Actor, director, UN peace envoy and Brad’s best buddy - George Clooney reigns supreme among Hollywood royalty. As his latest directorial outing, Leatherheads, hits cinemas, MARIELLA FROSTRUP, a member of his inner circle for years, talks to him about commitment issues, diplomacy, and what he really thought of being kissed by Daniel Day-Lewis
George Clooney and I first met in a crowded bar at the Hotel du Cap during the Cannes Film Festival in 2000. We were introduced by my friend Eric Fellner, who had just produced the Coen brothers’ movie O’ Brother Where Art Thou?, which George was there promoting. When we met, my primary motive was to keep him engaged in conversation long enough to allow my companion and best friend, Natalie, to stop palpitating and drooling, re master the art of conversation and actually speak to her then-hero. To say Natalie was a fan would be to grossly underestimate her devotion to Mr. Clooney at the time. So much did she adore GC that she actually sat through One Fine Day, in which he starred with Michelle Pfeiffer, three times in a row, refusing to desert her seat even for refreshments. I obviously did a better job in keeping him engaged than I’d thought myself capable of. Once my friend had returned to her effervescent self, the four of us - George, his close pal Ben Weiss, Natalie and I — spent three days together, drinking copious quantities of George’s favorite ripple, vodka, and Perrier (his motto: “Hydrate while you dehydrate”), and generally fooling around at the festival.
Eight years later, George has become a lauded director, iconic film star and UN Messenger of Peace; Natalie’s crush has subsided; and I am a married mother of two. Happily, we are all still pals, and Natalie and I have become a part of the extended family that George enjoys spending time with when he’s not on a movie set. During the summer, which he spends at his Como villa, we visit frequently. While my husband and George talk world peace and how to solve the crisis in Darfur, my son and I marvel at the ridiculously high temperature of his swimming pool. In the winter months, we keep our friendship alive with sporadic insulting emails to each other. With his latest film, Leatherheads — a deliciously mischievous screwball comedy - which he both directs and stars in - about to be released, and after the recent announcement of his UN role, it was a pleasure to give him a ring on behalf of Bazaar and ask what the hell he had been up to since we last saw each other, at the Venice Film Festival in summer 2007
MF: Let’s talk about the Oscars. So, first, did you have a good night, despite loosing to Daniel Day-Lewis [in the Best Leading Actor category]?
GC: I think that I didn’t really lose. We’re all winners- I was just not as big a winner as Daniel Day-Lewis- that skinny, skinny…
MF Have you washed since he kissed you?
GC: [laughs] That’s the funny thing. The New York Post called the next morning, wanting to verify a story that he had embarrassed me by pecking me on the head when he was getting up on stage, and I had caught up with him at the Elton John party and got into a row.
MF: [laughs]
GC: It’s all true [laughs]
MF: You’ve been described by Time magazine as the ‘the last movie star’. What are the requisite qualities of the perfect movie star?
GC: What you don’t see is what comes after being the last movie star, which is the next reality star!
MF: But in all seriousness, there’s a way of being obnoxious and famous, and there’s a way of using it to everyone’s advantage…
GC: And I’m doing it the first way [laughs].
MF: Being a movie star these days carries with it an enormous amount of power that can be completely between stars and people who have become famous. I’d like to know how you would define ‘using movie stardom well’?
GC: Well, when you finish shooting, when you’re driving home, there are cameras everywhere now. Which in some ways I think is bad because it does end the mystique of screen personalities, but in some ways it’s better. Stars have always done charitable work, but now people are getting into the idea that if cameras are going to follow you, they may as well follow you to somewhere cameras weren’t necessarily going to go. I feel like that’s a very smart play: I can’t get out of the cameras, and someone in Darfur can’t get in them, so, you know, share the wealth. Brad [Pitt] is the master, as well as Bono.
MF: Let’s talk about your new film, this great Forties-style screwball comedy, Leatherheads. With every script in the known universe falling through your letterbox, how did Leatherheads make it onto the screen?
GC: Leatherheads is a screenplay that [Steven] Soderbergh and I got in 1998. He was going to direct it, and I was going to play the lead. But we never managed to crack the script. There was this world that we really liked, set in 1925 with the three characters [the American football here, the up-and-coming young star player and the female cub reporter], but there was actually no story to it! So I spent two years in my house in Italy with tables of pages of writing, trying to come up with a movie, and fiddling through my favorite screwball comedies, like The Philadelphia Story. And, the truth is, everything that I was being offered after Syriana as a director were ‘issues’ films. I had a huge concern that I was going to be the ‘issues’ director, which is not what I want to be. So I had to do something as far away from that as I could possibly get, and a screwball comedy was perfect.
MF: You co-star with Renee Zellweger [who plays reporter Lexie], who is a friend. She has been named as a past squeeze, and the chemistry between you is fantastic. What do admire about her? And I don’t mean her legs. As an actress…
GC Everything she does. I wrote the part for her. There are a lot of wonderful actors out there, but it’s very hard to find actors who are timeless, who don’t make you feel that they’re of a modern era. There is a feeling of screwball comedy waiting to come out of her. She’s got a good, quick wit, and she’s always very true.
