Films > Film Reviews

When Outline met Spielberg

19/07/16

Well, here’s a turn up for the books. It seems that Norwich’s very own independent Outline Mag has turned a few heads in that there big London, what with us being invited to an exclusive press-only screening of Steven Spielberg’s new movie The BFG at the posh nobs private cinema in the Soho Hotel. Oh, and there’s also the small matter of the subsequent press conference at Claridge’s. Where Steven Spielberg will be. Yeah, THAT Steven Spielberg. Jaws Raiders of the Lost Ark Schindler’s List E.T. Saving Private Ryan The Color Purple Minority Report Jurassic Park Steven Spielberg. THAT guy.

Now, wouldn’t it be cool if we were to take this all in our stride and be all “Yeah, no biggie. Of COURSE we should be there. Outline has been publishing quality film and music writing for 15 years. They’re lucky if we even turn up.” All true, naturally. But the fact of the matter is that Smiley and I were literally jumping about the place when we heard. And we’re quite old. So hells yeah we’re gonna go in there and sit alongside writers from national newspapers and Empire and such as if we’re supposed to be there. Which we are.

And so it came to pass that Smiley and I were sat in the plush underbelly of the Soho Hotel at 9.30 on a Saturday morning for fuck’s sake watching a kid’s film with silly big grins on our faces (check here for Smiley’s take on the film). We emerged into a piss-boilingly hot and muggy West End with just enough time to grab some coffee and squelch our way over to the impossibly luxurious Claridge’s, where we were ushered past TV cameras and excitedly chattering film journos (real ones, like us) to take our seats.

The event was hosted by Empire’s Chris Hewitt, another proper film writer, who, before the director and cast entered, told us in no uncertain terms that there were to be no “personal” questions, that we would have about 30 minutes, and that we couldn’t reveal anything we heard until Monday at the earliest. Fair enough. Housekeeping having been addressed, he then brought out Mark Rylance, child star Ruby Barnhill, Rebecca Hall, Penelope Wilton, and, erm, Steven Spielberg.

Later in the day, Smiley and I would be playing “Is Steven Spielberg the most important living film director?” This is how you play the game: You drink beer in the baking sunshine while trying to think of a more important living film director than Steven Spielberg. If you think of a name, you say it. The other player then says, “nah, not really,” and you drink some more beer. Admittedly, it’s a lot more fun if you’ve just been in a room with Steven Spielberg.

My point is that Steven Spielberg is almost certainly the most important living film director, and, as cinephiles of a certain age, it’s very odd (though not unpleasant) to share a physical space with someone who has entertained, enlightened, and moved you on countless occasions throughout your entire life. In short, it’s a funny feeling being in the same small room as a living legend. The rest of the room seemed to feel this, too, and, despite the calibre of the rest of the panel, most of the questions were aimed at the director.

Before I get onto the specifics of what we learned during the painfully short time allotted, I should just like to point out that everyone was bloody lovely, and seemed to be actually enjoying themselves. Although not given very much time in the spotlight (see above), the ladies of the panel were passionate and effusive about the film and working with the great man, with newcomer Barnhill taking all the hubbub in her stride and proving to be charming and articulate presence. Rylance was simultaneously strangely distant and utterly engaged, laughing along with the rest of the panel at times, at others seemingly fascinated by the room’s chandelier, which he regarded in half-smiling wonderment while the attention of the masses was elsewhere. When asked a question, he would ponder his answer carefully, sometimes with his eyes closed, before languidly enlightening the room. I can totally see why my mum is completely in love with him.

However, on a panel otherwise full of actors, Spielberg was the star, fielding every question with grace and enthusiasm. He’s probably done this thousands of times, but he treated every questioner with the utmost respect, especially the youngsters from Into Film and Kid’s Cool Lit (or that might be Kid School Lit, or Kid’s Cool It – I can’t quite make it out on my shonky recording). He was friendly, funny, informative, insightful, and humble. In short, completely charming. He was also Steven Fucking Spielberg.  

Lots of people wanted to ask questions - far more than there was time for - so, despite his big friendly arm-waving, Smiley’s devastatingly intelligent poser about CGI and facial recognition technology didn’t get an airing. Instead, we found out that the whole panel have a seemingly genuine deep appreciation and affection for the work of Roald Dahl, that Spielberg is far too busy in the present to worry about what his legacy will or will not be, that he has unsuccessfully attempted to bribe his kids to watch old movies with him, and that, despite being in his seventieth year, he has no intention to “sit on his tush.” Ironically perhaps, there were murmurings from the panel about the worth of books and “old” media, and Spielberg revealed a certain nostalgia for the days when filmmakers had to employ ingenuity, imagination, and “craft an illusion” to create an effect, rather than being able to put “literally anything” on the screen.

Fittingly, the two most enjoyable questions came from the kids present. “If you could be really big or really small, which would you be?” raised hearty laughs all round, with Spielberg and Barnhill plumping for small on the grounds of being able to get away with stuff and see more of life’s details, and Rylance opting for big because a) he’s short, and b) all the really tall people he knows are gentle and funny. The young lady from Into Film presented Spielberg with a wad of reviews from the site (prompting affectionate mock-shock at their content from the director) and enquired about how he behaves as a film fan “in our seats.” It surprised most of us that he has the ability to completely disengage his directorly faculties when watching other people’s films and just enjoy them, even the “not-so-good” ones.

And then that was it. Off they went. Smiley and I had a piss in the most salubrious toilet I’ve ever been in, and trundled out into the still-baking street. We had a quick chat with the doorman about going for a pint, and then went for a pint, all giddy like.

So, there you have it. Over 1,200 words of sparkling prose on a 25 minute press conference. Who says we didn’t deserve to be there? No one, that’s who. And I didn’t even get to tell you about how we got drunk and I lost our train tickets. That, as they say, is a story for another time, but suffice to say, we had to phone home. Phone. Home. There’s a film in there somewhere…