Above: Mr. Singer at the San Diego Comic-Con in 2013
In every respect, the director
Bryan Singer looks approachable. His
blockbuster brothers-in-arms Sam Raimi and Christopher Nolan may love neat
suits, but Mr. Singer is more casual—he has a penchant for flannel shirts and
warm-up jackets. And while the architect
glasses he’s been wearing in recent years make him look a little imperious,
they’re countered by the way words spew out of his mouth—quickly and nervously,
as if his body can’t quite contain his boyish energy.
Yet appearances can be deceiving. And if Mr. Singer seems easygoing in
interviews (he chooses his words less carefully than Mr. Nolan), his movies
tells a different story. Serious and
poetic, they are the work of a visual mastermind, a man whose vision depends
entirely on meticulous shots, whether they’re of a hand lighting a cigarette or
a plane flopping down on a baseball field.
And behind those images is something less tangible but equally
important—deep, unabiding passion and sincerity. That is what Mr. Singer has sought and
developed through his films, in an extraordinary career that is still astonishingly
young.
And it all started with war movies.
Bryan Singer was born on September 17TH 1965
in New York City and was adopted by Grace Sinden and Norbert David Singer (no
information has ever been revealed about his biological parents). He grew up, however, in West Windsor
Township, New Jersey and from the start, it was clear that he was
different. He struggled in school, yet
his zeal for film was obvious and was evidenced by the time he spent making
World War II movies with his friends (one of whom, Christopher McQuarrie, would
grow up to be one of Mr. Singer’s most faithful collaborators).
Throughout his college years, Mr. Singer’s directorial
devotion survived. But two things in
particular solidified his creative path.
First, he met and formed a partnership with the brilliant editor and
composer John Ottman at USC; and second, he wrote and directed a scary and sad
short called “Lion’s Den”—a project that inspired investors to back his first
feature, the small-town chiller “Public Access.”
As it
happened, “Public Access” won the Grand Jury Prize at the Sundance Film
Festival in 1993 and Mr. Singer soon capitalized on its success by directing
two star-studded thrillers, “The Usual Suspects” and “Apt Pupil.” Yet while both were intriguing and
entertaining (“The Usual Suspects” won Oscars for Kevin Spacey’s performance
and Mr. McQuarrie’s screenplay), something was missing. Yes, the two films were suspenseful, but they
lacked emotion—there was a coldness that made them feel more clever than human. And they raised the question—was Mr. Singer
still capable of the artistic empathy he displayed in “Lion’s Den”? Or had he become a cynical puppeteer, playing
movies as if they were a dark game?
In other words, it was time to try something new.
Growing up, Mr. Singer loved fantastical entertainments
like “Star Trek,” “Star Wars,” and “Jaws” (seeing an interview with Steven
Spielberg on TV was what showed him, as he recently explained, that “a
nerdy…kid could do this [filmmaking]”).
Yet despite a passionate love for Richard Donner’s 1978 movie
“Superman,” Mr. Singer had never cared for superheroes. So when Twentieth Century Fox approached him
about directing the comic book adaptation “X-Men,” he declined the assignment.
Yet the story didn’t end there. One of Mr. Singer’s best friends, Tom
DeSanto, happened to be a massive X-fan and tried to convince his friend that
“X-Men” (a series about a race of mutant superheroes cast out of society) was a
story worth telling. The saga’s main
characters, Professor X and Magneto, he explained, were like Martin Luther King
Jr. and Malcolm X—passionate leaders trying to fix the same problem
(prejudice), but in very different ways.
Transfixed
by this notion, Mr. Singer began reading comics and preparing to direct the
film—something that just barely helped him survive a brutally fast and torturous
production schedule (with Mr. Ottman unavailable, Mr. Singer clashed with his
new editors, at one point smashing a bottle against the editing room wall when
they refused to follow his instructions).
Almost four years passed between his agreement to direct “X-Men” and the
film’s opening day and for a while, he worried that it might be the last
blockbuster he’d ever be allowed to direct.
