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The Cult of Cillian
Elle U.K.
March 2007
By Michael Odell
[Image of article here.]
For rising star Cillian Murphy, hard work and a willingness to take risks have brought him fame and fortune. But while he loves acting, he's reluctant to court too much celebrity.
Actor Cillian Murphy (pronounced 'Killian') has arranged to meet me for lunch at a private club in central London. The weather is atrocious and he has walked through torrential rain to get here. But the damp clothes and storm-blasted hair have merely served to throw 31-year-old Murphy's slightly ethereal sex appeal into sharp relief: his clothes cling to his fit, sinewy body, and moon-sized blue eyes look out from the curtain of damp hair. Even the grizzly beard, grown for his part as an autistic oddball in Love Song, at London's New Ambassador's Theatre, can't disguise his angelic face. Actress Rachel McAdams, his co-star in the 2005 thriller Red Eye, described his face as "soft and kind, but also quite capable of doing scary psycho."
"Jesus, no one told me today was the feckin' apocalypse," he says, in his deep, delicious Irish brogue. Recent events have put him in an "end of days" mood, he says. Yesterday, in the area of north London where he lives with wife Yvonne and one-year old son Malachy, there was a tornado, which demolished three houses. Then, when he arrived in the West End for work, his Love Song co-star collapsed with a burst ulcer. "It's just unbelievable," he says. "There are definite shades of a disaster movie."
Murphy made his name in the 2002 film 28 Days Later… He played a London bicycle courier who wakes from a coma to find that a virus has turned most of the population into cannibal mutants.
Since then, his 11-year career has been marked by his career choice of out there character parts: a comic-book-villain in Batman Begins; a jet-set psycho in the thriller Red Eye; a transvestite IRA bomber in Breakfast on Pluto, and a freedom fighter in The Wind That Shakes the Barley. In his latest outing, Sunshine, he plays an astronaut on a mission to reignite the dying sun before all life on earth dies. "It's like an intergalactic flat share," he smiles. "We wear T-shirts, trainers and combats, and cook with a wok. But, of course, on a trip to the sun, the relationships get a bit pressured."
Murphy likes to take risks, whether it's playing psychologically interesting characters or wearing lingerie (Breakfast in Pluto [sic]). "But I couldn't do what Colin Farrell [a friend of his] does," he says. "I'm not an action hero. That's a specific skill. I prefer to be the guy who pops up at your cinema from time to time."
Which isn't to say that he'll never accept the big pay cheques. When he appeared in Batman Begins he was paid handsomely for three weeks' work. It all helps to fund his cosy domestic life. On days off, Murphy says, he rises early, makes Malachy his porridge, then takes him to the park. Yvonne, who's a video installation artist, works from home, so they lunch together. Then he spends the afternoon reading, or playing his ukulele. It all sounds blissful, but do they ever get on each other's nerves? "I don't see the point of answering questions like that," Murphy says, flatly. (He's notoriously reticent when it comes to talking about his private life.) But he does recount one area of conflict: "I have this habit of leaving the fridge door open. That pisses the wife off. Is that controversial enough?"
Murphy came to acting almost by chance. He grew up in Cork, where his mother is a French teacher and his father a school inspector. One of four children, he was academically strong, and went to college to train as a lawyer. "I thought, 'Ah, this will be like Brideshead Revisited, with all these bohemian and creative characters,' but it was populated by robots who just wanted to get a salary." He nearly became a rock star, too. When he was 19, he formed a band called Sons of Mr. Greengenes with his younger brother Páidi. The band was offered a record deal by London label Acid Jazz. "Let's just say, it was a blessing that we turned it down," he laughs. Would he have been a good rock star? "I like to perform. But what if you turn into a monster of excess?" It seems unlikely. Murphy's whippet-thin body is partly the result of a serious dedication to running. He gushes about his new Nike trainers with a microchip in the sole that interacts with his iPod to help him train. "It's pathetic, but I like the American voice that says, 'Congratulations! You have completed 2km.'" Is he a member of a running club? "God, no. I couldn't be part of a team that was enthusiastically engaged in anything."
So far, so alpha male. But what about the rumour that, since appearing in Breakfast on Pluto, Murphy's beauty products fight for space with his wife's in the bathroom? He considers this with wonder before erupting into hearty laughter. "Do I look like I have a feckin' beauty regime?" Back in Cork he says, men are men. The city spawned former Manchester United hard nut, Roy Keane. But also Graham Norton. "I'm somewhere in the middle, I hope," says Murphy with a smile. "Actually, when I think about Roy Keane, I'm much nearer Graham's end."
So what's next for this reluctant star? More mutants and cross-dressing? No, says Murphy, his next project, Watching the Detectives, is a romantic comedy, filmed in New York. He plays a geeky video-store worker, obsessed with film noir, who gets together with Lucy Liu. "Some roles can drive you nuts," he says. "You really are looking at your own dark side. But playing the video-store guy who's getting it together with a Charlie's Angel is a gift. You don't need much imagination to make that work."
As we part he apologises for being spiky about his personal life. Being famous, he says, has great personal cost. "My idea of hell is to be in the tabloids with my ukulele," he smiles. With that he leaves—a hunched figure, hurrying off into the storm.
