THE PRESS CONFERENCE isn’t exactly proving a meeting of minds. Robert De Niro and Harvey Keitel sit sullenly alongside one another, F. Murray Abraham and Geraldine Chaplin are at the polar ends of the long table looking bemused, not unaware that they are of secondary interest to the living legends between them.They all might be waiting for root canal work rather than the next question from the massed ranks of the Spanish entertainment press.
“Mr De Niro, have you tried our local fish delicacy?” The star keeps his face as blank as an empty canvas. “What?” he mumbles.
Undeterred by the weary tone, the hapless journalist ploughs on, proceeding in faltering English to describe the contents of the dish involving said small fish and appropriate cooking instructions. There is not a trace of amusement in the great man’s face. After a heavy pause, De Niro speaks again: “No, I haven’t.”
Beside him, Keitel seems frozen in time, as if the merest movement might hint at a willingness to talk. They might be luminaries of their profession, but public speaking has never come readily to De Niro and Keitel, and when the subject veers on to local history, local tourist attractions, and, from one scantily clad presenter, the presentation of a local gift, they shut up shop completely. Thankfully, the loquacious Abraham and Chaplin fill in the gaps by mentioning the movie.
It seems to be lost on the Iberian television studios and papers that the casting of De Niro alongside his co-star from Taxi Driver should be cause for much speculation if not celebration. Especially considering they are both sporting elaborate beards (as is Abraham) which speak of a period drama, something they lend their much vaunted talents to rarely. In fact, The Bridge of San Luis Rey also boasts Kathy Bates, Gabriel Byrne, John Lynch, Dominique Pinon and the new Spanish beauty Pilar López de Ayala in its cast list. David Lean would be more than pleased with that kind of line-up.
Advertisement
What may come as a surprise is that a wealthy studio is not backing the project. Indeed, it is still in the market for a distributor and there is not a cent of American money near it. This is an independent, internationally co-financed production, or, in cute industry parlance, a Euro-pudding, with money from Britain, Germany, France and Spain.
So how does a relatively small film attract such a weighty cast? “I just put down the perfect names besides the different characters,” says the film’s little-known director Mary McGuckian. “And we got them.” Sounds simple, but the key for all the cast members was the original book and the script based on it.
The 1927 Pulitzer Prize-winning novel by American author Thornton Wilder, set in colonial Peru (Spain makes a more convenient stand-in), is an existential drama cross-hatching the lives of five people who die when a rope bridge collapses. The sole witness to the accident is a monk who is inspired to research their lives, conflicted over the meaning or meaningless nature of such loss. He discovers that their lives were not only interconnected, but laced with personal tragedy. It’s big, profound stuff: religion versus science, destiny versus a random universe, personal action versus blind trust in a distant God. In Hollywood terms it’s The Mission meets Short Cuts. “It couldn’t be more appropriate for our times,” expounds Abraham, “the effect a random, devastating event can have on lives. It places the individual against the bigger picture. How to make sense of a seemingly random tragedy. The bridge could easily represent the events of September 11.”
But it wasn’t as if they all just breezed in, the film’s producer Craig Darian, admits. “It took some negotiation,” he smiles.
The snaring of both Keitel and De Niro for relatively small roles in an ensemble picture is further testament to their commitment to the smaller movie. Now in later life, both men are filling up their lives with acting, rarely taking breaks, cramming in an Analyze That and a Red Dragon with less commercial enterprises that tickle their fancies. Creative diversification is the communal hymn; go for the money but keep the challenge alive. They also understand that having their names attached to a project will, to some extent, guarantee an audience.
Advertisement
And the film-makers are full of respect. A few hours earlier, De Niro was giving an oration in the city’s cathedral, dressed in an 18th-century bishop’s frock — the scene has his religious dignitary presiding over the funeral of the victims. Even between takes the place is consumed by an exalted hush. God may be present on this hallowed ground, but De Niro’s here as well. He has flown in on a private jet, with butter-soft leather seats, and will exit the next day the same way.
The crew are careful to circumvent the De Niro exclusion zone. Later in the thick, heavy sunshine, an assistant with a parasol trails him, another carries his slippers for him to slide into when he is not in shot. Journalists are quietly ushered out of the way every time he moves. “It’s pretty special, isn’t it?” says Darian, watching him from a safe distance. As the scene finally wraps, there is a burst of applause, and Mr De Niro is whisked away, his work now complete, his patronage given. The next day Harvey Keitel strolls on to the set and the hush descends once again.