Ultimately, I think that story, and I know I’ve said this a gazillion times already, but I truly believe that it all comes down to connecting with the characters and the actors playing the characters, and believing that they are connecting with each other. When that happens, the viewer is magically a part of the storytelling process. You’re constantly wondering: What are they going to do next? What is he going to do when she does this? What is she going to do when she finds out that he’s…?
Behind the scenes, those answers come from a lot of different places. Many times the writer doesn’t have every answer. The actors don’t have every answer. Sometimes the D.P. changes the lighting and suddenly the whole tone of the scene changes, and now maybe the audience is more engaged than they were if both characters were equally lit. The smallest things can make a huge difference. As a director, you hope that you can catch all that — that you can come up with the right ideas, or that your cast and crew will be supportive and in tune with what you’re trying to achieve artistically and can contribute to the process. I find that I’m the most happy when people are collaborating on the set of a movie I’m directing. I love being part of something bigger — the group, the film, the family. It’s not just about me. The entire experience is more real when I’m sharing it with other people.
There are so few, if any, feature directors who have complete creative freedom. No movie is ever completely ours, especially at the end of the process. Making movies is sort of like raising kids. When you bring them into the world, your responsibility is to mold them the best you can. At a certain point, their teachers and friends start pulling them in different directions. When the kid takes over completely, sometimes before becoming an adult, you suddenly have no control. Your hope is that they’ll take all the best influences and make them their own. That’s kind of what making a good movie is like to me. You exert as much influence as you can, and others contribute positively, and it becomes something really worthwhile. Of course, sometimes you give the wrong advice, or the wrong influences take over and completely fuck things up. Your baby ends up with a bad reputation or in jail.
At the end of the day, you seem pretty comfortable with the idea that your movies are created by all these different forces. I think the parenting comparison is brilliant, because it’s possible to destroy a story by not letting the characters go where they need to go.
I was just reading something this week about how a movie is different every time somebody watches it. The movie itself doesn’t change, but the perception of it changes. Theater performers are very aware of this, because they know what it’s like to have an audience in the palm of your hand one night, and then everything is completely dead the next night. Comedians have this experience more than anyone else. A crowd seems to either love you or hate you. One night, the audience gets the joke and the next night they don’t, and you think: Did I change my timing on the delivery? Is there something going on in the news that makes it not funny tonight? What happened? You examine every possible reason. Sometimes things just don’t come together. Other times, all of the right elements merge and you have a perfect night.
Andy Garcia in The Unsaid (Universal, 2001).
Andy Garcia and Vincent Kartheiser in The Unsaid (Universal, 2001).
Vincent Kartheiser in The Unsaid (Universal, 2001).
Jon Foster and Toby Moore as the Skakel brothers in Murder in Greenwich (USA, 2002).
Jon Foster and Maggie Grace as young lovers in Murder in Greenwich (USA, 2002).
Foster and Grace as murderer and victim in Murder in Greenwich (USA, 2002).
Trent Cameron and Bobby Hosea in D.C. Sniper: 23 Days of Fear (USA, 2003).
Maggie Grace, the All-American Girl.
Tom and Charles Dutton on the set of D.C. Sniper.
Joe Mantegna, Tom and Charles Durning on the set of A Very Married Christmas.
Megan Park and Miriam McDonald on the set of She’s Too Young.
Alexis Dziena in She’s Too Young (Lifetime, 2004).
Tom and Alexa Vega on the set of Odd Girl Out.
Leah Pipes, Tom McLoughlin, Elizabeth Rice, Alexa Vega and Hannah McLoughlin in Odd Girl Out.
Michael Seater, Lyndsy Fonseca and Jeremy Sumpter in Cyber Seduction: His Secret Life (Lifetime, 2005).
Cyber Siren.
Kelly Lynch and Jeremy Sumpter on the set of Cyber Seduction.
Tom and Alia Shawkat on the set of Not Like Everyone Else.
Tom and Ileana Douglas on the set of Not Like Everyone Else.
Tom with the cast of Not Like Everyone Else.
Treat Williams (left) as Michael Peterson in The Staircase Murders (Lifetime, 2007).
The cast of Fab Five: The Texas Cheerleader Scandal (Lifetime, 2008).
Aimee Spring Fortier, Tom, Ashley Benson, Jessica Heap, Ashlynn Ross and Jenna Dewan on the set of Fab Five (Lifetime, 2008).
Tommy’s Angels.
Part VII: Looking Ahead
This interview took place on May 26, 2009, between the editing of The Wronged Man and the shooting of At Risk.
FILMOGRAPHY
THE WRONGED MAN (LIFETIME, 2010)
DIRECTED BY TOM MCLOUGHLIN
TELEPLAY BY TEENA BOOTH. BASED ON A MAGAZINE ARTICLE BY ANDREW CORSELLO
STARRING JULIA ORMOND, MAHERSHALALHASHBAZ ALI, LISA ARRINDELL ANDERSON
A lawyer devotes twenty years of her life to seeking justice for a wrongly-convicted man.
