+ Before Night Falls review by Lucas Hilderbrand
Somebody Called It Method Directing
Julian Schnabel is what you might call an intense
personality. He talks in large hunks of prose,
language that is layered roaming, attentive to the
details of the surfaces around him. He has a grand
sensibility, full of passion and unstoppable opinion.
Born in New York City in 1951, he went to the
University of Houston, Texas from 1969-1973, where he
received a BFA. He had his first solo painting
exhibition at New York's Mary Boone Gallery just six
years later, and since then, his work has been
included in collections owned by New York's Museum of
Modern Art, Whitney Museum, Metropolitan Museum of
Art, as well as London's Tate Gallery and DC's
National Gallery. His first film, 1996's Basquiat
won him praise for his nerve as well as his sense of
style and outrageousness.
I'm talking with Schnabel in the car, on his way to
DC's National Airport. He's on his way back home, in
New York, and he's had a long day. But it's clear that
he does not tire of talking about his work. At the
moment, it's his new film, Before Night Falls, based
on the writings of Cuban writer Reinaldo Arenas,
played in the film by Javier Bardem, who won the 2000
National Board or Review and Venice Film Festival's
Best Actor Prizes, while the film took the Grand Jury
Prize at Venice. Schnabel still sees himself as an a
fine artist who's recently come to making movies. And
while he's pleased with this all this attention and
praise from his new peers (at Venice, he says, "There
were all these directors, and they couldn't say enough
about the film"), Schnabel doesn't pretend to be a
conventional director.
Cynthia Fuchs: Both your films feature strong central
performances, by Jeffrey Wright in Basquiat and
Javier Bardem in Before Night Falls. How do you
manage that?
Julian Schnabel: I'm a behavioral scientist. I knew
Jean Michel [Basquiat]. I knew what his voice sounded
like, I knew his responses to things. I knew what I
wanted Jeffrey Wright to do. He didn't know what I
wanted him to do. He fought. Jeffrey didn't know that
being like Gandhi and taking the blows, he would win
the war. Which I think he did, ultimately, as an
actor, I think he won. He's doing pretty well. He's
going to play Howard Bingham, actually, in the movie
they're doing about Muhammad Ali. That was difficult,
because he was younger, and I think he was scared. In
the case of Javier, he's had more experience. When I
talked to him, he had a lot of faith in me. He went to
the edge of the earth, in terms of his performance,
but he worked very, very hard, he was very prepared.
Finally, when he was screaming on those rocks, that
crane shot, even though I didn't get exactly what I
wanted, I said, "That's it, I won't do it again." It
was hurting me because I love him, and I didn't want
to hurt him. I also locked myself in the isolation
prison cell with him, and my eyes were rolling around
in my head, and he said, "God, you're a great actor."
And I said, "I am not a great actor. I have
claustrophobia. I'm just here so you could see what
would happen to somebody who had that problem."
Somebody called it Method Directing.
CF: How do you select your actors and crew?
JS: Usually the people I work with, I know quite well.
Like Michael Wincott, I've known a long time, he lived
around the block from me and I kind of took care of
him for years when he was unemployed. But he also took
care of me. Willem Dafoe is a close friend of mine.
Chris Walken is one of my best friends. So, when Chris
and Willem came in to do that stuff on Basquiat,
they knew it cold, because we'd been talking about the
shit for years before I had the money to do it. But
they walked in, they knew who the people were, they
knew exactly what to do. I think that one of the great
things about, say Marty's [Scorsese] work with Robert
[De Niro], they know each other so well that they
bring something to each other, it's not a one shot
thing where you work with somebody once and never see
them again. It's really about trust, and also, you
have to let people do what they can do. I think
casting is about 90 percent of it. You have to know
what they have in them. People have asked me, "Why did
you want to cast Javier Bardem in this role? He's this
heterosexual, machista kind of toro. How's he gonna be
this guy?" But I obviously see something else in him
that they didn't see. Or, they asked, "How can you
hire Olivier Martinez to play Lazaro"? The fact is,
Olivier Martinez's father is from Savilla and his
mother is from Algeria, and they're both refugees, and
they live in Paris. His father's a boxer and a
mechanic. He is from people who are on the outside in
some way. And he said something really beautiful when
we were in Venice. He said, "I think Lassero is
somebody who comes from the street who can appreciate
art. He loves art even though he wasn't educated." And
he was talking about himself also. It's great when
somebody says that and you see that art is not an
elitist activity.
