Jude Law
July 2001
By David Furnish

BEHIND THE ANGEL FACE, STAYING HUMAN IN A DEVILISH GAME

Just the mention of Jude Law’s name is enough to make most women (and some men) swoon with palpitations. When I interviewed the actor in my office in London, word of his presence spread through the building like wildfire. Unfortunately, I made the fatal mistake of seating him with his back to the office hallway. When I returned to my desk after our chat, my e-mail inbox was overflowing with irate messages from seemingly everyone in the building. “Why did you hog him all to yourself?” whined one co-worker. “I walked past your office at least 20 times in the hope that I’d at least catch a glimpse,” complained another.

For most people, Jude Law began to appear on radar screens after his Academy Award-nominated performance as Dickie Greenleaf in The Talented Mr. Ripley (1999). Real Law fanatics, however, had been following him for years and watched him turn in astoundingly potent and edgy portrayals as Bosie in Wilde (1997) and Eugene in Gattaca (1997).

With the release of A.I. Artificial Intelligence, Steven Spielberg’s latest film, Jude Law is making his play for the big time. He stars opposite fellow Oscar nominee Haley Joel Osment in what is one of the most highly anticipated releases of the summer. Based on a screen treatment by the late Stanley Kubrick, A.I. is destined to be a blockbuster and will all but certainly launch Law into the stratosphere.

DAVID FURNISH: This is such an exciting time for you. You have just finished making the biggest film of your career, A.I. for Steven Spielberg. Can you tell us what it felt like to have him phone you up and offer you a lead part in his next film? Had you met him before?

JUDE LAW: I met him when I finished The Talented Mr. Ripley, one of those general L.A. meetings. And then, as you said, he just called me up.

DF: “Mr. Law. Steven Spielberg is holding for you on line one!”

JL: [laughs] I don’t let myself get too overexcited, because part of me thinks, Hang on–if I don’t hold it together here I’m gonna sound like an idiot and I’m gonna blow it. More often than not I’m too busy concentrating on staying cool: “OK, I can deal with this, I can handle this…” which is a shame. Maybe I should let all those hormones of excitement go “Aaaaah!” And let my hysteria flow a little more freely from time to time.

DF: So you played it cool with him.

JL: Not too cool, no. He pitched it over the phone and I was all ready to go, “Great! When do we start filming?” But he encouraged me to read the script first, which was probably a good point. [laughs] So maybe I was a bit too overeager there. [laughs]

DF: “I’ll do it for nothing!”

JL: Exactly. I was in Germany, so I flew to meet him on the weekend and read it with him. My character came off the pages. I was just blown away by the opportunity to play the role.

DF: What was it you liked about the character?

JL: Well, when I played Dickie [in The Talented Mr. Ripley] it was a watershed, in so much as I had maybe concentrated too long on playing or looking for parts that were dealing with a darker side of myself and a darker side of humanity. And Dickie was different–that’s not to say that he wasn’t dark, but there really was a kind of joie de vivre to Dickie.

DF: I found Dickie hugely intimidating.

JL: He was intimidating. Because he challenged you–everyone, really. He was one of those people who said, “I’m doing exactly what I want to be doing and I presume that you all are too, and if you re not, then go do it.” That can be hostile, but also incredibly empowering. And this role in A.I. was another show part; all singing, all dancing, all performing. And I liked the idea of going there again, especially with a director like Steven.

DF: If I have one criticism of Spielberg’s films, it’s that the special effects sometimes become too dominant. The idea or the effect, like the shark in Jaws [1975] or the alien in E. T. [1982] or the spaceships in Close Encounters of the Third Kind [1977], almost supercedes the actors in a way; it becomes bigger than the characters and the performances. The spectacle overwhelms some of the achievements made by the actors. Did that not frighten you?

JL: No. It’s a really good point, but what’s kind of wonderful about this film is that there is spectacle, but it’s very much actor driven. It’s really a family drama and it’s a two-hander, two-thirds of the film being just me and Haley [Joel Osment]. It’s about the journey these two characters go on in search of something, and what that awakens in both of them. We didn’t do much blue-screen [special effects] work or perform with guys that later on were turned into any odd creatures–sure, the occasional backdrop was added, or an extra skyline was dropped in during postproduction, but it wasn’t much.

DF: I would think that you’d have spent a lot of time on blank sets and have the special effects added later. Didn’t that happen to your good friend Ewan McGregor?

JL: Yeah, and that was something I was hesitant about because I’d heard stories from Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace [1999], and it just sounded like such hard work, and unrewarding, in my opinion at least.

DF: Is Spielberg a very effervescent director, or is he very reticent?

JL: He’s very hands-on, loads of specifics and loads of energy. He’s a great fan of preparation, lots of meetings, rehearsal, chats on the phone, lots of makeup meetings.

