Even now, 25 years later, the premise is outrageous, odd and quite clever. On floor 7½ of an antiquated New York City office building, hidden behind a filing cabinet, is a small portal that leads into the head of actor John Malkovich.
There was something random — and ingenious — in the choice of Malkovich, by then a two-time Oscar nominee and a widely respected performer of stage and screen who did not have a signature role: He was the kind of actor people knew they knew but could not always quite place.
Yet “Being John Malkovich” is much more than an inside-out and upside-down high-concept gimmick. The film’s inventive visual style made the surreal seem mundane and everyday. While it is very funny, it is also rife with melancholy, a yearning for emotional connection and a sense that people are often unknowable, most of all to themselves. The film is less about the flash of celebrity and more about a deeper sense of self-discovery and personal identity.
The 1999 Project
All year we’ll be marking the 25th anniversary of pop culture milestones that remade the world as we knew it then and created the world we live in now. Welcome to The 1999 Project, from the Los Angeles Times.
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Screenwriter Charlie Kaufman had been a television comedy writer on shows such as “Get a Life” and “The Dana Carvey Show,” with “Being John Malkovich” his first produced film script. Director Spike Jonze, who had some notoriety for his music videos and commercials, also made his feature film debut with “Malkovich.”
The cast included John Cusack as a down-on-his luck puppeteer who discovers the portal, Cameron Diaz as his patient but dissatisfied girlfriend and Catherine Keener as the cynical colleague looking to take advantage of the situation. Orson Bean, Mary Kay Place and Charlie Sheen all have supporting roles; Brad Pitt, Sean Penn and Winona Ryder have brief cameos; and director David Fincher makes an uncredited appearance as the national arts editor of the Los Angeles Times. And, of course, John Malkovich plays the role of John Malkovich.
The film would be nominated for three Academy Awards: Jonze for director, Kaufman for original screenplay and Keener for supporting actress. In the years since, Kaufman has won an Oscar for the screenplay to “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind” and launched himself as a director. Jonze has continued his commercial work while also directing three feature films and the documentary “Beastie Boys Story.” Jonze also won an Oscar for the screenplay to his 2013 film “Her.”
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Orson Bean and Cameron Diaz, center, in “Being John Malkovich.”
(Melissa Moseley / Universal Pictures)
In one of the bonus features on the 2012 Criterion Collection edition of the film Jonze said, “Me and Charlie always think of Malkovich as the guy who made this all possible, not just the movie but everything that’s come after that. … Not only did he not have to do this movie, it was almost insane for him to do this movie.”
For the film’s anniversary, I reached out to Jonze, Kaufman and Malkovich for their memories of this pivotal project. Through a representative, Jonze declined to comment. Kaufman’s reps never responded. But Malkovich, in Bulgaria to direct a stage production of George Bernard Shaw’s 1894 play “Arms and the Man,” got on a Zoom call to talk about the film.
You have often said that from the very beginning you knew that by having your name in the title, you would have to live with this movie more than anybody else. And 25 years on that seems to be completely true.
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It was such an odd idea, I was aware that it would exist in kind of another dimension. And that’s been the case. Although my first reaction to having read this script was wanting to direct it and make it about someone else. But Charlie Kaufman wasn’t interested in that. So that didn’t happen for some years. And as I’ve said before, whenever I happened to be in L.A., which hasn’t been very often in my life or career, people would say, “Why aren’t you doing this? Why aren’t you doing that film?” They would just wander by in a restaurant, like it was my fault or something. It never occurred to me it would actually get made.
Probably a few years passed after I read it, then I got a call from Francis Coppola asking me if I’d go meet this person called Spike Jonze up in Paris. And I said, “Yeah, sure, fine.” And then Spike asked me to be in it, which no one had ever really officially asked me to do, and which I had doubts about. But I said, “Well, let’s see what kind of cast we get.” And then not long after, he got Johnny Cusack on board and Cameron and Keener, and then I said, “OK, well, let’s do it.”