AT RISK/THE FRONT (LIFETIME, 2010)
DIRECTED BY TOM MCLOUGHLIN
TELEPLAY BY JOHN PIELMEIER. BASED ON A PAIR OF NOVELS BY PATRICIA CORNWELL
STARRING ANDIE MACDOWELL, DANIEL SUNJATA, ANNABETH GISH, ASHLEY WILLIAMS
A cold-blooded district attorney and her protégé investigate a decades-old Massachusetts murder, then turn their attention to the Boston Strangler.
Tell me about The Wronged Man.
It’s the true story of Calvin Willis, who is in jail for a crime he did not commit. Early in the movie, his grandmother meets a lawyer named Prissy, and she says, “Can you get my boy out? He didn’t do what they say he did.” There’s something about her plea that touches Prissy deeply and keeps her going on this case for twenty-two years.
I remember when you first got involved with the project, you said you were picturing Holly Hunter as Prissy. Then you ended up getting Julia Ormond, who has a very different screen persona. Did you have to rethink the character?
First of all, I never met the real Prissy. The screenwriter did, and she described her as a short, feisty, outspoken Southern woman. Based on that, I thought Holly Hunter would be perfect casting. Casting Julia Ormond — who in my mind is an ethereal, classy, British, staid woman — made absolutely no sense to me. The first thing I thought about was altering the character, to make her quiet, grounded and determined instead of wild and feisty. It turned out that Julia is such a consummate professional that she can do anything. She has so many aspects to her personality. Plus she’s so intellectual, and she understands character and story extremely well.
Julia was in complete agreement with the idea that we needed to dress down her character. I thought Prissy would buy clothes because they’re comfortable, not because they fit well. Julia loved that. We decided her character would wear the same coat or dress for years. In fact, when we were screening the movie for one of the execs, they said, “Wasn’t she wearing that same blouse earlier?” And I said yes. “Why?” Because that’s what people do. Not everyone can afford to go out and buy new clothes whenever they want. When they go into their closet in the morning, it’s about finding something that covers their body and keeps them warm or keeps them cool. Prissy’s life isn’t a fashion show — which is what we’re used to seeing in movies. Julia really wanted to embody the honesty of that.
In real life, Julia’s causes are key to her. She actively campaigns against international slavery and human trafficking. That told me a lot about who she really is. When Prissy realizes what’s happened to Calvin, she responds very
strongly to the injustice. That becomes her cause, and she is very strong-willed and determined to fight for him. Her story really reflected who Julia is.
What about Calvin? The title suggests that he’s going to be the main focus — like in Alfred Hitchcock’s The Wrong Man.
We were working off of a GQ story called “The Wronged Man,” and the reason this movie is called The Wronged Man is because of that magazine article and the idea that this is a story about a righteous man wronged by a corrupt system. [Producer] Gale Anne Hurd was interested in making a movie about importance of righting this particular wrong in society — using DNA evidence to clear Calvin Willis and others who are wrongly convicted. I was interested in making a movie about this woman Prissy’s drive to accomplish something that was important to her, even while everything else in her life keeps going wrong. Whatever it takes, she’s going to find a way to get Calvin out of prison because she’s committed to finding justice. Gale and I both felt strongly about these perspectives.
In editing, I kept thinking that this is really a movie more about Prissy than about the wronged man. Prissy proved that one person can make a difference. People kept telling her that what she was trying to do was impossible — “the system won’t allow it.” But she didn’t give up. I felt like her story deserved more focus, so I shifted the focus. When Gale saw how I had changed the structure, she was not pleased. She had my editor, Charles, create a “producer’s cut” that started with the wronged man instead of Prissy’s life, as in the script. I was ultimately happy with it. In the end, the only thing that was a frustration to both Gale and I was the fact that these films are only 88 minutes. We lost a lot of wonderful moments of Julia’s performance.
Did you steer the story away from Calvin because he’s not as sympathetic?
Calvin is sympathetic because of the circumstances of his conviction. Whatever he may have done wrong in his life, he apparently was not the kind of man who would do the horrible thing that he was convicted of. But he wasn’t exactly a saint either, and that’s why nobody would fight for him in the beginning. The consensus on his conviction seemed to be: He may not be guilty of this particular crime, but he’s not innocent of some other things. That’s what Prissy knew was so horrible. She couldn’t change those other aspects of Calvin’s case, but she wanted justice.
The casting of [Mahershalalhashbaz] Ali was very fortunate because he’s very sympathetic. In life, Ali really is a grounded, incredibly spiritual person, and he brought a lot of strength to the later scenes — after Calvin has been in prison for a long time, and that experience has transformed him into a more spiritual person. To me, the only way that an innocent person can go through an experience like that and not become corrupted by their surroundings is through prayer and belief in God. So we showed him reading the Bible in about four different scenes. That may not be exactly how it happened to Calvin Willis, but from a dramatic storytelling point of view, that was important.
It sounds like you consciously chose not to make this a character study instead of a “message movie” about prejudice in the justice system.
