AN UNFORTUNATE AND AGONIZING INTERVIEW

Every now and then, while I’m watching a film, I’ll become unintentionally physically demonstrative. What I mean is that I’m not trying to draw attention to myself; I don’t want to have people around me hear me audibly sigh; I’m not looking for the person next to me to notice my head drop into my hands or my much broader than it needs to be shift in my seat. And yet, if you were my friend who had the displeasure of attending Steve Buscemi’s new film Interview with me a week ago at a special screening (which proved to be in large part for the film’s friends, cast and crew) at BAM, you would have seen my somewhat uncontrollable agitation in all its … uhm … glory. At one point, she turned to me and asked, “How are you doing?” I answered, “I’m in pain,” and she responded, “Yeah, and we’re only an hour in.” Thankfully, Interview is only 80-odd minutes long. Unfortunately, after a somewhat promising and intriguing beginning, it steadily devolves into the annoying experience it is.

Before I continue describing why I consider Interview to be much more than a misfire, let me mention a few things:

• First, let me mention something positive: Sienna Miller is as brilliant as she can be in this role. I was truly impressed with her. While I in no way mean to insinuate that Miller is identical to her character Katya, I’m sure her own experience being on the unfortunate side of celebrity news informed her performance. She’s captivating throughout, even when her Katya’s actual actions and behavior are contributing to the film’s demise.

• Second, I have not seen the original version by the late (and tragically murdered) Dutch director Theo van Gogh. I’m quite curious to do so, however, and not because I think that European cinema is automatically better than American. However, at the post-screening Q&A, it was quite fascinating to hear screenwriter David Schechter describe all elements they felt they needed to change to make the film for an American audience, aside from the simple move to New York. For instance, they needed to “open it up.” The Dutch version apparently all takes place in the actress’ loft, and they felt the audience wouldn’t buy a journalist being invited to a popular actress’ home like this. Second, Americans need more plot, and van Gogh’s film cared more about emotion than story, so they had to add plot elements here and there. Without delving too deeply into either of these explanations or belaboring the point with other apparent changes, all I can do is report my reaction: each of the things they changed seemed to be the focal points of this film’s major problems. I’d love to see the Dutch film, but it’s not yet available on DVD, at least not in the US.

• Third, I love Steve Buscemi as an actor, but so far, I have not been all that impressed by the films he has directed. That may not be a fair statement as I have not actually seen Animal Factory nor Lonesome Jim, and while I remember virtually nothing about Trees Lounge, I do remember finding it simply mediocre. My suspicion is that both his acting and directing may be hurt by him trying to do both at the same time, and Interview makes that seem quite apparent. In a film which is essentially a four-handed chamber drama, the camera capturing the emotion is the thing, and if two of those hands are busy focusing on one character’s dynamic, it’s tremendously difficult to properly direct the other’s as well. Plus, some directors have an affinity for overusing the camera both during and after shooting, meaning, too much movement, too much editing … just too much.

• Finally, I would have loved to see a provocative and compelling examination of the tug of war involved in celebrity journalism, even if it was to be biased towards the actor/celebrity and against the journalist. It would have been fascinating to see such a story told through the personalities of two good and talented but flawed people. But what we get in Interview is a film masquerading as the above, but really just concerned with two thin personalities with the veneer of multi-dimensionality, ultimately all just providing another basic male vs. female power struggle. Blech.

I’m utterly baffled by many of the reviews I’ve since read of the film. Many of them seem to present a common argument: that Interview is too stagy, too absurd, too implausible, too unrealistic; and yet, “compelling” (according to Nathan Rabin from The Onion AV Club”) or pleasantly “diverting” (as Manohla Dargis wrote in the New York Times). I’m even more surprised that so many critics (who often double as entertainment journalists who conduct celebrity interviews although, no doubt, would never actually identify with Buscemi’s Pierre Peders character) aren’t more disturbed or at least annoyed by the dynamics of the interview itself, which in innumerable ways is beyond unrealistic.

From the very beginning, Pierre is anything but a sympathetic character. His lack of professionalism coupled with the assignment he has been given by a major weekly news magazine — to interview a beautiful, popular actress (apparently meant to represent some sort of Tara Reid/Lindsay Lohan/Jessica Simpson/Britney Spears hybrid) with a knack for bad horror movies and a hit Sex in the City-like show — makes even less sense once we learn more of his history near the end of the film. During the still tolerable first third, it looks like we’re about to be shown exactly how the popular image of an actress revealed through the Us Weeklys of the world doesn’t always mesh with the complex, determined and driven woman underneath, even if she’s potentially a little selfish or inconsiderate. It’s quite easy to sympathize with Katya when she first sits down at the restaurant table — even after showing up an hour late and bringing enough self-important attitude to get the concierge to move Pierre and her to her “regular” table so she feels less-exposed. Why? Because from even before she arrives, Pierre is simply a prick.

So much so, in fact, that Katya decides to head home. And then, in a contrivance that could only be dreamed up by someone trying to “open up” the film for an American audience, Pierre winds-up in Katya’s loft when his cab driver rear-ends a truck because he was too busy catcalling the actress walking down the street. Pierre bumps his head and bleeds; Katya, the kind soul, takes him upstairs, and then the real non-fun begins.

There actually is a good film lurking beneath the mess that results, which is why I’m so curious to see the original — is that where it’s hiding? The dialogue from this English script (co-written by Schechter and Buscemi) is often abysmal and eye-rolling. The actions, utterly unbelievable and inauthentic. The direction lacks any modulation. And what all this provides are two people with absolutely no consistency of character. Our sympathy for Katya disappears as we start to see that she really is just your average bumbling blonde celebrity, spoiled and undeserving of her success or our two shits. Our hatred of Pierre continuously grows until we discover that he’s even more vile than we could have anticipated, and the comeuppance he may receive at the end is nowhere near enough. To get to the plot of this film (apparently created for the American version), they’ve both been acting the whole time anyway, so which emotion is genuine? If Pierre is so unethical — and we learn that he is — why does he even have a job anymore? Why is he given a second, third, fourth chance? And what editor would actually not just keep such a reporter on the payroll, but send him to interview someone who is apparently a major celebrity icon — fluff piece or not.

What we wind-up getting from Interview is a bad man and a bad woman being bad to each other. Pierre wants something juicy to save his job. Katya wants … well, nothing really. There’s the sexual tension that has no reason to exist. There’s Katya laying her head on Pierre’s lap and starting to tear-up when he says something that seems to strike true. There’s the two of them falling off the hammock — oh isn’t it funny.

There’s lots of stuff in Interview, but at the end of nearly an-hour-and-a-half, all it adds up to is a big pile of nothing. Yeah, in a stretch one could argue that it all might simply be a metaphor for celebrity journalism, but ultimately if I wanted that, I would just read the real thing.