kitchens where no one says a fucking word. The ones with three stars. And that’s an Oliver Stone set. People respect him. They were really calm and quiet on set. Oliver never had to raise his voice.
And yet he has a reputation as a ballbreaker. That’s the thing. I was slightly apprehensive. I thought, ‘This is one guy I do not want to piss off.’ He’s a Vietnam veteran and he’s a big guy. So you’re expecting someone kind of volatile and war-torn. But quite the opposite. He’s a Buddhist. He’s a real gentle giant. I felt really, really safe. Do you ever feel safe in interviews? In the past, you’ve had a couple of blow-ups... This is fine because we’re talking about my work. I’m doing what an interview should be, and why interviews are interesting, and why I read interviews. But that other crap? Forget about it.
You mean when people probe into your personal life? Yeah, yeah. I was deceived into doing something I didn’t want to do. I just responded accordingly. Everyone has those days. And I had one of those days, that day. No regrets. “Fuck off.”
What can you tell us about Len And Company? I play an ageing, disgruntled English record producer who’s made it massive in America, and is kind of hitting the wall of a midlife crisis, thinking, ‘What have I achieved? What was it for?’ Feeling a little bit of a sell-out, he steals himself away to his country mansion to brood about his relationship with his son, his relationship with fame, and his relationship with his wife. And all these figures that represent his issues show up on his doorstep, and he’s forced to address them. I love that it isn’t an epiphanic film about redemption. It’s a film about tiny shifts in someone’s consciousness. It’s gentle.
You’re obviously very pleased with it… Yeah. It’s the most unsentimental performance I’ve ever given. I’m really proud of it, yeah. Under Milk Wood opens on 30 October. Alice Through The Looking Glass opens on 27 May 2016.
Snowden and Len And Company also open next year.