By David Geffner

The walls of Alan Parker's office tell stories. Lined with an artful array of pristine black-and-white photos, they supply a visual journey of each of the films the London born-and-bred director has completed in his 28-year career. From the lonely isolation of a Jewish child in Parker's early, British Academy Award-winning BBC film, The Evacuees, to the painfully lush chiaroscuro of Matthew Modine's dream-filled bedside in Birdy, to the riveting gaze of a poverty-stricken Irish boy in his most recent film, Angela's Ashes, every picture in Alan Parker's celebrated professional life has a story worth telling.

Critics have often dubbed Parker's work too "eclectic" and "diverse" to posit any clues as to what makes the man and the artist tick. But, even a cursory glance at the photos on Parker's wall, from films like Midnight Express, Birdy, Mississippi Burning, Come See the Paradise and Angela's Ashes, reveals a fondness for the underdog, and the underclass, that belies Parker's own working-roots background. Perhaps the more remarkable thing about Parker, who along with fellow Brit Ridley Scott forever changed British television in the mid-'70s with their groundbreaking commercials, is his desire to go where few Hollywood directors dare: film adaptations of work already successful in another medium.

Parker's high-profile version of the hit Broadway play, Evita, created an instant stir because of Madonna's presence. But, not even the pop star could overshadow Parker's bold use of music over dialogue to convey that well-known story. With Roddy Doyle's beloved Irish novel, The Commitments, Parker laid out a furiously fast-paced comedy of class and manners; and, in his most daring cinematic adventure, Parker adapted legendary British rock band Pink Floyd's surreal and affecting album, The Wall, into a politically charged piece of animated art.

Yet, even past adaptations could not have prepared Parker for Angela's Ashes, a book so widely read that there are walking tours of the Limerick neighborhood where author Frank McCourt grew up, even though the structures were decimated years ago. The pictures in Alan Parker's office tell stories - of love and joy, separation and struggle, drama and life. But, look a little closer and you'll see each image is as soulful and thought-provoking as the man himself.

I want to start with the look of Angela's Ashes: the light was cold and blue virtually all the time. Was this a visual plan or just a result of the notoriously disagreeable Irish winter?

It was a combination of many things. The winter light in Ireland is very soft. And, the color palette we chose - muted, monochromatic colors - was planned among myself, the costume designer, the production designer, and the cinematographer. In addition, the actual lab process we used to strike prints retains more silver. Also, the Irish rain is an extremely fine mist and very difficult to photograph on film, so we used a lot of rain machines and backlighting. The rain machines contributed to that monochromatic look you're talking about.

Your career began in commercials. Do you operate your own camera like many commercial directors in the United States do?

No, actually, Ridley (Scott) was the one doing all the really visual commercials and operating his own camera back then. I was perfectly content to let the operator do his job - I've worked with the same camera operator on the last eight films.

Angela's Ashes seems remarkably free of camera movement and excessive technique. It's straightforward and intimate.

I feel the audience should never be aware of any camera movement. Movement should be timed invisibly with the action so the technique does not become something separate from the story. For me, even things like lens choices or focus lengths are derived from what's happening in front of the camera. The scene gives me the clues as to what technical choices I should make. The technique should never drive the storytelling.

Speaking of technique, your staging is remarkable in this film: the rooms where Frank McCourt's family lived were extremely tight. The family is large with many children, yet the action in your frames never felt cluttered. Did rehearsal play a part in that?

Not really. It's very tough to do rehearsals when you're working with a lot of children in your cast. The school of thought on that is you want to maintain spontaneity with the kids and rehearsals can drain that out. You want the children to have some idea of camera placement and what's going on, but not too much - you run the danger of them getting too wise and undercutting the freshness of their performances.

Also, I was very lucky in that I had two excellent adult actors - Emily Watson and Robert Carlyle - to keep the children occupied and sort of maintain discipline in the family.

