In Stan & Ollie , Steve Coogan Finds Comedy in Pain

Steve Coogan delivers from the very moment he strides into a Manhattan lounge in early December. "You can't sit on the couch and leave your jacket on the chair, come on," he says, with mock annoyance, unceremoniously dumping my bulky winter coat out of the seat he now settles into. "I would have done the done the same thing if your coat was next to you on the couch, to be honest," he adds with a smile.

Coogan is easily one of the most famous comedians England has to offer. His work as the hapless radio (and later TV) presenter Alan Partridge remains to this day an iconic role in modern comedy. More recently, Coogan's been best known for his starring role in The Trip film series alongside Rob Brydon, in which the two actors play fictionalized versions of themselves, swanning around various exotic locales and reckoning with their fame, failures, and friendship. People adore these movies, and a fourth is being shot next year.

Coming to prominence in the U.K. in the '90s, Coogan was the subject of serious tabloid scrutiny at the time, earning a reputation as, for lack of a kinder word, "difficult." Now, though, sipping an English Breakfast tea occasionally glancing out at a view of 6th Avenue, he's as mellow as one could imagine. He's on the final day of his press tour promoting Stan & Ollie, a new film exploring the relationship between the performers Laurel and Hardy (Coogan, brilliant, plays Stan Laurel opposite John C. Reilly as Oliver Hardy, also brilliant). And he wants to talk.

GQ: I think everyone knows the names Laurel and Hardy, almost to the point where that knowledge is so ubiquitous that it's kind of background noise, isn't it?

Steve Coogan: It's background, you're absolutely right. Anyone of your generation probably aren't that familiar with them at all, unless they're cognizant of the history of comedy. They might know the imagery. They might go, "Oh yeah, the fat guy and thin guy with those bowler hats. I've seen that image." It's an iconic image. But my generation grew up with them. In the second wave of their fame, actually, because they were forgotten for a period. TV was just finding its feet in the US in the '50s, and anyone who had been famous in movies, or comedy movies or comedy shorts, were seen as ephemeral entertainment, disposable. In fact, many movies were literally trashed and will never be found again, because they were not seen as anything with anything more than having a passing value.

Do you remember what your first exposure to Laurel and Hardy was?

During the summer holidays in the UK, in the 1970s—I'm showing my age here—there were no VCRs, no TV on demand. It was what was broadcast on the TV at that time. If you missed it, tough shit. But every morning at about 7:30 a.m., there were about six or seven TV shows in a row. And one of those would be Laurel and Hardy. So it just became part of the fabric of my childhood. These funny guys in bowler hats and they would do these funny black and white movies.

How deep did your research go? I'm interested in terms of the facts and fiction of this film. Was there a U.K. tour in which Stan and Ollie tried to claw back some fame?

There were three U.K. tours. There was one in the late '40s, and two in the early '50s. We amalgamate all three into one. This is Jeff's script, but we wrote Philomena together. I have a long relationship with Jeff as a writer. We've written two other scripts since then.

I'd read the letters Stan wrote. I listened to conversations on the phone. They recorded phone conversations with him when he was living in Santa Monica. He was in the phone book. People would phone him up and have a conversation with him and record the phone call. And then beyond that, that's when you get creative. If something is not provable or open to conjecture, then things are invented, but invented from an informed place.

I was surprised to learn that you and John C. Reilly hadn't been in a film together before. And then two are coming along at once, because you're also in Holmes and Watson.

I did two days of Holmes and Watson, playing a funny character. And I did it for money. But I did meet John about 10 years ago to talk about a project that never got going. Then we developed this conversation and dialogue that developed into doing this movie together.

What do you think of the word "chemistry" both as it relates to Laurel and Hardy and then to you and a scene partner as well? Do you believe in that? Or do you believe it's a facet of acting?

It's shorthand, isn't it? For whether you get on with someone or not. You can still work together with someone you don't get on with. It's just harder. You know what it's like. I'm sure you've got a colleague that you think is a bit of a dick, but you just swallow—I shouldn't say swallow it, that would be unfortunate. You just get on with it. You put up with it.