MF: In each of the movies you’ve directed, you’ve cast lesser-known actors who’ve delivered amazing performances: Sam Rockwell, who won the Silver Bear at the Berlin Film Festival for Confessions of Dangerous Mind; David Strathairn, who was nominated for an Oscar for his role in Good Night, and Good Luck; and John Krasinski [who appears in the US version of The Office], in Leatherheads. Why do you do that, rather than casting your famous buddies, who would probably make it a lost easier to make the movies? And is it because you’re an actor that you manage to elicit much excellent performances from these guys?
GC: It’s actually to keep the budget down [laughs]. The funny thing is, I’m not pulling great performances out of these guys; I’m casting the exact right guy, as opposed to trying to retrofit the role for them. That seems to be the best trick, and then the fun part is that you get to discover them. You know, I have a real problem in general with famous people playing famous people. You’re always aware they’re famous. And in this film, we don’t have the famous guy to play the footballer character, we have the exact right actor. John Krasinski was made to do this part. He needed to be much taller than me - which is hard, because I am such a giant…
MF: [laughs] Perfectly built, some would say.
GC Well, obviously. And he needed to be a good athlete, he needed to know how to deliver a punch line, he needed to be a leading man in a Jimmy Stewart kind of way. This kid had all of those things.
MF: Speaking of being perfectly built, you’ve been putting yourself through the mill lately. On the set of Syriana, you seriously injured yourself, and you’ve subsequently suffered enormous pain, terrible headaches, loss of spinal fluid - not to mention temporary memory loss; you just forgot my birthday. For Leatherheads, you again let yourself get beaten up on the football pitch so badly that you were virtually hospitalized again. Are you masochistic? Foolhardy?
GC: I’m stupid.
MF: I didn’t want to say stupid, because…
GC: … you thought I should do it! I didn’t think about it until I got hit the first time. At 35, if you take a hit, it’s different from when you’re 45. We were out there running, and some six-foot, 190 pound 21-year-old kid knocked me straight down. I was like: “Oh my God, what did I get myself into?” And this was on day one of the filming.
MF: I was thinking that if your movie career ever failed and politics didn’t appeal, a weight-loss book would be a big seller. For the first Ocean’s film, you were on a diet of nothing but rice crackers, prior to your appearance with Brad. Then you went from being the weightiest you’ve been, for Syriana, to the lightest, for Leatherheads. Do you have any top tips for this kind of weight loss, apart from plain starvation?
GC: Well, as you know, what with you being in your late fifties [laughs]…
MC: [laughs]
GC …it gets harderand harder. But for us younger folks, we just have to exercise like crazy. I was doing that because I was ready to get killed on the football field. The funny thing is that directing Leatherheads is, without question, the hardest job I’ve ever had - by far.
MF: Why?
GC: We shot Good Night, and Good Luck in 28 days on one sound stage. It had a very linear storyline; it was very simple. Leatherheads has about eight billion parts. And because it’s set in the 1920s, you have to build the stand. And with the choreography of the football, it was much bigger deal, from start to finish. Then when you get into the editing, there’s a whole lot of: “Is this funny?” Because if it ain’t funny, it don’t work.
MF: You could make the job easier if you weren’t writing, producing, directing and starring. Did I miss anything? Did you write the music as well?
GC: I do want to get to the point where I’m no longer directing myself, because I really hate that. It’s embarrassing!
MF: Of course, because if you don’t give a good performance, you’ve only got yourself to blame. All this multi-tasking, is it your control-freakery, or do you just happen to be better than anyone else for hire?
GC: It’s probably control. If you want to be a director, you already have control issues. In film-making, the director is the king and that’s it.
MF: Going back to acting, even in this goofball comedy, your character is on a mission for justice against the bad guys. Is it getting harder for you to play parts that you don’t morally empathise with?
GC: In this movie, it’s not about morality. It’s more about someone having trouble growing up, which I can totally identify with. There’s a kind of old-fashioned right-and-wrong wrapped around the idea of whether you are going to grow up or not. And the answer in the movie is … not [laughs].
MF: As in life? Your dad, the esteemed newsman Nick Clooney, said: ‘If I’d known how good he was going to turn out, I’d have been a lot nicer to him when he was growing up. But back then, all he was interested in was having a good time.’ Is that true, and how important is that rather late endorsement?
GC: From my dad, it’s always good to have that endorsement. The way he does it is always so kind [laughs]. Is it true? I don’t know. If you’re lucky enough to get a job, and then you’re lucky enough to stick around, you hope to get a little bit better. My mom and dad were very against me being an actor; they thought that it was a really dumb mistake, and they were right for a few years. It’s fun to have them there at premieres. They’re the best audience if [the film is] funny.
MF: Over the years, you’ve been very careful to constantly poke fun at your status, and make your life look like a bit of caper. Now that you’re trying to use your position to improve the world, around you, is there pressure to take yourself more seriously?
