Words: Sam Toy
There have been many great
director/performer combos —
Lean and Guinness, Burton and
Depp, Scott and Crowe — but
few that genuinely result in
the best work of both partners. There is, obviously,
Scorsese and De Niro, but there’s also, rather more
modestly, Meadows and Considine.
Get the pair in a room together, and their kinship
is obvious, yet while they give the impression they’ve
been knocking out films together for years, their
15-year friendship has in fact, thus far, produced just
three, all of them outstanding: the beguiling A Room
For Romeo Brass, the sinister Dead Man’s Shoes,
and now the openly daft but highly entertaining
mockumentary, Le Donk & Scor-Zay-Zee. Empire sat Armsdown
with the pair to discuss how they make it work.
The fact that we only needed to nudge the conversation
into action seems indicative of the answer...
How did Le Donk & Scor-Zay-Zee come about?
Shane Meadows: The Arctic Monkeys wanted me to
do their tour video, something a bit different. Paddy
had worked with them on a video, and I love them, so
there was always the chance we could work together
at some point. But I’d come off the back of This Is
England, spent two years working my guts out, and
I said, “A tour video’s probably not my thing — if I’m
going to do something a bit different, I want to take
something like this character that me and Paddy have
had kicking around for eight or nine years. Would you
mind if we turned up backstage and just fucked about
a bit?” And it just blossomed.
Paddy Considine: Donk’s an amalgamation of a lot
of people, and from us both being in bands. He’s one
of those small-time svengalis who’ll turn up and want
to manage you.
Meadows: Unartistic people who like to latch onto
the artistic.
Considine: Yeah, these people who leech from them
— even if it’s not money or success, they leech their
fucking energy, and that’s what Donk is like; he’s quite
a bitter guy, and he’s ‘discovered’ (rapper) Scor-Zay-
Zee, but if Scor was successful, it would kill him!.
And it’s also the launch of your ‘Five-Day Features’
plan. What’s that all about? Meadows: I wanted to free myself up from the
lumbering process that making a film can sometimes
be, and to encourage everyone that a movie can
be made in five days. We didn’t want to launch this
thing without having a prototype to show for it, and
it fitted in nicely with what we wanted to do with the
Arctic Monkeys. And it was such a lot of fun — we
want to do another one.
Whether it’s five days or a full-on shoot, you certainly
seem to both be at your best when you’re together…
Meadows: When I first met Paddy in college in Burton,
I thought I wanted to be an actor. Then I sat in a room
with him and thought, “I don’t know what the fuck it
is that he’s got, but I ain’t got it!”
Considine: I wasn’t an actor until I met Shane. When
I left Burton that was pretty much it, I went and did
photography in Brighton. He started making dozens
of short films, of which Small Time was the result, and
then Twenty Four Seven was coming out. Then Shane
put A Room For Romeo Brass to me, and I was a bit
like, “Oh shit.” But I went and watched Small Time
again and thought, “Well, the majority of these guys
aren’t actors, and they did it, so fuck it — just trust
him.” And it went from there.
Together you’ve come up with three great characters…
Considine: Morell (A Room For Romeo Brass) was born out of the two of us, really, and I think that’s
why it works so well. Richard (Dead Man’s Shoes)
and Donk are the same — I’m Donk, but it doesn’t
work unless Shane’s off-camera saying, “What do
you mean?” There’s a rapport there. Something just
comes out of it.
How does Shane compare with other directors, Paddy?
Considine: I’ve had directors I’ve not had a working
relationship with at all, I’ve had some that I’ve had a
good working relationship with and it’s been okay, but
this is just something that I have to accept is unique.
Meadows: It’s a shorthand, but it’s not like, “Oh, I’ve
known him for 15 years.” You don’t just develop it.
There’s some people you’ve known your whole life,
who you never really get to know, but we’re definitely
from the same tribe. I’d go around to Paddy’s house,
and it was like being in The Commitments! Everything
everyone said was fucking hysterical. I mean, it was
just a non-stop film, so I could see where Paddy was
getting all of this: he grew up surrounded by characters.
I loved being round there — always some mad fucking
drama going on about nothing, it was a real hive of
activity, and me and him used to eat everything that
was left in the house. We used to live on hot dogs...
Considine: Hot dogs and bread...
Meadows: And because I lived at his house, on his
floor, you just sort of form a bond with somebody, and
out of everybody we’ve got a similar sense of humour.
So what was the ‘Eureka!’ moment in terms of
recognising Paddy’s talent, Shane? Meadows: We were doing this really wank short film
together at college called The Schumachers, and Paddy
and me were playing these really wank American cops.
There’s this bit where he’s talking
and eating a sausage sandwich;
I was fucking weeping. Everyone in
the screening was thinking, “What
the fuck’s Paddy on with?” Then by
the end of it everyone’s crying with
laughter — you can’t even hear half
of it, because he’s got bangers
hanging out of his mouth. But I remember looking
at that and thinking that ability to skit and freestyle
is fucking rare. And that’s why, when he came back
off course, I said, “The reason you don’t want to be
an actor is you think there’s rules...”
Considine: Yeah, I think that’s when I come unstuck.
You see the rules and restrictions, and at times I’ve
thought, “I’m not really an actor, and I shouldn’t really
be doing this.” But it’s only when I put those rules in
my brain that the shackles come on. Because I’ve no
tutoring, there’s no escape plan in place when I’m on
a film and I’m not connecting. It just tends to dissipate
for me, and that’s a strange experience. You start off
with this performance in Romeo Brass, and you’re out
of the blocks and you think, “Oh shit — actually... I’m not an...” I always say “actor for hire” — although
I don’t mean disrespect to other actors by that — but
I still don’t really understand acting. I don’t get it at all.
How did your personal relationship translate into a
professional one on Romeo Brass?
Meadows: We thought it was going to be this weird,
will-it-won’t-it work thing, but it was just like us at
college; all Paddy needs is for someone
to say, “Just keep going in that
direction.” I’m just slightly honing
him, but he’s pretty much unedited. It’s
rare, because normally as a director
you really have to lead people, but
Paddy’s one of them rare relationships.
Rather like — dare we trot out a hoary
comparison — Scorsese and De Niro... Meadows: Yeah, the comparison that
gets drawn is the Scorsese/De Niro
thing, and it’s nothing like that —
except in terms of we work together,
we’re from similar backgrounds and
seem to get the best out of each other.
But in our working relationship it’s
probably really different. And I don’t
think I’ve ever seen them go back and
make a 50-grander!
Le Donk & Scor-Zay-Zee is out
on October 5 in selected cinemas
and on DVD in October, and will
be reviewed in a future issue.
Ages: 36, 35
Joint CV: Le Donk
& Scor-Zay-Zee (2009),
Dead Man’s Shoes (2004), A
Room For Romeo Brass (1999)
Most Maverick Moment:
The acid-induced multiple
axe-massacres in
Dead Man’s
Shoes.
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