Tag: Larry Mullen Jr

@U2 INTERVIEW: MARY MCGUCKIAN, THE MAN ON THE TRAIN DIRECTOR

By Tassoula E. Kokkoris

This work was commissioned for the site atu2, which was online from 1995 – 2020 and it still protected under a shared copyright.

Today The Man On The Train releases in the U.S. via On Demand, iTunes, Amazon Watch Instantly, and Vudu. This remake of the original French film stars legendary actor Donald Sutherland opposite U2 drummer Larry Mullen, Jr. making his acting debut in the leading role.

The director, Mary McGuckian, recently shared insight into the making of the film with me. What follows is our interview.

TK: The original Man On The Train (2002), directed by Patrice Leconte, is very critically acclaimed. I read that you aim in your productions to make contemporary works more compelling to modern audiences. The original of this film isn’t that old of course, but the way it was shot makes it feel almost like a classic. Did that factor into your decision to choose this specific film to remake?

MM: The contemporary classic style of the original was more a factor that influenced the production choices for the picture’s remake rather than a factor which influenced the decision to remake it in the first place.

Patrice LeConte’s original is justifiably considered a contemporary classic for good reason. Something I came to appreciate all the more during the detailed analysis that was an inevitable part of adapting it for an Anglo-American audience. No matter how hard I hit it against the wall, the core of the film always sprang back full of bounce. So well designed as to be indestructible.

In the original film, the man often referred to as France’s version of Elvis, Johnny Hallyday, plays the role of the bank robber (The Thief) that Larry plays in your version. Did you deliberately want a rock star for the role?

I’ve heard Larry referred to as the ‘James Dean’ of the band. That’s good enough for me.

Are there any vast differences in the role of The Thief from the original to the present version, other than calling him The Man vs. The Thief?

The film is an adaptation to Anglo-American culture as well as the English language. True to the spirit of the original, I hope, but transposed rather than simply translated. The role was rewritten in collaboration with Larry as it was intended from the outset that he would play it. Generally, I try to write the dialogue/rhythm and voice of a character with a specific actor in mind and so the narrative structure of the adaptation may seem very similar to the original, the character is a different man from a different place, created by Larry from the script on which he made some excellent comments through various rewrites. For my money, he’s taken the original character on a subtle but significant journey.

U2 fans have heard for years that Larry Mullen Jr. was interested in acting. We were encouraged by his starring role in the band’s “Electrical Storm” video back in 2002, but had no idea he would be acting in a feature film. How did you choose him for this role? Did you always have him in mind or did he audition traditionally as everyone else did?

Ah… In hindsight, I think the actor chose the director in this case, rather than the other way round.

The project emerged as a result of a conversation about the potential pitfalls for rockstars who have a yen to exercise the acting bug. L’Homme du Train (the original French title) came up in that conversation as an example of a rock-star-turned-movie-actor success story. It wasn’t until after shooting that I discovered from the original producer, Phillippe Carcassonne, that Patrice LeConte had actually conceived the film at Johnny Halliday’s request.

Prior to that, the film had struck me as extremely well cast. Both Jean Rochefort and Johnny Halliday received many awards for their work internationally. Factors which contributed to Halliday’s success in that role were construed as a combination of his being cast in a role that was well suited to him, enhanced inevitably by his finding himself playing opposite arguably one of France’s most renowned actors in an essentially two-hander heist movie, with all the benefits of comfort-zone that a controlled boutique-style production imply.

Larry responded to the possibility of ‘trying out the acting idea’ with all of the same advantages. A suggestion was that he find a project like L’Homme du Train for all the same reasons. I wasn’t quite expecting the response I got some months later when he had had a chance to view it. Which was, rather than “Yes,” something along those lines might be an interesting first movie, it was more along the lines of “Why don’t we have a go at doing this?”

And so the journey began…

The film was shot on location in Ontario, Canada. Why was this location chosen as opposed to the original French setting?

To add to the above, the adaptation also travelled the film across the Atlantic. In the original, the setting was a fictitious town somewhere in the middle of France. We shifted the setting to a non-specific eastern-seaboard North American (as it happens, Canadian) town.

A combination of production exigencies and the desire to find a location that was geographically authentic to the needs of the story brought us to Orangeville in Northern Ontario.

Tell me how well Larry and his main co-star, American actor Donald Sutherland, worked together during the shoot. Did they know each other before filming?

They met, as actors often do, just before shooting. An unlikely pairing in a film about an unlikely relationship. Donald Sutherland is undoubtedly one of the great ‘monstres sacre’ of contemporary cinema, so his involvement was as daunting as it was an exciting prospect to all of us. As you would expect, his generosity of spirit and his no?holds barred investment of a wealth of experience, expertise and extraordinary intellectual and emotional energy blew us all away.

