My mouth literally dropped open when I learned that Ewan McGregor would be playing
Obi-Wan Kenobi in the new Star Wars flicks, filming now and due to be released around
the turn of the century. All of my mental dominos suddenly fell and I was viscerally
shaken by the sheer perfection of Lucas' choice. Fucking brilliant. Of course, it
helps that I had just come from The Pillow Book, Peter Greenaway's film that
is also fucking brilliant and utilizes McGregor's talents to their fullest. And I'm
not just talking about the full-frontal shots of one of McGregor's more hidden but
impressive traits.
One of my many guilty pleasures has been watching Ewan McGregor and complaining
to all around that he was a treasure just aching to be discovered. Unfortunately
for those of us who would like to see McGregor receive more credit for his skills,
he's one of those actors who disappears into a role, becoming only a face that looks
familiar but you can't quite place. Ironically, I didn't even recognize him in the
previews for Nightwatch, thanks to his adoption of a very good American accent
and a haircut. His relative obscurity seems to have ended though, thanks to my proselytizing
and a couple of major movie deals, which will hopefully turn out much better than
the disappointing A Life Less Ordinary. But you can still catch the early
McGregor at the local video store, a journey I highly recommend because some fine
work has been magnetically captured for the lifetime of videotape.
Trainspotting was the first of my forays into the world of Ewan McGregor.
Based on Irving Welsh's novel about heroin addicts in Scotland, Trainspotting
is the kind of movie that you marvel at long after the credits have ended. McGregor
simply becomes Mark Renton, our humble narrator and all-around good guy except for
his junk habit. Renton's snide commentary on the state of his life is finely drawn
by an almost emaciated McGregor who makes his work appear effortless. Rounding out
the cast are Ewen Bremner as the clueless Spud, Jonny Lee Miller as Sick Boy, a Sean
Connery-lovin' junkie who bears an odd resemblance to a certain Chronicle
writer, and Robert Carlyle, the actor who recently thrust his way through The
Full Monty, as Begbie, the anti-smack drunk who is more cruel than Leona Helmsley
on crystal meth. All of the cast gives strong, believable, and unique performances
that fit the bizarre world of this film, but it would not exist without director
Danny Boyle, screenwriter John Hodge, and producer Andrew MacDonald. They create
an artfully gritty world that continually echoes one of the main themes of this film
ó addicts are addicts for the pleasure of it ó and it doesn't seem to matter
if your drug of choice is injected or on the screen. Boyle and company also have
a masterful way of indelibly working music through the visuals, à laReservoir
Dogs' "Stuck in the Middle With You" ear-carving scene. For me, Lou
Reed's "Perfect Day" will always be coupled with images of McGregor, a
red rug, and a cab. Trainspotting is a visual trip, with several quirky homages
to Kubrick's A Clockwork Orange, that draws you in with its sardonic humor,
genuine pathos, and snappy writing that produced more wannabe catch-phrases than
the latest Bruce Willis flick.
Boyle, MacDonald, and Hodge honed this wonderful coupling of music, visuals, and
clever words, as well as a strange affection for toy babies, in their first film
Shallow Grave. Shallow Grave is perfect for those out hunting for roommates
or starting to trust those that you already have, picking up once again on another
of this triumvirates' favorite themes. Sure, sure, the whole relationship begins
as fun and games, but it ends with a devious and deadly romp throughout a beautifully
decorated loft in what appears to be Edinburgh as Alex, David, and Juliet find a
fourth for their flat. Unfortunately, this new roomie decides to drop dead, leaving
nothing behind but a suitcase full of money and a mess on the sheets. The three scheme
to keep the cash, dispose of the corpse, and tell no one. And this is when the fun
begins. McGregor is delightfully wicked as Alex, the smart-mouthed reporter who is
thrilled to find a story in his very own apartment. Kerry Fox understatedly plays
Juliet while Christopher Eccleston brings new meaning to the word "creepy"
with his accountant-turned-killer David. These wonderful performances are only heightened
by Boyle's keen visual sense and camera placement, which occasionally makes you wonder
how on earth he was able to get some of his more unusual shots. As the characters'
world closes in, so does the movie, becoming tight and claustrophobic with its reduction
in lighting and perspective shifts.
But McGregor has done more than low-budget-and-brilliant Scottish films. He has
dissolved himself into a musician in an economically depressed town in Brassed
Off to a convenience store gunman in an episode of ER. McGregor's even
given a shot at English aristocracy in Douglas McGrath's underrated yet sweet Emma.
Gwyneth Paltrow stars as the matchmaker who can see the perfect love for everyone
but herself in this 1816 Jane Austen tale. Games of status are played while the pieces
smile and charm each other in a world full of empire waistlines. No one can be straightforward
about their affections due to the mores of the era and must circumlocute in order
to give the right appearance. It should all be rather tiresome, but McGrath's light
adaptation and camera work makes this film a touching piece of meringue. This may
be, however, the only movie in which McGregor's invisible touch seems to falter.
You can tell he's trying too hard to be genteel, perhaps some left-over Scottish
angst about rubbing elbows with the British upper-crust, however imaginary. Not to
say that he is horrible, he's not, but compared to his work in Shallow Grave
and Trainspotting, McGregor's portrayal of the scoundrel Frank Churchill is
lacking his usual unschooled grace and unspoken devilishness. This, however, is the
perfect time to catch up with this wonderful actor before he becomes an action figure
and the idol of 12-year-olds everywhere.