Charlie Kaufman scripted and co-directed Anomalisa — his second film behind the camera after 2008’s Synecdoche, New York. Anomalisa is a stop-motion existential breakdown about a depressed customer-service guru, Michael (voiced by David Thewlis) who is spending a night in Cincinnati. The film won raves at the autumn festivals last year and was Oscar nominated, but wound up only taking around $3.8m worldwide. Excerpts from an interview with the veteran.


Congratulations! You’re UK’s No 1. How do you feel about Anomalisa now?
It feels pretty far away now, I guess. I’m really happy with the way it came about, the way we sort of made it happen without any help from the studio (it was funded by Kickstarter). We forged ahead and did something and I’m proud of that. I haven’t looked at the film recently so I hope my feelings are still positive.
Why do you think it didn’t make more money?
I have no idea. People said to me: ‘Oh well, it doesn’t have a happy ending and people need that,’ and ‘Maybe, because it’s animation, and people don’t think they want to see that.’ But it’s all speculative. I know, in general, this type of small movie is not doing well in terms of box office. It’s just not happening any more. It could just be that? I don’t know. It’s a head-scratcher. I feel bad about it not only for us, but Curzon [who released in the UK] and Paramount, and people who put their money and faith in it and everything. You want them to get rewarded for that.


Did it change your opinion of audiences?
No, I don’t think it does. I feel like it changes my opinion of myself a little bit. Early on, when I started making movies, it was a different time. Being John Malkovich was kind of a similar sort of thing: we were under the radar until Venice and got a lot of attention and then it made a fair amount of money for a small movie. It certainly made people their money back and then some. And after that I had a pretty good track record of movies making their money back; none of them were giant but … And so then I’m thinking, ‘I’m not part of that. Now, I’m not culturally relevant. Who am I in this business?’ But what can you do? You sort of go ahead. You keep trying to get things made.


You’ve said the film was partly informed by a fear of things like social media. Have the events of the past month or two confirmed your opinions about that?
Boy, who knows what’s going on now? I think some of that inability to see each other is probably attributable to social media and the new way that we interact with each other. It’s much easier to hate people, to feel alienated. I also think the echo chamber does not only exist among liberals. People go to sites that confirm their bias, and that happens across the political spectrum.


Could the triumph of Trump be ascribed to a growing lack of empathy?
Of course, but this election is complicated. It isn’t only that. It has to do with gerrymandering and questionable practices the system has sort of been rigged for. It isn’t obviously a fair representation of what’s going on in the country; people are not given a voice in an equitable way. The difference between the popular and the electoral vote is interesting. I feel like there was a Black Mirror episode that pretty much pegged it  – the one with the cartoon character.
The odd thing is that so much of what Trump said that is inconsistent, and that inconsistency was irrelevant to his supporters. The idea he wouldn’t be able to implement the things that he said he was going to implement; they knew that and it didn’t matter. That’s bizarre. I think it just comes down to people feeling – justifiably – that they’re being lied to, that things aren’t real and they’re being manipulated and controlled.
Do you subscribe to the idea of a post-truth world?
I saw this little documentary on Charlie Brooker’s show, by Adam Curtis, about this Russian guy, Putin’s adviser (Vladislav Surkov). And it was all about creating so much distortion and various different kinds of social and political movements that are at odds with each other, and also throwing into the mix that all of it is a lie. And so you’re just sort of scrambling with the impossible task of figuring out what is true and that is calculated. And I thought: ‘That’s what’s going on.’ I guess that’s post truth. But the thing that’s really awful is the people who are engaged in that are messing themselves as well as everybody else. It’s just going to be a confused, chaotic mess of media manipulation, and it’s terrifying and destructive and dehumanising and tragic.


Have you seen HyperNormalisation?
I saw a little bit of it online. I really loved it. I think (Adam Curtis) is amazing and I loved the poetry of it, too. A really interesting way of doing documentaries.


Where do we go next if we’re all in this unspoken conspiracy where the politicians are lying and everyone knows they’re lying and they know we know they’re lying?
With Trump, people don’t care. They like his personality and he’s an outsider. Which is, of course, a lie. He’s been manipulating politics and regulations his entire career. And he’s very wealthy, he’s not down there in the coalmines. It’s not one of those people; he’s never been close to anything like that. He’s never had to work at all in his life. Which is kind of ironic: if he’s going to do the job he’ll have to work.


But, surely, if he fails to fulfil certain promises people will be angry?
The people who are supporting the Hillary conviction are going to find ways to blame their opponents. Would that he did have the power of the monarchy! There are going to be people who are maybe going to turn against him. Maybe, if the economy goes south, people will have a hard time sort of figuring out who else to blame, but my guess is it will be spun.


As Michael asks in the film: what is it to be human, to ache?
I don’t know. It’s hard to be human. I get angry at being human and at humans and I wish there was more kindness and I could be more kind and other people could be more kind. I get very rattled just in traffic. On the road, a certain combination of selfishness and aggression exists. I think it’s analogous to look at people in cars and people online because it is an anonymous situation where you get to act on these impulses without repercussions — unless you’re in an accident — and just to be mean. I just find it so upsetting.
I was driving (the other) night on this quiet road and this person was driving towards me and had their lights on. I flashed them to let him know, not in a rude way, that I couldn’t see. And he or she turned her brights off immediately and then turned them right back on. It was like: ‘(expletive) you. Don’t tell me what to do.’ I can’t really figure out any other version that makes sense. It just puts all of my cortisol or some sort of adrenalin nightmare stuff coursing through my veins.
The converse is true, too. When I see something that’s just kind, I find it the most incredibly moving thing. It just makes me relax and tear up. When someone looks at you warmly for a second as you pass them on the street — rather than just an obligatory nod — it gives you some sort of renewed faith.


Do you do that?
I try to. Sometimes I force myself because I feel like I’m very focused on what people think of me so I let it happen to me first, which is not correct. It’s an insecurity. But I don’t want to put myself out there and say hello to somebody and then have them ignore me. Which happens often and I feel bad afterwards. But I try to tell myself that I need to not be attached to their response. That the correct thing is for me to just do that in the world, and let what they do be what they do.


Do you find you take the initiative more as you get older?
It depends on my mental state. It’s like any kind of discipline, like meditation or whatever; it’s something I have to keep sort of practising and reminding myself of. It isn’t my nature not to care and it’s also habituated. It is the way I’ve always been, so I have to force myself to. And if I’m in a better state of mind, where I don’t give a s--t, or I’m feeling more warmly towards people or less worried, then I try to do it. On occasion somebody will recognise me and talk to me, and I very much try to remember how impossible it would have been for me to do something like that to somebody I admired and how much courage it takes, and how I need to be gracious and responsible and make them comfortable, and that’s on me. I think I’m pretty good about that.


Michael tells people that a smile’s free.
But he doesn’t mean it. And I don’t think it is free, in reality. I think it costs, but not in a bad way. It costs courage. It costs the possibility of rejection. — The Guardian






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