John Malkovich: ‘In relationships, I’ve had an addictive personality’
This article is more than 7 years oldKate KellawayThe actor and director on addiction and success, Trump’s bankruptcies, and the film he wrote that no one will see for 100 yearsJohn Malkovich has acted in 98 films and is about to make his London directorial debut with Zach Helm’s Good Canary, a play about success, secrets and addiction. He has directed the play in Mexico and in France, where it won Molière awards for direction and design.
What drew you to Good Canary and why return to it?
Lucy Liu, who was at the time going out with Zach, originally approached me with the script and I loved it. Theatre is like surfing. An actor paddles out, gets on a board and waits for the wave: the wave is the collision between your material and the public. You don’t create the wave, you ride it. In good material, there will almost invariably be a wave – and that is why you do good material repeatedly. Good Canary keeps changing. In Spanish, it was jazzily funny. In French, more serious.
What does being an actor teach you not to do as a director?
It teaches you not to be constantly telling people what to do. You’re an observer.
Your parents were journalists – did journalism ever beckon?
I was surrounded by journalism and wanted to do something else. I don’t know if my parents approved of acting. They never would have said. My father came discreetly to some plays but never commented. It wasn’t the kind of family where someone said you did something well. Whatever you did, it was assumed you had to do it well or there was no point in doing it at all.
That sounds tough. Surely everyone needs encouragement?
I don’t think they do. As William Faulkner said: “Every man is the arbiter of his own virtues but let no man prescribe for another man’s wellbeing.” That’s how I was raised. I’m not saying it was easy and can’t tell you if I wanted more praise – I may have done – but I never expected or needed it.
And is that how you brought up your own children?
I’m over-encouraging [laughs ruefully] – a loser, like everyone else. They’re 25 and 24 now.
The play explores addiction. Where do you stand on this?
In relationships, I’ve had an addictive personality. And smoking. Never drugs – that would not appeal to me as an addict. Drinking I started very late, in my mid-30s, and if I weren’t careful, I could have a problem. Christopher Hampton said: “Man seeks oblivion.” It’s true. The question is: should you seek it always?
Do you and your wife, Nicoletta Peyran, still live part of the year in Provence?
We still have our house in France. I’m not there tons. France is in bad shape. It’s a heavy time. I don’t know what that burden is but feel they are excessively burdened, Paris especially. I’ve never been a fan of Paris; I find it super gloomy. It is difficult to live and work in. People are intensely unhappy. France has referred to la crise since the Mitterrand years – that’s a long time in freefall. My life would not allow me to live in France full time.
You have made almost 100 films. How much do you look back?
I’m not a rearview mirror person. I only go forward. I’ve worked with some extraordinary people and loved it. Some of them have left this earth. That makes me sad but all the more appreciative.
What do you feel about being in your 60s?
I’m 62. The best thing is to be at an age when you have no desire to go back to an earlier age. You start to separate from this earth. It can, at times, give you an acute longing – sorrow.
Do you care less than you did?
I was always fairly calm. I may have been neurotically invested in my children but saw work as the grand tour: an incredible exploration. That’s how I see it now.
Tell me about your fashion line, which started with the wonderful name Uncle Kimono.
The original line was inspired by a photo of a Japanese man in 30s LA – probably gay, dapper and mustachioed, wearing a kimono. My second line was Technobohemian. Now, unfortunately, the line carries my name because that is what my new partners wanted.
With so many irons in the fire, organisation must be challenging. How distracted are you by technology and its interruptions?
It is incredibly intrusive and difficult. In rehearsal, I’ll have 30 different things to organise. I’ve 40 pages of text to learn for a Russian film. Tonight, I need to watch eight short fashion films and comment. I do a lot, pay a certain price. I try to be accessible. You can panic – I try to be prepared.
Tell me about your bizarre-sounding new film, 100 Years.
This came about through the daughter of the Rémy Martin family who has a fantastic store in Miami Beach – I met her through fashion. The family does a cognac, Louis XIII, which takes 100 years to make. They approached me with this fantastic idea to do a film that would not be seen for 100 years. I wrote it and it is – blessedly – directed by Robert Rodriguez. It is now in a vault in Cognac. We even have tickets to pass on to our grandchildren.
I’ve heard you and your wife make your own wine. Is that hard work?
My wife does the organisation, I just drink, and that is not hard. I thought our wine would be terrible, but not at all. We make cabernet sauvignon and a rosé from the same grape; wines not ordinarily made in the Luberon.
Meanwhile, reverting to the US, do you fear Donald Trump becoming president?
They say they’ll make America great again. But I understand he has had four bankruptcies. I’m an actor. I’ve not had any bankruptcies. I lost every penny I ever earned with Bernie Madoff but didn’t declare bankruptcy.
You have said you won’t vote in the US elections…
In 1972, I campaigned for [George] McGovern. That night, my father called to say: “It is good you worked on the campaign. I’m sorry it turned out so badly.” I said: “I’m done, Dad.” I never voted again. Ideologies I find problematic – they blind people to reality. Americans elect someone, think him a god figure. He never is and they end up detesting him. The choices I have are represented by two supremely corrupt parties. I’m a midwesterner. All that New York stuff does not play with me. Most things do not play with me. I’m not a believer.
The Good Canary is at the Rose theatre, Kingston, from 16 Sept to 8 Oct
Explore more on these topicsShareReuse this contentncG1vNJzZmivp6x7tbTEoKyaqpSerq96wqikaJ6Zobpwfo9qbWirlaV8cn2Oo6ahpl2irq23zq%2BgnKBdnru1sdGvoJ6vXZy8sLCMnJinmaKu