EXPECTATION BUSTERS

JASON REITMAN WANTED TO FOLLOW IN THE FOOTSTEPS OF HIS FATHER, A FAMOUS DIRECTOR, BUT WAS SCARED OF HOW HE WOULD BE JUDGED. THIS IS THE STORY, IN HIS OWN WORDS, OF HOW A SUBMARINE SANDWICH, SOME POOR MED SCHOOL GRADES, AND A CHAT WITH DAD ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE GOLDEN GLOBE NOMINATED FILM THANK YOU FOR SMOKING AND REITMAN’S PROMISING FILMMAKING CAREER

I hope we can begin by talking a little bit about your background—your childhood, where you grew up, what your interests were early on, that sort of thing…
Yeah. Sure. You know, I was born in Canada, but I grew up in Los Angeles, and I grew up around movies—my parents were both filmmakers, so I grew up on sets watching actors, watching the process—and, really, was just kind of a film fan. You know, I had no intention of being a filmmaker until, you know, around the mid-nineties. I started seeing all the great independent films coming out of the Sundance Film Festival. You know, the first one I saw that really kinda took me was Richard Linklater’s Slacker. And then I saw Clerks, and I saw Bottle Rocket, and, you know, a slew of others. And for the first time, I realized an independent film could be whatever it wanted to be—you didn’t have to follow traditional plot devices, humor could come from unusual places—and I got really excited about the idea of making movies. And when I read the book Thank You for Smoking, I just felt that it spoke to exactly the kind of director I wanted to be.

Being around movies as a child, did you have any favorite films or stars? You’ve mentioned the independent films that influenced you later on, but it’s often interesting to hear what people liked as a kid…
As a kid, Big Trouble in Little China, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, Young Guns [laughs], Die Hard, Alien, you know?

Your father, Ivan, obviously is a well-known filmmaker. Can you talk about what your relationship with him has been like throughout your life, and what influence he’s had on you as a filmmaker and just generally?
Well, my father’s my hero. And, you know, he’s taught me to be the man that I am, the filmmaker that I am, he’s taught me how to be a storyteller. So, he’s had, you know, a tremendous effect on who I’ve become in every way.

Do you think, though, that being his son has made things easier or harder for you? Sometimes, it’s harder to follow in the footsteps of someone who’s very accomplished. What’s your take on that?
Well, you know, it’s funny. When I was in high school and I was getting ready to go to college, I became very nervous about the idea of becoming a filmmaker. You know, I saw how the children of famous directors were treated. The presumption is, if you’re the son of a famous filmmaker, that you’re an idiot—that you have no talent, that you probably have a drug problem—and I thought, “Why should I try to become a filmmaker when this is what people will think of me? I’ll never really be able to have any success on my own.” And I actually went to college—I went pre-med. I thought, “I’ll be a doctor. You know, no one will ever argue with that decision. No one will ever say, ‘Oh, doctor! Whatever.’” And I went pre-med, and I wasn’t doing very well. You know, I’m a bright enough guy—I did well at school—but I wasn’t doing well at trying to become a doctor. And my father took me aside, and he said, “What are you doing?” And I said, “You know, I’m nervous.” I said, “I’m scared of being a filmmaker. I’m scared that people will compare me to you, and they’ll always presume nepotism and things like that.” You know, he said, “You have to follow your heart.” And he told me, actually, a wonderful story from his childhood that kind of inspired me. And I came back to Los Angeles and decided, well, you know there’s this wonderful independent film system, this festival system, in which it’s fairly democratic. You make a film. You submit it. If people like it, they play it. If they don’t, they don’t. And so I started making short films. I made a lot of them. I made a ton of short films, and played just a boatload of film festivals, and tried to develop a name for myself within the indie world. And, you know, not only for my reputation, but to ease my own mind. And, by the end of it, it was pretty cool, you know? I won a lot of awards for my short films, and I made a lot of commercials, as well. And by the time I was ready to make my first feature, I think—at least within the industry—I had made a name for myself as an interesting young filmmaker. And that was exciting to me. It’s funny. When it came time to make Thank You for Smoking—you know, people always have this idea that if you’re the son of a famous filmmaker, you know, you can just kind of snap your fingers, make a phone call, and your movie gets made. And the opposite was true for me. I had written a screenplay that people seem to enjoy, but nobody wanted to finance it; no studio would finance it, no mini-major would finance it. The financing for the movie finally came from an independently-wealthy guy from, you know, Palo Alto, who was one of the creators of PayPal.

