Leland Brings Murder and Smiles

Watching Matthew Hoge and Jena Malone amble over to their eagerly waiting interviewers in the lobby of Boston’s Ritz-Carlton, it is immediately apparent that working on the set of Hoge’s film The United States of Leland was a genuine bonding experience. They’re laughing and poking each other, and when they sit down, and immediately extend their warm rapport to the panel of expectant reporters. “Where are you guys from?” asks Hoge. “We’re curious.”

At first glance it’s hard to believe that this Converse-clad young man, face slightly unshaven and glasses perched, is the driver behind the wheel of the much-hyped indie. Hoge certainly chose a doosy for his first major foray into directing and writing, but as he sits down and begins to talk, it becomes apparent that he knew exactly what he was getting into. Having taught for a couple years in a juvenile hall system in Los Angeles, Hoge could base the movie’s titular protagonist on kids he knew personally.

Leland, played by rising star Ryan Gosling (The Believer), is a teenage killer, the child of a stable suburban home who commits the unthinkably brutal act of killing the autistic brother of his girlfriend, played by Jena Malone.

“I met a kid who had stabbed his mother like 50 times or something,” says Hoge, sitting forward in his chair, “and that’s all he is now, in the eyes of the system, in the eyes of everyone around him, that’s what he is, and there was so much more to him than that.”

Hoge, a native of Colorado, was working as a teacher in the junvenile detention center when Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold killed their classmates and teachers at Columbine High School in his home state. He was immediately interested in the media attention the killers received, and how the town of Littleton unraveled. He began writing soon afterwards, and his earnestness as he describes the writing process and Leland’s character reveals a true sense of advocacy for kids who are robbed of their humanity from the public.

“It’s just this total fallacy that you can define a life based on one action,” he says, sitting back resignedly. “They know that no matter what reasons they come up with it’s never going to equal a justification for what they’ve done.”

While the problem of presenting the murderer in a highly sympathetic light has been hotly contested by mothers of autistic children on message boards all over the Internet, Hoge seems uninterested in situating his film in line with Bowling for Columbine or any similarly polemical works. “It’s a film more than it’s a message,” he says.

The most obvious stand-in for Hoge himself in Leland seems to be Pearl (Don Cheadle), a juvenile prison teacher who befriends the incarcerated Leland. When an interviewer asks which character Hoge related to most, the nearby Malone cracks a smile.

“Oh, I bet I can guess,” she says playfully. “I bet you’d be wrong,” replies Hoge, and she is. It’s not Pearl, but rather Leland’s expat father Albert, who, having abandoned his family to live and write in France, returns after the murder. Though the motivations of Albert, portrayed with steely sullenness by Kevin Spacey, are unclear, there are allusions that he may smell material for a new novel.

Spacey, who additionally took on the duties of executive producer, appears only briefly in the film, but for many viewers leaves the most memorable impression. “Nobody really says anything negative about Leland,” Hoge says. “But a lot of people say, ‘Oh God, Albert, what a terrible person,’ and I feel like ‘No, not at all,’ and I sort of get where he’s coming from.”

Hoge admits to feeling a deep connection to all three of the male leads —Leland, Pearl and Albert. “I think they sort of form this triangle. They’re all to some degree writers, that’s how they interact with the world. It’s various levels of this idea, of what’s more important and what do you value more, art or life, and the relationships that you have, and issues of exploitation.”

Malone, who until now has interrupted only with laughter, is confronted with a similar question on how she related to her character, Leland’s heroin-addicted girlfriend and sister of the victim. “Funny you should ask,” she jokes, eyes darting around the circle of reporters, “because I had them give me my paycheck in needles.”

She admits that the “young teenage girl who does a lot of drugs” is a character that has been explored a lot in recent films, not least of all by herself, but says that all she’s looking for is an honest depiction of adolescence.

“When I read something that’s truthful, that’s all it needs to be. It’s doesn’t need to be flashy,” she says. “There’s just so many films out there that I don’t understand who they’re portraying when they’re showing teenagers, because it’s no one I know, or who I’ve ever met.”

Malone, whose previous credits include Donnie Darko and The Secret Lives of Altar Boys, seems concerned with speaking directly to her viewers and providing a positive or elucidating character, rather than demonstrating her versatility. “If I can relate to it, and I’m excited for other young people to see it because it’s breaking down one of the bullshit Hollywood stereotypes that are just bred and fed to us, then that’s awesome,” she says. “Sign me up, and I’m there.”

She brushes off critics who say she’s rehashing the same tired themes with the same roles, movie after movie. “There’s just so much truth in [the characters],” she says. “I think I could probably play them until I die.”

The movie’s soundtrack prominently features the work of such early alternative pioneers as Frank Black and Robert Pollard. Though the placement of the songs in the film can at times be awkward, Hoge explains that music was a large part of preparing himself, and his actors, for the film. He sent each actor books and music intended to help them with character development. For Gosling, it was the Magnetic Fields; for Spacey, Joni Mitchell; for Malone, the Pixies, who she admits to never having heard before her preparation started.

“It’s just about surrounding yourself with music, and books, and watching films and reading real stories about people who are in similar emotional situations,” she says of the process.

Before she can finish the thought, Hoge interjects excitedly to plug Jeremy Enigk and his album Return of the Frog Queen, a strong influence on the film. “You have to get this album, it’s just great. It created this beautiful melancholy sound, and I just felt that this was the tone I wanted for the film; the sense that there was a sadness, but underneath it there was an undercurrent of hope.”

As time begins to run out, one question still remains: how did they become such good friends? Malone immediately jumps in with her own praise for Hoge. “You just wanted to be there, because of the creative space he let us have, and the trust he put in us as well,” she says. “You just feel so psyched to go to work.” They both smile warmly, their friendship seemingly stronger than ever.

“I just had really really talented people to be around,” Hoge responds, “who are also really, really nice, good people, and really hardworking. I lucked out, so my hope is just to keep those people close, and stay away from the evil people who populate most of Hollywood.”

“Evil people?” retorts Malone as they both rise to leave. “But aren’t we trying to break down stereotypes? Maybe they just went down a path that’s, you know, less understandable.” They laugh in unison one final time, as they head out the door towards their own respective, equally unknowable paths.