Martin McDonagh Has a Vision for Hope. It's Not for the Faint of Heart.

I was brought up, having to watch English plays, which people would drink in cups of tea for two and a half hours, and I always wanted to shoot them. I'm David Marquesi, and today I'm interviewing Academy Award-winning filmmaker Martin McDonough. McDonough writes in Direct's Darkly Funny, Profane. This is just a fucking start! Why don't you put that on your good morning, Ms. very fucking wake-up broadcast. Violent. And stylish movies. Films that seem to want to make you laugh, as much as provoke you. Like the banshees of Inishirin, or three billboards outside Ebbing, Missouri. And his latest, Wild Horse 9, about two CIA agents played by Sam Rockwell and John Malkovich. And who the fuck are you, the CIA? We are the CIA, actually. We're totally the CIA. We're not the CIA. His work is full of ideas I wanted to ask him about. How he sees politics, provocation, and his own legacy. Here's my conversation with Martin McDonough. But first, a quick message. If you're not a subscriber, we have some news for you. You can now explore the times for free without paywalls during your first month in the New York Times app. Just download the app, and we hope you enjoy it. Okay, on to the interview. Martin, thank you for taking the time to be here. I appreciate it. Thanks, David. Good to be here. So the two main characters in Wild Horse 9 played by Sam Rockwell and John Malkovich are just not giving anything away. There's CIA agents who have been sent to destabilize Chili's democracy after President IND was elected. And this, of course, is based on, you know, real-world American misadventures in Chile. And this movie is coming out in the middle of a broader conversation and a broader argument over how America's place in the world is understood. And often that comes down to a sort of binary as America a force for good or a force for bad. How do you see America's place in the world? Oh gosh. But like right now, I'm not sure. I guess we're all a little bewildered about that, like what it stands for, what it doesn't. But I guess in a way that the film explores a time when seemingly America's place in the world was as the good guy, I guess. Which is kind of what I think most kids in the West, you know, not just in the US, but in the UK and Ireland, West and Europe. I sort of brought up to feel that, you know, that the CIA are the good guys and the KGB are bad guys, the Americas, the good guy and Russia's the bad. But the more I sort of read up about what the CIA were up to throughout the end of the last century. Particularly with this film in Chile, you know, to destabilize and help overthrow it's democratically elected government, which ended up in fascist horrors for 15 years. Makes you think that you're not being told quite the truth about the West and it's more a loud look, I guess. Did Malkovich's politics play into his performance at all? Because I mean, I think he's sort of rejected politics wholesale, I think he said he hasn't voted since 1971 or something like that. We didn't really have political conversations, but I think we share the same questioning, disbelieving point of view. Yeah, so I think that's probably what kept us on the straight and narrow in terms of who this guy was. Really, the guy is sort of the opposite to total opposite of what we believe in. You know, he's been a proper government operative for many years doing pretty terrible things over the years. But none of my characters are ever mouthpieces for my politics or the opposite, you just have to find them and let them become themselves and let them talk. And when they start getting dangerous, it just becomes more exciting. But I just want to press on something just a little bit. You said your characters are never mouthpieces for your politics. And maybe the operative word there is mouthpiece, which no writer wants one of their characters to be a mouthpiece. That sounds like something simplistic. But surely your characters at certain points have espoused things that you believe about the world, right? Is it really fair to say that there's like a severe divide between what Martin McDonald thinks and believes and what the characters in his work? No, you're absolutely right. But I think the job is to treat that as fairly as a character who has the opposite feelings. Probably in the Pillar Man play a mind from like 25 years ago. Because it's all about a writer who's being investigated, I think a lot of the stuff he came out with, I sort of my beliefs. But even in that you kind of try and obfuscate not a word I usually use, exactly what your feelings are. There's a line in Wild Horse 9. And it's just that life is sad, everything is sad. And it struck me as sort of a melancholy iteration of a line from the Pillar Man, which is the world's pile of shit. I know there are moments of grace in your work, but is that how you see it? That's not me. I mean, I wrote them, but now I think in both instances