GC: I think for actors, like most people in general with any sort of success, there is always the temptation to take yourself a little more seriously as you get older. But the truth is, you’re probably not smarter at all. People will just put that hat on you, and it has nothing to do with your own merits.
MF: In the last year you’ve traveled to Darfur, Chad and the Congo in your new position with the UN. What impact have these trips had on you personally?
GC: It’s, like, 18 hours of flying and within a day you can be in unimaginable misery. When you’re on the ground and see what’s going on, all you want to do is get in there and kill all these bastards who did this, just kill them. It’s that type of anger. Of course, you’re not going to do that. There are much longer, much more involved processes.
MF: What is it that you hope your position with the United Nations can actually deliver?
GC: I made the deal with them that I was going to be their greatest advocate and their harshest critic. I’m there and I can say: ‘We’re failing miserably here in this situation because …’ or ‘Here’s a successful [policy], but it’s not getting enough attention.’ I don’t make policy, I just point it out. But there’s a tremendous amount of frustration. You’re around these camps where people are suffering horribly. You can say to someone; ‘You have six kids; three of them were murdered but you have three more. Do you want to save those three, or do you want to avenge the deaths of the three who died?’ Every single one of them would say to you, and have said to me; ‘Justice later, and safety now.’ So you realise that the International Criminal Court is a very restrictive thing to try and pull into a place like Darfur. Who would invite people in [for talks] if you thought you were going to be hauled off by the ICC, tried for war crimes and hanged?
MF: You say that your first love is the movie business, but when you talk, you talk like a politician - in the best sense of the word, not that you’re a lying, spineless creep…
GC: It’s because I believe in diplomacy. It’s the greatest feeling in the world to be an advocate, to stand up and say: ‘You are a bad guy.’ But the next step is to sit in a room with people who you’d like to jump up and down and yell at - murderers - and realise that they have the ability to murder a tremendous number more people, and that your responsibility now is to try to find ways to stop that next round. That’s the world that I’ve stepped into.
MF: It’s a situation you’ve volunteered for. Is there ever a moment when you think: ‘What am I doing here? Shouldn’t I just be in a bar in West Hollywood?’
GC: West Hollywood [laughs]?
MF: OK, whichever bit of Hollywood you prefer…
GC Yeah. There is that. This last trip was really hairy. We left Chad three days before the rebels took the city and killed hundreds at the hotel we stayed at, in just few hours. It’s those moments where you think: ‘It’s really nice on my lake in Como! Am I going to get back there?’ But to participate at all you have to get involved - you can’t just enjoy all the good things.
MF: You’ve already been quite vociferous about serious issues - not just Darfur, but about supporting Obama and the Democrats in general and opposing the Iraq war, which did you no favours at all for a period of time. Do you think the ability to do things like that will ever overshadow the movie business for you and perhaps be more appealing?
GC: I don’t think it will ever be one or the other. The balance is a very real issue: at what point are you helping enough? You have to have a way of juggling. I enjoy make films. They keep trying to get me to apologise, but I’m not going to apologise for it: I really enjoy making movies.
MF: So you’re not considering running for governor of California in two years’ time?
GC: In two years time, no.
MF: Just a few more questions, in case you’re getting weary - because I know you’re old and probably need your afternoon nap right about now.
GC I’m getting a neck massage!
MF: You’ve been dating a very lovely girl [actress Sarah Larson] for over a year. And, of course, having seen how joyous marriage can be by watching Jason and me over the years… are you tempted just a little bit? It’s not true that you’ve sworn off marriage forever, is it?
GC: Yeah, you and Jason make it look so easy [laughs]! I’m just going to live my life and see how I feel.
MF: You’re clearly happier when you’re in a good relationship, rather than when you are on your own. You’re not one of those tragic creatures who would be happier wandering nightclubs aged 55. So what’s the problem with committing?
GC: I don’t think there’s a problem. You’re the master on the subject: do I have a problem committing?
MF: I’ll give you some serious one-on-one sessions in Como, OK?
GC: Exactly
MF: Most people desperately want to be you for a day, with the boat, the girlfriend, the 15-bedroom house in Como… Is it 15 bedrooms? It sounds like an exaggeration?
GC: I think that’s actually right.
MF: If you could be anyone else, other than maybe Daniel Day-Lewis, who would you want to be?
GC I’d be interested in being Richard Branson for a day -ridiculously rich and an adventurer. Because most of the people who are ridiculously rich aren’t adventurous. I think that would really be fun, to ride a balloon across the world whenever you want.
MF Do you Google yourself?
GC A few years ago, I went to check out this website that someone had talked about. There’s, like, a thousand people sitting in dark rooms trashing you. Brutal! You’re like: ‘Wow, dude!’ You see way too many angry people. I remember getting off the machine and thinking: ‘Never, ever again.’ I’d rather live in my own happy quiet world where I think everyone is nice.
(Thanks to Lilalucy for the scans!)
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