Director Spike Jonze, left, and John Malkovich photographed at the Royal Hotel in New York City for Times coverage of the film’s release.
(Jim Cooper / For The Times)
When you had that initial response to direct it but to change the character, what was it that appealed to you?
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I loved the script. To me it wasn’t really important — it’s a great title in that it’s very unexpected, it’s very meta, it’s a memorable title name because it’s such an unmemorable name. But really I just love the world Charlie created. I didn’t in any way have a reaction to it as far as it applied to quote “me,” whatever that is. It’s never been a big topic of interest for me. It’s not something I ever reflected on much before or after. But I loved Charlie’s writing, so that was my initial interest in it.
Both Charlie and then Spike were so insistent that it be you. Did you ever ask the question, “Why me?”
No. If for no other reason, because I’m really not very curious about myself or my alleged self. Charlie said a very funny thing. It was the first thing he ever said to me. I think we had a breakfast with Spike, and we’d kind of agreed to proceed, and the deal was made and all that stuff. And Charlie, he didn’t say anything at breakfast, and then as we were leaving, [he] said to me, “I just want you to know I’m a big fan.” And I said, “We don’t have to do that. I read the script, thanks.” And that was really it.
But I did know I was kind of crossing a line, because although I was an actor and I had done things that had gotten some degree of attention, I was always really left alone. And I liked that nobody bothered me if I went off to do a play here or there, or direct a play in Bulgaria, or do whatever it is I did. I was allowed a lot of leeway and I always really appreciated that. And I was worried that wouldn’t be the case. In fact, it’s still the case, but it did change a kind of public perception. I thought it was a kind of iffy call. It could have turned out very badly, although I thought the script was a wonderful, pretty near visionary piece of writing, and I thought Spike did a fantastic job directing it.
How did you prepare for the movie? Did you approach this role and the character of John Malkovich the way you would have any other role?
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That’s an interesting question. The thing is, there wasn’t that much to search for, because the world is so specific that Charlie created. I remember one day when I did something and Spike Jonze said to me, “John Malkovich wouldn’t do it that way.” And I kind of chuckled, but I said, “Oh, OK. How would he do it?” And I really didn’t think that much of it because anything I do isn’t me. But John Malkovich isn’t me either, any more or less than anything else isn’t me. So if somebody says, “That’s not the way John Malkovich would do it,” maybe they know better than I do.
John Cusack and Catherine Keener in “Being John Malkovich.”
(Melissa Moseley / Universal Pictures)
I wanted to ask you specifically about the scene with “The Dance of Despair and Desperation.” When you unravel it, is it an astonishing moment of performance in that you are playing the character of John Malkovich with a character played by John Cusack supposedly inside of you playing John Malkovich like a puppet. How did you approach that as a physical piece of work?
We had to rehearse a lot, and we had a choreographer and all that. And that was quite involved, I remember. But I never thought about it. I just kind of took Spike’s word for it. Meaning, I’ve done a lot of films and directed one and directed probably a number of them unofficially and written some unofficially. But I think film directing is very, very difficult. And I think it’s a huge weight on directors. And I’m very happy to do what they say. I feel that my job is to help them arrive at, discover, sustain and express a vision of something. I’ve always said from the very beginning of the first film I was in, when you’re in a film, you’re a character in someone else’s dream. It’s not your dream just because it’s called “Being John Malkovich.” It’s Charlie’s dream and Spike’s dream and the rest of us participate. And so my approach to that would be the exact same as my approach to any other film role except that this one has a uniqueness and a quality that’s rare, that’s quite singular.
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It was just such an extreme act of generosity on your part toward these two essentially unknown guys, Spike and Charlie, making their first movie. You gave so completely of yourself, of your name, your persona, your celebrity, in so many ways. Did you see it that way?