I chose to put more emphasis on Prissy’s determination. That, to me, was the most fascinating element. She was like Erin Brockovich, Norma Rae, Karen Silkwood — all these woman who operate outside of the system, but who are determined to get inside it in order to improve things. They’re willing to do whatever it takes to make some kind of change, even if it’s minor.
I did four polishes of the script and during that period, The Wronged Man became more of a personal movie. Once the actors got involved, I shared creative power so we could tackle the story one scene at a time. I wanted to give the actors the freedom to change dialogue and other elements within the scenes, to make the moments more authentic. Those changes took some of the emphasis away from the “message” and made the movie more about the characters, and the emotions between characters.
The other really great thing about doing this film was working with an amazing crew. I got to re-team with some of my best collaborators from previous films: production designer Craig Stearns (from One Dark Night and Date with an Angel), cinematographer Shelly Johnson (from The Fire Next Time, Murder of Innocence and The Yarn Princess) and producer Bob Wilson, who was my A.D. for years. And my A.D. on this film was the grandson of my mentor, Frank Capra III.
Looking at the finished piece now, I see a lot of things I could have done better. But on the second lowest budget I’ve ever had (One Dark Night being the lowest) and with a fifteen day / twelve hours-a-day schedule, I’m very pleased. It does have the feel of an independent film that’s all about the characters. My next project [two adaptations of Patricia Cornwell’s detective novels At Risk and The Front] is going to play out on a much bigger canvas because it’s about a city and fictional characters that are bigger than life. That’s going to be a challenge for me since I’ve been doing nonfiction stories for so long.
Tell me about At Risk and The Front. How far along are you in pre-production?
I’ve almost finished with my director notes on the first one, At Risk. It’s strange prepping for two movies at the same time.
Usually I get the script, the book and all the research materials, and it takes me weeks to sort everything out. Once I do that with At Risk, I start all over again with The Front. Then I’ll start watching movies that have the kind of visual style I want. I like to go into pre-production with a visual shorthand in mind for the Director of Photography. On these two films, I want to set some scenes in high rises with glass windows, to give this world a wider scope. Having just done small, everyday locations on The Wronged Man, I want to play these stories out on a much bigger palette.
I imagine you’ll also be trying to add more emotional depth to the main characters, Win Garano and Monique Lamont. In Cornwell’s books, both of these characters are pretty aloof.
Yeah, there’s not a lot of emotional depth here — although there is a genuine loneliness about them. Win is a good guy who is very tortured within. He lost his parents when he was quite young, and he needs a sense of love and intimacy that he never got growing up. His only source of guidance was his grandmother, who loves him dearly but who is a bit of a kook. He listens to her because she is his only family. She’s his touchstone. But he’s also got to protect her, because she can be like a child at times. In a way, she’s his strength and his Achilles heel.
The Monique Lamont character has the same loneliness. She comes from a rich family and her father has not really been involved in her life. There’s a scene in the movie where he comes to visit her and they don’t really have much to say to each other. I want to have them speak in French in front of Win, so that he doesn’t know what they’re saying. He assumes that it’s a good relationship. When he and Monique go into the next room, she says, “I have no relationship with him. And now he comes to tell me that he’s dying.” Then she quickly moves on to another subject. She doesn’t want to ever be vulnerable. I want to show her in her glass house and office because that’s who she is. Dazzling and seemingly transparent, but really vacant and feeling hollow inside. She’s all about maintaining this appearance — the perfectly groomed D.A.
That’s what she and Win have in common. They both look incredible on the outside, but they’re painfully vulnerable on the inside. At the end of the first movie, we see him break down and cry. That’s not in the Cornwell book — the screenwriter put that in. I’m trying to figure out if we should really show that side or if we should we make this more like a traditional film noir, where the audience wonders how these tough characters can remain so tough.
It’s interesting that you’re finally making a film noir, since you said that’s the kind of movie your father would have made.
I hadn’t thought about that. Hope I can make a good one. Actually, two.
Do you think that’s the direction your career might go — toward darker, more adult-oriented films? Now that your own kids are grown up and out of high school, do you feel like you’ve
“graduated” from movies about teenagers?
I’ve always said the great thing about teen movies is that all of the emotions are fresh and new and so intense. When you’re a teenager, every situation is life or death. Because you don’t have the life experience to predict how things could go, you jump into everything without any hesitation. It’s like: I’m in love I’m in love I’m in love, I’m never going to be in love with anybody else. I will die before I lose this relationship. Classic Romeo and Juliet. It’s the same thing with drugs and other forms of experimentation. With everything, really. You need to see for yourself what is good and what is bad.
Have you talked to your kids about your own rebellious youth?
Anytime I tried to relate past experiences where I screwed up — to try and share some kind of life lesson — Nancy would say, “You shouldn’t have told them that.” Nine times out of ten, she was right. Well, maybe eight times out of ten…Those confessions came back to haunt me as counter-arguments. “If you did these things, why can’t I?” The big secret that I kept from my kids, all the way up until Hannah just graduated from high school, was that I didn’t graduate. I told them I’d taken some college classes, which was true, but I didn’t tell them that I was auditing those classes.
A Strange Idea of Entertainment: Conversations with Tom McLoughlin Page 26