Moreover, to hear Duvall tell it, he almost missed out on the part for "other stuff" -- an unspecified bit of work that could just as easily turned out to be another one of his genius exercises extending out from his big-screen breakthrough in To Kill a Mockingbird through The Godfather I & II, Network, Apocalypse Now, his Oscar-winning Tender Mercies, Lonesome Dove, The Apostle... and now Get Low. It's to Duvall's credit (and viewers' good fortune) that he didn't miss out: His Felix Bush is an aged, woods-dwelling, no-nonsense hermit whose surly cult of personality is narrowly outsized by the skeletons in his closet. Rolling into town after four decades of seclusion -- to discover the Great Depression, no less -- Felix sets to planning his funeral with the aid of nomadic funeral-home director Frank Quinn (Bill Murray) and his young assistant Buddy Robinson (Lucas Black), coming clean along the way with former flame Mattie (Sissy Spacek) and the rest of the suspicious, skeptical residents of his nearby village.
Director Aaron Schneider's deft handling of period texture and ensemble class cement Get Low as an accomplished debut, but Duvall's presence alone -- idling in the rough, jousting with Murray, dialing in perfect frequencies of gravitas, tenderness and grief opposite Spacek -- makes it a must-see.
Having already given Movieline the lowdown on at least one surreal work (hopefully) to come, the freewheeling 79-year-old opened up further on choosing Get Low, working with younger directors, directing himself, playing Stalin, and his more overlooked work from 50 years in show business. (Mild spoilers follow.)
Get Low has been in development for what feels like forever; I remember reading about it years ago. When did it come to you?
Oh, it was was in the early stages -- four, five, six years ago, I think. It's the same old thing we're doing for other projects right now, which is just to find the money. It's extremely difficult. I figure if the Zanuck dynasty can't get money, who can, right? They came to my farm in Virginia, and then there was a time when nothing was happening. There was a rewrite that wasn't very good. And then they brought the guy in from Alabama -- Charlie Mitchell -- who rewrote it beautifully, and they came to my farm again with him, and that really sold me on it. But they still couldn't get the money. Then I saw [co-producer] Dean Zanuck and his father -- I wasn't even thinking about it, and all of a sudden, a year ago last December, they said, "We got the money! We've got to go!" I said, "Well, I'm not ready. I can't." I thought I had other stuff. But then I thought, "Maybe I'd better go do this. It's such a good project." The other things didn't materialize anyway.
What do you think Felix was doing out in the woods -- in seclusion -- for 40 years?
For 40 years! I know. I've often thought of that. He must have had a lot of filler time. I guess they couldn't put in the movie how he learned to love the land, where he lived, and learned with solitude. The hermits I've come in contact with sometimes, all they want to do is talk. All they want to do is socialize. It's not that they're like this when they come out. So I guess he just hunted, fished, would see people every now and then when he went in to shop. But other than that he was just alone with his life and his thoughts.
I get the impression that despite his regrets and guilt, he really does appreciate that there's a mythology around him.
Yeah, definitely -- whether it's true or not. I would think so. He gets a kick out of it. "You boys come and throw rocks at my window for 25 years?" It kind of reminds me of some of my uncles in Virginia -- my dad's people from way back. They'd tell little stories about the past and what's going on. But once again, I wouldn't be sitting with you today if it hadn't have been for Charlie Mitchell from Alabama -- the guy who came in to rewrite. Just had beautiful touches. Beautiful touches.
Like what?
Well, like the girl at the end -- with the white. Finding the thing to give to Sissy in the graveyard, with the dogs. The names. The little touches about how [she] played piano in the past. He put these things in there that just made it live. Because he's a wonderful writer from Alabama -- and it's a Southern tale, so to speak. I mean, it could happen in... Vermont. I remember when I was in the Army, I bunked over a guy from Virginia. Then two weeks later I switched to another place, and I bunked with a potato farmer from Maine. And he was more country than the other guy! So there's a kinship from South to North, probably an Anglican thing that runs through from England on down.
I recognized certain traits of Felix's from The Apostle -- your film about another Southern man who's in a different type of hiding. How did those characters interrelate to you, if at all?
I never really thought about it that much, really. They just had something to atone for. Actually that reminds me: I don't know if you've seen these plays of Horton Foote down here on 42nd and 11th? There's nine hours -- three, three, and three. You can see them all in one day. Anyway, Get Low reminds me of a Horton Foote project, and I always wish he'd lived to see it. The day I came to deliver the speech to the people -- I only did it once -- the mule's coming with the casket I built for myself for when I really die, and they said "Action." And my wife's off-camera, and she gets a phone call from the son-in-law saying Horton Foote had just died. It was like full-circle from To Kill a Mockingbird -- it was like one of his pieces. I always told Horton, "If I ever do this movie, I want you to see it." And then he passed away.
