I picked up an old copy of the New Yorker lying about the house, the Nov 10 2014 issue just to make a dent in the pile of New Yorkers that have arrived but I have not had time to touch. One article a day ought to do the trick. The latest ones to have come through our mail flap are all soggy and sodden thanks to the infernal weather here. Here are some key excerpts from their profile of Jez Butterworth (the only work of his I have seen is Birthday Girl, which I liked so much I bought the DVD).
One is aware that there are words Butterworth uses partly because he finds them amusing: prannie, prannock, flapjack, Maypole, Chorleywood, piss-head, and accordion, among others – words he picks up and saves like a magpie. “Jez has got the most incredible memory for dialogue.”
I don’t know half the words in there, except perhaps flapjack. Which I think means rather different things in the US and the UK. On finding him to get him to write:
The biggest problem was tracking him down. “He was like mercury on a bit of glass.”
He had a work style that involved lazing about for the longest time, and then switching it on and starting to work again, with no start up time. I need to learn how to do that. Also, the ephemeral thing if anyone is chasing me for a deadline. On his antagonism:
During a rewriting of the movie “Edge of Tomorrow,” he lashed out at Doug Liman, the director, who recalled that “almost immediately afterward Jez said, ‘You know, if I ever attack you again personally, you should just know that means I know I’m wrong.'”
Now he’s starting to sound a lot more like the Jez from Peep Show, but more a self-aware version. That’s exactly what I do as well. Childish, and also pitiable for the desire to preserve that last vestige of pride. On his political ideology or lack thereof:
Butterworth is not political. His response to the conflict (“I didn’t think we should have been at war in Iraq, and I think that’s being borne out right now. It’s the Pottery Barn rule: If you break it, you own it”)
Haha I didn’t know Pottery Barn had that rule. Then again, it’s not like we’re on the kind of salary that merits shopping there all the time. I only used to go in there for their lovely quince diffusers, and even then they have stopped that line of scent in a rebranding exercise. On grief:
And what of grief? “The main thing that you learn from grief is that you might as well try and get over it, because it’s coming around the mountain again. It’s just going to come, and come, and come, and come, and when you go it’s somebody else’s problem.”
That’s such a lovely, enlightened (if selfish) view of it. We (as a couple) embrace plane crashes. The worst grief I can think of is grieving the loss of each other, and being in a plane crash together not a bad way to go simultaneously. I could probably make a list of other calamities that would work. Being left behind is such a horrible situation. I’ve told him that if he dies before me I will post all the stupid and silly things he says to me on his facebook account just for laughs, that and the fact that he won’t be able to do a thing about it.