Re: Маттиас Шонартс том 3
Добавлено: 25 июн 2016, 10:41
но его ж нет в нете?Dana писал(а):
Нашла. Это сериал 2009 года Los zand (Пески)
интердевочки выложили полную версию интервью для The Times (у нас были только сканы плохого качества, с которых перевела Терра
) полная версия этого интервью с Polly Vernon доступна только для подписчиков)Matthias Schoenaerts: hot. And Belgian
Matthias Schoenaerts is the latest heart-throb to come out of Hollywood – and the best thing to come out of Belgium since chocolate. Polly Vernon is bowled over
I don’t know why I expect Matthias Schoenaerts to be boring, but I do. Boring, possibly pompous, probably arrogant, and certainly unwilling to play ball with the likes of me – a common journalist, dispatched to interview him about Disorder, the small French film he shot a couple of years ago, and which he presumably can’t remember terribly well.
Maybe it’s because Schoenaerts, who is Belgian, is hot property; a substantial, undeniable talent who’s had star or co-star credits in a host of international films in the past year or so – Suite Française, Far from the Madding Crowd and The Danish Girl among them. When Hollywood starts taking an actor this seriously, it’s not unheard of for them to start taking themselves pretty seriously, in turn.
Maybe it’s because of the kind of roles Schoenaerts, 38, almost always portrays: brooding, hulking, moody men who don’t say much, but betray their myriad demons via the medium of an occasional eye twitch. Men like Vincent, the soldier with post-traumatic stress disorder Schoenaerts plays in Disorder. Men who don’t, generally, give great interviews.
Maybe it’s because I know he gets cross when journalists ask him about being labelled “the Belgian Brando”, which he is, quite a lot, and which seems churlish of him, though I’d go with the “Belgian Ryan Gosling”, which might not alliterate, but is much more accurate on an aesthetic level. Oh, Schoenaerts is absurdly handsome – really just ridiculously so: cheekbones, eyes, height complemented by an impressive degree of bulk; a wayward ruggedness accessorised with a non-cheesy, faintly obscure European accent that makes him just perfect for those of us who prefer our pin-ups more art house around the edges. (“I was like, wow. Wowww! What is that?” said Marion Cotillard, his co-star in 2012’s Rust and Bone, on meeting Schoenaerts for the first time. “Supersexy, charismatic … a real man.”)
Maybe it’s because he is so very handsome – handsome actors can get a little chippy about it, for fear people will typecast them in serial romcoms, or assume they’re stupid, or underestimate their talent. It is conceivable that Schoenaerts would be profoundly annoyed to learn that, on watching him in A Bigger Splash last month, a friend of mine could talk only of how much time he spent with his top off (“Eighty per cent!” she estimated, joyfully), and how gratifying it was that the plot paired him with an older love interest played by Tilda Swinton; on seeing him in Far from the Madding Crowd, the same friend objected to his casting as Gabriel Oak on the grounds that no woman in her right mind would have passed him over, as Carey Mulligan’s Bathsheba Everdene was required to do.
And maybe it’s because he’s multilingual, (he speaks French, Dutch-Flemish and English fluently, acts in all of them), which must come with an attitude, no? Whatever the basis for my lazy assumptions, I’m wrong on every count. Matthias Schoenaerts is not boring, pompous, arrogant or taciturn. He is silly, sexy, wayward, conversationally anarchic. He is as opinionated as a sixth-form activist. He is as giddy as a kipper. He is flirtatious; he is fun. I will never again make crass assumptions about a Belgian. Or a very handsome person.
He bowls into the restaurant of the posh London hotel in which he’s based for a couple of nights, fresh off the Eurostar from Antwerp (where he lives full-time), almost oppressively good-looking – literally everyone, men, women, gay and straight, turns to look at him, and swoons a little – in jeans and a chunky jumper (which he’ll remove, with some drama, halfway through our interview, because, “I’m very hot”).
He is flamboyant and physically animated from the off. He waves his hands about and shouts, “Action!” when I press record on my Dictaphone – and he shouts it loud enough to alarm all those sitting on surrounding tables. He isn’t the kind of person who minds being listened to or looked at; he is an old-fashioned show-off. Then he orders a double espresso and a burger from a passing waiter; when his food arrives, he insists I share his chips and his …
“This! What is the word for this?”