As courageous as it was for Larry to take on a principle role on his first outing, it was a privilege to witness Donald give everything to the part and the project never once remarking that well … Larry had never done this before.

And you would never have known, as from the very first shot, he was so in character and filming so well, that we all simply forgot.

We can assume from his years of touring and making videos that Larry is well-versed in the process of being on camera, but what was he like as a first-time lead actor? Did he offer suggestions about his character or the script along the way?

Absolutely, Larry has amazing instincts on camera. He has that indescribable thing movie stars have. A quality on camera that can neither be learned, analyzed nor taught. You’ve either got it or you don’t.

I imagine it’s a somewhat nail-biting experience to cast a rock star in your film who is currently on a major international tour. Did Larry’s commitments to U2 ever interfere with the production?

All of our concern was to ensure that the production would never interfere with his U2 commitments. I hope and believe we pulled that off.

How long was the shoot?

Unbelievably short, given Larry’s day-job commitments.

Who composed the film’s music? Was there ever any discussion of U2 contributing music for the soundtrack?

Larry composed the main theme with Simon Climie, variations on which form the bed-rock of the score. And they are still working with it — once it’s finished, you will most likely be able to find it on iTunes.

Indulge us: are there any funny stories or anecdotes you’d like to share from the filming of the movie?

That would be telling!

I noticed that Larry’s longtime partner, Ann Acheson, is an associate producer for The Man On The Train. Tell us about her connection to the film.

Associate Producer is a poorly defined role as it can refer to very little (such as somebody-in-some-way-connected-with-somebody-who-had-something-to-do-with-some-aspect-of-producing-the-film who wanted a credit) through anything in between to a great deal, (i.e. somebody indispensable).

Ann falls into the latter category.

[She was] fully integrated into every aspect of the production from the very first suggestion of investigating the feasibility of it, remake rights options, script adaptations, meetings with actors, all the details of budgeting and financing options and issues, through practical production scheduling including managing Larry’s quite detailed preparation program, script editing and script management. I’ve never seen such a master of colour-coded script scheduling!

We shot the film in record time and still didn’t go over time on a single shooting day as Ann managed the scheduling of all Larry’s other commitments in and around preparation, rehearsals and shooting. On set, it turned out that she was a wizard with the continuity team and knew exactly what the edit notes should be for every take. So much so that after a few days I gave up rushing back to continuity between shots to give the notes as I could tell from the look on Ann’s face whether we had the shot or not. The entire cast and camera crew took to looking back to her at the end of every take as she stood focused in her earphones on the monitor to see whether we got the little nod.

Both Larry and Ann as producers continue to be involved in all aspects of the picture’s completion, delivery and distribution.

As an observant fan, I get the impression that Larry sometimes has the “final say” in U2 matters. Do you think it was hard for him to not be the ‘person in charge’ as you filmed?

The relationship between an actor and director for me is essentially collaborative. Every aspect of this production was pretty collaborative. Perhaps the director’s hat does get the last say with the actor … but then Larry did have a producer’s hat as well!

Although early reviews of Larry’s acting are glowing, do you think because he’s a rock star he will have a harder time proving himself to critics as an actor if he continues down this path?

It is an act of courage for any actor, every time they expose themselves in a role on camera, and always impossible to legislate for press reaction. What matters is that he wanted to do it, he did it and it’s done. Films, like running water, find their level.

Tell us about the film’s release (both in North America and abroad).

The film was made for a North America/English speaking audience. It will be released in the US by Tribeca beginning Oct. 28 On Demand via Cable VOD on all major cable providers, iTunes, Amazon, Watch Instantly, and Vudu. Thereafter, Alliance Atlantis will release it in Canada.

I’m not sure the French, though, will want a remake of a classic by one of their most revered directors served back to them in cold English!

Other international territory dates are still pending.

What’s next on your list of projects?

Right now I’m in finishing mode on a film called The Novelist with Eric Roberts in the title role, and about to start another French based project, The Price of Desire, about Eileen Gray, the famous Irish architect/furniture designer and Le Corbusier.

Do you think Larry will continue acting? If so, would you like to work with him again?

I hope so. And … I very much hope so.

(c) @U2/Kokkoris, 2011.

Photo credit: Sophie Girau. Courtesy of Tribeca Film.

REVIEW: THE MAN ON THE TRAIN

By Tassoula E. Kokkoris

This work was commissioned for the site atu2, which was online from 1995 – 2020 and it still protected under a shared copyright.

