Iniziamo quindi l'elenco degli articoli relativi al resto del cast di I Want to Believe partendo da Billy Connolly che nel film interpreta il ruolo di Padre Joe.
Trovate di seguito due interviste a lui dedicate.
BILLY CONNOLLY is about to become a proper Hollywood A-Lister thanks to his lead role in the new X Files movie. But Scotland's funniest man is in no danger of letting his success go to his head - because his fellow Scots continually put him in his place. Despite the global stardom, he reckons his twice-yearly trips home keep his feet firmly on the ground because he just isn't seen the same way as "proper" famous people.
Billy said: "There was a Scottish girl on the plane when I was flying to London on the way to Vancouver from Scotland. She said, 'I've seen you in films and on TV' and I said, 'Well, that's nice'.
"Then she said, 'How do you feel when you meet famous people?' I thought, 'What do you think I am myself?' She obviously thought I am Scottish first and then a famous guy.
"We have a saying in Scotland, 'I ken his faither', which is a put-down. The TV show Nationwide once did a programme on me in Glasgow. At one point I was in the street where I grew up and a girl was asking me for my autograph.
"A little crowd gathered and two little old ladies were watching. One of them looked over at me and said, 'And his father was such a nice man'.
"Some of being famous is great. You know to begin with, you get a following and they love you then they start seeing you in the street and pointing you out and that's nice.
"Then shortly after that you get this other degree of fame through television and films and you're known to everybody.
"Sometimes I don't like it because some people feel they're entitled to say that they don't like you. They say you are rubbish and they say it to your face: 'I don't like your stuff' and I think, 'Who asked you?' They don't seem to care if they are deeply insulting you."
It seems obvious that Billy's poverty-stricken upbringing in a Glasgow tenement has had a huge influence on his comedy - but the star disagrees.
In fact he reckons background has little impact on anyone, positive or otherwise. As he points out, Paris Hilton has all the money in the world but she has not exactly had an easy ride through life in recent years.
He said: "Your background has little to do with anything. I think comedy comes from darkness, from inabilities. All the great comedians have been unable to do things, or they do things badly. Look at Charlie Chaplin and Laurel and Hardy.
"Most comedy is about inability. For example, with sex what's funny is how baffling it is, not how great you are at it. It's how complicated the whole thing is. It never ends.
"Great comedy is all about telling real things, the truth in a light way, so the audience goes 'God, that's right - I felt that' and they burst out laughing.
There's a lot of truth involved that makes people identify with comedy.
"All backgrounds are difficult. Paris Hilton's background is difficult. You might say it's easy because she's got lots of money but life isn't any easier for her than it is on a housing estate.
"It could be softer and more comfy but she's been in jail and in trouble and that couldn't have been comfortable and dealing with all that paparazzi is a nightmare.
"I think your background textures what you're going to do. It doesn't dictate what you're going to do. I don't see myself as a victim of poverty."
While Scots may not fawn over Billy like the Americans do, he still loves his trips home - especially when his celebrity pals tag along. And thanks to Billy, one Hollywood star has been taking a little bit of Scotland around the world with him.
He said: "I come back to Scotland in August and always at Christmas with the family. It's great.
Robin Williams loves to visit. He runs the hill race at the Highland Games - he does the race with all the other guys, he's a head case.
"He's brilliant and I love him. So does Aidan Quinn and he doesn't even put shorts on. Robin at least puts shorts on. I gave Robin a kilt for his birthday and he wears it a lot. He wore it at an awards ceremony recently."
Billy now lives in New York with wife Pamela Stephenson, 58, the actress-turned-psychologist, after spending many years in LA. But he refuses to slate La-La Land, insisting he only moved to be closer to his daughters Daisy, Amy and Scarlett - so they can borrow money more easily.
"I'm a great family guy. I love them all. I love my work too but I have to work because this is my job and I always spend all my money. I do have balance though. I go fishing, go out on my motorcycle, I read and I watch telly.
"I do have a lovely place in Scotland but my children were raised in America, first Los Angeles and now we live in New York. But I won't hear a word against Los Angeles. I love it. I'm not one of those LA knockers.
"We moved to New York because my girls go to college on the East Coast and it means we get to see them. If I lived in LA I would hardly see them at all. How would they borrow money from a big distance? It's so much easier when I'm nearby. I should change my name to ATM because there's a sound that is so familiar - 'Daaaaaaddd' - when they want money. I am effectively an ATM: 'Would you like that in tens or twenties?'."
Billy's role in The X Files: I Want To Believe is the most challenging of his career - not only is it a lead role in a major Hollywood blockbuster but the character of the dark, disturbed Catholic priest was written specially for him by X Files director Chris Carter. His character bleeds from the eyes in scenes that grab the attention of paranormal investigators Mulder and Scully.
Billy said: "That was an extraordinary compliment. Chris called and said he wanted to see me about The X Files movie and I had no idea why. But I was keen to meet him.