CF: How did you work through all the complexities that
make up Arenas as a character?
JS: It was just one of those magic things. We just
invented this character. I had [the cast] live with
Cuban people in New York City. And I sent all of them
to Cuba. And we had this whole hotel in Vera Cruz, we
lived together. And the day that [Arenas] died, I was
in my pajamas, because I'm usually in my pajamas, and
he's in his pajamas [for the scene], and the two of us
are just sitting on the couch crying, because we had
seen his whole life. Sometimes it's not acting going
on, it's just acting and being in the present. But one
thing that Javier can do is bring everybody into the
present. He'll do something to someone he's working
with that will make them be real. The fact is that the
Cuban people that were extras on the movie -- and
there were lots of them -- they instinctively got it,
as extras. I'd say, "Do something like that," and
they'd just do it.
CF: What was your thinking about the voice-over, using
the memoir and poetry?
JS: The voice-over says, "I had this supernatural
quality of nonchalance, even though I was accused of
being a murderer and a rapist and was thrown into
prison alongside common thieves, people who were real
murderers and would kill you for no reason." I
thought, how do you achieve that? I've never seen a
movie where somebody's really in trouble, and came
into prison laughing his head off. So I thought, the
fact that he had these drugs would allow that. I
always want to do something that I haven't seen
before. And I also like to do things that are inspired
by something. I love in The 400 Blows when Jean
Pierre Leaud is plastered to that centerfuge, and he
can't move. So I thought, when they first get to New
York and are riding around in the back of that white
convertible. He's glued of the back of the trunk. And
the guys from Techno-Crane who worked on the shot,
said they'd never had so much fun. I'm more like, give
me the tool, and let's see what we can do with it. We
used it until the damn thing broke -- the wheels came
off, and it was daylight. We were like these gypsies
trying to get home.
CF: It sounds like accidents and circumstances play a
role in your art.
JS: People have asked me, as a painter, how do I do
it? There's no separation really, between life and art
for me. That can sound like a pretentious thing, but
what's the fucking difference? Art, that's what I do,
and I use everything, consciously or unconsciously.
For instance, in 1977, I recorded the music from The Battle of Algiers. I'm recording the record with a
mike, and the telephone rings while I'm making the
tape, so I have this sound of the telephone ringing in
the background. That's very important to me, that
music, and I wanted to use it in the film, during the
harbor exodus, and they wanted to take the telephone
ring out, because it sounds like someone is calling
Reinaldo to stop him from leaving. The fact is, I've
had that telephone on there for 23 years, so to take
the sound off the record sounds absolutely unnatural
to me. There are so many things like that. Like, why
use the Arabic music in New York? You can use Cole
Porter, but his music by Feruz meant something to me,
at a moment in my life, and also New York is a melting
pot and all that.
CF: How would you describe the film's attitude toward
Cuba?
JS: My goal is not to assassinate Cubans. I love
Cubans. I don't agree with the government. I've broken
the U.S. embargo, because Constitutionally, we're
allowed to go wherever the fuck we want. And I'm
interested in showing my work to young Cuban artists,
people who can't leave the country, and have seen
pictures of my work in magazines. I've shown
Basquiat there, in 1996, and talked to film
students. At the same time, I don't believe that
anybody can bring anybody else any freedom. I'm not
pretending to think that. All I can say is that maybe
I can share something with them that they can't get
elsewhere. And I think it's good to break down
culturally barriers that politicians can't solve. I
didn't do all this to set back relations between Cuba
and the United States and I'm certainly not
right-wing, but the fact of the matter is, there were
these pogroms, in a way, and they did put homosexuals
in camps. People like Reinaldo weren't writing
political attacks against the government. They were
just writing what we would call "novels" or "poetry"
in this country, or poetry. But because they didn't
fit into the ideology, they were banned. Imagine being
Marlon Brando and you cannot act. I made the movie in
Mexico, knowing that if people do it in Cuba, they'd
probably get in trouble. I think what would be really
great is if Cuban citizens had the same rights as an
American or an Italian or a Canadian tourist, in their
own country. And if the people could have a free
election, and elect a Cuban person and they can run
their own country. I don't want to see a bunch of
McDonalds and Burger Kings, but if you look over there
now, there are shopping malls and tacky hotels. The
money doesn't necessarily come from the Americans, but
they're getting it from everywhere else. And the
people are not getting the dough.