Hugh Grant has a bit of a reputation. It’s one he’s mostly responsible for — referring to himself as “grumpy” in interviews, telling directors up front he’s going to be hard to work with. Maybe there’s some truth to it — or perhaps he’s just a very good actor.
Take the press tour for “Wonka,” the film in which he stole scenes as an Oompa Loompa. The cast were asked in a press conference if they enjoyed making the film. “Everyone said, ‘Yes, we loved it. We loved it. We loved it,’” Grant recalls. “And when they got to me, just for a comedy moment at the end, I said, ‘I hated it.’”
To him, it was obviously a joke. “But on the web, it’s become a fact that I hated making that film,” Grant notes. “And I didn’t hate it all; I loved making it. I’m absolutely thrilled with it.”
It doesn’t help that irony is hard to read in print. “That’s what the internet does,” Grant says. “It scrubs humor, and it scrubs context to create little clickbait moments. It’s one of the reasons I loathe it with such violence, really.”
Dan Doperalski for Variety
Maybe it’s because the actor broke through playing a series of affable charmers that people aren’t prepared for his sharp tongue and dark humor. But it’s important to note that Grant is usually making fun at the expense of himself, not others. And those who have worked with him are in on the joke — after directing him in “Unfrosted,” Jerry Seinfeld went on “The Tonight Show” and told Jimmy Fallon, “We had lots of fights. He’s a pain in the arse to work with. He’s horrible.” Seinfeld was clearly teasing, but sure enough, several headlines reported it as gospel with perhaps a mention three paragraphs in that it was intended to be humorous.
The use of irony and Grant’s ability to subvert expectations are in full display in “Heretic,” the thoughtful horror hit from writer-directors Scott Beck and Bryan Woods. In the film, Grant plays Mr. Reed, a man who welcomes two Mormon missionaries (played by Sophie Thatcher and Chloe East) into his home only to subject them to a series of tests about faith. The film — and Grant’s sly, subversive performance — have earned rave reviews, and the actor has already been recognized with nominations from the Critics Choice and Golden Globe Awards. And if there’s any justice for genre films — which there often isn’t — it’s just the start of a long list of accolades.
Congratulations on the success of the movie. Do you find people are giving you a wide berth now, like if they see you on the street?
I wish. No, no. It’s been nice. People often speak so kindly about my romantic comedies, and it’s nice when they have seen and liked something that isn’t one of those.
Did you make a conscious choice to stop doing rom-coms?
No. I mean, I probably would have made that choice anyway, if they had gone on offering them to me. But it just died. I was getting on a bit, let’s face it. And then I made one which was a total failure, and it was amazing. You know, you go from hero to absolutely zero in the space of a second, but it’s been quite fun, building it back up slowly and in a new direction.
You say it was an absolute failure, and I’m afraid you’re going to name a movie that I really love.
I love it. But unfortunately, it didn’t — what’s the euphemism? It didn’t find the audience it deserved. It’s called, “Did You Hear About the Morgans?”
See, I love that movie! I am a fan of stories where couples have to fall back in love.
It was very charming to me.
I know you don’t like when I praise it, but I love your work in “Nine Months.”
(Grant screams as if startled)
See, you’re too hard on yourself.
Let me stress, everyone involved with that film, with the exception of me, was brilliant and talented. It was just me that let it down.
Have you revisited it at all recently?
My wife wants to watch it, but I’ve forbidden her. I’ve put parental controls on the screen so that you can’t get it.
OK, I won’t go into it because I know you don’t like being complimented.
I pretend I don’t.
Well, you’re a very good actor then.
Oh, there’s no question about that.
But horror and rom-coms are my two favorite genres and I don’t feel they get enough respect for how difficult they can be. Especially rom-coms.
They’re hard. And with the benefit of time, I really appreciate the good ones I did. The Richard Curtis ones are really about pain. It’s something my wife spotted. She’s Swedish; they’re good on pain. She was watching “Love Actually,” and she said, “Everyone’s in pain, and the humor is all a means for dealing with pain.” That’s what makes them sustain and not float away like a piece of fluff. The Marc Lawrence ones I did are also great because he genuinely loves people and there’s a warmth that I find enchanting. Because I’ve seen the romantic comedies that are slightly put together by committee, and they don’t work as well.
It’s hard to keep those stories fresh and original and surprise people when you know the outcome.
I suppose I agree with that, but then we know Tom Cruise in “Mission: Impossible” is not in any real danger. We know he’s going to live, but I’m still terrified [for] him when he’s hanging off a plane. So, I think it applies to all genres. I just think ‘com’ is difficult. I don’t know about ‘rom.’ Rom is not easy — and you need to mean it — but com is certainly very difficult.
Dan Doperalski for Variety
What’s most difficult about comedies?
It’s a miserable process. You’ve probably been on comedy film sets and there’s no laughter. You’re doing it in a vacuum and if you’re very lucky, you might hear a stifled snort from someone sitting near the monitor. That’s gold to you.
