Based on a short story by T. Coraghessan Boyle, The Lie follows 30-something Lonnie along the downslope of his dead-end editing job and through the emotional desert of his marriage to fading flower-girl Clover (Jess Weixler). Dedicated idealists and new parents as well, Lonnie and Clover struggle against the expectations of advancing age. But between selling out to the corporate workplace and clinging to rock-and-roll daydreams, both succumb to an inertia shattered one day by Lonnie's ill-advised impulse to lie his way out of work.
Handsomely shot and exquisitely acted, The Lie marks the latest Park City milestone for a 35-year-old who's attended Sundance as a photographer (for Black Book wayyyy back in 1998), an actor (breaking through in The Blair Witch Project and eventually appearing in Humpday and this year's Higher Ground), a filmmaker (the 2005 short film The Youth in Us), and principally -- to hear him tell it -- as a fan. Movieline caught up with Leonard to talk over The Lie and get a sense of where he stands ahead of Sundance 2011.
So congratulations on The Lie! What led to this as your feature directorial debut?
Oh, God. Its tender, middle-of-the-road heart? [Laughs] I'm totally joking. It all started with T.C.'s story. I am a guy who doesn't have ideas too very often, so when I do, I stick to them like a dog with a bone. I read that story and just immediately knew that not only did I want to see a movie made out of that story, but I wanted to be the one to help facilitate it. It just really... I don't know. It was just one of those things that spoke to me specifically, one of those things that spoke to me generationally. It was a story that addressed realy big issues without being too touchy-feely or didactic or giving you a third-life-crisis analysis/bludgeoning. It was very funny, it was very heartfelt. And I felt like I knew the people in it. It all started from there.
How long ago did you read it?
I guess in making-a-movie terms, not that long ago. Maybe less than two years ago?
What did you see eating this guy that compelled you to not only direct but play the role?
I often wonder whether I'm just masking my own vanity with this answer, but in general I don't think it's a great idea to direct yourself. If somebody else had come to me with the proposal of them acting and directing this piece, I would have told them it was asinine and steered them away as quickly as I could. But look: I did know we were going to have to make it on a pretty tight schedule and on a pretty modest budget. And I think if you read the piece, it's pretty clear that you have to hit a pretty specific tone or it doesn't work. If it veers too far to the comedic, you kind of lose complete empathy for the character. And if it veers too far to the dramatic, people feel like they're being preached to, and it loses its entertainment value. So there was really a balance that we had to strike, and to some extent, it was almost the utilitarian decision I could have made, casting myself in it. I felt like being in that position, I knew in my head and my heart where I wanted to hit, and maybe had less confidence in steering another actor to that that place than just stepping in and doing it myself.
What exactly do you think is happening with Lonnie? You just mentioned the third-life crisis; there are some work and marriage issues...
I think he's going through what most people go through when they hit a certain age, which is that moment of reckoning where you realize where you intended to go and where you wound up are two completely different places. And you're kind of standing at this precipice, and you've got a choice to make: You can either rail against that and try to untrench yourself from the decisions you've made -- that put you in a position you don't like -- or you can accept it. I think Lonnie is really at that crossroads where he's not willing to accept it, but he also has absolutely no clue how to change it.
Without giving anything away, I'll be interested in people's reactions to Lonnie and Clover's climactic decision -- they're kind of inspirational, but kind of... crazy? How did you view it?
Maybe a little bit of both? At the end of the day I did not consider the ending of my movie to be the point where these two characters have made the most responsible life choices. I think that there's something... [Pauses] I knew I didn't want to have a hopeless ending, so I think the feeling that we were really attempting to kind of imbue into the end of this film is that sometimes our lives aren't as galvanized into a single track as we assume they are. So at the end of the movie, these guys make a different decision. That doesn't mean that the different decision is going to be right or any better, or that they won't wind up back in the same spot. But through a chain of both mishaps and self-analysis where they acknowledge that what they've been doing is not working. Theire idea of going back to this past dream of who they wanted to be? I don't know if that actually works. Most of the time it doesn't. But: You've got two characters who felt kind of tethered to the life they've chosen, and at least at the end of the story they've acknowledged there's another option.
And they do so through a very intriguing confrontation. How did you approach that moment as an actor and a director alongside Jess Weixler?
