AG: What I’m hearing you say is you’re having the experience of serving something greater. You get to show up for all of those with ALS, for all who have had struggles with living their fullest life. The main testament to the soul of the film is the fact that Hawking and the family responded the way they did. That’s kind of “game over,” you know what I mean? So I have no fear. You fear away.
ER: Thank you, mate. You know I’ll fear away; that’s my modus operandi. Even though the story is very specific, it’s symbolic of how people deal with obstacles in their lives. Jane Hawking ended up being a huge advocate for [the rights of the disabled], making places accessible for people in wheelchairs. Because Stephen was so iconic, she really broke boundaries.
AG: Can I ask about the balance you had to strike between technique and spontaneity? When an actor plays a real human being, there’s an expectation of how they are going to do a good impression or some kind of mimicry. I know that everyone who sees the film feels you don’t just inhabit the body; you inhabit the soul. Can you talk a little bit about that?
ER: I said to James [Marsh, the director] I’d need time [to prepare], and he gave me four to five months. Hawking was diagnosed with ALS when he was 21. His disease is entirely secondary [to his life] as far as he’s concerned. Similarly, I wanted to make all the physical elements of the performance so embedded and second nature. Some of my favorite moments were improvised. The emotional lines of the film came from reading Jane and Stephen’s books, but also the patients that I met.
AG: This is a hard question: We get to have these incredible, soul-enriching experiences. Do you have any practices to keep yourself in that deeper, more aware and conscious place?
ER: The answer is I don’t have an answer, and like you I am still trying to figure it out. I guess the answer is making sure you’re fulfilled in other interests in your life.
AG: You were an art history major back in your Cambridge days.
ER: I was asked in an interview this morning what I would be if I wasn’t an actor, and I said a curator. But I think that was far too hyperbolic.
AG: No, buddy. I’ve spent some time with you in the Victoria and Albert Museum, and it’s really awesome to walk around with you. I was with a top-class tour guide because your knowledge and passion are so deep. I remember when you would talk about Red [the Tony-winning Broadway show] and Rothko, your blood was pulsing. You were a man at the exact right place in his life, doing exactly what he should be doing.
ER: What I loved about Red is that it was a meeting of all the things I was interested in. That rare moment when all the stars align.
AG: What happens when you have the opposite experience in work?
ER: You go home, drink a lot of red wine, cuddle up to your teddy bear, and cry. There are some amazing directors out there, but they have a set of ground rules that work brilliantly for some people, but that often make me tense up and go back to that safe, crap place. The only thing I’ve learned in 10 years is if you don’t feel free to mess up and try new things—even if the director has the most brilliant reputation—then it’s never going to work. If you don’t feel like you can take shots that are crazy and bold and will probably fail, then that’s not the right person to be working with.
AG: I don’t know about you, but I’ve been having a lot of conversations with people of our generation. Possibly because of how competitive it is out there, in terms of the economy and job availability, there’s not a lot of stopping, or just allowing yourself to be enough as you are—without constantly needing to prove something.
ER: I was reading an interview with Rachel Weisz a few years ago and she said, “Every time I finish a job, I think I’m never going to get hired again,” and I was like, “Come on, you’re Rachel Weisz.” But I absolutely get it. Because I think if you’re lucky to do this thing professionally, that you loved doing as a child, and you don’t feel like you’re qualified—it’s that old shtick of waiting to be found out. The idea that you do this job and get paid for it doesn’t seem like it should be allowed.
AG: We’ve mostly shared time in London and LA. What are your feelings about New York City?
ER: I’m weirdly obsessed. When I was 13 or 14, I had a calendar of black and white New York photos and was endlessly trying to do drawings of them. And then my mum took me to New York, and we were lucky enough to stay in this hotel on the 21st floor. I opened the windows and the curtains, and there was St. Patrick’s Cathedral, with all the high-rise buildings flying up above it. I kid you not, my knees buckled. I find New York the most electric, enlivening place. There’s something about the theater world, too. In London the theaters are geographically spread out so there’s no sense of community. In New York, the theaters back onto each other so you’d come out after doing the Rothko play, and Lucy Liu would be walking out from God of Carnage, and you were sharing this back alley, all of you together.
AG: There’s a way to create community in theater that you can’t so much in film because, maybe, there’s just too much money involved.
ER: One of the great New York experiences is where you have a dress rehearsal before your first preview. It’s in the middle of the day so all the other actors and people from other shows can come. I remember Alfred Molina saying, “Ed, don’t expect this audience to be like any other. They will be the most generous audience you’ve ever heard.” We’re so lucky to have the experience of performing on Broadway, or the experience of living in LA. When we started, I would turn up in my really shoddy rental car and park it as far from Paramount as possible, and walk in and pretend as if I knew what I was talking about—you pretend to be living one life when you actually can’t afford to pay your rent. It’s something that has really made our group of friends; it’s so amazing to be able to share that with people.
AG: It’s unlike anything we were raised in, right?
AG: You’ve been so inspired by Jane Hawking and her incredible work. What charities are you involved with right now?
ER: For the past year and a half [I’ve been] working with people who suffer from motor neuron disease [Hawking’s affliction], and I’m one of the patrons of the MNDA, which is the British association. This disease has been around for over a hundred years or longer, and we’re not any closer to finding a cure. That has a lot to do with the fact that not many people have it, so pharmaceutical companies won’t invest in research. [Recently] there was the Ice Bucket Challenge, and people were critical of it because everyone was jumping on the bandwagon. But it was raising awareness. I think the disease has a branding problem because it’s called different things, like motor neuron disease, MND, in the UK, ALS, Lou Gehrig’s disease. The fact is [the Ice Bucket Challenge] brought attention to the disease. I hope The Theory of Everything will act similarly. The other charity I’ve been working with is the Teenage Cancer Trust in London. For years, I’ve been going to the wards and meeting young people. I feel really privileged in that sense.
AG: Nice, man—you’re a hero.
