There’s a lookalike agency in Los Angeles whose calling card boasts that it can “have an Elvis with you in 15 minutes”. Two years ago, when Warner Bros announced it was on the lookout for a new Batman, you could imagine the talent agencies of Tinseltown scrambling to offer up their clients with similar pledges of rapidity. In defiance of expectation, the little-known Irish actor Cillian Murphy found himself on a plane to California, his name on a shortlist of beefcakes that included Christian Bale, Jake Gyllenhaal, Joshua Jackson and Eion Bailey from ER.
“To me, Christian Bale was always the obvious choice,” muses Murphy today. “I was surprised, pleasantly surprised, but I never really considered myself Batman material.” Pale, slight and almost fragile of features, the bright-eyed Cork native would not seem to register high on the biff-o-meter at all. “I think they wanted to test various different types of actors, you know. The bonus for me was to get to work, albeit briefly, with Chris Nolan. And I got to wear the Batman suit. For any young fella, that’s a big deal.”
Nolan, the British director hitherto known for the grim, innovative thrillers Memento and Insomnia, was himself a surprise choice to resurrect such a traditional piece of popcorn. Under Joel Schumacher, the Caped Crusader’s previous outings (1995’s Batman Forever and 1997’s Batman and Robin) had even become exercises in camp homo- eroticism — nipples on Batsuits and all. Batman Begins, however, is a sombre prequel to the series.
While Bale did indeed fit the director’s new spec, Murphy’s audition had not been in vain. Two months later, he got a phone call from Nolan. “He said, ‘Listen, there’s this other part ...’” And so the Irishman takes his place as the Dark Knight’s new nemesis: Dr Jonathan Crane, aka Scarecrow, a sort of macabre psychiatrist. In Gotham City, villainy always seems the more fun option. Bale follows the dreary Michael Keaton, Val Kilmer and George Clooney; Murphy joins a sparkling roster that includes Jack Nicholson, Danny DeVito, Jim Carrey, Tommy Lee Jones and Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger. “I’m not fit to kiss Jack Nicholson’s shoes; the man’s a movie legend,” he says immediately. Murphy is keen to disassociate this film from its predecessors. “The interpretation is different and unique,” he asserts. “It’s so refreshing, because there’s none of this nonsense CGI. It’s a very real and tangible film.”
The end result is certainly an unusual summer blockbuster. It’s also a huge career leap for the 31-year-old. With a budget of £75m, the Bat-behemoth is a giant flap from 28 Days Later (2002), the shoestring zombie flick and surprise cult hit that gained him recognition. “I’m sure 10-year-old boys will be my new fan base now,” he jokes.
Murphy remains unfazed by rubbing shoulders with the likes of Michael Caine, Morgan Freeman, Tom Wilkinson and Liam Neeson. “When you’re acting with them, it’s such a wonderful feeling, because you are so comfortable,” he gushes. “But when you get down to it, you’re actors and, basically, you’re all there to serve the story.” Neither reputation nor perks — limos, five-star treatment — would seem to have left much of an impression. “You notice all that, and it’s kinda nice, but if the atmosphere on the set isn’t conducive to acting, none of this ancillary ‘fluffing’ is going to make any difference.” On cue, a minion enters the Dor- chester suite and proffers some kind of collapsible club sandwich. Murphy grins wryly. “Hmm, they cut off the crusts.”
A project like Batman Begins has certainly made Murphy a bit more media-friendly. He asks politely whether I mind if he tucks in. Back in November 2003, when this university dropout and amateur muso was appearing in the rough-and-ready Irish ensemble comedy Intermission, being quizzed by the press seemed a less attractive prospect than having his teeth drilled. “I know actors have to promote a movie, but I’m not quite comfortable,” he admits.
Around that time, he could also be glimpsed in bit parts in Girl with a Pearl Earring and Cold Mountain. Not that they weren’t solid performances, but there was nothing on screen to suggest Murphy might be singled out for imminent stardom. And in the meantime? “I’ve been busy,” he says, “but it’s quite weird, because none of the movies have come out yet. It’s exciting, but you also get a bit apprehensive.”
Winging its way here shortly is Red Eye, from the horror-meister Wes Craven, a bold exercise in post-9/11 air terror with Murphy as a mile-high kidnapper. Perhaps with greater resonance in these isles is Breakfast on Pluto, Neil Jordan’s take on Pat McCabe’s book. In that, Murphy appears alongside Neeson (again), Stephen Rea, Brendan Gleeson and, intriguingly, Bryan Ferry. “I get more nervous when I meet rock stars than I do actors,” he admits, true to his band roots.
Breakfast on Pluto is most notable for Murphy’s portrayal of Patrick “Pussy” Brady, an Irish transvestite who flees to London against the backdrop of the Troubles. For his pains, it involved some real-life dirty work, putting on a frock and hanging out in the less salubrious clubs of Soho. It was a whole new world, apparently. “I was what you call the ‘androg look’, half in, half out,” he explains. “There’s all sorts of genres and subgenres. Like there’s transsexuals, then there’s transvestites who are gay and transvestites who are straight. And there’s gay men who go for transvestites, and transvestites who go with transvestites ...”
In addition to running into fellow Cork man Graham Norton one night (“He was lovely ... I’m a big fan”), and an admission that, when dragged up, he looks like his sister (“She’s very pretty”), aspects of Murphy’s double life became quite compulsive. “I got really into my products, like moisturising. And exfoliating.”
Such experiences are rarely provided by Hollywood. Whatever the success of Batman Begins, Murphy declares: “I go over and back, but I’ve no intention of moving out there.” He prefers his quiet, newlywed life in west London, with Yvonne, to whom he proposed while hill-walking in Ireland. “I’ve a very, very close-knit group of friends from Ireland,” he says. “They and my family are the most important things to me.” The business of artistic integrity is all- important, he insists. “It’s easy to take the cheque, you know, but if you want to have any longevity, just take things that have artistic merit in them. I want to do quality. If it’s good telly, I’ll do it. If it’s good theatre, I’ll do it.”
Last year, Murphy toured Ireland in The Playboy of the Western World. He has also started shooting his next film back home — The Wind That Shakes the Barley, directed by Ken Loach. Filmed in Cork, it’s a drama set during the Irish unrest of the 1920s. Quite conveniently, it gets him out of undertaking Batman’s world publicity tour. “If there’s an opportunity to work with Ken Loach, you can’t really turn that down,” he enthuses. “He’s made some of the finest films of the past 25 years. Whether you like or dislike his movies, there’s never a bad performance in them, ever.” And Loach, crucially, is as no-frills as you can get. “There’s none of the bullshit. There’s no trailers, no nonsense, no pampering,” says Murphy. “It’s a breath of fresh air.”
