We’ve been overwhelmed with the day job this summer here at Mid Century Cinema, and as a result have fallen well behind schedule (stay tuned to this channel for the forthcoming “Karen Black: The New Hollywood Years”!) Nevertheless, given our legions of loyal followers and the high subscription fees they cheerfully endure, to fill the current silence between posts herewith a short memoir to stave off MCC withdrawal.
In 2016 I had the opportunity to interview John Cleese for Cornell Cinema. Cleese had a long-standing relationship with Cornell, and this visit would include a screening of his film A Fish Called Wanda. I enjoyed long standing if modest affiliations with CU Cinema, including occasionally introducing films for them, but how I landed this plum assignment—I have no idea. And I was just smart enough not to ask, you mean me?? (I also didn’t ask, “why don’t I get to go to the dinner afterwards?”)
This plum assignment came with some homework. Wanda was a caper movie, and I was told Cleese wanted to talk about such films. No problem—I’d seen and loved all the greats, including The Asphalt Jungle (Huston), Rififi (Dassin), The Killing (Kubrick), and The Second Breadth (Melville), to name a few. But when presented with the list of his favorites, it became clear that many people watched movies that were made after 1966, and so a crash course ensued—we screened everything in sight for a week or two before the big night. And along the way I came up with some (I thought) great questions positioning Wanda in the context of the genre, along with other caper-relevant observations about the film designed to stimulate discussion.
I was especially looking forward to the pre-interview, which offered the opportunity for some quality one-on-one time. And Cleese was just as you’d expect him, warm, engaging and sincere, if with his trademark cynical edge. He was also full of surprises—or at least, for this occasion, one big surprise. I explained I’d watched all the caper films from his list, so we could discuss them, and talk about how they might have influenced Wanda. “What list?” he asked. I rattled off the titles I had been given. “Oh, I haven’t seen those.”
Okay, then, so much for my little carefully prepared David Letterman style interview note cards . . . on to Plan B. But I didn’t have a Plan B, which was a little disconcerting. The pre-interview was not all for naught, however, as I was able to ask a delicate and personal question in private, one that I promised myself I would ask, respectfully, if the opportunity presented. (Note to students—always save difficult questions for the end of an interview. Start with a few lay-ups first.) I told him I was surprised by his vocal support for Brexit, and for reasons which, to my ears, sounded nativist—and so unlike the man who had been bravely on the right side of many of the great causes of our time. Cleese generously responded with an answer I found . . . uninspiring. Sensing my dissatisfaction, and with a welcoming smile, he encouraged my rebuttal. I hesitated, having used up most of my courage for the day, and fortunately at that moment an attendant surfaced to announce that it was past time to dash across campus to get to the theater.
Backstage a handful of lucky students and selected cinema affiliates mingled with the guest of honor; the crowd was just large enough that my traveling companion allowed herself to be spirited backstage for a quick handshake and hello. “Still on the first wife, eh?” he of four marriages offered by way of greeting, which may or may not have been a joke, but we all found funny in the moment. Then, as we walked towards the stage, Cleese turned to me and finally asked, “what do they want of me?” Well, apparently it wasn’t going to be insights about caper films, so I responded, “they want you to be charming and entertaining.” Which he most certainly was.