Gherkin.
“Have half my gherkin!”
I do.
“I love these. Sometimes I will just wake up in the middle of the night and run to my fridge to grab one of these. Just like this! I wake up and I’m like – I need a gherkin! How weird is that?”
Quite weird. If you were, say, a pregnant woman, it’d make more sense.
“I’m not.”
No.
Then: “Look! You should take a photo of me!”
Schoenaerts leans his big, beautiful head down towards his burger, poses with it poised millimetres from his open mouth.
Erm, really?
“Yes! Then put it in your magazine!”
I manage to rein him in long enough to pay amiable lip service to promoting Disorder, an official duty Schoenaerts doesn’t seem to mind performing, though he veers off into completely unrelated subject matter at the first opportunity.
Disorder is a neat little film, written and directed by Alice Winocour; in it, Schoenaerts’s Vincent, a former special-forces soldier, takes a job as bodyguard to Diane Kruger’s Jessie – the trophy wife of an arms-dealing Lebanese businessman – and her son. The group heads off for a weekend at the beach, where Vincent’s PTSD-induced paranoia looks like it might screw up any hope of him having an affair with Jessie, until it transpires he isn’t being paranoid after all – there really are men hellbent on killing them. It’s a quiet, contained, economical number: 98 minutes of prickly tension that erupts into moments of extraordinary violence – largely at the hands of Schoenaerts.
Vincent’s a violent man, I tell him.
“Of course he is,” he says. Then, “No. Actually, he’s not.”
He’s not?
“No. He needs to protect the family, and violence, for me, always relates to some kind of injustice. When it’s self-defence, I don’t see it as violence.”
Have you ever been that violent?
“Yes, of course!”
Of course? Vincent crushes his assailants; he breaks arms, he smashes skulls …
“On several occasions! But … It’s violent to hurt a weaker person, to hurt a sick person. To me, that’s violent. It’s emotional violence, it’s physical violence. But when, like, three guys come at me, for example, just giving examples … When three guys come at me, and they look for a fight, and I feel endangered, and I break one of those guys’ heads … Sorry. That’s not violence. That’s nothing to do with violence.”
Have you ever done that ? (I’m struck by the opacity of Schoenaerts’s language, and then the specifics of the “three guys come at me” that he sort of tempers with “for example, just giving examples”. I think he wants me to know – or at least, think – this sort of thing has really happened to him.)
“No.”
Oh.
“I never killed anyone …”
OK.
“But do you know what I mean? Do you understand? To me, that’s not violence. That’s justice, and justice is poetry.”
Pause.
“Maybe I’m taking it too far.”
Back to Disorder: how much research did you do on post-traumatic stress disorder? Did you meet soldiers who suffer from it? “Yes. Of course. I had to feel my way in. First, you try to understand it, but as soon as I met these people, that’s when I got like … vibrations. Like … energy. I could feel them.”
(It would seem that alongside French, Dutch-Flemish and English, Schoenaerts also speaks fluent thesp.)
“I just wanted to be in the proximity of these people because, on a subconscious level, that ‘being in the proximity’, it affects you way more than you can even think about. Of course, I’ve read articles, but I was like: I want to feel these people, look at their eyes. I want to see how they move.”
How long did you spend with the soldiers?
“Not that long – like, two days. But you feel for these people. At the same time, it makes you realise: what are we talking about, when we talk about ‘soldiers’? We talk about war and then think about the times that we live in, and then you realise that most of the world is at war, and so there are so many victims on the civilian side, but also on the soldier side. It’s a stunning reality to deal with. Apparently some studies prove that soldiers who were in a war zone, 60 to 70 per cent come back suffering from some kind of post-traumatic stress syndrome. The Falklands conflict: there were more English soldiers that died from suicide afterwards than died during the war. I’m not even kidding.”
He might not be kidding, but he is wrong – the MoD roundly rejected precisely that claim in 2013 – but I like it when he gets impassioned. His eyes narrow, his brow furrows, and he looks at you closely and intently to make sure you’re paying attention, and that you understand how serious he is. It’s all rather thrilling.