I had this discussion with Michael Morris, who directed the new “Bridget Jones” movie. I was doing ADR for it yesterday and the bits I’ve seen are marvelous. Because he’s gone down the route that Mike Newell went with “Four Weddings and a Funeral” and having everybody play it absolutely real. And if the jokes are good enough — which they are — they take care of themselves.
I was happy to see you’re coming back to “Bridget Jones.” I know you can’t talk about it yet, but I’m curious to see how Daniel Cleaver returns because, you know, they killed you in the last one.
I am aware of that.
What brought you back as an actor?
This script is based on Helen Fielding’s book, “Mad About the Boy,” which began life as a non-Bridget Jones book. It was about a woman dealing with the death of her husband and having to bring up children single-handedly. Perhaps because of my 500 children, I found it very moving and funny.
I heard you contributed to the character’s dialogue a bit?
Well, I was worried that Daniel Cleaver had to have some development between the age of 40 and 63. So we invented something and yeah, I did a bit of scribbling.
You actually started out as more of a writer, correct?
That is the last time my beer really felt delicious [at] the end of the day’s work. Writing is where you really feel great. I remember winning some award — I think it was called a Golden Arrow — for some radio commercials we wrote and, in many ways, it’s more meaningful to me than any other prize or review I’ve ever got.
To some degree, especially in the last 10 years, I’ve done a lot of what I call scribbling. It’s a very delicate little dance because you don’t want to offend anyone or interfere. I’ve seen awful suggestions come in from actors. But if I really know the character, I’m quite good at suggesting dialogue.
Was there any of that on “Heretic,” even with such an amazing script?
There are bits. And my technique is, I just do a few takes absolutely as they wrote it, and then, on take five, try something. To their astonishment, I start seeing different things pop up. I’m really listening for that stifled guffaw from the monitor.
I know you improvised Mr. Reed’s line, “I’ve never had a Wendy.”
Yeah, that was one they kept.
I hope you take this in the way it’s intended but “Heretic” is the latest in a string of roles that could have gone wrong. I thought “Wonka” would be terrible and it’s delightful — same with “Dungeons and Dragons.” How do you know if they’ll work, or do you just take on what amuses you?
It must be what amuses me. I’m not one of those actors who is desperate to act. To make me do it, it has to be something that amuses me and makes me turn the page and think, “I can bring something to this.” I mean, to do a great big Hollywood film based on a board game is fun.
Is there a part of you that enjoys subverting people’s expectations? I feel like that’s very much what “Heretic” did by having you utilize your rom-com skills for sinister purposes.
Well, I’m not sure that people have many expectations of me anymore after the last eight years. I’m not sure that was particularly a motive for doing “Heretic.” It just seemed juicy and fucked up in all the right ways and courageous fun with so much talking inside one house. And I am a great admirer of A24. Plus, you know, I am attracted to the dark side.
Did you do a faith delve for the project?
I didn’t because I knew that Scott and Bryan had done a six-year faith delve. They started writing the project and realized they didn’t have good enough arguments for Mr. Reed, so they spent six years reading every single book in the world about religions and atheism and everything. And [it’s] the only script I’ve ever received which had a book list on the back page. And it was intimidating. My research was more into psychos.
What did that involve?
I couldn’t have enjoyed it more. I did serial killers and cult leaders and why they did what they did. I loved watching them on YouTube; it was riveting. A lot of it was about why they are the way they are. But also, I’m just interested in: how do you dress your serial killer? What kind of glasses do you wear? How do you brush your hair? These things were very interesting to me.
Dan Doperalski for Variety
Your algorithm must be so messed up right now. Is that where you discovered the glasses?
In constructing a biography for Mr. Reed, I felt he had been teaching in England, but it had not gone very well. So, he came to America and did better — got quite a little following of slightly starstruck female students. This was his heyday; he was almost cool. He wore double denim and those glasses. I said to Betsy Hyman, our great costume director, “Find me 1990s glasses.” Because this was his high point. She found me hundreds.
But the problem is, the glasses were so scary that we had to ration them. And they ended up having their own little script about when they could come on and when they could come off. For instance, they had to be off when I answered the door at the beginning, because I was just too scary in them. Any sane girl would have run away.
Did that research ever start to get to you?
It did get to me a bit. I can suddenly go to a very sad place, a very melancholy place — and Mr. Reed was capable of taking me there. But I felt that was good. You know the old actor’s cliché: “Use it, darling.” So, I tried.
I want to get into some spoiler territory if it’s OK. At the end, we see Mr. Reed is keeping several women in cages. Were those other missionaries that had come to the door previously?
No, not all of them. Some of them were just other women that he’d encountered, who accepted his kind invitation to come and talk about this, that or the other. They became, in his mind, very devout followers of him. They wanted to be there.
That’s the thing we tried to keep throughout the whole film — Mr. Reed never tells a lie. There’s not one lie in it. There is a Mrs. Reed there; she’s one of the prophets. And there’s no lie about the blueberry pie, it turns up. Everything is true.