"I knew there would be more to him than just a film guy because of the material he'd written. So I went along and he told me he had written this part, Father Joe, a disturbed Catholic priest, with me in mind. I said, 'Oh really?' Then he told me more about the guy and I said, 'Even better'.
"Chris wanted to work with me. He told me his brother had met me wandering around in the middle of the night in a little street in Mexico. I used to go down to Mexico for stretches and fish in the sea. I had a purple beard at the time and I had been down in Baja kicking around. So that was a coincidence.
"I have some knowledge of priests obviously because I was brought up as a Catholic. I have several relatives who are Catholic priests and I had pals at school who became priests. I also have a cousin who is a nun and a cousin who is a missionary priest in Pakistan - and I am an atheist." Billy admits the experience of headlining a major movie was a big thrill - although he loves acting anyway as it is an escape from life as a touring comedian.
He said: "It is very enjoyable because I spend my whole life kidding on that I'm telling the truth. Sometimes it isn't the truth; sometimes it's absolute nonsense. It's for effect but I'll tell it to you, to the audience, as if I'm telling the truth. I have to do that or it wouldn't work.
"For example, the time I said that cannibalism was a good idea and that if there are too many people in the world and not enough food, the answer is obvious to me - we should eat each other and if we eat one person each, the problem would be halved overnight.
"I said, 'eat the unemployed'. It has to sound real for it to work. I've spent a lot of my life doing that, which on the one hand helps me to act because I can actually say things quite sincerely that I don't believe in.
"The most worrying thing is that the darker the character, the easier I find it. If he's a really nice, intelligent man I find it awfully difficult to play him.
"I like acting because it amuses me greatly to try to be someone I'm not. I like acting very much and I like the way it divides up my life between comedy and drama.
"Usually, for some reason, known best to someone else, I get a film offer after I've been on the road for a length of time doing the funny stuff and I think, 'That will be great, let's do that', so then the movie takes me away from the road, from the concert roles. The two are quite different."
The X Files: I Want To Believe is in cinemas from August 1.
FONTE: Sunday MailThe comedian explains why playing a tortured Catholic priest in the next X-Files movie won't make us laugh
He is a famous comedian, but there is nothing funny about Billy Connolly's latest role: he plays a tortured Catholic priest in The X-Files: I Want To Believe. "There are no laughs at all, which is brilliant," says Connolly gleefully. "Father Joe is very disturbed, very dark. Doing a drama like this is a joy; you get to use your body in a different way, you get to use your eyes. I love playing dark characters, the darker the better, the more disturbed he is, the happier I get." He fixes me with menacing eyes. "The most worrying thing is that the darker the character, the easier I find it. If he's a really nice, intelligent man, I find it awfully difficult."
Connolly has tackled drama before, notably in the film Mrs Brown, with Dame Judi Dench, but he's never portrayed anyone like Father Joe, who is psychic and possibly deranged. "I was brought up as a Catholic," Connolly says. "I have several relatives and pals at school who became Catholic priests – aye – I have a cousin who is a nun and another cousin who is a missionary priest in Pakistan." He pauses and smiles. "And I am an atheist."
We're meeting for tea, close to the X-Files set. Connolly is dressed in black for the part, his hair white and wild, his beard long and shaggy. "I'm sure everywhere I go people think I look like a wino and go, 'Look at him, is he OK?'" he says. It seems to bother him. "I have to go around like this all the time and it's kind of weird and unpleasant. But this guy is great, completely crazy," he says. "I love playing people who are spiritually adrift. If the characters are sociopathic or psychopathic, that's fantastic. I love playing people who are capable of anything. If I go to the lengths of filming in Vancouver for three months, away from my family, I should have a good reason; I can't imagine anything worse than being in a big summer comedy about food fights in college and stuff like that."
The X-Files film is the polar opposite of a lightweight, sunny blockbuster. Six years after the popular sci-fi show ended, David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson are back as the FBI agents Fox Mulder and Dana Scully, investigating the apparently inexplicable abduction of a woman in the mountains of Virginia. Conditions are treacherous, temperatures sub-zero.
The director, Chris Carter, who created the series, promises a chilling and grimly terrifying story. All he will reveal is that there is some kind of paranormal story line, but no alien abductions – and he has banned his stars from giving away plot details. "I think the secrecy's great," says Connolly. "But there's also something I quite admire about the anarchic side of getting hold of a secret and exploding it." He laughs. "If the secret gets out it won't be through me, though."
Carter wrote the part of Father Joe especially for Connolly. "I would say I was only mildly interested in the TV show," Connolly says. "But my daughter Amy is one of the X-philes; she can't believe I actually get to talk to Mulder and Scully. I couldn't tell her anything about the film, though. I told Pamela [Stephenson], but she's an exceptional case, she's a shrink." He's referring to his wife of 19 years, the former Not the Nine O'Clock News star, who is now a clinical psychologist and writer.
Connolly is always cracking up, which adds to his charm. The chemistry of his expletive-laden, expressive language, combined with his physical presence, is compelling. He's like a hyperactive child, full of boundless energy. While many comedians can be quiet, even morose, he seems happy to talk about himself and his work.
