Hot Press meets Cillian Murphy

At just 36, Cillian Murphy is one of Ireland’s most iconic and respected actors. Since his breakthrough in Disco Pigs in 2001, Murphy – a native of the Rebel County, Cork – has proven himself variously as a comic talent in Intermission and Breakfast On Pluto; a powerful dramatic force in The Wind That Shakes The Barley, Cold Mountain and The Girl With The Pearl Earring; an exhilarating villain in Batman Begins and Red Eye; an everyman-turned-hero in 28 Days Later and Sunshine; and a star of one of this decade’s most cerebral, action-packed successes, the wonderful Inception.

Completely grounded as a person, Murphy is also fiercely private. He eschews the glitz of Hollywood for a quiet life with his artist wife Yvonne McGuinness and their two children. His personal choices have almost certainly been to the benefit of his career. He remains an enigmatic figure, who boasts the chameleonic ability to disappear into each of his diverse characters that is the mark of a great character actor. And yet, he brings an enduring soulfulness to his work that is further emphasised by those trademark big eyes.
In his latest movie – the Rufus Norris drama Broken – Murphy features alongside Tim Roth and newcomer Eloise Lawrence. It’s a layered drama telling the story of three self-destructive families living in an English town. Murphy plays Mike, a commitment-shy teacher, who is friends with 11-year-old Skunk, the bright but unassuming character at the true, warm heart of the film.
Broken, which premieres here at the JDIFF film festival, sees Murphy reunite with writer Mark O’Rowe, who penned Intermission and Perrier’s Bounty. It was an important factor in attracting Cillian to the movie.
“I’ve worked with Mark previously,” he explains. “I’ve done some films of his in the past. Plus, I was a big fan of Rufus Norris’ theatre work. So I read the script and just thought it was beautiful. I love films that can emotionally affect you – and even on the page this was powerful. I also come from a long line of teachers, so it was about time I at least pretended to be one (laughs). Really it’s Eloise’s film, though: it’s about Skunk and her performance elevates the film into something brilliant and beautiful.”
While he is an interesting and attractive character, it’s clear throughout the movie that Mike, has some kind of commitment phobia.
“I thought Mike was just a very recognisable, well-drawn character,” he observes. “He’s one of those men who still thinks he’s 22. He can’t settle down. I also loved the fact that himself and Skunk are just good pals. You rarely see that in a film now, where a child and an adult are just friends who aren’t related. I think that’s lovely.”
The film is Rufus Norris’ feature debut, after a career in theatre.
“Rufus was an actor,” Cillian explains. “It’s always nice to work with a director that gets it. And because we had kids on the set, there was a lot of fun, a lot of messing! It was just a lovely environment. It was pure collaboration. The director’s job is to make you feel safe, and by safe I mean safe to make an absolute fucking fool of yourself!
“The worst thing that can happen to an actor is that you clam up and give a stilted performance because you’re nervous or intimidated by the director. Acting is all about ‘being’ – and if you’re ever aware of what you’re doing, it looks shit. It has to be about confidence and ease – and, ultimately, a lack of self-consciousness.”
With The Dark Knight Rises, Inception and Red Eye, mainstream audiences have come to know Murphy as a manipulative and terrifying villain. Is there any fear of being stereotyped?
“It’s a weird thing,” he reflects, “because really I’ve only played two villains in my whole career. I never feel it’s like I’ve been typecast or anything – because it’s been two characters out of about 30 movies. They were fun parts. But I’ve always been more attracted to playing normal people who are under pressure. My character in 28 Days Later or in Sunshine – they’re normal people in fucking weird situations and very alarming situations. I’ve always been interested in what that does to people, and how they react to it.”