I wouldn't work with an actor if the work I saw them do I found annoying or irritating. I just wouldn't work with them. You see them and you think, "God, they're doing that thing again," whatever it is. But John is someone I've got huge respect for professionally. And then when I met him, he was quite formidable. I would say my first impression, John was very serious, but serious about the work. It's always about the work. I don't want to fuck around, I want to do good work. Do you want to join me in this? At first, I trod carefully with John. And I think he certainly warms up. He, by his own admission, says he likes to dip his toe in the water. He doesn't want to jump into the pool straight away. He likes to slowly get in. I'm kind of the opposite. I'll jump in.

Do you mean in terms of familiarity with each other on set?

In terms of everything. Of his approach to the work, his approach to the people around him, he feels his way. We had three or four weeks rehearsal. And that's where we broke the ice, if you like. The other welcome payoff of that period was we got to experience what it must have been like to be Stan and Ollie rehearsing numbers. Because they would have had to rehearse them, just like we did. They were brought together artificially in much the same way John and I were.

It's funny how we romanticize things like Laurel and Hardy. As you said, they were brought together artificially, as if that in some way cheapens what the act was. Because everyone is being brought together artificially in every movie at this point.

I guess it's a bit like the Beatles and the Monkees. The Monkees, there's no doubt about it. They did some great tunes. But there's supposed to be a stigma against the hand of corporate cynicism behind something. But even corporate assholes can make good art by accident.

I can't help but tie Stan and Ollie to themes in both the character of Alan Partridge and also The Trip that all come together. They both touch on the overall anxiety about performing in a changing and evolving world—and then just more bluntly, not being famous anymore.

Clearly, The Trip and Alan Partridge contain elements of me, but they're incomplete pictures of me. And that I don't care about being famous. I genuinely don't give a damn. Famous people sometimes invite me to their birthday parties and I think, "I don't know them. Why are they inviting me? Just because I'm famous and they're famous?" That to me is fucking dumb. I have people that I admire who are famous, but I don't want to hang out with them.

That's not to say I'm not appreciative of the fact that fame empowers me to make creative choices that I'm very pleased with. And so I know that it's a key component of what I do. That I need a profile to enable me to make good creative choices. I dance with the devil so I can achieve things I want to do.

There's also a new Alan Partridge special due out next year. I know you spent some time trying to shake off the image of you as "just the Alan Partridge guy," so why do you think he endures? What makes you go back to him now and again?

There's no real strategy behind updating Partridge. We just respond to the zeitgeist without overthinking it. We just go, "What makes us laugh? And what makes us laugh now?" And also being one step ahead of the audience. As soon as someone comes up to you and thinks they know how to write Alan Partridge, that's time for you to move on. Don't give what the audience wants. Give what they didn't know they wanted. It's like a good band. If they change direction too radically, their audience is going to go, "What the fuck are they doing?" But if you're just the same, then it looks like you're just dying.

When I go back to Alan Partridge, I'm trying to make something that makes me laugh. How can we push the envelope a little bit? Not just for the sake of doing that, but you think, "We've got a gift here. We don't have to spend our time establishing who the character is. The audience already knows who the guy is. We don't have to deal with that shit."

Also, Alan doesn't live in a vacuum. He has to live in a world where he knows that changes his latitude. Alan 20 years ago might have been homophobic and uber-conservative. Now he's smart enough to know what he's supposed to think, so he has liberal sensibilities. And that's far funnier than just having him as a right-wing reactionary. Which feels tired. Someone who's struggling to adopt, co-opt liberal sensitivities. There's a far more fruitful thing to find comedy in.

With The Trip, I would say that was a complete roll of the dice. That was a complete stab in the dark and that was totally experimental. Rob and I didn't want to do it from the start. We thought it was self-indulgent.

Where did the first grain of the idea come from in that case?

We did a scene in A Cock and Bull Story, in which Rob and I are in a trailer. It was raining outside. We couldn't shoot. Michael [Winterbottom, director of The Trip series] said, "Get in the makeup trailer. Let's just shoot anything." We shot Rob and I having a conversation.

