SWEET AND LOWDOWN: WOODY ALLEN INTERVIEW

By Prairie Miller
Combining his passions for movies and music, Woody Allen has come up with perhaps his most personal film to date, Sweet And Lowdown. The very funny and very elusive comic actor and director was eager to talk about his latest project, which stars Sean Penn as a 1940's jazz guitarist burdened with a magical talent and a malevolent personality.

PRAIRIE MILLER: Let's talk about this title first, Sweet And Lowdown. Is that from a song?

WOODY ALLEN: Yes, it's an old George Gershwin song. And there were certain phrases that I was trying to get for this picture. The first one I thought of was Sweet And Hot, which is a jazz phrase, and one that I felt matched the characters. But I felt Sweet And Lowdown was even better. You know, that she was sweet, and he was lowdown!

PM: What was your fascination with the guitar as your jazz instrument, or weapon of choice so to speak, for Sweet And Lowdown?

WA: Only that Django Reinhardt was a quantum leap ahead of everybody in his era. And any other instrument I could think of, whether it was the clarinet, the trumpet, the trombone or piano, there were always a number of great musicians of that era. This was true of every instrument. On the guitar, for some reason, there was Django and there was nobody else in the world close to him. He was just out there by himself. So I had to pick an instrument, and that was the one I chose.

PM: Unlike your other movies, there's no character in Sweet And Lowdown that represents you in some way. Is this a new departure for you?

WA: I don't think so. I've made films before like Interiors where I was represented, but not so obviously. You know, people couldn't figure out who I was in Interiors. And from where I sat when I did it, I was the crazy mother. I was Geraldine Page in that! And in this movie, I think I have some of the obnoxious traits of Emmet, without having Emmet's genes. Because Emmet was a genius. He was a great, great player. He wasn't as great as Django, but he was genuinely a great player.

I don't put myself in that category, but I do have some of the, you know, self-centeredness and some of qualities. I just don't have the courage to express it as effortlessly as Emmet did. But I have some of the same...bad habits.

PM: Speaking of relationships, what was your encounter like with Sean Penn in Sweet And Lowdown?

WA: Very easy. I've always had an easy time directing actors, because I always hire ones that are great...before I get my hands on them! And mostly what I do is stay out of their way. That's why, if you've seen interviews with actors who have worked in my films, they'll sometimes say, he never spoke to me. And sometimes that's true. You hire someone like Sean, who's been great for years before I met him. The thing that you want is not to mess him.

You know, I want him to do that thing that Sean Penn does, that he's always been great at. So I hardly had to do anything at all with him. People think that I'm joking when I say that ninety per cent of my direction is either 'faster' or 'louder.' They think that I'm joking, but I'm not joking. That's really what it is. I had no discussions with Sean about who this character is, or, what his prior life was. I just did a movie with Hugh Grant. In the movie he's supposed to get a loan of forty thousand dollars, and he doesn't get the loan. And he said to me, what does the character want the loan for? And I had no idea! I couldn't figure out what to answer him, and I didn't know what to say.

I don't really know the answers to those questions a lot of the times. And I just would say to Sean like, could you do this a little faster. Or, you're getting a little too much within yourself. Could you speak up a little bit, the sound man is telling me he's having a problem hearing you. But I hardly had to do anything. And I hardly had to say anything to Samantha Morton. Once she got the Harpo Marx thing in the first two days, then she did all she did by herself. There was really nothing that I had to do.

PM: There are some filmmakers who work years on a movie that just doesn't work, and yet you manage to make great films every year. What's your secret?

WA: I can't imagine working on a film for seven years! Now remember, the films I make are kind of urban. You know, they're not very demanding in terms of physical filmmaking. They're not the kinds of films that would take two years to shoot, like Titanic or something. So it's not that big a deal.

You know, people have always asked me about doing a film every year. And to me it seems like no big deal. You write, and if you're a writer who writes two pages a day, it still only takes you three months to write the thing. I mean, how long does it take to write if you work every day at it? And you can edit the whole film in two weeks time, easily. Easily. Then I take my records and put in the music, and turn it over to the sound effects editor. And he starts putting in the door slams. And the film is over.

So I finish this, let's say on a Friday. And I enjoy myself on the weekend. And the next week, you know I'll go to the Knick game and play with my band. Then two or three weeks go by, and I want to work on something. You know, you're out of work for three or four weeks, you start to get like you want to work again. So you start to write something. And the cycle begins. It's not that big a thing. So I don't consider myself a workaholic, and I don't think a film a year is a big deal. It's like people in show business who tell you they're working so hard, they have no concept of what a cab driver works at, or a guy who works with a jackhammer. You know, a guy with a real job who comes in every day of his life, and works eight hours on a job.

In show business, the work is so good and the hours are so easy, and you're so pampered, that I don't consider this a big accomplishment. It just isn't. No matter how much it seems like you're working a lot, you're not. And the people that do a movie every four years are...lazy! They're unproductive.

PM: How do ideas for movies come to you?

WA: I'll be sitting home on a weekend or something, and I'm looking through my ideas. You know, I might go for a walk and think about a particular film idea, thinking that look, I'm going for a walk and I have to think about something! And maybe a year from now, I'll want to write it.

And I put in the time then, when I'm falling asleep at night. Or in the shower. And I solve the problem sometimes, and then I have an idea waiting for me later. PM: You lure some pretty big stars into your movies. What do you think is the thrill for them of working with Woody Allen?

