Even now, 25 years later, the premise is outrageous, odd and quite clever. On floor 7½ of an antiquated New York City office building, hidden behind a filing cabinet, is a small portal that leads into the head of actor John Malkovich.
There was something random — and ingenious — in the choice of Malkovich, by then a two-time Oscar nominee and a widely respected performer of stage and screen who did not have a signature role: He was the kind of actor people knew they knew but could not always quite place.
Yet “Being John Malkovich” is much more than an inside-out and upside-down high-concept gimmick. The film’s inventive visual style made the surreal seem mundane and everyday. While it is very funny, it is also rife with melancholy, a yearning for emotional connection and a sense that people are often unknowable, most of all to themselves. The film is less about the flash of celebrity and more about a deeper sense of self-discovery and personal identity.
Screenwriter Charlie Kaufman had been a television comedy writer on shows such as “Get a Life” and “The Dana Carvey Show,” with “Being John Malkovich” his first produced film script. Director Spike Jonze, who had some notoriety for his music videos and commercials, also made his feature film debut with “Malkovich.”
The cast included John Cusack as a down-on-his luck puppeteer who discovers the portal, Cameron Diaz as his patient but dissatisfied girlfriend and Catherine Keener as the cynical colleague looking to take advantage of the situation. Orson Bean, Mary Kay Place and Charlie Sheen all have supporting roles; Brad Pitt, Sean Penn and Winona Ryder have brief cameos; and director David Fincher makes an uncredited appearance as the national arts editor of the Los Angeles Times. And, of course, John Malkovich plays the role of John Malkovich.
The film would be nominated for three Academy Awards: Jonze for director, Kaufman for original screenplay and Keener for supporting actress. In the years since, Kaufman has won an Oscar for the screenplay to “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind” and launched himself as a director. Jonze has continued his commercial work while also directing three feature films and the documentary “Beastie Boys Story.” Jonze also won an Oscar for the screenplay to his 2013 film “Her.”
In one of the bonus features on the 2012 Criterion Collection edition of the film Jonze said, “Me and Charlie always think of Malkovich as the guy who made this all possible, not just the movie but everything that’s come after that. … Not only did he not have to do this movie, it was almost insane for him to do this movie.”
For the film’s anniversary, I reached out to Jonze, Kaufman and Malkovich for their memories of this pivotal project. Through a representative, Jonze declined to comment. Kaufman’s reps never responded. But Malkovich, in Bulgaria to direct a stage production of George Bernard Shaw’s 1894 play “Arms and the Man,” got on a Zoom call to talk about the film.
You have often said that from the very beginning you knew that by having your name in the title, you would have to live with this movie more than anybody else. And 25 years on that seems to be completely true.
It was such an odd idea, I was aware that it would exist in kind of another dimension. And that’s been the case. Although my first reaction to having read this script was wanting to direct it and make it about someone else. But Charlie Kaufman wasn’t interested in that. So that didn’t happen for some years. And as I’ve said before, whenever I happened to be in L.A., which hasn’t been very often in my life or career, people would say, “Why aren’t you doing this? Why aren’t you doing that film?” They would just wander by in a restaurant, like it was my fault or something. It never occurred to me it would actually get made.
Probably a few years passed after I read it, then I got a call from Francis Coppola asking me if I’d go meet this person called Spike Jonze up in Paris. And I said, “Yeah, sure, fine.” And then Spike asked me to be in it, which no one had ever really officially asked me to do, and which I had doubts about. But I said, “Well, let’s see what kind of cast we get.” And then not long after, he got Johnny Cusack on board and Cameron and Keener, and then I said, “OK, well, let’s do it.”
When you had that initial response to direct it but to change the character, what was it that appealed to you?
I loved the script. To me it wasn’t really important — it’s a great title in that it’s very unexpected, it’s very meta, it’s a memorable title name because it’s such an unmemorable name. But really I just love the world Charlie created. I didn’t in any way have a reaction to it as far as it applied to quote “me,” whatever that is. It’s never been a big topic of interest for me. It’s not something I ever reflected on much before or after. But I loved Charlie’s writing, so that was my initial interest in it.
Both Charlie and then Spike were so insistent that it be you. Did you ever ask the question, “Why me?”
No. If for no other reason, because I’m really not very curious about myself or my alleged self. Charlie said a very funny thing. It was the first thing he ever said to me. I think we had a breakfast with Spike, and we’d kind of agreed to proceed, and the deal was made and all that stuff. And Charlie, he didn’t say anything at breakfast, and then as we were leaving, [he] said to me, “I just want you to know I’m a big fan.” And I said, “We don’t have to do that. I read the script, thanks.” And that was really it.
But I did know I was kind of crossing a line, because although I was an actor and I had done things that had gotten some degree of attention, I was always really left alone. And I liked that nobody bothered me if I went off to do a play here or there, or direct a play in Bulgaria, or do whatever it is I did. I was allowed a lot of leeway and I always really appreciated that. And I was worried that wouldn’t be the case. In fact, it’s still the case, but it did change a kind of public perception. I thought it was a kind of iffy call. It could have turned out very badly, although I thought the script was a wonderful, pretty near visionary piece of writing, and I thought Spike did a fantastic job directing it.