In
retrospect, the result of his efforts seems strangely modest. Released on July 14TH 2000,
“X-Men” had few fight scenes and a relatively low-key idea of drama. Yet the film’s smallness gave it a
beautifully intimate scope and an intensity that made it deeply human. And more to the point, it was filled with the
emotion that had eluded Mr. Singer on “The Usual Suspects” and “Apt Pupil.” Not only did the ideological battle between
Professor X (Patrick Stewart) and Magneto (Ian McKellen) grant the film
gravitas, but there was something especially tender in the scenes between Logan
(Hugh Jackman) and Rogue (Anna Paquin), the movie’s surrogate father-daughter
pair.
Needless
to say, “X-Men” was an unconventional blockbuster, especially because of its
bizarre visual eloquence (the film’s opening scene took place in a Nazi death
camp so grimy and gray that it looked like it had been filmed in black and
white). Yet the movie was also a box
office success—on a $75 million budget, it grossed over $296 million worldwide,
setting a precedent for a new generation of serious-minded comic book
adaptations (the “Spider-Man” and “Dark Knight” trilogies soon followed). On some level, “X-Men” reached people and
hence, Mr. Singer signed up for its sequel, “X2.”
Mr.
Singer has already said plenty about the madness of making his second mutant
movie (at one point, he and Mr. DeSanto got into an argument that put the entire
production behind schedule). And yet
“X2” was in every way superior to its predecessor. Longer (it was Mr. Singer’s first film to
exceed two hours), larger, and more violent, it accrued unstoppable momentum by
adopting a more complex storyline—that of a militaristic genocide and the X-Men
on the run, desperate to survive.
In
other words, the stakes had been raised.
But Mr. Singer didn’t just make his sequel bigger and better—he also
made it more tragic and empathetic. In
the first film, Logan had scuffled with the shape-shifter Mystique (Rebecca
Romijn) to non-fatal effect. But in “X2”
when Logan fights the brainwashed assassin Yuriko Oyama (Kelly Hu), it’s
different—the showdown is grotesque and replete with the two warriors stabbing
each other repeatedly. And just when Logan
seems to have won, Yuriko lunges out of a water tank, sinking her claws into
her opponent’s skin like some vicious sea creature.
But
then, something happens. Desperate and barely
breathing, Logan grasps a tube of liquid metal…and injects its contents into Yuriko’s
body. Then, he watches as trails of some
silvery substance run out from under her eyelids, staining her smooth face like
tears. The finishing touch? Mr. Ottman’s music on the soundtrack—a lone,
mournful voice, crying out.
That
moment is a crux of Mr. Singer’s legacy.
He never tells you anything about Yuriko—she only speaks a few words in
the film doesn’t have anything resembling an “origin story.” But through images and sounds alone, Mr. Singer
and his team make you care about her as her body sinks back to the bottom of
that tiny water tank, alone.
At the box office, “X2” was even more successful than
“X-Men,” advancing well into the $400 million range worldwide. Yet pre-production was anything but smooth on
“X3.” Mr. Singer wanted more money for
the film’s budget than Fox was willing to allow and as a result of the
disagreement, he began to doubt whether the movie could even be completed on
time.
Little
did he know, however, that at the same time a planned Superman film was
languishing at Warner Bros. The studio
had hired a series of filmmakers for the project, culminating in their latest
disaster—director McG (“Charlie’s Angels”) effectively resigning by simply not
showing up for a location scout. As a result,
the Warner execs were faced with the reality of having wasted millions on a
film that hadn’t even gone before the cameras yet.
The studio, however, had a backup plan to retrace their
contractual footsteps. Years ago, they
had offered Mr. Singer the director’s chair, only to see him balk at the script
(by soon-to-be “Star Trek”/”Star Wars” maven J.J. Abrams). But this time, mired in pre-production
difficulties at Fox, he accepted the challenge of resurrecting the most famous
superhero of all time.
Why, exactly, did Mr. Singer embrace a project that had
flummoxed so many? The financial
disagreements on “X3” certainly provided a reason. Yet mostly, I think the decision arose from his
creative impulsiveness. After all, he
had always stuck to his own, brazenly individualistic path, even when it meant
turning down high-profile projects like “The Devil’s Own” (a 1900s thriller
starring Harrison Ford and Brad Pitt).
So while sticking with “X-Men,” a franchise that he already understood
and connected with, might have been the smarter career choice, Mr. Singer
couldn’t resist the call of his longtime love for Superman.