Matthias Schoenaerts is second-generation Serious Thespian, the movie-star son of successful Flemish theatre actor Julien Schoenaerts. His mother is costume designer Dominque Wiche; his parents never married, or really even lived together – Schoenaerts was raised by his mother, and his maternal grandmother, in turn. Still, his father, Julien, was a considerable influence on Schoenaerts, the reason that, as a young man, he had no intention of ever becoming an actor. He’s said in past interviews that watching his father operate in that world put him off, that it all seemed, “too cheesy, too slimy, too fake”. Instead, Schoenaerts wanted to be a graffiti artist – he still “paints walls, yes” – and a footballer. He was good at football; as a young teenager, he was poised to turn pro, but then, at 16, “I just stopped playing.”
Why?
“It was my passion, like, 24/7. But when you get closer to the professional team, when you’re like 16, 17, all of a sudden you have this massive number of people telling you what to do – you have to do this, you have to do that – the whole time. And that killed it for me.”
So you pursued acting because it was less of a passion than football, therefore there was less to be disillusioned by?
“Well, I didn’t want to be an actor. I went to drama school [in Antwerp, aged 19] because that’s what I wanted to do at that moment in time. I was not thinking about graduating and then being an actor. Then it felt like coming home, and it opened up the world, and I felt more and more comfortable and I was blossoming and I was enjoying it. And before I knew it, I was like, ‘Hey, this is fun and I love it!’ And then came the period where I was like, ‘Man, this is s***.’ ”
What was the s*** bit?
“There are still aspects, but everything comes in waves.”
That’s life, innit? Comes in waves.
“Exactly. It’s like [falling] in love. You have a relationship, there are moments when you think you want to quit, and then two days later, you’re like, ‘F***. This is the person that I love most in the world!’ So it’s the same thing.”
It’s a love affair.
“Of course it’s a love affair. If it’s not a love affair, oh my God, then you’re in trouble. Then you need to become a banker.”
Did you ever contemplate becoming a banker?
“F***, no! That’s what I mean. Instead of blowing up people [in wars], they should blow up banks. They would have my full approval!” He puts his hand over his mouth.
“Sorry for the language, but we can talk real, right?”
I ask Schoenaerts how sensitive he is: to reviews, to criticism, to public opinion. Is he one of those famous people who never googles himself for fear of being overwhelmed by other people’s ideas about him?
“Of course, it’s way more fun to hear that people love you than to know people think you suck. But can it ruin my day or something? No. Not really. Will it get me insanely euphoric. No.”
What would get you insanely euphoric?
“Jennifer Lopez turning up in my room in about 30 minutes.”
Is that likely?
“I’m kidding! I do think she’s a gorgeous woman. And you know, room 203! No. I’m kidding. I’m just messing around.”
I take this as a cue to raise his ridiculous good looks. You’re very handsome, I say.
“Do you think?”
Yes. And I’m not alone in thinking it. There was Marion Cotillard; and also my (straight, male) commissioning editor at The Times Magazine, who, on briefing me for this interview, said, “He’s only the most handsome man in the world, Polly.”
“I know I don’t look like … How do you call those little animals?” He motions hair sprouting from his head.
Trolls?
“I know I don’t look like a troll, but it’s not like I think of myself as …” He tails off.
Is it important you’re considered attractive?
“Is it important? Hmmmm. There’s two things. Is it important? Yes, it is important. Do I think it’s important? No, I don’t think it’s important. But it’s a biological component, especially in what we do. Everything is seduction-based, I think; whether it’s intellectual seduction, physical seduction, you name it. It’s all seduction. That’s what this entire industry is based on. To some extent, it’s all about sexuality, so is it important? Hell yes, it’s important! It’s a biological principle, deep down in our DNA. Do I think it’s important? No. Do I owe something to it? Yes, probably … But do I think the world is ridiculously dominated by that principle?
Yes. Is that a sad thing? Yes, it is a sad thing, because what differentiates us from animals is that we have a consciousness and should be able to deal with this in a different way. Be smarter than that. At the same time, I’m not going to pretend to be a saint. Sexuality, seduction, it’s a beautiful component of life.”
Are you good with women?
“How should I understand that question?”
Are you good at flirting with women?
“Well, you should ask a woman.”
It is at this point that Matthias Schoenaerts takes his jumper off.
Schoenaerts isn’t married, and he doesn’t have children. While researching him, I find references to a live-in law student girlfriend, yet when I ask him if he’s in a long-term relationship (as a preamble to asking how easy it is to remain monogamous when you look like he does and move in acting circles), he replies: “No.”