How did you prepare for the movie? Did you approach this role and the character of John Malkovich the way you would have any other role?
That’s an interesting question. The thing is, there wasn’t that much to search for, because the world is so specific that Charlie created. I remember one day when I did something and Spike Jonze said to me, “John Malkovich wouldn’t do it that way.” And I kind of chuckled, but I said, “Oh, OK. How would he do it?” And I really didn’t think that much of it because anything I do isn’t me. But John Malkovich isn’t me either, any more or less than anything else isn’t me. So if somebody says, “That’s not the way John Malkovich would do it,” maybe they know better than I do.
I wanted to ask you specifically about the scene with “The Dance of Despair and Desperation.” When you unravel it, is it an astonishing moment of performance in that you are playing the character of John Malkovich with a character played by John Cusack supposedly inside of you playing John Malkovich like a puppet. How did you approach that as a physical piece of work?
We had to rehearse a lot, and we had a choreographer and all that. And that was quite involved, I remember. But I never thought about it. I just kind of took Spike’s word for it. Meaning, I’ve done a lot of films and directed one and directed probably a number of them unofficially and written some unofficially. But I think film directing is very, very difficult. And I think it’s a huge weight on directors. And I’m very happy to do what they say. I feel that my job is to help them arrive at, discover, sustain and express a vision of something. I’ve always said from the very beginning of the first film I was in, when you’re in a film, you’re a character in someone else’s dream. It’s not your dream just because it’s called “Being John Malkovich.” It’s Charlie’s dream and Spike’s dream and the rest of us participate. And so my approach to that would be the exact same as my approach to any other film role except that this one has a uniqueness and a quality that’s rare, that’s quite singular.
It was just such an extreme act of generosity on your part toward these two essentially unknown guys, Spike and Charlie, making their first movie. You gave so completely of yourself, of your name, your persona, your celebrity, in so many ways. Did you see it that way?
No. I saw it as just another movie. There was something I liked about Spike. I thought he was hilarious. I always say the first meeting I had with him, I talked to him for an hour or so in Paris at a hotel restaurant and after an hour, I said, “Sorry, are you American?” I thought he was Czech because he has that kind of surfer lingo, which I couldn’t really grasp. And I thought it was a kind of foreign language. I was absolutely convinced that the screenplay was a very unique voice, a real voice. And I had this feeling Spike would put together an excellent cast. I trusted a lot his vision, his sense of humor. But to me, that’s kind of what I do.
This happened to have my name attached in some way, but for me, it’s the same if it was Wolfgang Petersen or Raul Ruiz or Spielberg or Schlöndorff. Making a film is hard. And your job really is to hope to fulfill that vision. And for me, that’s not really a burden. It’s an expectation and it’s a requirement. And if you can’t do that, which sometimes happens, then it’s a failure, at least as far as I’m concerned, on my part anyway.
Have your feelings about the film and your decision simply to do it, have they changed at all over the years?
Not really. When I saw it — I only saw it once, in Venice at the film festival, and when it was revealed that Charlie Sheen was my best friend, just the idea of that, it was a rolling laugh, kind of 15 minutes long. And then when I tell him I got involved with this coven of lesbian witches, he responds, “Give me their number when you’re through with them,” in a way that’s a line only Charlie Sheen could do. That’s what he does. And you trust him to take care of that for you. And so I thought then, “OK, it’s fine. It’s what it’s set out to be.”
On the extras for the Criterion Collection disc, there’s an interview where you say, “It’s not really about celebrity and it’s not really about me.” So for you, what is the movie about?
I always think back to this, there was some talk about how they were a bit unsatisfied with the ending, and I think it was a call with Charlie, with Spike and with Vince Landay, the producer. And maybe Johnny was there too, Cusack. And it made me think of the phrase, I’ve still never used it, in a piece of writing or play or something I’ve rewritten or written or polished or whatever, the phrase came to me, “What you think is yours, isn’t.” And I think that’s very lifelike, and I think it’s very representative of that film. What you think is yours, isn’t. “Being John Malkovich” does not belong to me. It’s its own thing. And if it belongs to anybody, it much more belongs to Charlie and Spike.
But it’s just a kind of way of looking at the world and how quickly it all passes. Your work goes out into the world and it belongs to the people who watch it, whether they accept it, whether it’s beloved by them or detested by them or rejected by them. You put it out into the world and it isn’t yours anymore. And I think it’s true of the film, my work, my name.
You know, you do all these things. I worked a lot. I did a number of things that got some degree of notoriety or praise and many others that didn’t. But in the end, it’s some things they say I did. And for me, the work was always the same. It was the work. It’s a privilege. It’s a lovely thing to get to do with your life, but it doesn’t belong to me. It belongs to the people who watch it and who want to watch it and want to regard it. And many of the things you do, people don’t want to watch or don’t regard it and don’t care, but that’s OK to me. So that’s how I look at it.