it's sort of the set up to a joke in a way. So no, I definitely don't feel that way about the world. Those characters do, I guess, but those characters are still, you know, thriving. And I think both of those are quite nasty, tough, cop type characters as well. So I don't know if that's the way I feel about cops, I don't think so. But it's definitely not the way I'm happy. It's weird because I guess my stuff comes out kind of dark and sad in a lot of places, but I'm so the opposite. I never thought I'd be in a position to make a film, for instance. I thought it was ever open to me growing up as a sort of working class kid in London. I think of your work as generally on an existential level, pretty dark. Really? Yeah. And I thought, well, how could it be the case that doesn't represent something about your inner most feelings about what life is? It's like if Samuel Beckett turned out to be a happy, go lucky guy. Yeah, I can see what you're going with that. But I think questioning and disbelieving what you're told, for instance, isn't dark. And making art at all is always hopeful, I think, even if it's dark art. I always think of like Leonard Cohen and people saying that his stuff is depressing, but I find it the total opposite. The tunes are beautiful, it's poetic. I mean, I'm not disagreeing with a lot of people who said my stuff is on the dark side. In the writing of it, I'm joyful, because there's lots of jokes and even the darker bits. The performance is so wonderful and the visual cinematic parts of it are so wonderful that darkness honestly doesn't come into it from my perspective. You said making art is sort of a hopeful act in a way. Do you think the art that you make has the ability to change the perspective or the behaviors of the people who see it? I mean, that's a hard one, but if an audience has come out having laughed a lot and learnt some stuff, particularly in this one about Chilly or Patrice Lamumba in the Congo or whatever else, then all of that is what I'm after. And all of that is hopeful. I think I used to agree with you, no, no, I don't. And I often think of, there's a quote, I believe it's by Peter Cook, the British comedian. And he said, I'm just paraphrasing, I can't remember exactly, but he said something like, well, you know, the greatest satire in the world was in Vimar, Germany, and that stops Hitler right in his tracks. It's a very good line. It's a very funny line. Yeah, it's hopeful work going to stop stuff. I don't know, but is anything so why not just make hopeful work might as well. I think of your work as dark and bleak dark and bleak and but also as as the product of someone who on some level likes to provoke a reaction. Even if, if that feeling is, you know, you know, that's sort of. recoil sometimes. Am I wrong about that too? No, no, recoil, recoil I might question. I often think about this. But yeah, it's all quite provocative. There's never intentionally offensive and I think and it's often outrageous. And for instance, Markovic's character in this is outrageous. But I don't think he or even the film or any of my stuff is offensive and I think that's a lovely balance to keep walking. Because I always feel like my heart is in the right place morally about all of these stories I've told so far. And I have a predilection for being naughty in them all. In this there's a scene about cheeses for instance that is quite kind of naughty. But never does ever occur to me to be offensive for instance. So provocative, sure. What's the difference between being outrageous and being offensive? Is one just a nicer word for the other? No, I think one is the deliberately trying to hurt or attack an audience, whereas the other is to almost delight in something you haven't heard before or you might not have thought of. Do you want to say what the cheeses thing is or should I? Some things maybe you should be fun for an audience to but you can. Okay, so the Markovic character has a little disquisition at one point about that what what the character calls gay countries make the best cheeses. Yeah. And not Holland, France, the UK and Switzerland make great cheeses and they are some of the gay countries, Russia, definitely not gay country. I'm going to get in so much trouble. It's in the movie. It's in the movie. And Russia doesn't have a good cheese. And there's a connection between the two, which is then connected to democracy. And democracy leads to gay leads to good cheeses. Something I've thought about often I think is true. I'm sure there are people who will find that scene problematic or offensive. But when you're watching it, I watch it with a whole lot of audiences, mostly pretty liberal audiences, just like the biggest laughs in the whole film is in that scene. And I think it's because it's outrageous, but there's some kind of weird something to it. But my first question about that is, you know, I would say for going back 30 years, you know, there have been people who have said your work