IT SHOULDN’T HAPPEN TO A FILM JOURNALIST
Editor-at-Large Jamie Graham lifts the lid on film journalism.
Can a humble journo ever be mates with the stars?
Is it wise, or even possible, to be friends with famouses? This is the question that rattled around my head last week on the way home from a curry with Jessie Buckley, who I’d previously interviewed twice last year, first on the phone and then face-to-face at the Glasgow Film Festival. Both times we got on like a house on fire, and in Glasgow, after tea and biscuits and 90 minutes of furious chin-wagging, she invited me to join her and her Beast director Michael Pearce for a curry followed by a night of dancing. I declined, partly because I had to work, mainly because no one needs to see my dancing.
Last week’s breaking of naan bread was for another interview. We agreed we should finally have that curry rather than do the conveyor-belt hotel-room junket thing, so I met her at her local Indian restaurant. Again we clicked, chatting frenziedly long after the recorder was turned off. Later, as she wheeled her bike to the Tube station to see me off, we agreed to meet up again soon.
BUDDY UP
If you conduct enough interviews over enough years with enough stars and directors, you’ll naturally build relationships with some of them. It’s the law of averages – we’re all people, and every now and then you hit it off. Often it happens when the ‘talent’ is at the start of their career and appreciates the support; by the time they’ve conquered Hollywood, the trust is in place and they hopefully value your work as you do theirs. I know a journalist who went drinking with Russell Crowe when he was making Romper Stomper and has been firm friends with him ever since – said journo was best man at Crowe’s wedding.
I’ve never been best man to a star or, indeed, even been invited to their wedding (not even the evening guest list), but I do have good relationships with the likes of Edgar Wright, Simon Pegg, Gareth Edwards, Paddy Considine, Tom Hiddleston, Natalie Dormer and more having met them early and many times since. Guillermo del Toro, who I first hung out with on The Devil’s Backbone, invited me to his house in LA for chilli. George Romero and Tobe Hooper used to return my emails. Paul Thomas Anderson spookily recalls every detail we’ve ever discussed. Even Tom Cruise asks after my wife.
But these are good work relationships rather than true friendships. I’d hardly call any of these people, in need, at two in the morning. Hell, I couldn’t even if I wanted to – del Toro’s is the only number stored in my phone.
WALKING THE LINE
As legendary critic Pauline Kael knew only too well when she partied with the enfants terribles of New Hollywood, it’s tricky to navigate a work/personal divide. What happens if you hate their next film? Can you ever have a free-flowing talk about private or thorny matters without appending “off the record”? And can they ever again take you seriously as a journalist after seeing you down 10 Jägerbombs and yak in a plant pot? (To be fair, that was 12 years ago.)
Sure, there’s a thrill that comes with having relationships with stars and directors, but it can never be at the cost of editorial integrity. Some people get that – Ben Wheatley, whose every film I’ve so far either liked or loved, often jokes about what will happen when I think he’s made a piece of shit. (Thankfully I know because another journalist he trusts slated A Field In England and High-Rise and Wheatley thought it was hilarious both times.) Other people don’t get it – no names here, but
I had one ‘friendship’ terminate abruptly over a three-star review.
So can journos ever be friends with famouses? Ask me again after another couple of curries with Jessie.
Jamie will return next issue… For more misadventures, follow: @jamie_graham9 on Twitter.
‘I HAD ONE “FRIENDSHIP” TERMINATE ABRUPTLY OVER A THREE-STAR REVIEW’