Salon.com MobileDirector Danny Boyle explains the real monsters lurking in his movies, from "Trainspotting" and "28 Days Later" to his latest, "Millions."
British director Danny Boyle first burst onto the scene with the acclaimed Hitchcockian thriller "Shallow Grave" in 1994, and quickly followed it up with a bona fide pop culture phenomenon, "Trainspotting." Then, Boyle promptly lost his way.
His next two films, "A Life Less Ordinary" and "The Beach," boasted bigger stars (Cameron Diaz, Leonardo DiCaprio) and fizzled with critics and ticket buyers alike. When he countered with the biggest hit of his career, the thrilling and intelligent zombie picture "28 Days Later," he had returned to an earlier formula of a lean budget, a cast of largely unknowns and an unapologetically grim story line.
That success has perhaps put Boyle, 48, more at ease, and in control, of his career. His new film, "Millions" (opening wide March 11), is about two young suburban British boys who find a bag of money on the eve of Britain's conversion to the euro -- meaning the money has to be spent right away. The plot might sound familiar, but Boyle turns it into a visually stunning film full of fantasy and dream sequences that question everything from material culture to the existence of God.
After a rough-and-tumble childhood in working-class Manchester, Boyle got his start in the theater, which gave him a knack with actors. But his greatest talent has always been on the visual side. There are so many images in Boyle's career that are branded on the brain: the squalid rock-club toilet in "Trainspotting" that becomes the unlikely setting for an Esther Williams-esque underwater dream sequence; the haunting view of an entirely empty London that begins "28 Days Later."
Still, for all his talents, perhaps the best thing you can say about Boyle is that he's still just an unassuming lad. Directors doing press tours for their movies can get weary fast, but during a recent conversation, Boyle thanked me profusely for driving three hours to the interview, chatted boisterously about soccer (he explained to me why bullying Manchester United better represents the game than the "pretty" style of rival Arsenal), and talked as openly about his failures as his successes.
Your films are very diverse, but to me there's a connection in how they collectively portray people looking for some kind of escape, whether it's heroin or society or zombies. Is that intentional?
There's a British poet called John Betjeman, who was the poet laureate. He used a term called "third way," way before Clinton and Blair. He said Britain used to be the idealized village society, and then later it became a more bleak industrial landscape. But the third way that's come upon us was High Street shopping, that commercialization and corporatization of the world where everything becomes the same -- a Gap or Starbucks on every corner. I think all my films are about how much that third way of life today has a hold over us: how much you are dedicated to it, and also how much you want to flee from it.
And in all your films the characters are faced with false idols to worship once they do escape, whether it's heroin in "Trainspotting" or a jungle utopia in "The Beach," or a squeaky clean but more materialistic suburban environment in "Millions."
When I was a kid my dad moved us to a better neighborhood just like they do in the film. I could feel him trying to get us out of the path that was set for us. My dad was a working-class laborer. He was a big man and worked all his life with his brawn, really. He worked in a power station at a stove boiler. But he was smart, and he knew enough to make sure that I didn't follow him. That's what gave my sisters and me the chance to break from the pattern that all my old school friends remain in. They're still in Manchester and they're doing not very interesting jobs, honestly. That's one of the reasons I made the film. My mom's dead now, but it was a kind of gesture of love to her and my dad.
The "Millions" script reportedly was tinkered with for years. Was that a sign of trouble or just part of the process?
That isn't always a good thing, of course, but it was with this film. Frank Boyce [the screenwriter, who also wrote "24 Hour Party People] and I worked together very well. Both of you have to give up a bit of ego. The writer has to take criticism, and as the director you also have to acknowledge that they are the writer, and their imagination created this thing. That relationship often gets spoiled by people wanting to be known as auteurs, who say that scripts are just the skeletal framework for the real film. But I don't believe any of that. This movie was Frank's idea. And then we bounced ideas off each other for a long time. I was also able to do that on "28 Days Later" with Alex Garland, and I think that's why it was successful. With "Millions," Frank did a lot of drafts over the course of a year, and we completed it together. It was a very personal project for both of us.
Working with child actors can be a real challenge. How did you handle it?
You have to be lucky. Child acting is not a profession that's well organized. The best people might never walk into the room on their own, and sometimes you have to do this endless searching. And when the filming starts, you can't let it be just a dreary sort of field trip where they're just led around. You have to involve them, and make the film feel like a playground for their imagination. It has to feel like the film belongs to them too. Any time I tried to really impose a strong direction with the kids, I'd go back and look at the footage and it was horrible. I was just watching kids say what they were told to say. You have to make it emerge from them, and if you can't do it, it's because it's wrong -- not because they can't do it, but because it's not a genuine part of their world.
And that worked?
Yes and no. The kids were interesting collaborators, because on one hand they're just sponges. Their brains are just waiting to soak up knowledge. I didn't have to tell them anything twice. But on the other hand it's tough working with kids because sometimes they're just gone, they're disengaged. You can threaten them, bribe them, all the things you do with actors when a scene's not working, and none of it will change things. You just have to close the set and go home for the day.