No. I saw it as just another movie. There was something I liked about Spike. I thought he was hilarious. I always say the first meeting I had with him, I talked to him for an hour or so in Paris at a hotel restaurant and after an hour, I said, “Sorry, are you American?” I thought he was Czech because he has that kind of surfer lingo, which I couldn’t really grasp. And I thought it was a kind of foreign language. I was absolutely convinced that the screenplay was a very unique voice, a real voice. And I had this feeling Spike would put together an excellent cast. I trusted a lot his vision, his sense of humor. But to me, that’s kind of what I do.
This happened to have my name attached in some way, but for me, it’s the same if it was Wolfgang Petersen or Raul Ruiz or Spielberg or Schlöndorff. Making a film is hard. And your job really is to hope to fulfill that vision. And for me, that’s not really a burden. It’s an expectation and it’s a requirement. And if you can’t do that, which sometimes happens, then it’s a failure, at least as far as I’m concerned, on my part anyway.
Co-workers Maxine (Catherine Keener) and Craig (John Cusack) make a little extra cash moonlighting out of the office in “Being John Malkovich.”
(Melissa Moseley / Universal Pictures)
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Have your feelings about the film and your decision simply to do it, have they changed at all over the years?
Not really. When I saw it — I only saw it once, in Venice at the film festival, and when it was revealed that Charlie Sheen was my best friend, just the idea of that, it was a rolling laugh, kind of 15 minutes long. And then when I tell him I got involved with this coven of lesbian witches, he responds, “Give me their number when you’re through with them,” in a way that’s a line only Charlie Sheen could do. That’s what he does. And you trust him to take care of that for you. And so I thought then, “OK, it’s fine. It’s what it’s set out to be.”
On the extras for the Criterion Collection disc, there’s an interview where you say, “It’s not really about celebrity and it’s not really about me.” So for you, what is the movie about?
I always think back to this, there was some talk about how they were a bit unsatisfied with the ending, and I think it was a call with Charlie, with Spike and with Vince Landay, the producer. And maybe Johnny was there too, Cusack. And it made me think of the phrase, I’ve still never used it, in a piece of writing or play or something I’ve rewritten or written or polished or whatever, the phrase came to me, “What you think is yours, isn’t.” And I think that’s very lifelike, and I think it’s very representative of that film. What you think is yours, isn’t. “Being John Malkovich” does not belong to me. It’s its own thing. And if it belongs to anybody, it much more belongs to Charlie and Spike.
But it’s just a kind of way of looking at the world and how quickly it all passes. Your work goes out into the world and it belongs to the people who watch it, whether they accept it, whether it’s beloved by them or detested by them or rejected by them. You put it out into the world and it isn’t yours anymore. And I think it’s true of the film, my work, my name.
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You know, you do all these things. I worked a lot. I did a number of things that got some degree of notoriety or praise and many others that didn’t. But in the end, it’s some things they say I did. And for me, the work was always the same. It was the work. It’s a privilege. It’s a lovely thing to get to do with your life, but it doesn’t belong to me. It belongs to the people who watch it and who want to watch it and want to regard it. And many of the things you do, people don’t want to watch or don’t regard it and don’t care, but that’s OK to me. So that’s how I look at it.
The Tiger Is the Tank. Or rather, the type of German tank that gives the film its international title—just in case anyone might confuse this war story with an adventure movie involving wild animals. The tank itself is the film’s container, much as The Boat was in the legendary 1981 film it openly seeks to emulate in more than one respect, or as the more recent tank was in the Israeli film Lebanon (2009). Yes, much of Dennis Gansel’s movie unfolds inside a tank called Tiger, but what it is ultimately trying to tell goes well beyond its cramped metal walls.
This large-scale Prime Video war production has been described by many as the platform’s answer to Netflix’s success with All Quiet on the Western Front, the highly decorated German film released in 2022. In practice, it is a very different proposition. Despite the fanfare surrounding its release—Amazon even gave it a theatrical run a few months ago, something it rarely does—the film made a far more modest impact. Watching it, the reasons become clear. This is a darker, stranger movie, one that flirts as much with horror as with monotony, and that positions itself less as a traditional war film than as an ethical and philosophical meditation on warfare.