Oh, OK. And how is single life?
“Well, the thing is, it’s a balance between these very sexual beings that we are, and a desire for very intimate, deeper connection. That balance is hard to find.”
Have you ever been in love?
“Yes!” He looks at me like I’m quite absurd to suggest anything else, like he’s slightly offended that I did.
And would you like to be again? Do you want marriage, kids, domestic convention?
“Yes, of course. You think I’m going to be some kind of sad, dumb fool with no kids?”
That wouldn’t necessarily make you a sad, dumb fool …
“I could have had plenty of kids, with plenty of women!”
That is one option.
“That’s not an option. My God, this interview! My mum is going to read this. Ah, but it’s lively. That’s what’s important.”
Schoenaerts certainly is a lively interview. He’s unconcerned about anything as tiresome as preserving the actor’s mystique, not saying too much about himself for fear of disrupting the illusion, etc. Nor does he seem bothered about playing actorly politics, minding his p’s and q’s to avoid alienating studio heads or any future casting directors. For example, when I ask him how awful Hollywood is, he says:
“Well, it’s an industry, and there’s no truth in industry. Industry dynamics hold no truth. They’re completely psychopathic. Let’s not forget about how many brilliant people work there, how many insanely talented artists are working out there on every level … But a big part of it is a very psychopathic bunch of nutters.”
Is it possible to have friends in Hollywood?
“I remember, I once sat down with Michael Mann after Bullhead [the 2011 film that first brought Schoenaerts to international attention] was nominated for the Oscars. He said if you’re looking for friends in this industry, go get a dog. I’m not saying that you can’t make friends, but then again, it’s dog eat dog, and in the end, everybody’s just after something for their own.”
It’s sharky?
“Yes, but that’s part of the way people function, I think. It’s not only in the acting world.”
We’re all a little bit sharky?
“Yes. And that’s OK! You’ve just got to be the biggest shark.”
Are you?
“No. And you know – you don’t have to be the biggest shark. You can try to be the bigger shark, or you be the … algae? Is that the word?”
Yes.
“Because they live way longer than all the other animals. They’re always there. You never have to fight – supercomfortable life. And actually, for that very reason, you’re as strong as all of them.”
For all the things Schoenaerts does talk about easily – sex and seduction, hating Hollywood, loving pickles, fancying Jennifer Lopez, Michael Jackson (whom he invokes when I ask how famous he is now: “Jesus, you don’t want to know, man. Michael Jackson ain’t got s*** on me!”) – he doesn’t talk about his father especially easily. Julien Schoenaerts died in 2006, without understanding how successful his son was becoming, because he was suffering from Alzheimer’s. Not, Schoenaerts has said in the past, that Julien would have been especially interested, anyway.
“People ask me a lot of times, would your dad be proud of what you’ve achieved? To some extent, yeah. But to him it was more important that you’re happy with what you’re doing. Do you feel good? Do you feel like your energy can flow? Does it bring you happiness?”
In 2014, a highly contentious biography of Julien Schoenaerts’s life was written by Belgian journalist Stan Lauryssens, one which focused on a breakdown Julien experienced in the early Seventies, and his subsequent admission to a psychiatric ward. Matthias Schoenaerts and his mother took legal action against the book, and won on the grounds that it featured “numerous factual inaccuracies”. The book was withdrawn.
Right now though, all Schoenaerts will say about his father is, “Do I miss him? Of course I miss him.”
Our hour passes. Schoenaerts resists a couple of demands from his “people” to stop talking to me and submit to being readied for the evening’s London premiere of Disorder (“I gotta go get groomed,” he says; he drawls the final word and makes a face), but finally finishes our interview because he needs to buy “tobacco and this toothpaste, which is really good, but you can only get in England”. It’s Arm & Hammer.
He embraces me, which I enjoy immensely – really, more than is appropriate – and as he leaves, I ask him if he minds that Belgians have a reputation for being boring.
“Publish this interview. Let’s see if we can do something about that,” he says.
I will, I tell him. I will.
Disorder is in cinemas now
Отут. 
не открывает видео 
и фильмы мне очень понравились 
вчерашний 
я писала и постила его фотки (живописный Чувак-Ниндзя 
выложила короткометражку с англ.сабами