is offensive. But in that time, do you feel like that the conversation about what causes offense, what's not offensive, who can say what, using what language? Has that conversation evolved or changed or do you feel like we're still having the same conversation we were having 30 years ago? About political correctness, basically. I think it's gotten worse, especially in the last 10 years. Like only in the last 10 years have I been asked to change words in place from 25, 30 years ago because of offense taken by certain words that weren't there 25 years ago. And my approach to it is that those words were there to be either outrageous or to be truthful. You know, if you're writing a, for instance, racist character, they're going to use racist language. To try and cut those out 25 years later for what reason? I'm never quite sure. It feels not just problematic, but it feels like things are getting troublingly worse about that because I was never asked to do that back in the day. And I think if you don't like that in a play, you should just not do the play. You shouldn't try and change the play 25 years later. Is it the end word that people ask you to change? No, but actually much softer, but words that could be seen as equally racist or offensive. You know, when I was preparing for this interview, I read a lot of reviews of your work or essays about your work. And, you know, there were two in particular that stood out to me, just on the topic of race where I'm sure you're familiar with these pieces. There was a piece by Hilton Al's about your play, a be handing in Spokane, where he equated a black character in that play to sort of a step-in-fetch it type. And then also my colleague here at the Times, Wesley Morris wrote a piece about three billboards where he, you know, he said he thought the character's use of the end word was, was a glib, basically. And I'm not asking you to rebut those or, you know, take those apart, but those are two serious, you know, both Pulitzer Prize winning critics, both black men who saw something that to them was troubling in the work. Does that then make you think, well, maybe there is something I need to look at that I'm doing maybe unknowingly. Or do you think, no, they're just, they just don't get it or they're off to the play. Yeah, the one that Hilton had the issue with it. I did have a look back on it and wondered about the amount of offensive words in it and tried to, and, but did think seriously about it, you know, I felt my heart was in the right place when I wrote it, you know, mostly about portraying the stupidity of the main guy who was racist in it. But you definitely take it on board. You definitely, if you're, you know, you grew up completely anti-racist and that's part of what your attempt at art is about when that doesn't go across to certain critics. You definitely have a think about it. And what do you think about it? Like, can you say I would have a think about it? What were the, just, just, just to, I think, question the language a little bit in the next one and or maybe just take a little more care about that subject, for instance, in regard to the play. Less so about the film. I feel like the film was taken as an redemption to a character that I didn't feel was true. And so yeah, yeah, I don't agree as much with that one. I think your work often generates, you know, questions about, you know, political correctness or, or, you know, the use of language. But no one ever, and I'm not suggesting they should, this is just an ausory, no one ever writes about violence or they write comparatively less about the violence. But why do you think one gets people agitated and the other violence seems to have raised no like moral ethical questions for people? It's weird, right? Well, I'd have to sort of disagree because I've probably read a lot more. Oh, you get it for violence too? Yeah, yeah. And the criticism would be what? That it's gratuitous or something? Yeah, gratuitous and always there and doesn't need to be. So what do you make of that? I don't think it's always there, but I never make it gratuitous, never intentionally. But I think especially with the stage work, you know, I was brought up having to watch English plays, which like, people would drink in cups of tea for two and a half hours. And I always wanted to shoot them on stage. So I think that that really evolved into the plays I made. I'm being in a bit glib about that, but sort of, but I did think you can't, the plays should be as exciting as the best films. And that meant you should be able to do anything on stage that you can do in a film, which led to a little violence now. But always I think with a moral dimension to it, you know, I would never again want to be offensive with it. But I think I've been getting less and less violent, you know, if you discount all the fingers in Banshee's, there's only any violence at all. Yeah. I guess the donkey gets it, but by accident, off screen. But I think they have been