The Big Interview: Jason Isaacs
It is a cold winter's day, the wind is whistling through the trees
and the light is fading. It is not the time to be meeting either a
hit man or one of the most evil wizards around. Luckily Matthew
Amer was meeting an actor who plays such parts, not the real thing.
Jason Isaacs is currently appearing in Harold Pinter's The Dumb
Waiter at Trafalgar Studio 1, but took time out of his hectic
rehearsal period to talk to officiallondontheatre.
"Why didn't I know Harold Pinter wrote very funny plays?" asked
Jason Isaacs of his friend and The Dumb Waiter director Harry
Burton when he first read the play's script. It is a good question
and one answered by the fact that Isaacs had seen some very bad
student productions. It takes something special to tempt the actor,
who made his name on film and television, onto the stage, but
Burton's retort "I know it's funny, and I've got Lee Evans to be in
it with you if you want to do it" sealed the deal. Only then did he
break the news that they had about six weeks to put the production
together.
It is indeed a rare occurrence to see Isaacs on stage, while you
can't miss him on screen. Complete with flowing peroxide locks and
chilling stare he is best known as the malicious Lucius Malfoy in
the Harry Potter films, though he most recently appeared on screens
as the lead in BBC mini-series The State Within.
Now he has brought his frosty glare to the stage, starring as Ben
in Pinter's tale of hit men The Dumb Waiter, and he is thoroughly
enjoying the experience of working with Evans: "If you've [only]
ever seen him on screen do stand-up you have missed something
magical," he says, slightly in awe, "because he has a gift with
regards to working and using and relating to an audience that is
only apparent live."
Those of you who have ever seen Evans's stand-up routines, live or
otherwise, probably imagine him to be something like an excitable,
sweaty whippet trying to chase eight rabbits simultaneously. And
though Isaacs confirms he has "enough energy for a 150-piece
orchestra," this is the merest fraction of Evans as a person: "It
became very clear to me on the first morning," says Isaacs, "that
he might share an accent with, but that's all he shares in common
with Lee Evans the public persona. He takes some tiny part of who
he really is and he ratchets it up 20,000% to make some of his
comedy, but that's nothing to do with who he is. He's far more
familiar with Pinter and Beckett than I am. He's a very
accomplished musician. He's very sensitive, he's very serious about
being an actor, he's very open to the world, he's incredibly kind.
He's got huge resources; we're only seeing the tip of the iceberg
so far, as an actor, as a performer, as a writer, all round in
every way." To be honest, it could get to almost sickening levels
of admiration were it not for the fact that Isaacs comes across so
sincerely when talking about his co-star, and that he admits that:
"It took a little bit of time for me to shake all the things I
thought I knew about him aside and deal with the person that was in
front of me in rehearsals."
Former law student Isaacs he studied at Bristol before pursuing
his love of acting at the Central School of Speech and Drama is
less enthralled with theatre as an art form than many of his peers.
Since turning professional he has made over 30 films and appeared
in a number of high profile television series. By contrast he has
only taken to the stage on a handful of occasions. He gives two
reasons for this: he finds it frustrating and he was spoiled by a
previous experience.
"When it comes to great plays, like Angels In America," he says,
"there's no part of you that wants to change a single syllable of
it. When it comes to moments in other things that clearly, no
matter how much you've rehearsed it or played it, are not quite
right, it's purgatory to be up there on stage knowing you're not
quite giving an audience what they deserve or need, or what they
hoped for when they booked their baby sitter, bought their
expensive ticket and paid their 20 quid in the NCP."
It is Angels In America, in which he played Louis Ironside when it
premiered at the National in 1993, that Isaacs feels has left him
with the nagging feeling that nothing else will ever be as good.
"There was a fax machine in the rehearsal room," he explains. "It
was one of those, in the old days, when there was a roll of paper,
not separate sheets, and this thing would spew out 10 foot of text.
We'd gather round it and it would say 'Scene 23, 24, 25 cut, scene
36, 38
' and you'd go 'Oh no, fantastic work', and it would go
'replace with this
' and something would emerge. It was like
[writer Tony Kushner] was channelling some divine force, because it
was genius. I thought it was all genius. Nothing, for me, that I've
done on stage has ever worked on so many levels."