I don’t know if this is something that you’re comfortable sharing, but I’m interested—you mentioned that your father, when he pulled you aside, told you a story about his childhood that had an impact on you—can you give a sense of what that was?
Yeah, no, I’ll tell you the story. So, basically, you know, it’s a funny story. When he was at my age, at the time—when he was like seventeen or eighteen—he had grown up in Toronto, and he went to Montreal. And, in Montreal, he discovered submarine sandwiches—not the brand but, you know, just a foot-long sandwich—and they were really popular, apparently, in Quebec. And he came back to my grandfather, he said, “Dad, you gotta give me the seed money to start a submarine sandwich store. I just got back from Quebec, they were really popular, we can make a fortune, they’re really delicious, and please, let’s start a sandwich company!” And my grandfather said, “You know, son, I’m sure these sandwiches are very good, and we could probably make real money doing that, but I just don’t think there’s enough magic in it for you.” And my father went to college, and started a film club, and became a filmmaker. And so he said to me, he said, “Look, there isn’t a more noble profession in the world than being a doctor, and if you became a doctor, Jason, you know, your mother and I would be over the moon. We’d be so proud of me. But I just don’t think there’s enough magic in it for you.” And he said, “Look, you have to follow your heart.”

I take it that you feel your experience making short films prior to features was valuable and that it’s something other young filmmakers would benefit from doing. Why is that? And can you talk about what the transition was like from shorts to features when you eventually made it?
Well, I do tell young filmmakers all the time to make short films, because you need to figure things out. If I had gotten the opportunity to make Thank You for Smoking six years when I wrote it, it would never have been as sophisticated a film as it is today. I needed to make the short films to make my mistakes. You know, Robert Rodriguez actually talked about that in his book Rebel Without a Crew. You gotta get the bad stuff out of you, and making short films allows you make mistakes, you know, on a smaller level, on a level you’re not gonna be judged for forever. You only get one first feature, and better make it a good one. You know, as far as stepping up to make a feature, you know, there’s a stamina aspect, obviously, to, you know, spending a year making a movie. The real difference, for me, was having stars—that I never had on my short films, that I never had on my commercials. I had a couple commercials, but I’d never done that—worked with, you know, some of the greatest actors of all time. And that creates a different dynamic.

How did you manage, as a first-time director, to assemble that amazing cast? Also, did you run into any issues—or even have personal concerns—about being such a young guy directing some of the most accomplished and experienced actors?
I was scared shitless. I mean, you know? I mean, what do I have to say to Robert Duvall? Or to William H. Macy? Or Sam Elliot? Or any of these people? Or Aaron Eckhart? Or Maria Bello? I mean, you know, we’re talking about some of the most talented actors of their generation, and some of the most talented actors of all time. We were really lucky. You know, we sent the screenplay out. Aaron Eckhart signed on really quickly. And then Robert Duvall, out of nowhere, said, “Yes,” which shocked us all. And that changed the landscape for us. It gave us permission to go to actors that we never dreamed would have said, “Yes.” You know, I wrote letters, people seemed like to like the letters but, really, we just got lucky.

How would you describe your directing style, the type of set that you run?
Ferocious! No—I keep a pretty loose set, you know? I think there’s a lot of directors out there who like to be field generals and, you know, scream from the command post, thousands of minions. I like a very intimate set. I like as small a crew as possible. I like to keep things, you know, light and conversational.

Going back to the genesis of Thank You for Smoking, when did you first come across it, and what was your initial reaction to it?
You know, it was, God, probably eight years ago, nine years ago now. A woman I knew just handed me the book and said, “This book was written for you.” And she was right. I read it and just fell in love with it immediately; it just spoke to my sense of humor; it spoke to my politics; it, you know, had this disdain for political correctness that I’d always felt but never articulated.

And how did you manage to claim it as your project and stake your territory? I understand you were in touch with Mel Gibson’s Icon Productions…
Well, you know, I didn’t really get a chance to. It was a very long road. Mel Gibson’s company, Icon, had it for years; they had been developing it for Mel for a long time, they had hired a lot of writers, spent a lot of money on it, and by the time I came in, they had basically given up on the project. And I pitched a version of it that they hadn’t heard yet, which was to be a small movie, a small movie so cheap that it never would have to apologize for itself. And they liked that. So they hired me to write the screenplay. But even with the screenplay, no one wanted to do it. People were afraid of the politics, people were intimidated by the money against it, and everyone said no until, finally, this guy David Sacks came along and bought the rights from Warner Brothers, bought the rights from Icon, and made the money.

I understand that you wrote that first draft of the script under pretty charitable circumstances…
Well, I wrote the first act on spec that weekend—the same weekend I had the meeting, I wrote the first twenty-five pages. I said, “This is what I’m thinking.” And they were like, “Oh! This is great.” And they hired me. And then I wrote the screenplay for scale.