The first section—an intense and technically impressive combat sequence—takes place during what would later be known as the Battle of the Dnieper, which unfolded over several months in 1943 on the Eastern Front, as Soviet forces pushed back the Nazi advance. Der Tiger is the type of tank carrying a compact platoon—played by David Schütter, Laurence Rupp, Leonard Kunz, Sebastian Urzendowsky, and Yoran Leicher—that miraculously survives the aerial destruction of a bridge over the river.
Soon afterward—or so it seems—the group is assigned a mission that, at least in its initial setup, recalls Saving Private Ryan. Lieutenant Gerkens (Schütter) is ordered to rescue Colonel Von Harnenburg, stranded behind enemy lines. From there, the film becomes a journey through an infernal landscape of ruined cities, corpses, forests, and fog—a setting that, thanks to the way it is shot, feels more fantastical than realistic.
That choice is no accident. As the journey begins to echo Apocalypse Now, it becomes clear that the film is less interested in conventional suspense—mines on the road, the threat of ambush—than in the strangeness of its situations and environments. When the tank plunges into the water and briefly operates like a submarine, one may reasonably wonder whether such technology actually existed in the 1940s, or whether the film has deliberately drifted into a more extravagant, symbolic territory.
This is the kind of film whose ending is likely to inspire more frustration than affection. Though heavily foreshadowed, it is the sort of conclusion that tends to irritate audiences: cryptic, somewhat open-ended, and more suggestive than explicit. That makes sense, given that the film is less concerned with depicting the daily mechanics of war than with grappling with its aftermath—ethical, moral, psychological, and physical.
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In its own way, The Tank functions as a kind of mea culpa. The platoon becomes a microcosm of a nation that “followed orders” and committed—or allowed to be committed—horrific acts in its name. The flashbacks scattered throughout the film make this point unmistakably clear. The problem is that, while these ideas may sound compelling when summarized in a few sentences (or in a review), the film never manages to turn them into something fully alive—narratively, visually, or dramatically.
Only in brief moments—largely thanks to Gerkens’s perpetually worried, anguished expression—do those ideas achieve genuine cinematic weight. They are not enough, however, to sustain a two-hour runtime that increasingly feels repetitive and inert. Unlike the films by Steven Spielberg, Wolfgang Petersen, Francis Ford Coppola, and others it so clearly references, The Tank remains closer to a concept than to a drama, more an intriguing reflection than a truly effective film.
Will Smith and his company Treyball Studios Management Inc. are being sued by an electric violinist who is claiming wrongful termination, retaliation and sexual harassment — allegations denied by the actor-rapper-producer in a statement from his attorney.
Brian King Joseph alleges in a lawsuit filed earlier this week that Smith hired him to perform on the 2025 Based on a True Story tour, then fired him before the tour began in earnest in Europe and the U.K.
Joseph, who finished third in Season 13 of “America’s Got Talent,” went onto Instagram in the days before filing his lawsuit and posted a Dec. 27 video saying that he had been hired for “a major, major tour with somebody who is huge in the industry” but “some things happened” that he couldn’t discuss because it was a legal matter.
Electric violinist Brian King Joseph, seen performing at an awards show last October, is suing for wrongful termination, retaliation and sexual harassment.
(Tommaso Boddi / Getty Images for Media Access Awards)
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But, he said, “Getting fired or getting blamed or shamed or threatened or anything like that, simply for reporting sexual misconduct or safety threats at work, is not OK. And I know that there’s a lot of other people out there who have been afraid to speak up, and I understand. If that’s you, I see you. … More updates to come soon.”
In the lawsuit, filed Tuesday in Los Angeles County Superior Court and reviewed by The Times, Joseph alleges that he and Smith struck up a professional relationship in November 2024, after which Joseph performed at two of Smith’s shows in San Diego and was invited to perform on several tracks for Smith’s “Based on a True Story” album, which was released March 28.