It is a shame he does not do more, as he clearly gets a kick from
it. As he talks about waiting in the wings he explains how "the
adrenalin flows and it feels stupidly and unjustifiably terrifying;
you're not about to jump out of a helicopter in Iraq or anything,
but it feels terrifying because there's this contract that no-one's
going to speak or interrupt you and you're not going to break out
of your character or forget your lines."
On screen Isaacs is electric. He has one of those personas that
magnetically draw your eyes towards him; his eyes pierce. In person
he is strangely normal. It would be easy to walk past him in the
street without giving him a second look, and his features seem
softer than celluloid would have you believe.
He has normal problems too. Far from being among the echelon of
actors that can pick and choose their work, Isaacs is insistent
that though it may look that way, he has his fair share of not
knowing where the next pay cheque is coming from, or watching the
bank balance slowly dwindle as prospects seem scarce. This is the
reason he commutes to America to work. This year he will spend six
months in Rhode Island filming American drama series The
Brotherhood, in which he plays the gangster brother of a
politician. Until now, his children have always travelled with him,
but now they are a little older, it could mean leaving them behind;
a prospect he is not looking forward to: "It's a horrible thing to
have to deal with, but you know, I'm a gypsy, actors have to go
where the work is. When it looks like it's taking too big a toll,
I'll have to stop doing it. Being a good Dad is far more important
than being a good actor."
A common misconception about Isaacs is that he generally plays the
baddies. It is not true, though being a Brit in Hollywood he has
had his fair share of manic-laughing, power-hungry megalomaniacs
thrust his way. "They're pretty lovely, juicy parts," he says.
"They pay very nicely, they're often very good fun, they leave you
alone, you get the best scenes in the film." But as to playing lots
of them, it is just not the case. He was offered lots of them
following his portrayal of brutal British commander Colonel
Tavington in The Patriot. He chose to play a drag queen in Sweet
November instead. Isaacs is not worried about typecasting, in fact
he points out that it doesn't actually exist. Rather type-offering
exists and actors don't have to take the work if they don't want
it. "People keep offering you the same job," he states, "there are
worse things in life."
When he did return to the scowling world of the evil-doer, it was
in the most high profile of ways in the most high profile of films;
playing prominent Deatheater Lucius Malfoy in the Harry Potter
series. While talking about this role, Isaacs turns into what can
only be described as a big kid: "It's obscene that I get paid," he
beams, "people should complain. I've got a four-year-old, she's got
a dress-up box in her room and nothing touches Lucius Malfoy. She's
got fairies and wizards and witches and superheroes, and nothing
touches it. I get there and I say 'Can I have a cane with a wand
inside it? Can I have a cape? Do you think I could have a belt with
a snake's head on it? Do you think I can blast that wall and it
blows open and I walk through it?' It's absurd a man of my age
doing that stuff. And then you get there and realise you're doing
scenes with Gary Oldman and Helena Bonham Carter. I look at the
call sheet and they're going to be there today, I'm going to get to
talk to them. Before you know it you're having lunch and sharing HP
sauce. It's fantastic."
"If you're someone like me," he continues "who finds work enjoyably
tortured I'm constantly niggling away trying to make it better
and realer and more three-dimensional it's nice to leave all that
at home and turn up at Harry Potter and just be unalloyed Nazi
evil."
Simple pleasures, it seems, light up Isaacs's world, just like the
rest of us. Not the simple pleasures of caramel biscuits though a
plate of those remain untouched on the table before us. His
ambitions are similarly low key and relate to the pursuits of
showbiz greats such as Bruce Forsyth, Jimmy Tarbuck and Ronnie
Corbett: the charity golf tournament. "Once you have kids, he
explains excitedly, "you can't say 'sorry darling, I'm just off out
for seven hours', you just can't do it. But if you say 'I'm just
off out for seven hours, I'm helping to cure childhood diseases',
no-one can really argue with you."
Unlike Brucey, Tarbey et al, Isaacs has his eyes on a much wider
goal. While celebrity golf is at the forefront of his mind, there
are other sports in which he would like an excuse to play against
the great and the good. He would happily dabble at snooker, but
would really enjoy some celebrity tennis action. "I've heard around
that Lenny Henry and Dawn French have an annual tennis tournament,"
he confides, "and I once heard a rumour that Alan Rickman is very
good I dont know if any of this is true and every time I've
been in the same place as one of them I've subtly tried to project
into their mind so that they turn to me and go 'Jason, do you play
tennis?', but it's never happened yet."