Do you ask child actors to hit marks and do all the things professional adult actors are expected to do?

I don't think you should expect them to hit marks. You can give them a more general sort of choreography and then in the coverage you can sharpen it up. I used two cameras throughout most of the shoot so that really helps with that problem.

Tell me about your collaboration with the production designer, Geoffrey Kirkland, for this film. The sense of period felt very real and direct - not dressed up, as in many period movies.

That's an interesting story. It had been 10 years since I shot The Commitments in Ireland, and even back then there wasn't much period architecture to draw from, even though that film was a contemporary story. Since Ireland joined the European union, the country has become more affluent, and there are even less period settings left - more money means more new developments and the clearing of older buildings. What's left is what the British built in the last century, the Georgian style, and then this huge gap after the British left. No Edwardian architecture like you find all over England. After Ireland became an independent Republic, there was even less money to build. So, what we were left with was all these fairly ugly '50s and '60s apartment buildings or huge modern developments.

Angela's Ashes captures the kind of poverty many people associate with Ireland. But, you're saying a lot of that is gone?

Per capita income in Ireland is higher than the whole of the U.K., and, in a few years time, it will exceed Germany! There's virtually no heavy industry there, it's all high technology, which is perfectly in sync with the times. Since Ireland has always had a highly educated population to draw from - strong universities, etc. - they're doing quite well. Unfortunately, if you're a filmmaker wanting to make a period Irish film, it can be tough to find the right locations. We were forced to use a patchwork. You can look at some scenes in the film and see characters run across a street that was shot in Limerick, then cut to them moving through an archway that was shot in Cork, then see them 'round the corner and walk into a set that was shot seven weeks later in Dublin. I did all the location scouting myself with Geoffrey Kirkland. The two of us just walked the country together until we found what we needed.

Irish history is as tangled up as that crowded alley where Frank McCourt lived. Did being English make you an outsider when it came time to adapt and film this story?

[laughs] No more an outsider than anyone attempting to film a Pulitzer Prize-winning book that's also a worldwide bestseller.

You have a habit of doing that, Alan!

I suppose I do. But, to answer your question: I felt like I had already gone through that in the United States. Birdy was shot in Philadelphia, Angel Heart in New Orleans. You are always an outsider as a director, coming into strangers' lives and homes to tell their stories. The most obvious example was Mississippi Burning. Not only was I English but, I was attempting to tell a story that was specific to the American black experience. I would turn your question around and say that if a filmmaker is one step removed from the world they're exploring, as I was in Angela's Ashes, he or she can look at that society free of bias, with a little more clarity, if you will.

You shot The Commitments in Ireland a decade ago. That was also a very specific Irish story.

Yes, and that film was also very successful. So, when I came back this time I think I had a level of acceptance from having done The Commitments. The difficulties were more a residue of Frank McCourt's book. Angela's Ashes split Ireland into two camps: the older generation who didn't want to bring up the past, didn't want to criticize what is still a very young country, and, the new generation, which has no problem looking at the more difficult aspects of what came before them.

Adapting another writer's work is always difficult. How intimidating was this novel to tackle?

Very intimidating. I was concerned as to whether Frank McCourt would like what I'd done. And, fortunately for me, he did. But, regardless of whether you adapt a novel or work from someone else's script, directing is a huge challenge. You're answering 150 to 200 questions every day. I always say the more you get right, the better the film.

It's a numbers game?

That's right - percentages. There's an old adage I'm fond of quoting about directing: it's very important to do your job correctly. But it's more important that you appear to be doing your job correctly! [laughs] There were times on this film when I was not sure of the correct answer, and I'd defer to the novel for guidance. In fact, on the bottom of each day's call sheet I wrote: when in doubt, look at the book. All the clues are there.

Evita, The Commitments, Birdy, Angel Heart, Pink Floyd: The Wall, and most recently a Pulitzer Prize-winning novel; one could easily assume Alan Parker is searching for a slow painful death by always taking on work that has been so successful in another medium.