I guess very simply, to me, in terms of structuring the story when we were originally writing it out. And then as we were careening toward it in the arc of the film, the intention was always: Here's a movie about a group of people who, for better or for worse, live with a certain level of dishonesty in their lives -- most of the time. To varying degrees, I hope that people can relate to that. I can certainly relate to that. Whether you're a liar and you go around telling these overt lies, or you've made a decision that omitting certain truths makes your life easier... That one I think more often than not we're guilty of. So you've got a story acknowledging these various levels of dishonesty that these people live with on a day-to-day basis. And the movie is set up to present a situation whereby the stakes are so high that there is no choice but to tell the truth. If you wanted to look at it structurally like that, it's a movie where people lie for two acts and tell truth for one.
You have another film at Sundance as well, appearing in Higher Ground. What's your contribution to that?
Higher Ground is Vera Farmiga's directorial debut, and it's funny, because I went almost directly from directing myself in The Lie to acting in Vera's movie, where she was directing herself.
Exactly. Did she solicit your advice and counsel?
I tried! She didn't need my help. She knows what she's doing, that woman.
The world knows virtually nothing else about it. What's your role?
The protagonist is Vera's character, who's this woman who spend her entire life grappling with her faith. After a near-death experience, her child kind of goes headlong into a fairly fundamentalist Christian sect. It tells the story of the pros and the cons of living that life. The movie takes place from the 1950s, I think, to the mid-'90s. There are two actors you play the young versions of Vera and I as kids and then as teenagers, and then starting in the '70s, Vera and I take over. I play her husband.
It's kind of hard to believe now, but your relationship with Sundance goes back over a decade now, right? To The Blair Witch Project?
Actually, my very first time at Sundance I was there as an editorial photographer for Black Book in '98 -- the year before Blair With Project.
What are some of your highlights from attending over the years, and what does it mean to debut The Lie there?
Sundance for me started out, when I was there in the late '90s, as a club that I really wanted to join. [Laughs] I was surrounded by all these people who really inspired me to make films. You know -- the Hal Hartleys, the Nick Gomezes, the Allison Anderses. I didn't grow up on a diet of '70s cinema; I grew up on multiplex cinema. And so really, my first exposure to independent film was through the American independent directors of the early '90s. I guess it's like a kid who want to be a musician and has a lot of attitude and a lot of angst -- but no skills -- hears punk rock and feels like, "OK, there's a place for me in that, because it's more about what I think and I feel." It's not as gilded. And that's what I thought of independent cinema at that time.
But I was also a kid in my early '20s, and very much just showed up as a fan as much as anything. And then Blair Witch happened, and that really allowed me to get a small toe in the door and continue to work and mentor with people and continue to learn. And it's really been this really wonderful touch-base over the years. I've been back with three or four acting projects. I had my directorial debut -- which was a short film [The Youth in Us] -- go there in 2005. We were back with Humpday in 2009, and back there with my narrative feature debut in 2011. I guess where that's really changed is that much like you can go back to your elementary school and really have that sense memory feeling of what it was like to be a kid there, there are hills and venues and theater staircases at Sundance that I very palpably remember. I remember what it was like to be 12 years younger and show up not knowing anyone or really anything, just that I wanted to find a place in this community. I go back this year, and to some extent I still have mentors there. I still feel like I have a long way to go. But at the same time I still have a ton of peers there. I have a lot of solidarity and relationships with other filmmakers who have films at Sundance this year. I feel like I am very much finally part of that community, and that's a pretty great feeling.
And there will be new filmmakers there this weekend going through the same experiences you had over a decade ago. If you could offer one piece of advice to them to make the most of Sundance, what would it be?
I don't know how clichéd this answer is, but in my relatively short time doing this, I've found that there are highs and there are lows, and success comes and goes, and the one thing that sustains you is the work. And part of what helps to sustain the work is having the camaraderie of people around you who are having similar struggles. I would say that the vast majority of my collaborators and my friends at this point are people I've met at film festivals.
There's a lot of pressure to go in and stand out, and I think there's this awful kind of "success poverty" mentality that one can fall into -- a situation whereby [filmmakers] have to succeed. There's only so much success that can happen, and if somebody else is succeeding, then that means that they're not. I find that to be absolutely not the case. I think that going and supporting your fellow filmmakers and making those friendships are really the things that I have personally taken away from the festival and kept over the course of the years.