going that way, like even with guns, you know, I think my early like bruise was going to happy go lucky with the gun stuff, but I kind of tried to go against that little bit and question it. You know, Wild Horse 90 is also a film like Banshee's of Inner Sheeran, which is about a character. in the case of Wild Horse 9, John Malekovitch's character, in the case of Banshee's Brendan Gleason's character, who is thinking about legacy, about what they're leaving behind and what their life has or will amount to. Is that a question that you think about? - Ooh, and you're gonna go there. - I think so, I think like every piece of work is you're sort of hoping to add to, you're canon of good stuff, I guess, and I think if you do enough of them, or leave behind enough of them, that there's a root to happiness there, you know. - But why would that be a root to happiness, leaving behind good work? - Well, you gotta have something, I guess, you know, you got to, and it comes back to like the hope of putting a good piece of work out there. It's sort of what I'm striving for. I think the more I've done it, and the more, and maybe it's kind of having moved into films after like 10 or 15 years of doing plays. When you get a play right, it's gone forever, you know, it's beautiful in the moment, but you know, I can't show you the beauty queen of Lanan from '96 or the pillar man from London or here in 2001 or whatever. So that's weirdly, you put all your energy into those pieces of hopeful art and they're gone. But, and I think that's probably why I stuck with films lately, and why I'm probably more happier artistically is that they're there, and I can see them, and I know the people are gonna be able to see them, you know, answer to the legacy bit of the question. So, but it's not a bad thing though, isn't it? I mean, it's a pretty good thing if that's what your role has been in the artistic world, is just leaving some good films behind. And what they take from a good one, I don't mind, but I want them to be full of good acting and funny moments. In this one, you know, a bit of truth about history, that maybe isn't spoken about enough. And in the previous one, Banshee's, you know, a take on, you know, breakups or male friendships that's not talked about or not explored too much, you know. - Well, I want to ask a question about that. So, the new film is also about a central male friendship. What ideas were you interested in exploring this time around? - Weirdly, because the last one was Banshee's was sort of the end of a loving male relationship. This is like right still in the middle of a love affair almost, you know, sometimes I think these two guys, Sam Rockwell and John Malkovich, as, you know, this old married couple in a way, you know, who bicker and who drive each other nuts. But there's a love that's fundamentally there in every scene. Again, as horrible as their jobs have been, to get that right was the most important part of this film, because my male friendships are, you know, quite deep and sad and open and everything that, you know, a female friendship can be but is acknowledged to be and is seen as being in the culture. I like the gentleness of my male friendships and I guess to show a bit more of that, you know, not just to have like a buddy movie that's sort of empty or surface is what I was trying to get at with this film. - A lot of your male friends are, in your work, are exploring ethical dilemmas. Have you and a friend had to like work through an ethical problem in your life? - I didn't think so, I couldn't put my finger on any, have you? - Well, yeah, of course, yeah. - I think the sort of great ethical dilemma of my life is if it makes sense to say sort of a post-mortem ethical dilemma where I really can't believe I'm wasting your time talking about this, right? - I love him, yeah. - But where, you know, my best friend from growing up died from suicide and I had no idea that it was, that was a possibility that he was hurting that much and then trying to think through after the, I mean, this was a few years ago now, but after the fact sort of what were my ethical responsibilities there, how did I fail, you know, what was I culpable for if anything? And then also how I understand sort of how much blame or not to a portion to him for what he did. It feels like an ethical dilemma that I still think about. - And you talk about that with your friends, your male friends. - Yeah, yeah, yeah. - And do you have a similar feeling to that? - We have pretty different feelings. One of my good friends says, you know, this was an instance of mental illness and my friends sort of had fallen through the care cracks as it were and, you know, how can you really blame someone for that and then, you know, probably too harshly or ungenerously, I can think, I don't think he was mentally ill or if he was like really what is mental illness. And so I think there is, my friend who died does have some responsibility for what he ultimately did