You know, when I was writing the script for Angela's Ashes, I was extremely mindful of what I was doing. I knew I had to take out characters and compress story lines or the film would have been eight hours long. That was a very tough period. I knew, as I was cutting and slashing away, that the most important thing was to retain the integrity of Frank's book. I also knew that film is an organic process - it takes on a life of its own beyond the source material and changes are inevitable. You simply can't avoid it.

What was Frank McCourt's reaction to the film?

He was very complimentary. But, that doesn't mean every factual detail is the way he experienced it. The heart of the piece was what he responded to, and that was the most I could really ask for.

I read in the production notes that you've worked with the same editor, Gerry Hambling, on every one of your films?

And 350 commercials as well!

How does that relationship affect your working process?

The dialogue one has each day becomes quite minimal because we are so in tune. The same goes for my cinematographer, Michael Seresin, whom I've worked with on all but three films, if memory serves. In the case of my editor, he's always on location with me, cutting as we go along. We project the dailies together after each day, and we always project them synched up with audio. I encourage every single member of the crew, from the electrician to the PAs, to come and watch. However, I discourage my cast from looking at dailies.

Sounds almost like a ritual you've worked out after so many years of working with the same group?

Very much so. We always have a pint of Guinness together as the dailies are being projected. I'm so superstitious that Gerry, my editor, always sits on my left, and Michael, my cinematographer, always on my right! I'll chat with the DP about reprinting takes, etc. But, since I usually cover my scenes so thoroughly, the dialogue with the editor is rather minimal. I haven't missed a shot (coverage-wise) in 25 years, and I'm not about to start now!

So, what is the editor's main purpose in sitting in on dailies, if not to check coverage on specific takes?

Mostly to discuss the balance of each scene. Where is the thrust coming from? I never look at anything he's cut while I'm shooting the movie. We don't have a rough cut in the usual sense; he fine cuts as we go along, which is hugely risky.

You don't see the film until production has wrapped?

That's right. After we're all done with production, I'll sit down at the flatbed with his cut and make notes on each scene.

Flatbed? You guys edit on film?!

Amazing, isn't it? Gerry Hambling actually cuts on Moviolas, two of them side-by-side. I think he and Michael Kahn may be the last two people in the industry doing that. He's been nominated (for an Academy Award) many more times than me--six I believe. Since Gerry's 72 now, I've been telling people that if he decides to hang it up, or if he were to become too ill to work, my career would be over. I am that dependent on his skill and imagination.

I remember seeing Midnight Express two days before leaving for Europe for the first time. I was 17 years old and it scared the hell out of me. As a director, do you ever get personal feedback on a movie, beyond how much money it takes in at the box office or what the critics say?

That direct feedback is probably the most rewarding thing about making movies. You meet someone casually and they say something like: Pink Floyd: The Wall was the seminal film of my youth. Of course, if I had a dollar for every shot I've seen stolen from that movie and replayed on MTV, I'd be a rich man!

There's a quote from you in the production notes for Angela's Ashes saying that you strive for a socially significant edge to your films. Not overtly political, but meaningful just the same. Would you agree there's a stronger tradition of social filmmaking in the U.K. than here in Hollywood?

Yes, I think so. Ken Loach, who is probably England's most overtly political director, was a great hero of mine when I started out. Ken had done all these television films which inspired me to no end. I had a chance to ask him once about his technique - how did he do this shot, or how he did this cut, etc. And, he said to me: Alan, you're too interested in the how. First, you should be interested in the why.

A filmmaker should have something to say before he or she starts shooting?

Well, yes, in Loach's case. That's why he makes films - to expose a social problem. My approach is a little different in that I've mostly worked under the American commercial banner, and have had to be less overt in inserting social issues. But, that is what makes a film interesting to me - the social relevance. To tell a story and entertain an audience, and still leave them with something more essential to chew on, is hard to do. Yet, in the end, it's more rewarding than just having a purely commercial success.

