LakshmiFor nearly three decades, James McAvoy has made a career of disappearing into other people, from the heartbreaking romanticism of Atonement to the shape-shifting menace of Split and the blockbuster spectacle of X-Men. One of Scotland’s most versatile acting talents, he has built a reputation on reinvention.
With California Schemin’, McAvoy steps behind the camera for his feature directorial debut, returning to the country that shaped him to tell a story that is as absurd as it is revealing. Based on the extraordinary true story of Silibil N’ Brains, two aspiring rappers from Dundee who adopted fake Californian identities to fool the British music industry, the film explores the complicated relationship between authenticity and ambition, asking what happens when the world refuses to accept you as you are — and how much of yourself you are willing to sacrifice to get ahead. Set against the nostalgia-soaked backdrop of the early 2000s, it is a tale of friendship, deception and the intoxicating allure of fame, but also a pointed examination of class, cultural identity and an industry that has long been preoccupied with who gets to tell a story and what they must look or sound like to be heard. Beneath the humour lies a more personal question: how much of yourself are you willing to sacrifice to become someone the world is prepared to accept?
One Lash Shot sat down with actor-turned-director, James McAvoy, to discuss his journey behind the camera, the complexities of staying true to your roots in show business and why Scotland’s stories deserve to be told on their own terms.
You’ve spent years building an extraordinary career in front of the camera. What was it about the true story of Silibil N’ Brains that made you think it was the right story to tell for your directorial debut?
I knew that, whatever the first thing I directed was going to be, I wanted it to be set in a lower-income background, somewhere where opportunities were few and far between, certainly for artists. Because that was sort of where I came from.
I don’t know, I felt that was definitely something I wanted to hit. I didn’t necessarily know it was going to be set in Scotland, but when this came along, it just ticked every box because it did all that without being exploitative of poverty or poverty porn. You know, it was an entertaining mainstream movie, and I don’t see many entertaining mainstream movies made about people who come from that kind of background.
For me, growing up, my life was exciting and full of possibility, danger, fun, peril and adventure. But I didn’t really see beyond the borders of my council scheme, which is what we call a project there. But it was exciting.
And so, I wanted to show that, and this film did that for me.
You grew up in Glasgow before making your way into an industry that can sometimes overlook where people come from. Did telling this story bring you back to your own beginnings, and did you recognise a little of yourself in these two ambitious young men?
Yeah, definitely.
I mean, my story is way less worthy of a biopic than theirs. It’s not sensational. And the adventures, the wrong turns, the falls and the ups are way less dynamic than in this movie.
But I’ve walked a version of the path these guys walked in the movie and in their lives, which is: how much of yourself, your integrity, your authenticity and your identity are you willing to put on the line and potentially sacrifice to get what you want in show business? And so, I’ve definitely walked that path, 100%.
Billy and Gavin begin by pretending to be someone else, but eventually the performance takes over their lives. As an actor, you spend your career inhabiting other identities. Where do you draw the line between transforming yourself for a role and losing sight of who you really are?
Yeah.
I mean, for me as an actor, I very rarely lost myself, I don’t think. I think I’ve been around people who do some version of what you might call method acting and I’ve rarely seen it be healthy or good for those people.
And these two guys decided to do that 24/7, even when they were on their own. They’d never done any acting, you know, they were practising the dark art of method acting. It’s just raw. And the fact that it had almost fatal consequences for one of them, anyway, I don’t think is any great surprise to me.
So, yeah, it did. It made a lot of sense to me as an actor.
The words “It’s shite being Scottish” have become iconic thanks to Trainspotting. You bring that sentiment into California Schemin’, only to erase it by the end. What did that moment mean to you, both as a filmmaker and as someone who grew up Scottish?
That line is a really famous one from Trainspotting. When I decided, I was going to put that mural up there, I thought, “This is a bold move on my directorial debut, calling to mind in the audience’s mind, in the theatre, possibly the greatest Scottish movie ever made.” So why wouldn’t I do it?
But the idea that that is—Renton saying that line to Tommy, “It’s shite being Scottish”—to this day, it’s one of the enduring moments of Scottish cinema. And it’s sort of sad that it is, because there hasn’t been that much since then that’s really taken its place.
And I don’t think it’s shite being Scottish. I think most Scottish people don’t, but I think sometimes we’re made to feel like it is. And Scotland, in its history as part of Great Britain, has quite often been treated as a second-class citizen, a testing ground for taxes and things like that.
We are the country in Europe with the highest drug deaths and teenage pregnancy. And so, there’s lots to complain about and lots to back up that statement. And yet there is a spirit that is creative, ebullient and gregarious, and that’s reaching for something else.
And that’s the spirit that I think means that that statement has to be wiped off by the end of the film.
After everything you’ve explored about ambition, identity and the complicated business of being Scottish, let’s end with a simple one. If you had to describe California Schemin’ in a single word—not as its director, but as someone who grew up in Scotland—what would it be?
Wild.
Lakshmi