Wow. But wait -- the casket for when you really die?
Well, the movie casket. The one I build when they try to sell me the other one.
Oh, OK. I was going to say...
And this mule! A U.S. champion mule. You'd think they'd get it from Georgia. But it came from 20 miles from where I live in Virginia. That mule could do anything -- pray, get down on its knees, play the piano, go to the mailbox and bring you a letter. I kept saying, "Use the mule more!" But there wasn't really room for it.
That's too bad. But: Going back to The Apostle, have you ever elaborated on what the E.F. in your character's name -- "Apostle E.F." -- stands for?
[Pauses] Eulace... F... Originally it was Hart, which was my mother's maiden name, from East Texas and Georgia. But there are five preachers named "Hart," and I didn't want to risk a lawsuit. But it was independent of them -- even before I met them -- and they thought it was about them because I hung around them. But it wasn't. Eulace... my grandfather's name was that. I think he had the initials. And his friends said, "If you don't tell us what the 'E' stands for, we'll call you Eulace." And it was Eulace! So E.F... Eulace... Felix? Right! No, Felix was it. Because my grandfather was F. Stanley Hart, so his friends said, "If you tell don't tell us what the 'F' stands for, then we're going to call you Felix." That's what it was. And of course his name was Felix.
And now here we've come full-circle again to Get Low.
Right. Then Dewey. E.F. Dewey. I really wanted to be Hart, but I couldn't risk it. You never know in this day and age.
People always talk about the "valedictory role" -- that one big role that an actor takes on before retiring. And some actors don't even recognize the concept. Have you thought about that?
Lonesome Dove. I said, "Now I can retire. Let the English have Hamlet and King Lear; I'll play Augustus McCray." A great, great character. And we had time to develop it. I had an interview with a guy from France or somewhere, and he didn't want to worry about TV -- just movies. I said, "Well, it's all 'Action' and 'Cut' anyway!" I mean, come on!
Did you contemplate retiring?
No. No, I just made that statement to myself; I felt I'd done something that made me feel complete -- that you don't feel very often.
Is that criterion one you've revisited when choosing subsequent roles?
[Pauses] Maybe.
What about Get Low?
Well, this is my wife's favorite film since The Apostle. She loves this film more than any of them. She's really bright; she makes her own documentaries. She made one on Horton Foote, one on Billy Joe Shaver -- the country singer?
Of course. He was in The Apostle.
I was just down in Texas to keep him from going to jail for 20 years for shooting a guy! What a courtroom scene! What a lawyer he had! Pro bono!
Wait, hold on. How did you get involved in that?
Well, to try to help him. Willie Nelson was there. It was just tremendous. What was the question again?
The valedictory film?
Oh, yeah. I like the film a lot. The writing, the components, the people who are in it. And my wife just takes to it more than most.
Noted. Some of your most most memorable film roles have come out of working with younger directors -- going all the way back to Robert Mulligan, who was 35 when he directed To Kill a Mockingbird.
Was Mulligan younger? Wow. Well, he had done television. Yeah, well... It's so hard to raise money. The same guy who wrote the adaptation of Lonesome Dove had written a part 25 years ago of a character who is very much like the guy in Lonesome Dove. It's a great, great part. And now this top young French director is obsessed with it.
Who?
He did a movie called In the Beginning...? He did The Singer with Gérard Depardieu... His name's Xavier [Giannoli]... I can't pronounce his last name. Very nice guy, and he loves America. A lot of people in Europe don't. We had him in Texas; we got barbecue in the lobby of the hotel, and he brought the wine. My friend told him about the whorehouses, and he said, "I'll take you down." We're driving along, and when he sat down someone shoved a pistol next him. He said [adopts French accent], "He's a gangster! He's a gangster!" So he loves Texas, this guy! He's a special guy. And so he's trying to raise the money for this movie. He's obsessed with this Texas story.
What is it about these guys -- from Lucas and Coppola to Aaron Schneider -- that drives you?
Oh, and...
[Crazy Heart director] Scott Cooper, I guess.
Scott Cooper. Well, I mean, if they're young and talented, why not get a break, you know? Or -- better a talented guy from Paris, France, than a hack from Dallas. You know? Because you get a different perspective. But young people -- and I hate to use the word "passion" -- but if they have passion or feeling for something they're connected with or that they've written, why not? Why not? It's like a young actor. A non-actor doesn't have a lot of bad habits. Maybe a young director isn't jaded as much. They're fresher.