After the performances in San Diego, Joseph posted video of a show on Instagram with the caption, “What an honor to share the stage with such legends and a dream team of musicians. From playing in the streets to sharing my music on stages like this, this journey has been nothing short of magic — and this is just the beginning. Grateful beyond words for every single person who made this possible.”
While working on the album, the lawsuit alleges, “Smith and [Joseph] began spending additional time alone, with Smith even telling [Joseph] that ‘You and I have such a special connection, that I don’t have with anyone else,’ and other similar expressions indicating his closeness to [Joseph].”
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Joseph soon joined Smith and crew for a performance in Las Vegas, the lawsuit says — on March 20 at the House of Blues at Mandalay Bay — with Smith’s team booking rooms for everyone involved. Joseph left his bag, which contained his room key, in a van that took performers to rehearsal, and then the bag went missing for a couple of hours after he requested someone get it for him, the suit says.
When Joseph returned to his room late that night, according to the complaint, he found evidence that someone had entered his room without his permission.
“The evidence included a handwritten note addressed to Plaintiff by name, which read ‘Brian, I’ll be back no later [sic] 5:30, just us (drawn heart), Stone F.,’” the document says. “Among the remaining belongings were wipes, a beer bottle, a red backpack, a bottle of HIV medication with another individual’s name, an earring, and hospital discharge paperwork belonging to a person unbeknownst to Plaintiff.”
Joseph worried that “an unknown individual would soon return to his room to engage in sexual acts” with him, the complaint says.
It adds that Joseph, “concerned for his safety and the safety of his fellow performers and crew,” alerted hotel security and representatives for Treyball and Smith, took pictures, requested a new room and reported the incident to police using a non-emergency line. Hotel security found no signs of forced entry, and Joseph flew home the next day.
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Several days later, rather than being called on to join the next part of the tour, a Treyball representative told him the tour was “going in a different direction,” the lawsuit says, and that his services were no longer needed. The representative “redirected the blame for the termination onto [Joseph], replying, ‘I don’t know, you tell me, because everyone is telling me that what happened to you is a lie, nothing happened, and you made the whole thing up. So, tell me, why did you lie and make this up?’ [Joseph], shocked at the accusation, had nothing further to say,” as he believed the reports and evidence from Las Vegas spoke for themselves.
Joseph alleges in the lawsuit that as a result of events in Las Vegas and in the days immediately afterward, he suffered severe emotional distress, economic loss and harm to his reputation. He also alleges that the stress of losing the job caused his health to deteriorate and that he suffered PTSD and other mental illness after the termination.
“The facts strongly suggest that Defendant Willard Carroll Smith II was deliberately grooming and priming Mr. Joseph for further sexual exploitation,” the lawsuit alleges. “The sequence of events, Smith’s prior statements to Plaintiff, and the circumstances of the hotel intrusion all point to a pattern of predatory behavior rather than an isolated incident.”
The Times was unable to reach publicists or a lawyer for Will Smith because of the holiday. However, Smith attorney Allen B. Grodsky told Fox News on Thursday that “Mr. Joseph’s allegations concerning my client are false, baseless and reckless. They are categorically denied, and we will use all legal means available to address these claims and to ensure that the truth is brought to light.”
Joseph’s attorney, Jonathan J. Delshad, recently filed sexual assault civil suits against Tyler Perry on behalf of actors who say they were not hired for future work by the billionaire movie and TV producer after they rejected his alleged advances.
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Joseph is seeking compensatory and punitive damages and payment of attorney fees in an amount to be determined at trial.
The Based on a True Story tour played 26 dates in Europe and the U.K. last summer. Nine of the acts were headlining gigs, while the rest were festivals.
By John E. Finley-Weaver in San DiegoJohn E. Finley-Weaver (SDJW photo)
My wife convinced me to watch a movie about ping pong. And, having acquiesced to her proposal, I dove face-first into a kettle of willful ignorance, knowing only that Some Guy Timothée Chalamet of Dune 1 and Dune 2 and A Complete Unknown (another of her suggestions) was the lead, and that what we were soon to watch might move me. Or, at the very least, that it might entertain me.
