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THE DIRECTOR WHO DRILLED THE DOOR IN
THE FLOOR
By CARYN JAMES
The New York Times, 7/11/04
On
paper, Tod Williams might be a guy who's likely to land in the gossip
columns, some East Coast version of a Hollywood jerk. His sister
is a former supermodel, his father is one of the architects who
designed the American Folk Art Museum, his ex-wife is the actress
Famke Janssen and last month he married the actress Gretchen Mol.
But in real life he has written and directed two captivating, beautifully
understated little films, filled with wit and emotion. These movies
resist every lurid impulse, even though the first, "The Adventures
of Sebastian Cole" (1998), was the autobiographical story of
a teenage boy whose stepfather becomes his stepmother, and his new
film, "The Door in the Floor," features an affair between
Kim Basinger and a high school boy. Only a guy who is not a jerk
could have pulled them off.
Mr. Williams even looks like a director ready to be discovered
he resembles the actor Ron Livingston, and at 35 has a dramatic
gray lock in the front of his dark hair but his public profile
is so low that a media-savvy director like Michael Moore can, and
almost did, steamroller right over him. "The Door in the Floor"
was originally scheduled to be released on June 23, but when it
was announced that Mr. Moore's "Fahrenheit 9/11" would
open on June 25, Focus Features moved "Door" out of its
path. "It was a smart move; we would have been crushed,"
Mr. Williams said, updating the situation by phone recently as he
was sitting in traffic on a bridge, on his way back from a vacation
in Canada.
Where most movie postponements mean trouble, this one protected
a strong film. Based on the first section of John Irving's novel
"A Widow for One Year," it follows a children's book author
and his wife, played by Jeff Bridges and Ms. Basinger, whose marriage
is falling apart several years after the deaths of their two teenage
sons. Mr. Bridges gives one of his finest performances, but the
story of a family shattered by grief needs careful handling if it's
to reach an audience.
In a longer conversation about the film last month, Mr. Williams
was as unassuming as his nickname, Kip. "It seemed stupid to
use that name professionally because I hope to be directing when
I'm 80 and I think it would be dumb to be called Kip when you're
80, but nobody calls me Tod," he said in the fifth-floor Greenwich
Village walk-up that used to be his home but that since his marriage
has become his workroom. It's the tiniest studio, but the roof is
almost all skylight and there's a terrace a terrace that
looks out on the backs of other brick buildings. The room is so
spare it seems unlived-in even for an office, with scripts he's
been sent lined up neatly on a kitchen table and no writer's clutter
anywhere. It looks like the reflection of a Zen-like calm, but Mr.
Williams said, "I feel like I've got my brain in six different
directions."
His
career suggests a greater focus. When he went to Mr. Irving with
the idea for "Door," he knew he wanted to break off the
first section, abandoning the part of the novel that goes on for
30 more years. Instead of balking, Mr. Irving saw eye-to-eye with
Mr. Williams from the start. The story was updated from the 50's
to the present, and takes place during one traumatic summer in the
lives of the womanizing Ted Cole, his delicate and distant wife,
Marion, and their young daughter. Eddie, the high school boy, arrives
to be Ted's assistant and is wildly distracted by Marion, who finds
in him echoes of her dead sons.
The film was shot in the sun-splashed Hamptons and is rich with
daily absurdities, like Ted's comic, nearly lethal affair with a
knife-wielding neighbor. But the bright surface masks the depths
of this family's sorrow. Mr. Williams was drawn to the novel at
a time in his life when "I had gone through a lot of loss
all my grandparents, natural loss in life, nothing unnatural,"
he said. "And also my first marriage was breaking up. So there
was that feeling: how does love die or end? Or what happens to these
things if they don't last?"
He tried to remember, he said, "feeling like Eddie when I met
my wife when I was 19, and then feeling like Ted in some way."
When he adds, "All that stuff was kind of new to me,"
it helps explain the movie's freshness. Even the film's title, which
is taken from Ted's most haunting children's book and seems so clumsy
at first, becomes resonant by the end.