His co-star Duchovny tells me that Connolly keeps cast and crew entertained between takes. Not a method actor, then? "No," Connolly says in mock horror. "I don't stay in character and I don't like people who do. I think it's pretentious and self-indulgent. I think if you need to stay in character for the whole movie, you should consider what you're doing for a living. I know people who do it and they're awfully good, but it's not my cup of tea."
Now 65, he's appeared in many films, from The Last Samurai to Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events. Many have been commercial flops, but he doesn't seem to mind. "I think they've all been great, whether it was Fido, The Man Who Sued God, The Debt Collector or The Boondock Saints. Some were small films that didn't make it, for whatever reasons that are beyond me, but I'm immensely proud of them. Of course it's nice when a lot of people see them – they will see this one, obviously – but I don't have a problem with films being overlooked, either. If you look at my film record, right back to Absolution with Richard Burton, they stand up."
Mrs Brown is his favourite. "I loved that one. It was on last Christmas and I watched it right through. People were shaking my hand on the street even though it's been out for years. Then I was on Michael Parkinson's last show and they showed a clip from the film of me and Judi shouting at each other. I was so moved, my lips started to quiver. It was amazing."
Which part of his career does he prefer? "I like dividing my life between comedy and drama," he says. "Usually, for some reason known best to someone else, I'll get a film offer after I've been on the road doing the funny stuff. I love the discipline of being in a film. Another set of rules apply, where I have to say exact words at a certain time so another person can say the next thing – that's not required of me when I'm doing my comedy; I can say it differently every night.
"In films you have to think of other people, whereas in my comedy life I only think of me, no one else, I'm up there completely alone on the stage and what I say goes. It's liberating, it's exhilarating, but it can entrap you. You can become a Hitler, because thousands of people every night are telling you how great you are and you can get carried away sometimes. Usually you don't notice it until you come off the road and start shouting at your wife – 'Where's my tea?' It can be quite distressing. Doing films makes me more human, because if I stay out there on the road, I become such an unbearable bore, shouting and getting my own way. You slip into these things. I'm not saying I'm a bully or anything, but I'm very used to getting my own way."
Clearly, Stephenson does not tolerate her husband's dictatorial demands. "With Pam, I discovered that you could not get away with anything. When I married her I thought, 'Oh God,' because I had to own up to everything, which no one had ever asked me to do before. I learnt to be honest with myself, which was great.
"And she helped me make positive changes in my life. I was a bit of a drunk and she put me right on a few things. Self-medicating – that's usually the working-class answer to everything, throw a few stiff ones down you and that should sort it out, the problem will go away."
With the help of his wife – and therapy – he has been sober for decades. Connolly and Stephenson have three daughters, Daisy, 24, Amy, 22, and Scarlett, 19. (He has two older children, Jamie and Cara, from his first marriage.) They live in Manhattan and have a house in Aberdeenshire. "I'm a great family guy, I love them all," he beams. "I spend all my money, so I have to work. But I have a good balance – I go fishing, go out on my motorcycle, I read a lot and watch telly. I love spending time with my girls. They were raised in Los Angeles but we moved to New York because they go to college on the East Coast and if I lived in LA I would hardly see them."
Connolly's own upbringing was tough. He grew up poor, in a Glasgow tenement; his mother Mamie abandoned the family (he has an older sister, Florence), and they were raised by his abusive father, William, and aunts Mona and Margaret, who beat him. Yet he doesn't believe his comedic talent was the result of poverty and suffering.
"Your background has little to do with anything. It doesn't dictate what you're going to do and I don't see myself as a victim of poverty, or anything like that. I think comedy comes from darkness, from inabilities. All the great comedians have been unable to do things – or they do things badly. Look at Charlie Chaplin and Laurel and Hardy. There were comics like Dean Martin, who were good at doing things, but they're few and far between. Great comedy is all about telling real things, the truth, in a light way, so the audience goes, 'God, that's right, I felt that,' and they burst out laughing. There's a lot of truth involved that makes people identify with you."
What strikes me about Connolly – beyond the jokes – is his sheer enthusiasm for life, which is infectious and quite different from the stereotype of the angst-ridden comedian. "My life is great," he says, "because people are always happy to see me, so my image of the world is happy. Some people think the world is a terrible place, but I think they have got it wrong. I'm very, very optimistic."
Clearly contented, the man who started out as a welder in the Glasgow shipyards, before forming his own folk group, The Humblebums, confesses that there is another challenge he would like to pursue. "I don't play music for a living any more, but I still play banjo with my pals – Steve Martin, guys like that. I found a wee pub in New York where they have old-time banjo and fiddle on Wednesday nights, so I've been along, but I'm kind of nervous. I want to play with them, but they're a bit better than me. I have had to ask myself, 'Why am I doing this when some other guy can tear his ass off better then me?' It is sometimes good to do something just because it's difficult. So I might have a go."
FONTE: The Indipendent
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