The 2002 film, Man On The Train, by acclaimed French director Patrick Leconte, is re-imagined in a new remake, The Man On The Train, directed by Mary McGuckian, starring Donald Sutherland and Larry Mullen Jr.

Sutherland plays The Professor, a retired literature buff who lives out a lonely retirement in a lavish, hollow mansion. Mullen takes on the role of The Man, a quiet, focused criminal who spends his life not becoming too attached to anything. After the two meet-cute in a small-town pharmacy, The Man seeks temporary shelter at The Professor’s home while he prepares for his next heist.

The Professor, starved for conversation and companionship, attempts to befriend the elusive visitor, while The Man studies The Professor like a textbook. This makes for some very lengthy unintentional monologues by Sutherland, who injects the role with an impressive enthusiasm. Mullen is stoic, yet smart, as his primary listener.

What emerges is a more tender result than that of the original film — in fact, Sutherland and Mullen have such a familiar spark that they form somewhat of an indie-film odd couple. Each knows his place in the world but longs to live in the other’s shoes, if only for a moment. It’s a friendship by thoughtful default.

The film, shot on location in Canada, features gorgeous cinematography, which echoes that of the original French backdrop. The town is quaint; the landscape lush, and an overall air of “good” permeates the vibe. There is almost a sense of sadness in knowing that soon the townspeople’s only bank will be robbed.

Many U2 fans will notice the similarities in Mullen and the character he portrays. He’s a man of few words, he’s tough, he’s strong, he’s handsome and always in control. To say that he’s well-cast would be putting it mildly. Sure, he’s “playing to type” in one respect, but there are also many dimensions of The Man he brings to life that have nothing to do with rock star behaviors.

The Man, perhaps in spite of himself, develops a compassion for his host as he gets to know him. This causes him to reveal more of his life than one would suspect he normally does. In one particularly tense scene in a diner, The Man appears to hold his breath along with the audience as The Professor tries to diffuse a rowdy situation. He’s rattled … and impressed.

Mullen conveys all of these emotions and intentions primarily through his facial expressions and body language. He also somehow manages to get the audience to sympathize with his character, though for all intents and purposes, he’s playing the villain.

The film’s slow pace won’t be for everyone; it’s more artistic than action-packed, but for those who have the patience to see it through, they’ll be rewarded with a thought-provoking and satisfying end.

Hopefully, this is just the beginning of a beautiful extracurricular career for thespian Mullen.

(c) @U2/Kokkoris, 2011.

Photo credit: Sophie Girau. Courtesy of Tribeca Film.

Like a Song: Electrical Storm

By Tassoula E. Kokkoris

This work was commissioned for the site atu2, which was online from 1995 – 2020 and it still protected under a shared copyright.

I knew I should have just waited five more minutes, but I had to start getting ready for work. I’d already lathered shampoo into my hair when the sound of the William Orbit bells got me. A rational person would have thought, “Oh well, I’ll catch it next time.” But I was past rational. I’d been waiting to catch the new “Electrical Storm” video for days.

I quickly turned the water off and leaped out of the tub, grabbing my towel and throwing it around myself as I ran into the living room.

Standing on my carpet shivering, my first glimpse was of Larry carrying a mermaid out of the sea. Oh, how I longed to be that mermaid.

The footage was grainy and black-and-white-mysterious, which only magnified the hazy romance that was playing out before my eyes. I was instantly hypnotized by the images.

The band was telling a story. They were being artistic. They were showing Larry wet, with his shirt half off.

Forgetting that I was as waterlogged as Mr. Mullen (although shampoo suds now stung the corners of my eyes), I staggered over to my couch and sat down to watch, too stunned to speak. I was seeing my long-time crush alternately writhing around in a bathtub and playing his drums while my new favorite song played in the background.

The year 2002 was shaping up to be a good one.

In the weeks and months that followed, I became obsessed with the song and subsequent video, imagining myself in the Samantha Morton role, hoping there could somehow be a sequel.

I did all of the things that the certifiably insane would do: I watched the video every night and studied it frame-by-frame. I fashioned my Halloween costume after Samantha’s mermaid ensemble. I made the “Bono yell” from the song my permanent outgoing voicemail message.

When my sister called in hysterics over Answer Guy’s latest column, which joked he had seen the video 237 times, I nervously laughed, as the math in my head told me I surely had seen it that many times.

I preached to co-workers, family members and non-U2-fan friends about its greatness. I made desktop wallpaper out of a screenshot from the video—I was unstoppable.

Just when I thought my psyche was really in trouble, a Web site called Meetup.com appeared and I began attending U2 Meetup gatherings with other local fans. It turns out I wasn’t crazy at all; just “passionate” or “dedicated” or “committed” to the Best Band in the World. No concerned looks at that table—only support and encouragement for my addiction.