If making such a subtle film is hard, getting it made may be harder.
"Door" gestated for four years, including some time spent
waiting for Mr. Bridges to finish "Seabiscuit." As Mr.
Williams said, "The movie kind of came together and fell apart
so many times in the last four years I can't even keep track,"
including a moment when it seemed that Julianne Moore and Bill Murray
might star.
"I went into debt and I did some other screenplay work for
money, rewrite jobs," Mr. Williams said. "The script was
well liked in Hollywood already, so it got me some work to survive,
but it was very hard for me to put my whole focus into something
other than this movie. By the time we did go into production
you know, I made more money than I've ever made on this movie, but
when I finished it I was back to zero because I was so deeply in
debt."
There is a weird background to these struggling-artist years. He
grew up in Manhattan until he was 12, then moved with his mother,
sister and stepfather to Woodstock. Upstate New York is also the
setting of "The Adventures of Sebastian Cole," which takes
place in 1983. Many other details of Sebastian's life also follow
those of his creator. Sebastian has an architect father and a stepfather
who announces that he is about to become a woman. And, like Mr.
Williams, Sebastian goes to England with his mother, but he soon
moves back to New York to live with his stepfather, a character
who begins the film as Hank and becomes Henrietta. Mr. Williams
talks about the film as if it belongs to his distant past when in
fact it is five years old.
"In real life, that person was very important to me,"
he said of the stepfather character, and making the movie was "a
way of acknowledging" that. Played with total credibility by
Clark Gregg, the character is truly endearing. As Mr. Williams says
of the autobiographical elements, "In some sense everybody's
heightened, and Hank is probably sanctified."
Even so, the real-life model for Hank was unhappy that the film
was made. Mr. Williams said: "I told him what I was doing the
whole time. And I'd given him scripts. And he never really communicated
that he was uncomfortable with it. But in the end I found out that
he was. And it was really a bummer because I was trying to say something
for him."
The film's end is wrenching, but is also a departure from the facts.
"He actually went back to being a man," Mr. Williams said.
"That would've been hard to explain in the last five minutes."
He came to make the personal "Sebastian Cole," and moved
back to Manhattan, after floundering for a few years in Los Angeles.
He thought he wanted to be a journalist (and he was a stringer for
The New York Times) but realized he didn't have the personality,
he said, "to go into a terrible situation" and ask people
"the exact question they don't want to answer."
He studied at the American Film Institute, and failed to make a
film he called "as complicated as '8 1/2,' but a viscerally
action-packed movie." He directed a Nabokov play called "The
Event," and now says: "It was a stupid idea. It was 14
actors on a stage the size of this kitchen," a so-called kitchen
that looks like it can hardly handle two.
From the $350,000 budget for "Sebastian Cole" to $7 million
for "The Door in the Floor" is a leap, but $7 million
is nothing by major-movie (and union crew) standards. He says: "I
think that when it comes to the kinds of directors people want to
hire for big-budget stuff, they're looking at a lot of commercial
directors, a lot of style-first guys. Because that's what people
think directing is. And my directing style is to do as little as
I can, and to make the audience have to look around. I hate telling
the audience what to do."
Although he may say he's spread in a half-dozen directions, his
next project is taking shape: he's writing and directing a new version
of Hemingway's "To Have and Have Not," with Benicio del
Toro as Harry Morgan, the fishing boat captain made famous by Humphrey
Bogart in the 1944 classic. ("You know how to whistle, don't
you?" Lauren Bacall asks him.) Mr. Williams got the rights
directly from the Hemingway estate and was able to bypass Warner
Brothers because their Bogart-and-Bacall version was such a departure
from the novel. He says he's not worried about viewers resenting
someone fiddling with a beloved film because his version will be
so different.
Mr. Williams may be unassuming, but when he says, "It's going
to be a much, much tougher, stranger movie, much uglier," Bogart
himself couldn't sound more certain.
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