If you want to learn something about the actress Eva Green, you should briefly relate her to her immediate surroundings. And witness what worlds open up in between.
The place: a corridor of a luxury hotel in London Mayfair. The occasion: Interview marathon for the new film. The hallway is filled with the soldier’s hammering of high heels. Assistants delegate reporters and camera teams. Who’s turn when, who’s waiting where? Everyday PR.
Journalists’ wishes are always answered with a whisper on such days, yet every “I see what I can do for you” always sounds like “Forget it!” Everything is normal. Until you are pushed into a suite and stand in front of a tortured, smiling Eva Green. “Cruel, isn’t it?” She says sympathetically. “Such interviews can be extremely frustrating.”
A star who apologizes in advance for a conversation – of course that doesn’t have to mean anything. Polite opening banter, possibly a little flirtatious. Here, however, you are directly on the topic: Because many will know Eva Green above all as the 007 trauma from “Casino Royale”, and not a few consider her to be Hollywood’s erotic joker for the femme fatale subject.
But Green considers herself the opposite of that, a notorious outsider in the film world. And later she explains it something like this: She also became an actress because she often didn’t know how to face reality. Now, unfortunately, much of what acting entails turns out to be frighteningly real. It doesn’t sound like a lawsuit. More like a statement.
She has a handshake that is reminiscent of chilled eggplant
Outwardly, too, Green looks different than what her roles suggest. She has a weakness for dark genres and extremes, for brutal, manic, at least mysterious women. Whether as a sword-wielding crusader queen with Ridley Scott, as a witch in “Camelot” or as a teacher who abuses her student in “Cracks”.
In the new Tim Burton film, a fairy tale that lovingly celebrates eccentricity, she plays the resolute director of a home for children with special talents. She has to defend her protégés from eyeball-eating monsters with a crossbow.
If you have such images in your head, you are more likely to be prepared for expansive one-meter-eighty. And now there is a petite woman in high-necked, black lace, with a handshake that is reminiscent of chilled eggplant. She is holding the shoes in her left hand because her feet are sore.
She can also delve into short answers in such a way that it appears as if she is playing
In conversation, Green’s attention has something somnambulous about it. Because she can immerse herself in short answers in such a way that it appears as if she is playing. If she talks about filming with Tim Burton, her voice sounds softly conspiratorial. “The island of special children” was the second film with him, she loves “that you can feel like a child on the set”.
Burton often works with the same people. “It’s a family thing, you’re protected like a bubble,” says Green. There is a lot of leeway for your own ideas and, above all, “no right or wrong”. In stark contrast to working with many other directors who – now their tone is rolling dark metallic, as if Darth Vader were speaking – “just say to you: Do this! Leave it! Go there!”