and that's, you know, I don't think either one of us are incontrovertibly right. - Yeah, yeah. But like even that right there is a fascinating discussion you've had with your close male friends and that's not necessarily something you ever really see in a Hollywood movie necessarily. And that's sort of in a very different way is sort of what I've tried to explore from bruise to now. - You know, I read a couple but there's one particular collection of academic essays that I read about your work. And at the back, there's like a biographical, critical timeline. So in this book, it says 1982 and then in a way that's so plain spoken, it's funny. It says at 12, loses Catholic faith, begins listening to punk rock. - Oh, that's, that's probably pretty accurate. - What was going on when you were 12 and were those things related to each other? - I think they were very good question. I think they totally were. I think I got into the clash, particularly around that age 12 or 13. And they were such a great band to help a kid question everything, I think, you know, like I was a working class kid who had no, Johnny Rottenwood say had no future, apart from a dead-end job or a boss or, you know, and I left school very young, I left school at 16. But I think bands like the clash showed you that there was another way. You didn't have to have a life that was, you know, dictated to you, that you didn't have to work in a factory or an office that you didn't want to do, there was hope, you know. So, yeah, I grabbed onto that with both hands at the age of 12 and the Catholic thing. I think if you're starting to question governments and people who force you to do things against your will, which is sort of the punk rock ethic, naturally the Catholic church are going to be in the firing line. Have you ever regained your faith? No, I mean, there are parts of it that never fully go. You know, I'm sure my sort of moral sense is sort of informed by the good stuff I took from the stories of Jesus or whatever. But no, I think I'm getting more and more sort of entrenched in some kind of anti-religious feeling in general. I think it is one of the worst things that's happening in the world. But then it seems to be getting worse. Everywhere it seems to be getting more and more fundamental unless and less analytical. Yeah. I mean, there's a lot more to it but women's rights seem to be going down in this country, most of Italy's. And that's all because I think because of religious issues. You know, when I did go back and read sort of early profiles of you, you were very sort of positioned as like a anti-establishment punk rock theater person. Like someone's coming to rip it up and start again. Yeah, anti-theatre person. Anti-theatre person. And then there were stories of you that people probably made too much hay of. But like, you were drinking at an awards show and Sean Connery said, be quiet and you told him to f off. But did you feel as if you were trying to cultivate an image or there was something useful about being perceived a certain way or maybe you were insecure and that's how the insecurities showed up? All of the above, I think, yeah. But I did, I mean, I used to read interviews with playwrights at the time and I'd read them, I feel like, I don't want to go see your player. So, you know, you've got nothing interesting to say and the way you're saying it is really dull too. So. I was, even at that time, quite a shy person, but I thought, you don't want to be that in an interview. So you'd go out, you would go out and say, you know, I think there's best play anyone's going to see for the next 10 years, deal with it. That kind of thing is funny. Probably born out, so I'm going to insecurity, but I, if I was reading that, I think I want to go see that play, you know, so I always had my tongue firmly in my cheek with most of that stuff. And sort of the last 20 years, so I've been doing less of it. When you alluded earlier to, you know, you left school at 16, maybe you didn't have a lot of prospects, you know, my understanding is that you were on, or they call it in, you gave the dull, the dull, unemployment insurance, we call it here. But when I've read you sort of, in old interviews, talk about that time, it doesn't, you kind of make it sound like you were getting along okay. But yeah, did you feel like you would have been okay staying in that life, or were there things about it that you liked, or did you feel like you were someone who was like desperately trying to make a new life? Oh, totally. Yeah, you know, those are pretty bleak, sad times, you know, sort of no friends, no money, no prospects. And that's when I started writing at 16. And it was through that process that I kind of found the voice and an ambition to get that voice out there, I suppose. I did have, you know, jobs here and there, but always pretty mundane ones. And we'd always write through those. And at 2024, my first play, I think, went on and that started everything, you