As a director yourself, what's your relationship like with them? Are you a steward on the set? A mentor? Or do you stay away from that?
Yeah, not really. You should talk to Bill Murray; he's a character. He took Aaron aside and said, "There are a lot of people here you're not listening to, and you should listen more." I didn't do that. With the other actors, maybe I'll do that. I don't know if you saw Broken Trail. One of my favorites -- TV again. But there was AMC and all these different camps trying to take the writing a different way. So finally I said to the writer, "Every day, we have to practice quiet, continuous anarchy. We'll slip the writing under the door, we'll rewrite when we want to. We've got to, because they're ruining it." And in 16 days we re-edited it. We had to! And it was one of the best experiences of my life -- even though it was craziness. So you can work under duress, you can work under friction. Sometimes when things are perfect, they're too perfect. Resistance is good.
Do you want to direct again?
Yeah, I do. I had a border movie that I was working on, but AMC turned us down after we put them on the map with Broken Trail. I don't think we're going to be able to do it. It's about tick riders -- these guys on horses under the Department of Agriculture who ride the border watching Mexican cattle to keep ticks from getting on our cattle. But I don't think it's going to happen. And I'd like to direct something in Argentina around my wife's family. Interesting people and interesting situations. But she won't do it. Too much pain; she doesn't want to go through it. We'd do it small, with video cameras and a little crew and actors from the town. But she won't do it.
There's a very interesting story around there somewhere, based on one of those Catholic schools where the kids come out in white with the Mother Superior, and her father hang-glides with the condor -- the biggest bird in the world. I wanted to work that in. He flies over his mother's grave and waves down to her. I'd work that in. But... So I don't know if I'm going to direct again. I would like to. They say to direct is tough, to [act and direct] is tougher. When I did both, it was easier then if I was acting. You just do it; it's fun. I know it's good; I see it on the day, you don't have to keep poring over it until the time comes to edit. I did it twice, and I loved it.
The Apostle wouldn't even work had you not directed it.
I agree. I made a joke that I wanted to put up a full-length mirror so I could yell at the director anytime I wanted to.
The scenes just go on. You never cut!
You know, you work with a director and say, "OK, that was good. What do you think?" And he says, "That's good, OK." I don't need the guy there to check with to know that it's time to move on. You can try different things if you're directing. With another guy, it's like, "Oh, we don't have time." One guy said, "Well, the cameraman says [the actor's] running down." Don't tell me about it! Shoot it! He was coming down off the spirit. "Shoot it! Don't do those things!" So he did. It was probably better that I directed it. I had a guy who was going to come in, in case I felt like he needed to take over after the first week. At the end of the week, I said, "No, I'm fine."
There are so many roles of yours that slipped through the cracks. I mean, you played Josef Stalin. Are there--
Oh, yeah. That was very difficult -- shooting in the Kremlin? With some of the old political guard still around [circa 1991]? But I got one of the greatest reviews of my life -- not that I read them. Nikita Mikhalkov -- the great director -- his father had been Stalin's personal poet. He worked under him eight times, and he said I touched the soul of Stalin. So I felt good when he said that. And when I got over there, the research was bad. HBO was bad. I didn't know the guy was even still living!
The poet?
Yeah! He was 88 and had just married a 35-year-old woman! I never even knew he was alive! You'd think they would have had me meet him. I mean, come on.
Are there any other films of yours that you think were overlooked or might deserve reconsideration?
Not really. The one that didn't, kind of, was Tomorrow. It was Horton Foote, from a Faulkner short story. I don't know if you saw that.
I haven't.
Back from around Godfather I time. Horton Foote got the rights from Faulkner, and we'd done it as a play off-Broadway. But I wouldn't see it for a year because... I mean, these young actors who go into the editing room and take over, I don't know how they can do that, but in a way, I don't blame them. Back then, I should have known. I didn't know. Horton Foote was my friend. There's a scene where I see my son when he grows up -- and they cut it. I wouldn't see the movie for a year; it ticked me off that much. I felt betrayed. Ten years later -- it's a simple little film, black and white -- Depardieu bought the rights and distributed it in France, he liked it so much. But that was the second thing I did with Horton Foote after To Kill a Mockingbird.
In fact, the film, Convicts, that we did, there's a whole scene down here off-Broadway from that. It was originally written as a stage play. That was a nice little film we did that slipped through the cracks. [Bruce] Beresford, who directed Tender Mercies, liked it so much that he gave it as gifts for Christmas. Maybe that one a little bit. And way back I played Dr. Watson in The Seven-Per-Cent Solution. But usually the ones I've done have been shown for at least a little while. They wouldn't get that much exposure anyway.