I want to talk about Sam Elliot, who is one of the tremendous actors you worked with on this film. I understand you and he had an interesting lunch over which the values of the film and the message of his character, the dying Marlboro Man, were discussed. Can you talk about what that was about?
Yeah, certainly. I mean, he’s the only actor, really, that while I was reading the book, writing the screenplay, I always thought, “Sam Elliot has got to be the Marlboro Man.” And I wrote him a nice letter. He read the letter, read the screenplay, and called me back, and said, you know, he liked the material, but he was nervous about the fact that the character took the money. He didn’t want to take the money. So I went out to have lunch with him, and we sat for like three hours, and he kept on saying, [imitates Elliot’s drawl] “You know, why can’t I just throw the money back in his face and tell him to fuck off?” You know, that was his take on it. And, you know, we discussed it for a while, and I said to him, “You know, you’ve played these noble cowboys, these noble characters for so long, but that’s exactly what they are—they’re characters, they’re not real. This guy’s real. He’s vulnerable. He’s a human being. And because of that, he has to take the money. And I think that’s what makes it an interesting choice for you as an actor.” And he went for it. He agreed with that logic. You must have read the story I wrote about the rifle?

I’m not sure. Which was that?
You know, basically, he said he had one caveat about taking the role after I explained this. I said, “What is it?” He said, “Well, it says in the movie that I bring a shotgun to the door.” He said, “It seems a bit much.” I said, “Really? Do you prefer, like, a handgun or a pistol?” He said, “No, no. A rifle.” I said, “Oh, sure. Alright.” And so we get to the day of shooting and my first A.D. comes over to me and says, “Hey Jason, Art Department needs to talk to you. They need you to pick the shotgun.” So I thought, “Oh, fuck! I’ve completely forgotten about Sam’s rifle!” And I start walking over to the truck, and Sam’s there waiting for me, and there’s three guns on the back of the truck, and when I get close enough, I realize one’s a rifle. And I said, “Oh, thank God!” I point to the rifle as if, you know, I’d planned this all in advance. And I looked at Sam and I said, “So this’ll work?” And he goes, “Yeah.” And he picked up the gun. And I said, “Do you need them to show you how it works?” He says, “No. It’s my gun.” [laughs] He had brought his own rifle.

I have to ask you about Aaron Eckhart, around whom the film really revolves. How did you arrive at the decision to cast him? What was he like to deal with? And, looking back, can you discuss the work he did for you?
Yeah, absolutely. I mean, Aaron was a guy who, from the beginning, just seemed perfect. You know, you looked at his pedigree—you looked at In the Company of Men and Erin Brokovich—and his ability to be subversive and yet completely likable at the same time. And his look. It was just perfect. And when I met him, it was like meeting Nick Naylor. I mean, I was thrilled that he agreed to do the part. And working with him was great, you know? He has this way of working in which he will only do a scene once he really understands every line of a dialogue, and why the character is saying it specifically, and why those words. And because of that, he can take a script like this—which is tricky stuff—and do it so damn well; scenes like that Sam Elliot scene, where he’s really doing three things at once, and he just does it perfectly. Now, looking back, I can’t imagine any other actor in the role and, you know, I’m just thrilled that he agreed to do it.

What was your reaction the first time you saw the film with an audience?
Well, you know, we did a screening in L.A. before we brought it to Toronto, just to kind of get a feel for how it was playing, and they were really laughing. And I was like, “Wow,” this really connects. But, you know, the most amazing feeling in the world was the Toronto Film Festival—a thousand people, going in just terrified, not knowing if anyone was gonna buy this movie. And then the screening went, and it just played like gangbusters. I mean, you know, I’ve been going to film festivals since, you know, ’97 or ’98, and I’ve seen, you know, a countless amount of features play, and I have a pretty good feeling for how a festival audience reacts. And I just knew, I just knew we were just hitting out of the park, and it was just really exciting.

And did you immediately know that you had a distributor?
Yeah. I walked out of the screening and Cassian Elwes, our sales agent, walks up to me, and I go, “So, how’d we do?” He just whispered to me, “They all love it.” Great.

Some people, who may be overanalyzing the film, say it’s promoting a message that isn’t exactly politically-correct, isn’t what we should be saying in a world where we know the dangers of cigarettes. What would you say the message of the film is?
The message of the film is not P-C, is not politically-correct. The message of the film is that people need to take responsibility for their own actions, and they need to teach children to think for themselves. You know, I think the P-C response is always, “Oh, let’s protect everyone from what’s bad for them,” and I think that’s wrong. I think that treats people like idiots. You know, hopefully Thank You for Smoking empowers people to make decisions for themselves, as long as they’re willing to take responsibilities for their actions.

Not to harp on him, but do you see any of your dad in your work, especially in Thank You for Smoking?
Well, I think, you know, it’s smart and funny, two things I would always associate with my father. But, otherwise, it’s a pretty different film from his body of work.

I would imagine that the tremendous reception of Thank You for Smoking has opened up a lot more opportunities for you than you ever had before. What’s next on the docket for you, and what do you hope to have the opportunity to do over the coming years? Is there any person you’d especially like to work with or any story you’d especially like to bring to the screen?
I want to make more movies like it. I want to make small movies that don’t apologize for themselves. You know, if I could have anyone’s career, I’d have Alexander Payne’s career. You know, my next movie’s called Juno. It’s a beautiful story, small movie about a sixteen year old girl who gets pregnant and chooses to give her baby up for adoption, and it’s about her relationship with the adopting parents.