know, that went to the West End and it came off Broadway and then went to Broadway for a year. So I was like, I went from completely unemployed, unemployable poor to having a play on Broadway for a year within the space of a year. Yeah. Which probably added to the arrogance. But you know, it's pretty wild. You just described a young man, sort of under employed, no friends, not a lot of prospects. I got to change my life. I'm going to do it by writing plays. I mean, that sheep is now, but at what? What are aspects of your current self that, you know, the clash loving teenage Martin McDonough would feel most proud of? And what are the aspects that would make him think, like, oh, that's who I turned out to be? Oh, God. If any. I don't want to assume you've betrayed any youthful ideals. Weirdly. The first time I learned about chili and a Yende and Victor Harer and all the things that this film talks about was it from a clash song called Washington Bullets by Sandinista. And I, again, I was like 12 or 13 when I first heard it, didn't know any of these people or any of those situations and started reading up about it. You know, that's the first time I learned about what the CIA did in Chile. You know, Joe Stromer was sort of a god to me and his passion and morality was always an inspiration. And I always sort of wanted to do something like that, I think, you know, and I might have done it in one or two plays, but never in the films have I kind of had a a place of anger or wanting to help, I guess. So, and I feel like for the first time Joe might be proud of this one, you know, in terms of that anger and political viewpoint, you know. And then, but you know, the flip side of that. Well, what would make the teenagers you roll your eyes at? Louis Bricard. Well, I probably don't do enough to help in real life that I, you know, have made too much money from it. I don't have too much guilt about that because it's not like I'm killing any of the items and just making film, but that is probably what I if the complacency in general in real life is, is what a proper punk rocker should be. But you can change that now. I can change that this afternoon. I can go, I don't know what I'm going to do. What should I do? Figure out what matters to you and find out how to help. But I think that would be making another film. Yeah. You know, you can get a viewpoint across to millions of people by making a film. If that's going to help or not, we don't know. But I would always come back to that, I think, you know. On the interview, we talked to our guests twice. So the next day, I spoke with Martin McDonough again about Quentin Tarantino's influence, his partner Phoebe Waller Bridge, and what it's like to be part of the Hollywood Awards circus. Just a heads up, this part of the conversation is audio only. Martin, it's nice to talk to you again. Thank you. Eatsy David. All right. So, you know, making someone squirm is not my favorite part of the job. But there's, there's, I just really need a straight answer about this. Okay. I've seen the new movie twice now. I don't understand why it's called Wild Horse 9. I get the Wild Horse says, yeah, where does the nine come from? I honestly, my pat answer is I kind of want to leave it mysterious and for an audience to decide on their third viewing. So that could be because I don't know what the hell it means or it could be true. Wait, are you actually suggesting that on the third time, I'll pick up something that I missed the first few times? Why not? Oh, good. But can I ask, I want to ask about your titles generally? Yeah. Because you know, obviously, the name of the movie is a main part of the marketing. I assume in Hollywood, these things are often the subject of discussion or focus grouped. And I was thinking about your titles that I didn't get the memo from Molly. You get the memo. The banshees of Innishire and in Bruges. Yeah. So, so foreign words, the only words that you can definitely count on everyone knowing are, you know, the in and of three billboards outside Ebbing, Missouri. It's obviously a mouthful. Seven psychopaths, relatively straight forward, kind of sounds like a horror movie though. But sellable, it's sellable, even though we didn't manage to sell it. But how do you think about naming your films? Weirdly, three billboards was the most successful and that's the most long-winded. And I had a joke, I think, in the Pillar Man that you can't have a comma in a title. And then I put a comma in a title. It's always me, these titles, it's always, and it's always something vaguely poetic or not, not too Hollywood, I guess, is, is kind of what I'm always going for. And there's usually a number or a place in it. Yeah, I guess it's born out of some kind of laziness. Do the studios or anyone, do they ever push back? No. The very original title that this was Wild Horse 9 Easter Island, and there was just the discussion about, I couldn't quite work out what was preferable and ended on Wild Horse 9. Wild