MONEY BUYS HAPPINESS was the third in a series of semi-experimental features directed by Seattle's Gregg Lachow, following The Seven Mysteries of Life and The Wright Brothers (which starred Michael Chick and Megan Murphy as the titular North Carolinians). All three films offer a defiant amateurist aesthetic, a vaguely European affectation, and a starring role for the magnanimous Megan Murphy.

Last week I caught up with the soft-spoken director -- who is hard at work on his new project, the pandisciplinary Silence! -- to discuss past and future projects.


How have your feelings about Money Buys Happiness evolved in the year since you finished it?

Generally the way I feel about what I do, my career, my work, has changed a lot -- and I kind of assumed it would, because I set out to make three features, to feel like I had a foundation, and I've now made three features. So I do feel like I've crossed a bridge in some way. It's not like I look at my work as "that was then, this is now"; I just feel like now this is what I do.


Fox Searchlight called you in for a "meeting" after Money Buys Happiness screened at the Los Angeles International Film Festival, and it wasn't much of a match. In light of the kind of films you make and the way you make them, how curious were you about Hollywood?

I definitely assumed with the first two films I made -- and it's funny that I assumed it with The Wright Brothers -- that I was making commercial films that would be discovered, and that I would be discovered and get a lot of money to work on the next one. And on the one hand I'm very grateful I wasn't, because as a result I kept making work the way I wanted to, so I probably learned more than I would have otherwise. And now I look back and think it's kind of funny that I thought that way at all.

But for instance with Money Buys Happiness, I feel like if the right person picked it up and marketed it in the right way.... It's not a teenager's movie, but you know, in a few cities, there are people who want to see a movie like that. I guess it's part of realizing this is what I do. But I have to find ways to keep doing what I do. I don't want to be a poet who has a day job. That's not my goal. I've been really lucky. And rare. I can't think there are too many people out there who've done what I've done and who are in a position to keep doing it, psychologically. I'm actually stronger that way psychologically, now. I more want to do what I do than I used to. I'm not dying to give up this kind of amateur way of working in order to be more professional. Just the opposite -- I'd rather get a lot of money to be even more amateur. But I do have hope that I'll meet someone rich and crazy, and take the money and do good things with it.


The dialogue and acting in all your films have an improvisational quality, but clearly, some things must be scripted.

Nothing is improvised in front of the camera. Everybody asks me that question, and I take it as a compliment. I don't like the idea of improvising in front of the camera. But it's often made up that day. I'll know sort of what I want to do, or -- it depends on the scene. I always know the bedrock of it. I tend to assume that what's going to happen in collaboration will be better than what would have come out of -- I'm not that interested in what's in there [points to his head] and needs to come out on the page. In fact I'm not interested at all, 'cause what do I get out of that? I'm much more interested in things I didn't know were going to be there when the day started. That's the only reason to do it.


Most filmmakers you read about tend to be centered on control. They gather all elements -- money, cast, crew, time, attention -- around this idea they have in their heads that they really want to express. Express as opposed to communicate or discover.

And thus you get American Beauty.


Right. Which is fine. It's just not great. Or particularly beautiful. Or necessary.

To my mind, it never had a chance at greatness. And I'm not interested in anything that never had a chance at greatness. Except things that make me laugh. But in terms of films that pretend to be art, if it's clear that it doesn't matter how well they did it, it never had a chance to be great... that's why I hate American Beauty. I don't hate it for what it stands for or anything like that. I just have to walk out. I can't stand it, because it's so clear that these people are just telling us what they know. And who wants to sit down with people whose mission is just to tell you what they know? I mean, you want to have a conversation. American Beauty is a good example; you knew everything before you started. You knew all of this, so you made the movie in an attempt to express what was in your head. How boring. I just don't think you're that interesting. God's more interesting. The world's more interesting. Explore that and let us know what you find. That's how I feel.


There can be a pomposity in leaning on the conventions of storytelling and dressing them up as something different; that's just masturbation. But there's pomposity in structurelessness, too. A lot of experimental or avant-garde films are just a longer, less-gratifying kind of masturbation. At least in American Beauty, there's an inevitability factor that's satisfying on some level, consciously or unconsciously, to all those people who liked the film. That's part of why we go to the movies, part of why we listen to pop songs. Specifically because we know what's coming. We want to see Kevin Spacey get shot.

Oh yeah, and I know what that satisfaction feels like. It's not like I'm not capable of feeling that, when it's well done... especially older movies, because to me those feel more honest, like that's what the studio's very specifically set up to make. American Beauty feels dishonest to me because it's pretending to be something other than what it is. Part of the struggle is finding the balance between "I know what I'm doing and what I want" and "I'm exploring and learning and letting people know what I want." It can't be either extreme.

Feature films are really a form, like a sonnet. Especially in this country, but really, even in great works from elsewhere it's a very, very narrow window of what a feature film can be that's not a documentary. And when you try to mess around with that, you're really not successful, because it's like trying to mess around with a sonnet. Well, it's really not a sonnet, but you're selling a sonnet, so... you've failed. It's not good or bad, it's just the way it is. And a lot of the things I've wanted to do in film I've tried to put into various films and rejected because they just don't work. It would feel wrong. You'd make the audience feel bad, and who wants to do that? I've done what I can. But within the form, it's not a lot. I spend months working on the themes in order to prepare myself.

The best feeling in the world is to walk on the set and feel like "anything can happen right now and I'll be able to use it." Not arbitrarily, not in a collage way, but I'll make it work within the context of the film, because I'm so grounded in what this is about. It doesn't happen a lot. But when it does, it's a great, great feeling. Because it's almost... it's not you doing it; it's given to you. And so, you're ready. You catch it. That's your job.