Apocalypses always get stuck with the stigma of being highly unpleasant affairs. You know, with all the corpses and wreckage and smoldering fires and such. But the opening sequence of 28 Days Later... occurs in the broken heart of London, just after a violent virus has swept through the United Kingdom, virtually killing off the entire country. And the place has never looked lovelier.
Glowing sunlight seeps into thoroughfares so central that normally not 60 seconds can pass, day or night, without it being crossed by at least a smattering of vehicles and pedestrians. But here, in the wake of the devastating epidemic, the city is surreally silent and dead empty, except for Cillian Murphy, who shuffles dazedly up the street in aquamarine outpatient clothes. He has just woken from a coma and that's exactly how he looks.
The truth, however, in this instance, is not stranger than fiction. Mr. Murphy, in his characteristically matter-of-fact manner, explains: "In London, they don't actually allow you to close off roads, you can only ask people to stop. So we had to get a lot of pretty girls in fluorescent jackets to stand around asking pedestrians and drivers to please hold back just one more moment while we get this shot where this weird bearded guy walks up the road." Well, those jackets must've been zipped down low because the crowd control totally worked. The sequence is staggering. So, actually, is the entire film.
Taken from a chilling Alex Garland script (author of The Beach), 28 Days Later... is the classic last-man-alive premise, synthesizing The Omega Man, Outbreak, Dawn of the Dead, and various Twilight Zone episodes into a gritty, visceral, existential quest for lost humanity. And for the journey, we have Murphy as our handsome, bewildered guide who learns what the hell is going on at the same time we do. Unfortunately, much of what is learned concerns twitchy, bloody-eyed zombies who move in a jerky blur and mercilessly devour the living. But the entire terrifying adventure is a lot more fun than, say, law school, which is where, oddly enough, Murphy's unlikely career began.
"I did like a year and a half and then abandoned it," Murphy states bluntly. "Law was never going to be what I wanted to do. It was a stupid decision." His future as a lawyer officially died when he landed a role in a small play in his hometown of Cork, Ireland, and realized he liked the life of an actor. When he performed the part perfectly, one thing led to another and now, just a few short years later, he's practically a movie star, fleeing the undead at the behest of director Danny Boyle (the man behind those visually wily rides, Trainspotting and The Beach) and appearing alongside Colin Farrell in the upcoming Intermission.
But Murphy keeps quite calm and cool about it all, downplaying the drama of discovering that he could act like a pro. "Acting wasn't like a huge, burning ambition. I just enjoyed it. I got a real kick off it that I never got off anything else." Murphy makes meteoric rises seem maddeningly simple. It's very charming, as is the dispassionate nonchalance with which he sifts through possible projects. His casual lack of stress is almost Zen. "I mean, you always read scripts and some of them you'd love to do and some of them... you wouldn't love to do," he says. At present, the script he's most recently said yes to is indeed a damn fine one, a new stage production of Anton Chekhov's 1896 heartbreaker, The Seagull.
But some might wonder if the sudden flood of scripts and movies and exposure isn't a bit overwhelming, especially with everything coming at once. Murphy, ever unfazed, replies as expected: "Actually, it's kind of underwhelming. Nothing has changed for me. I mean, it's great to be able to have done 28 Days Later... and it's great that people are liking it a lot. But in terms of, like my personal life or career, it doesn't seem to have changed anything. And I'm quite happy with that."
Of course you are, Cillian. Of course you are.