Horse 9 is definitely better than Wild Horse 9 Easter Island. But thanks Hollywood. No, I think they knew it was deliberately long-winded and peculiar, and that was okay, you know. And so titles aside, wasn't that a skillful segue? I think of, I really think of your dialogue as being stylistically identifiable. Like Martin McDonough dialogues to me, you know, sounds only like Martin McDonough dialogue. And do you feel like you, you, like there are elements that you understand that constitute your style when it comes to dialogue? Are there things that you know you, you like to do? Well, I couldn't put my finger on exactly what it is or what they are. But I know it's always in the ballpark of something just slightly overly theatrical, maybe heightened in some kind of, some kind of way. I know I use repetitions quite a bit, and some lines almost feel like they could be quotes, but that could be like because some of them are setups of a joke or a punchline to a joke. But I always hope that at the kernel of what they're about is how people really speak in a weird way, even though it's heightened and flowery, because it's not the most easily palatable way of speaking. But I think the way we speak isn't simplistic. It's kind of a little peculiar. I think it was like Pinter and Mammett particularly who made me think that there was like a poetic heightening of how people really speak that they had that I thought is the way to go. You mentioned Mammett and Pinter, and I can hear those references or those influences in your work. There is kind of a, I think the attention to rhythm, the use of vulgarity, the interplay between sort of a sophisticated wit and also kind of like a low comedy. But I also you know what I don't mean that pejority. Yeah, no, no, absolutely. That's yeah, I agree completely but I really also see your work as coming out of Tarantino just the sort of the explosions of violence sometimes the shocking explosions of violence what was he not an influence early on? I think early on I guess Pope fiction was sort of 94 and yeah 92 yeah, so I think that was around the time I was starting to write the plays so maybe hints of it but over time I I don't really see it anymore. I remember the early reviews and early interviews I did I kind of name checked him a bit, but I think my stuff has sort of changed since then that was the only reason why I sort of bristled at that because I don't quite see it anymore. And I don't think our approach to violence is quite the same even though it might appear to be the same. Oh, how do you see them as different? I think it's it's that thing I was probably saying yesterday about the coolness of cinematic violence and I'm sort of trying to walk away from that a little bit perhaps and I don't know if and I think Quentin might be in the same place with that but um yeah, yeah, I we talked yesterday about gratuitousness and all that stuff and it's definitely something I'm trying to stay clear of these days. So you and Phoebe Waller bridge have been together for a decade. You're both private about your relationship but I read a quote that she gave uh about your work about being inspired by the pillowman and the quote was it was the first play I saw that made me think theater can be really exciting. Sometimes you need to see something like that, a piece of work that wakes you up that makes you go yes, of course, that can be done and gives your imagination permission to go 17 million other places. What of her work has inspired you? Well, Phoebe I was like game changing in high opening and uh just so insightful and and funny and I just learned so much about that woman and women and feminism and um storytelling um and then Phoebe I too took it to an even more beautiful place and I think I learned a lot about love through feedback too. What did you learn about love? Um just about how important it is and how lovely it is when you get there. Yeah, he squirms. I want to return a little bit to the sort of punk rock informed uh portion of the interview. Yeah. You know people people are talking about wild horse nine as uh you know an award season contender and and you know you've been fortunate enough to be in that position a couple times in your career having made movies that people thought were award-worthy. Like what's the punk rock you know Sean Connery telling off part of Martin McDonough's soul that that um like what about award season makes you blanche. I cannot believe I'm like in here doing this. There must be moments right? I knew you were going to go that way with the the question I knew it uh like well what's what's the punk rock boy like you doing at the else. No, I'm just trying to I'm just no no no it's not what's a punk rock boy like you doing it. I'm good you know good for you. I do ask her that's I do ask myself the same question. But I'm trying to locate that part of you that's still alive and and trying to understand like where it where it manifests out in out in the out in