#Michael sheen and neil gaiman are dangerous and beautiful

[muffinsandpages]

What I say: I'm fine :)

What I'm thinking: did Aziraphale kiss Crowley back, even if for just one second? Did he, for a split moment, close his eyes or was his face just super tense? Did he grab Crowley's back voluntarily? Why didn't he push Crowley away? Is it because, deep down, he wanted it or is it because he was too shocked to do anything? But if even the smallest part of him liked it, he wouldn't have looked so distraught after, would he? When he said "I forgive you", does it mean he was hurt? The way he touched his lips, the unsteady breathing, was he just shoked? Hurt? Did he wish he could have that moment back to make things right? Is the answer "all three of them"? Does he know what the answer is?

[invisibleicewands]

Whether it’s playing heightened versions of themselves on their hit series Staged or preventing the apocalypse as everyone’s favorite ethereal couple, Michael Sheen and David Tennant are a duo for the ages. With a combined roster that includes just about every major sci-fi and fantasy franchise from Doctor Who to Twilight behind them, the two are beloved by fans the world over — all of whom are eager to see them return to screens when the second season of Good Omens hits Prime Video this month.

The two return in full form as Aziraphale and Crowley in season two of the Neil Gaiman-penned series, but now that they’ve prevented the apocalypse, the series is going in an all-new direction: beyond the constraints of the book, and into never-before-seen territory. What that means for the angel and demon is anyone’s guess, but it’s up to them to solve yet another heavenly mystery this time around: why the archangel Gabriel (Jon Hamm) has lost his memory. Not an easy task, really, when Heaven and Hell are out to get the both of them, but the world’s at stake, leading the two into another adventure through time that explores friendship, love, and what it means to have faith.

Collider was excited to sit down with Tennant and Sheen prior to the ongoing SAG-AFTRA strike to discuss the new series and what it’s like going beyond the ending of the novel. During this conversation, we also discussed hopping through time with Aziraphale and Crowley, their favorite romantic comedies, and who they think is the better driver when it comes to Crowley’s beloved Bentley.

COLLIDER: I love this season, and one of my favorite parts of this season was that we get to see a little bit more of Aziraphale and Crowley through time, in addition to the main story. Did you guys have a favorite time period that you got to play in?

MICHAEL SHEEN: I love the 1940s stuff. I do really like that.

DAVID TENNANT: Yes, that is great, and getting to play with the zombies again. That was fun.

SHEEN: That was great, and, you know, I get to do some more magic.

TENNANT: Yeah, that was nice fun! That was nice fun.

SHEEN: That was my favorite.

I can imagine!

TENNANT: Yeah, it was great. I love the look of the 1860s one.

SHEEN: Yeah.

TENNANT: That's great. I loved that coat.

SHEEN: Yeah, it was very cold when we were filming that stuff.

TENNANT: Very.

SHEEN: So we got to have nice, warm costumes, which is always a plus.

TENNANT: But no, I mean, it's a sort of a never-ending joy to shoot, really, because you get all that variety within it as well. It's not just showing up in Aziraphale’s bookshop every day. Delightful, though, that! That’s beautiful, too.

SHEEN: Well, because this time the set, the SoHo bookshop set, was all built in the studio. So, on the first series, we only had a bit of it, and it was outdoors in some freezing cold airstrip somewhere that was miserable.

TENNANT: And even inside the bookshop would be blowing a gale, wouldn't it?

SHEEN: Yeah, but this time we were in a nice studio, and then there was this whole huge set with so much detail. All the shops are completely populated with all kinds of amazing things, so that was endlessly fascinating to be able to wander around there and look at all that. So, I loved all that. It's a very fun, very enjoyable show to work on, I’d say. We feel quite guilty about how enjoyable it is.

TENNANT: Yeah.

This season, as well, Aziraphale gets to drive the Bentley as well as Crowley. So, who do you think is the better driver?

TENNANT: I mean, don’t even.

SHEEN: Well, let's leave that up to the Bentley. Who does the Bentley like the most?

TENNANT: It’s not that at all.

SHEEN: And I think the evidence in the show is that it likes me the most.

TENNANT: But you've got to treat it in a certain way. You can't indulge it.

SHEEN: Treat you mean and keep ya keen!

TENNANT: Exactly. Well, that’s Crowley’s way, anyway. [laughs]

SHEEN: You’re dangerously close to that!

TENNANT: I’m not saying I condone any of that. But yes, it's true that the Bentley gets away from him, briefly, and that's very difficult for Crowley.

Additionally, you two, Aziraphale and Crowley, sort of worked together to, for lack of a better word, Four Weddings and a Funeral Maggie and Nina, the two fellow shopkeepers. So, I was curious, do you guys have a favorite romantic comedy?