DF: How long were you in the makeup chair each day?

JL: Three hours a day.

DF: Was that hard?

JL: It was fun, actually. It was the shaving that bothered me the most. I’m not a great fan of shaving and I had to be really clean-shaven, hands, head, hairline, all the fluff off my face, everything except my eyebrows, so this sheen, this kind of polish they used on me, would stick.

DF: Are you a human character in the film?

JL: No, I’m a “mecha,” named Gigolo Joe. There are “orgas” and “mechas”–organics and mechanicals–and I’m a mechanical, and a slightly old model as well! [laughs] Haley Joel Osment’s the new-and-improved version.

DF: You strike me as someone who does a lot of preparation for what you do. How do you get inside the head of a mechanical creature? It must have been hard.

JL: It was. I kept saying, “This is really hard to prepare for–what should I be reading? What should I be doing?” I did a lot of movement classes.

DF: Things like Pilates, tai chi, dance?

JL: I do a lot of yoga normally, but this was proper dance training: ballet, contemporary, kabuki, modern, tap. Partly because of the functions and programs that the Gigolo Joe character has in him, but also because Steven wanted everything to be very physical. I kept calling him, saying, “What am I meant to be thinking about?” and he kept saying, “Stick to the movement, think of the movement.” I had to teach my body to think about every move. While studying dance, I became obsessed with Bob Fosse and films like All That Jazz [1979] and Cabaret [1972]. Gene Kelly, Fred Astaire; they were kind of my study points.

DF: A lot of Fosse’s genius, for me, was his ability to isolate every body part to where it takes on an awareness and personality of its own. It’s very sexual, some of the most sexual modern choreography, but also personality-driven–an arm takes on a personality, an ass takes on a personality.

JL: When you step back and watch people, you realize that we use every single body part. Movement, dance–I find it genius because it’s ultimate expression, really.

DF: Do you think this experience is going to make you a different actor? Has it represented a whole new exploration for you?

JL: I think every job I do makes me a different actor. You learn something new from the director and the part, and I learned a hell of a lot by watching and being around Steven, as well as Kathy [Kennedy] and Bonnie [Curtis, the film's producers], just being in that environment and watching that attention to detail and desire to work. I was stunned that Steven, who can probably ask for as much money as he wants to make a film, was constantly cutting back the budget. It wasn’t like he was trying to make it harder on anyone; he knew what he didn’t need.

DF: No ego involved.

JL: No. And no throwing money at problems. It was like, “No, no! Let’s get this right and make it work.” I really respected that.

DF: Odds are A.I.’s gonna be a monster success, which is a new thing for you, because you’ve had great critical success and respectable commercial success, but you’ve not yet gone into the seven-figure, hundred-million-dollar-gross club.

JL: [Pause] I should call someone really, find out what the hell it’s like. [laughs]

DF: Does that scare you at all? Because it will change your life.

JL: I think six months ago I would have said no. But here in England, since Enemy at the Gates came out, there’s been a feeding frenzy. Paparazzi following me and my son to school every day, that kind of stuff. Look, I’m the first to say, “All right, fine–I chose it, I wanted to be an actor.” But my son didn’t choose it, and there’s got to be a certain amount of respect there. And because of that, yes, I’d say it does scare me, because I don’t want my fame to affect my family in a bad way. But I’m also an eternal optimist, so if it enables me to continue working, to live a life of comfort and security, and therefore to be able to choose what I do and with whom and when I do it, then Christ, I’m really excited about that.

DF: Of course. Superstardom or super-celebrity is a curse and a blessing. It can have horrible downsides, but it also has a lot of great sides.

JL: As an artist you’ve got to look at it as a freedom, a chance to choose from a number of projects, or create something from scratch, do something because you want to, not because you have to. And that’s a luxury. But you’re right about the downside. I’ve always been such a fan of living in London, and I never understood what living there under a public eye was like–as soon as it happened, it freaked me out.

DF: A lot of celebrities seem to be choosing London right now, perhaps because with the strict gun laws they feel safer. Look at Madonna: She feels it will be a safe place to raise her children. It’s the British press that makes living in London a nightmare. They are so completely intrusive. When they make stars, they feel that they own them and that nothing is sacred. You get that no-holds-barred, no-barrier-is-sacred intrusion, and that can be a huge burden to bear, especially for someone like you. You’re young, you’re talented, you’re extremely good looking.

JL: [laughs and hides his head in embarrassment]

DF: Come on! Take a compliment! You’re exactly the sort of person–

JL: That the press likes to feed on.