I had met my enablers.

And somehow, in the midst of the bonding, I had formulated a goal for myself: to work for the band on their next tour. I even had the perfect position in mind: Tour Mermaid.

I figured since “Mysterious Ways” was old news and Morleigh Steinberg was out of commission as a belly dancer, a tour mermaid would fill a necessary void. Plus, U2 would undoubtedly play the song live, since it practically begged for a storm-inspired light show. It was a win-win all around.

But as everyone knows, U2 are seldom hiring. Unless you are related to the Edge or sat next to Bono in math class or bottle-fed Larry, you probably don’t have a hope in hell of infiltrating the camp.

Armed with this knowledge, I figured I’d just have to be creative—make myself known somehow, then make myself irresistible. I’d become a freelance Principle.

An opportunity arose when I learned that @U2 and the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum were co-hosting a U2 Fan Celebration in the summer of 2003. I’d been to the museum to see the U2 exhibit earlier in the year, but decided to return for this special event, which was to feature (among other things) a fan confessional.

Basically, they were reviving the booth from the Zoo TV tour and giving each of us three minutes to record our “confession” to the band. I figured this was meant to be—my portal to communicate with the immortal four.

So I bought a new dress, traveled with a friend to Cleveland and rehearsed what I was going to say as if I were auditioning for a Broadway play. I even made index cards with detailed reminders: who I was, where I was from, how long I’d been a fan, why I was the number one candidate for their yet-to-be-created Tour Mermaid job.

The day of the confessional, I watched Family Ties re-runs in the hotel as I nervously got ready for my big moment. A new Venus razor, sparkling red jewelry and jumbo-size hot rollers were involved.

When I arrived at the museum, my friend and I headed over to the booth for our big moment. I was third in line. Three being my favorite number, I took this as a good sign.

Tension mounted as we chatted with other fans. Some had prepared nothing, others brought in various props to add to their performance.

I felt strangely normal compared to many of my fellow fans, despite the fact I was going to sell myself as an ideal fictional character for a tour that had yet to be invented.

I listened outside the booth as the first girl in line and my friend both had their turns. They nailed it. Both emerged flushed and excited, happy that it was over but glad they’d done it.

Now it was my turn.

I went behind the makeshift curtain and met the cameraman, who politely told me where to stand and reminded me of the three-minute limit. I smiled sweetly and told him to begin filming at any time.

He gave me the “action” signal, the red light went on, and I immediately became a babbling idiot.

Remember that episode of The Brady Bunch, where Cindy appears on a game show, then develops a dose of stage fright the instant the camera starts rolling? That was me.

Instead of referring to my bullet-pointed index card, I became immediately self-conscious about how over-dressed I was, and fidgeted with my hair and necklace. I forgot the clever narrative I’d scripted to justify why the band needed a traveling mermaid. I couldn’t remember what qualifications of mine I was supposed to highlight. What should have sounded breezy sounded shaky; what was once funny only echoed my desperation.

And to top it off, in addition to spitting out my e-mail address, phone number and astrological sign (I’m sure), I mumbled something about wanting to do the band’s laundry. For real.

I think my intent at the time was to demonstrate that I’d be willing to do anything for U2. I’d shine their shoes, walk their dogs, prepare their favorite meals or “swim” around a stage in a costume that boasted fins, because I loved them so much.

But instead, I mentioned that I was good with a washing machine.

And then the (now chuckling) cameraman yelled “Time!” And it was over. I blew it. My one chance at stardom crushed by a random act of stage fright.

I exited the booth, head hanging in shame, and told my friend of my failures. I can remember her disbelief, as I’m probably the least shy person she’s ever known.

It didn’t make sense to me either. I love being in front of people. I was captain of the dance team in high school. I sang in front of thousands in college choir. Not once have I ever clammed up.

But something that day got me and I never got over it. I worried for months that if the band really did watch my confession, I’d be banned from all future possible “fan moments” like dancing with Bono during a show. I gave myself headaches imagining their conversations:

Bono: “How about that girl a few rows back for ‘With or Without You’ — the Greek-looking one holding the ONE Campaign sign?”

Larry: “Have ya’ lost yer mind? That’s the lady that wants to bleach our whites!”

And so forth.

To console myself, a year later I made a pilgrimage to the French Riviera where the “Electrical Storm” video was filmed. I visited the same train station where Samantha took her opening run. I wore a silver two-piece swimsuit and had my friend photograph me triumphantly standing in the same stretch of water that the mermaid emerged from.

Now when the band comes calling, I’ll be ready.

© Kokkoris/@U2, 2007.

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