Many actors move to film and never look back, but Cillian Murphy has kept up a hugely successful theatre career. Was that a conscious decision?
“I couldn’t exist without theatre. I started off doing theatre and it’s really vital to me. If I could, I’d do a play a year. It doesn’t always work out. They’re just different media. For film, you’re acting in moments. In theatre you throw yourself into the whole thing and commit to it every night. Which in a way sounds more daunting. But if you’re shit on film, you’re shit forever. Whereas if you’re
shit in theatre, you get a second chance the next night.”
In 2011, he did the one-man-show Misterman, which received rave reviews in Ireland, London and New York. It must have been a daunting challenge, both mentally and physically.
“Misterman was the scariest and most rewarding thing I’ve ever done. It was hugely satisfying but I was also destroyed after it. But each informs the other. For Misterman, I was watching a lot of slapstick, a lot of Buster Keaton – because I was engaging my whole body and wanted to make every movement vital
and alive.”
Major actors approach their work in completely different and sometimes conflicting ways. Does he apply the ‘method’ approach by staying inside the characters’ head even when off-duty – or slip in and out of character?
“It depends. In Broken there’s a lot of me in that character. Because he’s so grounded and normal it’s a variation of my own personality. Whereas with a character like Kitten in Breakfast On Pluto, in particular, or other more transformative roles, you have to spend a lot more time researching. I just did this television show at the end of last year [Peaky Blinders, set at the end of World War 1, and due for broadcast this year – RMcD] and that was a big transformative performance too. You spend ages researching and focusing on the external aspects of the characters and kind of find them that way. Whereas with others they kind of slip on fairly comfortably – you just have your script and your instinct. There are levels to it, but I’m not really the guy who walks around the set staying in character.”
Are there characters you particularly
loved playing?
“I look back on some characters with a lot of affection, like Kitten in Breakfast On Pluto. Nostalgia, if you’re a creative person, is really death. You can’t look back and go, ‘Ah sure, wasn’t I great?’ You have to keep on keeping on, pushing yourself.”
In terms of the future of movies, Danny Boyle – with whom Cillian has worked – is a digital champion, arguing that 28 Days Later couldn’t have been made without the flexibility of the medium. However Batman Begins director Christopher Nolan says he’ll never use digital, insisting that something about the art of filmmaking is really lost. Where does Cillian stand in that debate?
“The television gig I just did was all shot on digital,” he says. “This is an old cliché, but it’s the waiting around that they pay you for – the acting you do for free! I love it when it’s all ‘go go go!’ and you’re acting the whole time – though again, that may be an offshoot of doing theatre work. I don’t feel that for me digital has impacted the way films are shot hugely, I don’t feel like digital directors are taking advantage of the fact that they can make me work for hours non-stop or anything.”
Does it bother him that celluloid film is being used less and less?
“I definitely notice the difference in the aesthetic. I mean for digital, they still have to light it like a film, unless they’re shooting it on the streets where they can shoot with virtually no extra lights, which is amazing. But to make the film look really beautiful they still have to light expertly, and that set-up takes time. I bemoan the demise of film. At the same time, I know that there are people like Christopher who resolutely refuse to use anything other than film, so the fact that he’s championing it is amazing. I still think it will survive. It’s just the draw of budget and also the expediency of being able to digitalise and transfer everything right away. It’s an interesting time in movies.”
Is it fair to assume that he’s personally committed to doing theatre and small films as a means of avoiding getting caught up in the madness of the Hollywood machine?
“Really, the big studio pictures are few and far between in comparison to the rest of the work I do. My bread and butter seems to be in independent film. The bigger pictures get to a wider audience obviously, so people may recognise me from those few. However, there are far less of them than the independent films and theatre. It’s harder to find good, interesting, satisfying characters in the studio films. They are there, and there are some brilliant films coming out of Hollywood every year, but my bread and butter is in the independent world.”
Does he choose movies as a way of advancing his career or is the decision essentially a creative one?
“I never make any connection between the consequences of making a film and the film itself. If I go make a film like Inception, I’m just excited to be a part of the film because it’s an amazing script with an amazing director. So you’re not thinking about the aftermath or the personal ramifications. You’re thinking about the work and trying to make the film as good as it can be, on that set, at that time. It is about the work. The studio films look after you so well that it’s a great experience. But it’s just the work. So whether it’s a role in a studio film or a supporting part in a gorgeous film like Broken or indeed a one-man-show in Galway... as long as it’s good, I want to do it.”

Like many of Ireland’s leading film practitioners – Neil Jordan, Jim Sheridan and John Carney spring to mind – Cillian
Murphy started off performing in bands as a teenager before moving into acting. How did that come about?
“I dunno really,” he laughs. “None of my family do it. Well my brother is a musician and was in the band with us, but I dunno. It’s kind of innate, and hard to explain logically. I think it’s just a gene you have. In my family it
just skipped a few generations but it was always there.”
Back in the ‘90s his rock band The Sons Of Mr. Greengenes were offered a five-album deal by Acid Jazz Records. Does he ever regret not trying his hand seriously at being a rock star?
“Ha!” he laughs. “And Acid Jazz are having a bit of a moment now, they’re having a revival. We were just 20 years too early!
“No I don’t regret it. I think I knew my limits as a songwriter and a musician. When I discovered acting it was more exciting. I didn’t know what it could lead to, and I was really excited to be able to express myself in a different way. It’s a fucking awful industry, the music industry. It’s fucking cruel, particularly nowadays. Although there is probably a bit more freedom nowadays, in that you can make your own music on a laptop in your bedroom, whereas back then they were going to own us, own everything.
“I’m still obsessed with music and the fact that you can access so much music now is amazing and means that small bands can actually get their stuff out there – which is great. But trying to make a living out of it then would have been horrible. I don’t think I would have been friends with my bandmates now. We’re all still great pals. I think had we gone and done that, it would have all come crashing down – and we would have inevitably been dropped.”
Did rock’n’roll immunise him to criticism or is he sensitive to what the media has to say about his work?
“With a film, it really doesn’t bother me, because a year-and-a-half has gone by since you shot it and you really don’t care! You’ve moved on. With theatre, it’s certainly wise not to read the reviews. After the show’s run maybe, if you’re interested – but you’re not wise to read it during, because whether it’s good or bad, you will get self-conscious, which is a death trap. However, by osmosis you know if it’s a good show, because you’ll hear people talking about reviews or more people start coming or you just feel a positive energy from the audience. So you do know if it’s good or bad. But no, reading reviews and going on stage is never a good idea. You have to be very strong to not let that affect you, so I avoid it.”
At this stage of his career, is it harder to get a perspective on how to keep honing and developing your skills as an actor?
“Of course you always want to improve. To be honest, when I was younger people couldn’t tell me to do fucking anything! I think that’s something a lot of young actors forget, that agents and managers and publicists – you employ them. Young actors forget that – that they’re your employees. You give them 5% or whatever. And I think so many actors starting off are just so grateful that they have an agent that they fall into the trap of accepting any advice or instruction that they get, and believing that they have to market themselves in a way that their agent deems sellable or whatever.
“It has to be the other way – you have to know what kind of work you want to do, what kind of actor you want to be, and find people who will push and encourage you to be that, not a cookie-cutter. And I think I relised that early on. A level of anxiety or insecurity is always a good thing, a necessary thing to have. And you always want to improve on your skills. If that ambition disappears, if you say, ‘Yeah I’ve made it, I’m the best I can be right now’, you’re done.”