DF: Yes. You’ll sell newspapers. you’ll sell magazines. You’re sexy, you’re exciting and people wanna read about you. Andy Warhol would be thrilled with all the attention and adulation we give celebrities these days. You know, Jude, I really think this is an interesting time for you right now, because you’ve had a lot of great exposure. But the Spielberg thing and the huge potential of A.I. could put you into an entirely different stratosphere. Would you be comfortable being a Tom Hanks- or Tom Cruise-type?

JL: I see them as movie stars, and I don’t particularly consider myself a movie star. In order to go to that level, you’ve got to want to go there and also want to maintain it, and I’ve never really wanted to because in order to maintain it you’ve ultimately gotta do movies that are surefire hits, and I don’t want the pressure, nor the responsibility of every film I do being a colossal budget and colossal payday. I’d rather have the option to go back and do some smaller projects, do some of my own stuff, dabble in bigger films, some theatre. That kind of career is more exciting, more interesting and more challenging.

DF: I can see that artistically, but it’s hard if suddenly something becomes so big and the juggernaut starts rolling, because sometimes you can’t control it. For example, you do a small thing on the stage that normally would get a couple of reviews, and suddenly it’s on the front page of every paper. Look what happened to Nicole Kidman in The Blue Room: The British papers went nuts! She did the play for artistic reasons, but it did take on an entirely different persona all its own. Or the other thing is, and I say this because I’m living with an artist who is used to great success, it does become a drug.

JL: I feel like–whether the press have liked it or not, whether people have liked it or not–almost everything I’ve done has been a success for me because I’ve really tried to take as much out of it as possible. Even if it’s “Oh my God, I’m never going to work with that person again” or “I’m never gonna play a part like that again because I just can’t do it,” then to me, that’s still a success.

DF: How did you get into acting? You weren’t formally trained, were you? And you left school early.

JL: To do this job on telly, yeah. But before that, my mum and dad were really keen lovers of the theater, and acting was a focal point in our family. Talking about films, talking about plays, talking about music. They were acting at the time, but they now run a theater company, which they’ve been doing for about 15 years–they both retired from acting and kind of pursued what they really wanted to do, which was teaching in the theater. When I was growing up, they were acting in projects in small groups after work, and that’s really how I started, playing the kids’ roles in their plays. And then I auditioned and became a member of the National Youth Music Theatre. I look back on that as a real training ground for me.

DF: When did you join the youth theater?

JL: I started when I was 12 and left at 18. It was from there that I got offered that job on telly which made me leave school–someone saw me in one of the shows and asked me to audition.

DF: Out of all the roles you’ve chosen, you’ve demonstrated a real penchant for edgy, dark characters. What’s drawn you to that?

JL: They’re the best ones! They’re the most satisfying roles to play.

DF: Could you ever play the boy next door?

JL: Yeah, but the boy next door has probably killed pigeons from his bedroom window and just doesn’t tell anyone. [laughs] laughs] I think from a satisfaction point of view certainly there is something very challenging and ultimately fulfilling about those kinds of parts. There’s usually a lot of fat to chew on, a lot of stuff to try and get lost in and explain in the performance. Also, I’m a big believer that we’ve all got a flip side. I mean, when I read Wilde I kind of felt sorry for my character, Bosie, in a way. I saw his bravery–for a man who was homosexual in a time when there wasn’t even a term for it, he wore it on his sleeve. He was like “Fuck you!” Not that he stayed like that forever, because he became a bigoted old bastard after Wilde died, but at the time, from some of the accounts I read, this guy was really out there, brave. And the same applied to Eugene in Gattaca–on the page he was quite nasty, but again I felt really sorry for him. So that’s how I see them, really. I don’t know, maybe th at’s how I see myself!

DF: Is there something from your past that makes you feel angry? There’s an amazing, burning intensity to your performances and that must come from somewhere.

JL: I was angry as a kid, I think, because I knew what I wanted to do and I didn’t see why I couldn’t be out doing it. School was just slowing things up. I didn’t enjoy the institution of school particularly the sheep-like following of people, the cool people, the fear of authority. It annoyed me. There is a lack of desire to be one’s self, to have an opinion, to question teachers. It’s a two-way thing, like working with a director in a way–it’s taken me years to realize it, but if you have a question you should ask it.

DF: Directors–nor teachers for that matter–don’t have all the answers. Ultimately it’s got to come from you. You mentioned the “cool group” at school: It must annoy you that the press have labeled you and your friends Jonny Lee Miller, Ewan McGregor, Sean Pertwee and your wife Sadie Frost, and what all of you have created with your production company, Natural Nylon, as “the people who are the epicenter of cool Britain and everything that’s happening.”

JL: It’s only annoying if you worry about it. The main problem with being said to be cool is that at some point you’re going to be uncool.