Soon, the pieces of the production fell into place. Actors like Brandon Routh, Kate Bosworth, and
Kevin Spacey were recruited; longtime Singer collaborators like Mr. Ottman and
Newton Thomas Sigel joined their friend in defecting from the X-Men universe; “X2”
writers Michael Dougherty and Dan Harris penned a fresh screenplay for the
movie (titled “Superman Returns”); and a $250 million budget (at the time, a
record-setter) was doled out by the studio, allowing Mr. Singer to build a
massive epic replete with icy vistas and lush scenes in outer space.
It’s already history that despite this wondrous opulence,
“Superman Returns” was a financial failure, a two-and-a-half hour opus that never
connected with many moviegoers. Yet it
remains Mr. Singer’s second best film after “X2,” not least because of the
lonely scenes of Mr. Routh’s Superman soaring sadly above the fictional city of
Metropolis. Through those moments and
more, Mr. Singer made the movie not only an ode to Superman’s old-fashioned
humor and romanticism, but an evocation of the character’s pain and
longing. To fly with this Superman was
to feel his desperation, and the experience was not depressing, but
heart-openingly cathartic.
Such achievements make it painful to hear Mr. Singer’s
apologies for the film (“I think I could lop the first quarter off and start
the movie more aggressively,” he hedged in an interview with Empire magazine). But did he ever consider that the world
simply wasn’t ready for his movie? After
all, “Superman Returns” is more unconventional than many people realize. Most blockbusters spoon-feed audiences the
soul of their characters, packaging them neatly in slick one-liners. But “Returns” is an often-silent visual poem
that asks you to simply look into Superman’s eyes and understand everything he
feels—his loneliness, his love, and his determination to be the chivalrous,
peace-loving man he has always been, even if the world has changed around him.
Last year, Mr. Singer took to the stage at Montreal’s
Fantasia Film Festival for an interview presentation entitled “Rated X: An
Evening With Bryan Singer.” At the time,
he was busy with his latest project (“X-Men: Days of Future Past,” his return
engagement to the mutant universe), yet he hardly seemed tired. Instead, he was jokey, self-deprecating, and
eager to talk about his life and work.
“Where are you?” he would abruptly ask each time an audience member
posed a question, as if compelled to look them in the eye.
Perhaps he was glad to be back in the spotlight as well;
after all, in recent years, he’d been in a strange kind of limbo. In the wake of “Superman Returns,” he’d
directed two more movies, one wonderful (the intricate WWII thriller “Valkyrie”)
and one awful (the trashy fantasy “Jack the Giant Slayer”). Like “Returns,” both films had underperformed
financially, but life hadn’t slowed for Mr. Singer—he’d kept busy directing
television pilots, overseeing the web series “H+,” and writing at his favorite
spot, the Coffee Bean in Hawaii. And,
with “Days of Future Past,” he’d accepted the grandest and most expensive
assignment of his career.
Tomorrow when the movie is released, we’ll know if the
gamble paid off. But Mr. Singer has already
skipped the pre-opening day blitz. He didn’t
really have a choice—a lawsuit against him alleging sexual abuse (his accuser
is the actor Michael Egan) has made him a publicity liability. But while a hearing on the case is scheduled
for July, Mr. Singer has already spoken out.
“The allegations against me are outrageous, vicious, and completely
false,” he said in a recent statement (this week, Mr. Singer’s lawyer filed for
the case to be dismissed).
Still, Mr. Singer has other things on his mind as well. If “Days of Future Past” turns a profit,
there’s a good chance he’ll be directing its sequel (“X-Men: Apocalypse,”
slated for May 27TH 2016). And
on a more personal note, he recently revealed to Out magazine that he’s bisexual (before adding, “I emotionally lean
towards male relationships, so I’m happy to say I’m gay, too….").
Beyond
that, little about Mr. Singer remains known.
He seems to have a core group of creative comrades, including Mr. Ottman
and Jason Taylor (who runs his production company, Bad Hat Harry). Yet his films are profoundly infused with
isolation and sadness. Do they reflect
how Mr. Singer feels? I wonder. Just as with actors, it’s hard not to speculate
about how directors are reflected in their movies, how their lives shape their
work.
Then
again, Mr. Singer’s films have plenty of power on their own. And if you want meaning or feeling, you need
only look to the very scenes he directs, whether they’re of Superman bathed in
hopeful sunlight, or Logan on top of the Statue of Liberty, holding Rogue close
to him, above the lights of New York.
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