WA: I think it's only this. Only that there's so much junk around. And these wonderful actors and actresses get offered so many car chase and special effects things, and horror movies. So the scripts of normal people, grown up people talking with either a comedy or a romantic problem or a serious problem, are so rare for them, that they want to do this for no money at all. Because the ten scripts that they have waiting for them at home are all, you know, infantile. They're not even adolescent, they're infantile.

PM: What's the story behind the choice of your young star in Sweet And Lowdown, Samantha Morton?

WA: It's so funny, it shows how old I'm getting. I said to her, I want you to play this exactly like Harpo Marx. And she never heard of Harpo Marx! I couldn't believe it. And I said, well you should take a look at him some time, you'll enjoy it! And she did. Then the first couple of days she was so much like Harpo Marx, all the moves, that I had to take her down from it! But I saw her face and thought, she would be perfect. I never heard of her, I didn't know anything about her. I was completely introduced to Samantha on tape. And I said, get this one. She's got the right face.

PM: Django is the elusive muse who both inspires and frustrates Sean's character Emmet. Is there a Django for you in the filmmaking world?

WA: Well, there are a lot of directors that I've idolized over the years. I've sort of idolized Orson Welles, Ingmar Bergman, Fellini, Antonioni, Kurosawa, Bunuel and Truffaut. I mean, there's a lot of them whom I just feel I could never touch and are just beyond me. I feel there are so many of them that I could never be close to. But with Django and Emmet, there was just one guy who was better than him. I feel there are about fifty guys, so I don't have that same problem!

PM: Why do you feel that these other filmmakers are beyond you?

WA: Oh, because I think it's demonstrable. And I don't say this out of false modesty or anything. You can look at a film of Kurosawa's and a film of mine, and see the difference. There's just no qualitative comparison. One is a work of art, and even my best film is just a good film, by someone who makes some good films and some not so good films.

PM: Is there one of your own movies that you wouldn't mind having a chance to try to make over again?

WA: Yes! I would love that. I made one of my films twice, and I regretted that I couldn't make it a third time. It was September. And I would love to make all of them over. I can improve every one of them by making them again. Charlie Chaplin used to do that all the time. He would shoot the film and look at the whole film, and then shoot the film again! But you can't do that now.

PM: Do you have any advice for young filmmakers?

WA: It'll sound snotty! What I would say is, say yes to everybody and be polite, but do what you want. Don't allow yourself to get into arguments and controversies. Because there are twenty million people out there, from your colleagues to critics to actors, who want to tell you how to do it and what you should be doing, the way you do it and what you're doing wrong. And always be nice to them and listen to them. But it's very important to go your own route. Because if you don't, you're lost.

PM: Sweet And Lowdown is all about someone who in a sense lives and dies for his art. Do you relate to that?

WA: I don't relate to that, no. I've always said this publicly, that I'm not a perfectionist. To me, making films is what I do. I play music for a hobby. I'm not a good musician, and I couldn't make a living at it. And if I wasn't known as a movie actor, nobody would come to see me play music. They don't come to hear me now! They come to see me, not hear me. They've seen me in the movies, and so they want to see me live. But I can't really play well. I don't have a good ear for music, and I'm not really a good musician. So I play for fun. I could never do that for a living.

PM: What would you be doing if you couldn't make movies?

WA: I would sit home and write. Because I can write, I'm not a bad writer. I could sit home and write, and that's fun for me. But I'm not a dedicated filmmaker. It's not my top priority. If I get a scene that's pretty good, I'm not one of those people like Stanley Kubrick who says no, we're going to get this until it's absolutely perfect. You know, it's good enough for me. I don't identify with that level of artist, and I've never been that level of artist. I've lived a life in film, and I feel I've been a good, working filmmaker. I mean, sometimes I make a lousy film, sometimes I make a good film. But I've never been an artist.

And the guy in the movie Emmet was different. In that one area, he was dedicated. You know, I've always been interested in the dichotomy between somebody who has such insight, in this case musical insight, and such sensitivity and such poetry. And then is such a jerk in their regular life. Such an obnoxious bore. Because it's hard to reconcile the two, that somebody who could play so beautifully and make you cry, and has a sense of taste and a sense of proportion, in his real life is such a creep and has no sensitivity. But it happens all the time, in all walks of life. And we are constantly making the mistake of confusing the artist, the politician or the scientist for the person. And that's not it. It just happens to be a gift that the person has. But in no way does that make them a decent person, or entitle them to any special dispensation, because they're an artist.

That's something that's appeared in a number of my films before, the sense that the artist claims special privileges because he's an artist. I never bought into that. I never felt an artist should have any special privileges, or should be regarded or given any special dispensation, just because they happen to have been born with a talent for drawing or writing poetry, or making films. That's the way that I've felt. But you find in society that the artist does get cut a huge amount of slack. You know, people will say well, he's an artist. Of course they act crazy. Of course they're selfish. I've never believed that. And I don't believe in an Emmet either. I feel that he's a creep and he's obnoxious. But he is a great guitar player, there's no question about it. And that's what makes it interesting to me, that he's both at the same time.

PM: There's a moment though, at the end of the film, when he's been told that if he were to get in touch with his feelings, that he would reach another level, that something's holding him back from being as great as Django.

WA: [A wink in his eye] I put that in to keep the audience happy! I don't really feel that. I did have to do something, so it wasn't so brutal. But I don't really feel that. I feel you cannot be in touch with your feelings and be an idiot, and be selfish and be terrible and have a miserable life. But still your art is separate from that.

Look, we've just been learning what a terrible person Picasso was, how awful he was to everyone around him. But it didn't encroach on his art. His art is sublime. So I wanted to put something in the movie to keep the audience happy. You know, so they didn't think that I was...a total monster! You know, the truth.