DF: Tell me what’s going on at Natural Nylon. You guys set up your production company about four or five years ago and you still haven’t produced any films, have you?

JL: It’s been a long, weird road. There’s been a good deal of interest in the company, but that interest came hand in hand with the fact that the board of directors and the founders are for the most part actors. We’re taking our time. As you know, developing something takes quite a long time, and we’ve always said we’re not going to do something until it’s ‘ready. We’re not a pocket company which is doing pet projects of mine or Ewan’s, Jonny’s, Sadie’s or Sean’s. At this point we’ve got a big team of people that’ve come on board, all with the same goal: We want to be a home for British talent and British writers and young British actors. We’re working on some really great projects, but we’re still fighting hand-to-mouth until we actually make something.

DF: We’ve [Rocket Pictures] just finished our first film which is a sweet little charming Scottish comedy, called Women Talking Dirty. It’s been a four-year process and we’re finally getting the film released in Britain this October. But because of our association with Elton John, Furnish’s partner], the expectations are extremely high. This film is not going to change the world. It’s just a really sweet film about a great female friendship, and distributors are scared shitless of backing these small projects. They don’t want the charming independents unless it’s that rare film that crosses over, like Billy Elliot. It’s tough. I know what you’re going through, and I sympathize. [laughs]

You and your wile Sadie are both actors. Is that hard?

JL: You know, it just is.

DF: Public awareness of Sadie as an actress has decreased since her great performance in Brain Stoker’s Dracula [1992].

JL: She made a hard decision at that time, which was not to go abroad anymore because of her son Fin, who was then three. She really wanted to try and stay in London as much as she could. And then she and I got together and we’ve had two babies.

DF: And she’s launched her own line of clothing, hasn’t she? What’s it called?

JL: Frost French. It’s beautiful, great stuff. And she’s been really busy at Nylon. This sounds militant, and it’s not meant to, but she takes her role as the only female in the company really seriously. She insists that we maintain a principle of developing things that are female-led or cover female issues. She’s developing a really great script at the moment.

As for “us,” it’s tricky sometimes, because it becomes a logistical nightmare to ensure that the kids are going to school as much as they can. But we’re all very close, our little family.

DF: Do you and Sadie ever feel competitive with each other?

JL: I certainly don’t because I recognize how it’s a shitty business at the best of times, and more so for women, and doubly so for women over 30. I’m nothing but a huge fan of Sadie’s, and hopefully a keen supporter and encourager.

DF: Does she worry about losing her identity in her relationship with you?

JL: Privately?

DF: Not privately, you obviously have a really stable, happy marriage, but more in public, when you’re out with other people.

JL: I think it annoys her that people whom she has probably introduced me to might refer to her as Jude Law’s wife.” It annoys her, but I know she knows the transparency of it. I think the thing that kind of grates is the shallowness of people. Not tabloid writers–they don’t even infiltrate past the gate, let alone my door or Sadie’s–but it is stunning how rude people can be sometimes.

And as you said, you can prepare for that and know that it might be coming, but when it happens you’re never ready for it.

DF: The obsession with celebrity can be all consuming.

JL: It breeds irrational behavior.

DF: I heard a rumor that Sadie won’t let you play any romantic-lead parts because she doesn’t want you to have any love scenes with any other actresses.

JL: Well, did you see Enemy at the Gates?

DF: Yes. You did give Rachel Weisz a good shagging under a blanket, didn’t you? [laughs] How do you feel when you hear rumors like that?

JL: It doesn’t really make me feel anything. It [whistles] passes through me. We both have problems with love scenes because it’s not really what we want to be doing. I don’t want her to be doing them, and she feels the same way.

DF: Is it because you’re worried you’ll feel attracted to the person you’re working with?

JL: No, it’s just awkward and uncomfortable because you know it’s uncomfortable for your partner. And more often than not, it’s the one scene in a film that isn’t scripted, so you kind of feel like you’re at the mercy of the director. On the whole we have problems with them, but we also know that if an incredible part comes along and the piece is in good hands and you know exactly what’s going to happen–and why–then I would never stop her and she would never stop me.

DF: Tell me, for your next film. Sam Mendes’ The Road to Perdition, you’re doing something very wild with your hair?

JL: Yeah, it’s a very weird look. It’s a small part, but an important one, and the way he looks and the effect he has on the story is very important.

DF: Is this you rebelling against Jude the cover boy?

JL: No, not really. In A.I. the look is like somewhere between Elvis and Rudolph Valentino–it’s just a really wonderful character part. And Sam’s film is just so wonderful; it’s a huge departure from American Beauty [1999]. It’s a very emotional piece, and I love the fact that it’s just filled with bad guys.

DF: There you go again! Another nasty character!

JL: I’m horrible, just horrible!