Angela's Ashes is a bleak story. I assume you weren't afraid to go to those dark places, since you went there so early on in your career with Midnight Express and Birdy.

Well, as I said: when I started out, I really thought I was going to have a career making Ken Loach-type films - serious, intense, political. But, my first big splash was Bugsy Malone, which was this weird gangster-musical hybrid with children. Ever since then I've been reacting against what people might expect or whatever genre of film I did last.

You wrote Come See the Paradise (about Japanese interment in WWII) after seeing a black-and-white Dorthea Lange photo?

Yes, it's that photo right over there. It's of a Japanese family being evacuated during World War II. From that single image I wrote the screenplay for Come See the Paradise. The reason I did that film was because I felt I had unfinished business, after what had happened on Mississippi Burning.

How so?

Well, it comes back to the "why" as Ken Loach used to say. In the case of Mississippi Burning, the "why" took over the film. People weren't talking about the movie when it came out, or what I had done as an artist. All they were talking about was racism in America. They didn't care about how well it was shot, or the directing or acting style - the film stimulated debate about a real hot-button social issue.

And, the unfinished business you mentioned?

Was the subject of racism in America that had become this huge controversy on Mississippi Burning. On Come See the Paradise, I felt I needed to explore what everyone was talking about in a more direct and urgent way.

How about being involved in issues affecting filmmakers?

As a director, you fight for issues that directly affect you. For example, I wrote to every single retailer when Evita came out on video saying please don't buy the pan-and-scan version, buy the widescreen format the way it was intended to be seen.

Did it work?

[laughs] No. They told me only about 2% of the tapes were affected. But, that's an issue that has not been won - the pan-and-scanning of video releases - and I will not give up. Also, the way films are cut by the airlines or butchered for television - it's a disgrace. It's heartbreaking to see someone grade the color on the video version of your film and get it wrong. I just spent two months at Technicolor in London grading the video master for Angela's Ashes. It's shameful what happens to our movies after they leave a director's control, and that's why I follow it through as far as my contract will take me.

You spoke before about Pink Floyd: The Wall anticipating the MTV generation. Do you ever see a day when traditional storytelling, as in Angela's Ashes, will become endangered?

No, I really don't. I'm all for things that can break the form of filmmaking. As you mentioned, I did it in movies like Pink Floyd: The Wall, and even in Evita, one could argue. But, to say everything is going to change because of things like digital filmmaking, or an MTV-inspired audience, is absurd. Organizations like the DGA exist to encourage and preserve plurality. And, thank goodness for that.

Plurality is a good word to describe all these photos on your walls, in essence Alan Parker's career.

Plurality in the arts always boosts the creative pulse. I firmly believe that to have a healthy film industry you need all kinds of stories being told, in all kinds of formats. That's why I feel conventional storytelling will never disappear.

Being the writer, director and a co-producer on Angela's Ashes must have been a big load to haul. Were your co-producers on set? Are they ever, for that matter?

Co-producing, to me, is just another way to gain more control as an artist. I have final cut on my films and I like to be left alone to do that. On Angela's Ashes I had Scott Rudin and David Brown, two of the smartest and most respected producers around. And, they were both fantastic, in that they allowed me to make the film my own way. Scott Rudin never even visited Ireland, and David Brown came a few times. I'm really no good at having producers sitting there on the set when I'm trying to do my job.

You're the on-set producer on your films?

Always. I've got this thing about director's chairs - I don't allow them on my set. Not for me or a producer or anyone. We can all just sit on a box and get on with it, like the rest of the crew. That armchair army you see, with the whole crew surrounding the director, who's the only one sitting in a chair, just never made sense to me. Call it my boring socialist roots. They only use those chairs in England for actors during excessively long breaks - on a period film where the women have really elaborate costumes, for example. But, certainly not for the director. He can bloody well stand like everyone else.

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