The movie did not disappoint.
In fact, Marty Supreme is the absolute best film about table tennis that I have ever seen. And I’ve seen all of one of them so far, although I am aware of and have seen a few clips of Robert Ben Garant’s Balls of Fury.
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But, holy mackerel, Marty Supreme is not just a movie about some lanky goniff whose inner craving for focused dominance in one specific realm compels him to pursue a shiny, sportsball “X” trophy, culminating in a crowd-pleasing, applause roar of triumph . . . a n d . . . cut to the end credits, supplemented by a catchy, happy song . . . . “Honey, let’s get to the restroom, fast!”
Uh-uh. Nay. Marty Supreme is a lived-in world (like the Star Wars universe, but way different and way better) populated by tactile characters, each of whom has their own, inferred history and glob of yearnings. And they have warts. Lots of warts. Warts and all.
Marty Mauser, the Jewish protagonist of Marty Supreme, is a plucky ping pong imp and shoe salesman, in addition to being a nimble and loquacious malarkey artist. He is also a shockingly-gawdawful, verbal bastard person to his mother, played by Fran Drescher, who left her specific, discount Phyllis Diller voice in the dustbin of screen history where it belongs, much to the contentment of my sensitive ears.
Marty Mauser is even more a womanizer and a thief. And he is a delight. And, because boring, nice boys don’t have movies made about them, he does something for his ema that is chutzpahdik, illegal, vandalicious, unhistorical, and tear-inducingly sweet.
And again, dear Reader, I went into this movie knowing most of nothing about it. If you are like me, fear not: I shan’t disclose the plot.
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Marty Mauser’s partners in life and “crime” are the facially-delicious Rachel, played by Odessa A’zion and best bud Wally, performed by Tyler Okonma, each complementarily savvy to Marty’s needs and wants.
The remainder of the film’s actors is a gathering of casting directorial genius: Kevin O’Leary, the that guy from some reality television show that I will never watch; Gwyneth Paltrow; director Abel Ferrara; Sandra Bernhard, my lukewarm, high school “bad girl” crush; Géza Röhrig, whose character is seven year’s fresh from a Nazi death camp and hauntingly beautiful; Koto Kawaguchi, the movie-world champion and legally-deaf Tommy-esque pinball wizard of ping pong and real-world champion of the game; Pico Iyer, Indo-Limey travel writer, meditator, and inveterate outsider; George Gerwin, a very retired basketball player; Ted Williams and his golden voice; Penn Jillette, agrarian and blasty; Isaac Mizrahi, obviously “out” in 1952; and David freaking Mamet.
Gush.
And great googly woogly. They all do their jobs so gosh darn well that I don’t notice them as actors acting.
And then, as I have done since I was a child, for science fiction books, for television, and for movies, I recast, in my mind’s eye, all of the characters and their associated journeys as different people. I made an all-Negro cast of the film. And it worked. No radical changes to the script were necessary. I did the same for a spunky, mid-West farm girl as the lead. That worked. I tried again, using a Colombian lesbian. That worked too.
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I praise the cinematic vision of Director Josh Safdie. I praise the wide accessibility of the script he co-wrote with Ronald Bronstein: Thank you. The expected plot points, the tropes of moviedom, the “inevitable” happenings of standard movies never really happened. Marty Supreme zaggled and Zelig’d when I expected it to zig.
A lesser film would not have surprised me in most of its story structure, its scenes, or its character paths. A lesser film would have had me in my seat, either smugly prognosticating the next events, or non-thinkingly rapt for entire scenes. This film, this masterpiece of storytelling and visual and aural execution outsmarted me. It outsmarted my movie mind, and for that, I am grateful.
Marty Supreme is a very Brooklyn Jewy movie, but it sings from the standard Humanity of us all, to each of us. And that is movie making at its finest.
* Cinema buff John E. Finley-Weaver is a freelance writer based in San Diego.