Michael, I think, from that kernel of an idea came up with the idea of us going on the road. But we said to Michael, "Look, we're pretending to be ourselves. That's been done." Larry Sanders, Larry David, Ricky Gervais... we'd seen people pretending to be the same. And I didn't want to do, "Hey, get a load of me laughing at myself. Aren't I cool?" Because I feel that's tired. But Michael said, "No, it's going to be beyond that. It's going to be more than the sum of its parts. It's going to deal with stuff that somehow transcends just the bag of bits that it looks to be.

I remember shaking hands with Robert and said, "Look, Rob. Should we just do it? Let's just agree to do it. He's asked us so many times now. If we're going to do it with anyone, we might as well do it with Michael. He knows how to do stuff that's a little different. The worst it will be is a noble failure. Let's have a go." And so we jumped in and after the first week of shooting and realized it was going to be funny. It was going to be different.

And now it's a whole series and movie trilogy.

Yeah, we're going to do another one next year. Even if it starts to feel tired, we'll make that work for us.

Americans love these movies.

Americans... As soon as you think you know who Americans are... It's always baffled me why Monty Python was liked by lots of Americans. I was like, how? It doesn't fall into any formula apart from that it has a British eccentricity and they sort of understand that a little.

I think what's enjoyable about making The Trip is because we're playing versions of ourselves I would basically be doing improvisation. When I see comedy improv, it bores me. I'm not really interested in much comedy, to be honest. Even when it's good, I can admire the quick-thinking nature of people. But trying to think of something funny to say, that's not interesting. I gravitate to stuff that's not funny and is just painful. By dancing on the edge of what is comfortable about, or attractive about exposing parts of your personality that are not attractive, that's more interesting to me than more orthodox choices.

Those scenes in The Trip where you are being funny, it's like admitting defeat. You and Rob joking around together instead of being real. It's a retreat.

Totally. I don't see much of Rob between the trips, even though I do have a lot of affection for him. I look forward to seeing him. I've got a lot of stuff bottled up. Sometimes Rob and I will be having a conversation and the cameras aren't rolling. And Rob will just say, "Don't talk about this. Wait until the camera's running.

So The Trip is pretty therapeutic for you?

With the caveat that we are giving vent to the less-attractive sides of ourselves. And in reality, we wouldn't be like that. The conversations we have are a lot duller. We talk about lots of middle-class things like house prices and interior furnishings. But maybe we should talk about that next time on camera because it's so profoundly repellant.

There's more Trip coming, there's more Alan Partridge coming. When do you get to relax?

Next week. I'm going to Sussex. I like Sussex because in my head, it's slightly less right-wing than the other Hove counties. And that makes me happy.

You're fairly full-throated in your political beliefs, and support behind Jeremy Corbyn.

Yes. I'm from Manchester. I've got this chippiness, but it's served me well. Sometimes I should reign it in. Rob doesn't have that. He avoids conflict and anything that's controversy, which I see as a risk-averse strategy, which I find depressing. But I understand it. And really, it can be quite exhausting and debilitating to always be oppositional. I need to take a leaf out of Rob's book sometimes and just smell the coffee.

But then at the same time, I do like old cars. But I find it's a bit of a burden because most other people who like old cars are right-wing, white, middle-aged men. I love going to old car festivals. But you never see any black people there. And when I go to those places, even though I love the cars, I look around and I hate myself.

Do you ever read those classic car collecting magazines or anything like that?

Oh, yeah.

What are the voices like in there?

There's no doubt about it. I do use some of the language I hear around old cars at the festivals and in magazines for Partridge. People sometimes go, "He was behaving just like Alan Partridge. He IS like Alan Partridge. Hahaha." As if I'm going to go, "Oh, no. I've been rumbled. They've realized I'm a bit like Alan Partridge." Well, of course. That's inevitable. But that's a part of me. There's a complete me that tries to have a nuanced, balanced view of humanity. And you just remove some of those chromosomes for Alan and for The Trip. And what you do is you take those things that you know you don't particularly like about yourself and you put them front and center. There's a direct correlation between pain and ugliness that lends itself to comedy.