the world um outside of the work outside. I can see it in the work but that's the thing I think I mean though it's a very good question. I'm not taking the piss or anything. You can you can take the piss. That's okay. I've done it to you. You can do that. That's true. Um but I think the young me would never give a damn about any kind of awards-y things. It's all kind of irrelevant and all that. Um but once you once you start getting nominated I find it fascinating. I just find like the odds changing as the season goes on like I'm always googling you know is is John Malkovich still leading contender who's who's coming up. Shit Andrew Scott's coming up. What could we do to destroy his race? Not really. But um but because it's again even making films just like so far away from anything I've ever thought I'd be involved in. If you double that and think that the Oscars and the Oscar and Oscar race is something you never thought you'd be involved in. I just kind of find it fun and enjoy it because the work is the work I would never change what the work is to get one or make something Oscar Bati or any of that. So as long as that is integral what happens afterwards is I I enjoy it. I find it fun. I would actually really like to see Martin McDonough's version of an Oscar bait movie. Jesus Christ. What would that be? You're called the orphan of Inner Sharon. He's gonna play it. Timothy Shallamy. There you go. Look at that. Hey, he doesn't win though. So hang on then. No, I'm gonna get anywhere. No, but by the time he does your movie he'll be he'll be do one. It's all about the the long game. Yeah, true. Yeah. But what you know when we were talking about how your younger self would view your older self or what the younger you might question about the contemporary you you said maybe you should be doing more to help the things that you care about. But then you kind of landed on probably making art is what you can do to help. And it actually made me think a little bit about a scene in Wild Horse 9 where John Malkovich's character is maybe there's two scenes where where this occurs is talking to a young left-wing student about going on a march and he's you know so sort of cynically sarcastic about you know what do you expect to accomplish going on a march you know it's like the thing that accomplishes your goals is violence basically guns power and I could imagine that the Malkovich character is even more cynical about the possibility of art changing anything or changing the world. Oh god yeah. But who in your heart who do you think is closer to the truth? You or him? I think art has changed things but I think murder has probably changed a lot more things. That's terribly bleak things. It's terribly bleak answer yeah but I I'm going to murder anyone so I got to keep playing on. But you know I was also thinking about why I was feeling so pessimistic about you know the possibilities of art I think to it like do I set actually how I feel about it and thinking about that and then I realized that I think the a powerful counter argument is actually already in your film and that's Victor Harrah who you know Chilean activist folks singer who was targeted and killed by the pinnashay regime and I thought well you know if the pinnashay regime didn't think it mattered they probably would have left that guy alone. Totally totally um and a pinnashay regime is gone and we still have his song so that's something in terms of like changing the world cannot change it all of the art we've seen or the films we've loved or the paintings you know they have changed the world because they're in it you know that they might have changed things politically but this world is better because of the poems we love and the books we love and the films we adore so that is it's not some wishy-washy it's going to change it's going to affect Trump or or society necessarily but it is a new piece of beautiful art of beautiful whatever um that's out there and I think that is always hopeful. Martin I really very much appreciated talking with you so thank you for the time. This really has felt like a proper therapy session David I'm gonna I feel changed. I'm not sure if I'm not sure if no I'm not sure if I like it because I like myself before I came in. Now like I'm not doing enough to help and blah blah blah anyway no I've loved it. That's Martin McDonough. His new movie Wild Horse 9 is in theaters November 6th. To watch this interview and many others you can subscribe to our YouTube channel at youtube.com/atsimple the interview podcast. This conversation was produced by Seth Kelly. It was edited by John Woo mixing by Sophia Landman. Original music by Dan Powell and Marion Lasano. Photography by Phillip Montgomery. The rest of the team is Priya Matthew, Wyatt Orm, Powell and Newdorf, Maya Tepler, Rachel Whitaker, Gabby Contreras and Catalino Brian. Our executive producer is Alison Benedict. I'm David Marquesi and this is the interview from The New York Times. [BLANK_AUDIO]