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She’s one of the greatest voices of contemporary cinema, yet the Scottish director is far from prolific. Perhaps, she says, it’s because of her obsessive nature
Lynne Ramsay crash-lands on an armchair on the terrace – hair flying, skirts swirling – looking as though she has just been blown in from the sea. She was out late last night at some ritzy Venice film festival soiree or other. “Dancing with Joaquin,” she says, scrunching her face in embarrassment. The upshot is that she is totally knackered today.
No one is going to begrudge the woman a night on the tiles. All the same, it feels weird to have the director – arguably the toughest, purest voice in modern British cinema – wafting around the photo-calls and champagne receptions like some glamorous social butterfly. Any festival competition that doesn’t include a Lynne Ramsay picture feels, on some nagging, illogical level, like an opportunity missed. Continue reading...