TENNANT: Good question!

SHEEN: Ooh, When Harry Met Sally is a classic, isn't it? I think that's a modern-day classic.

TENNANT: I want to say It’s a Wonderful Life, but that doesn’t really count, does it? That’s not really a rom-com.

SHEEN: Something like Bringing Up Baby.

TENNANT: Yeah, Roman Holiday.

SHEEN: I grew up watching those Doris Day ones. That's always fun. And the Barbara Streisand and Ryan O’Neal, people like that, when they did stuff together. What’s Up, Doc?

TENNANT: What's Up, Doc? I’m gonna go with What’s Up, Doc? Well maybe that’s more comedy than rom-com? That’s more com than rom. There’s a bit of rom in there, though, isn’t it?

SHEEN: [laughs] There’s definitely rom.

TENNANT: And an amazing car chase!

[theonevoice]

Rumination n. 2 - About Fallen Angel

One aspect of Good Omens that I don’t see as much praised as the amazing writing of Neil Gaiman and the unbelievable performances of Michael Sheen and David Tennant, but I find crucial to the gut-wrenching beauty of this second season in particular, is the wonderful soundtrack by David Arnold.

The music of this show is just brilliant, to a point where it feels almost arrogant for me to point it out, like it would sound weird if someone came out of the blue saying “You know, that Beethoven guy is actually rather nice”. So I will just pick one single track that, to me, summarizes how much the soundtrack helps carry the weight of the story, packing layers over layers on each scene and adding to the writing and the acting an extra expressive space that can be filled with even more facets of the main themes.

I’m thinking in particular of the scene at the end of ep. 2, with the pivotal dialogue that, for the first time, really cement the alliance between Crowley and Aziraphale as two individuals who are not entirely conforming to the expectations of their respective sides. By the time this dialogue rolls in, something massive has just happened: each of them has been caught red-handed by the other, doing and feeling things that negate their respective “company policies”. Crowley has been found out not wanting to destroy Job’s goats, let alone kill his children, and Aziraphale has been found out unable to endorse the dire implications of the Bet. Lucky them, this all happened between the two of them, nobody else is involved or informed, and this reciprocity allows them to pause for a moment and start reflecting on their situation. We know, of course, that this moment was waiting to happen since the conversation on the wall of Eden, when Aziraphale is visibly touched by the slightest sliver of doubt (his expression tells us that what Crowley is saying about God putting the Tree in such a prominent spot, as if to induce temptation on purpose, does make a point, despite him not wanting to speculate, possibly because he remembers all too well how dangerous it is to ask questions in Heaven), and since their meeting before the flood, when Crowley realizes that he doesn’t like the perspective of having innocent people killed, which is not a strictly demon-like thing to feel (and he knows it because his comment about the indiscriminate extermination of everyone via the flood is “this is more the kind of thing that you would expect my lot to do”, which, transitive property applied, means that he is upset about at least some of the things that Hell throws at the earth). But the Job encounter is the first time that all of this has actually been said (more or less) out loud by both of them.

So what about the music?

The track playing with the final dialogue is titled Fallen Angel, and I find that there is something heartbreaking in it. Yes, of course, it is a quote from Aziraphale’s line, when he desperately refers to himself as “a fallen angel”, but “fallen angel” is also what Crowley is, despite what he himself would like to think.

We talk a lot about how much Aziraphale is the one in constant denial – denial of Heaven’s dark sides, denial of his own sometimes shaky moral stance (let’s not forget that, between the Arthurian period and the meeting at the Globe, he has agreed to go around tempting people on behalf of Crowley, which means quite literally doing Hell’s work), most of all denial of his own feelings – and this is certainly true. But I feel that we should also recognize how much Crowley is in denial in his own way, specifically denial of the traces that his original angelic nature has left behind. Or rather, of those parts of angelic nature that he held on to even after being cast to Hell. Now, as much as I love the interpretation of their last exchange in ep. 6 as Aziraphale offering to “change Heaven for him” rather than asking him to change for Heaven, I still think that Aziraphale has been forcing on Crowley a distorted still-an-angel portrait because in doing so he is blocking out at least some of his internal struggle (and this “weakness”, in my opinion, makes his character even more vivid and lifelike). But I also think that Crowley’s angry reactions to having his chosen identity denied by the only person in the universe that is dear to him are tinted by the trauma of the Fall.

And the music in that scene, I believe, is telling us just that. Of all the tracks in season 2, I find Fallen Angel to be the most melancholy one together with The End?, and possibly even sadder: because The End? starts playing when both us viewers and the protagonists are in a literal, I would say almost medical state of shock, unable to master the emotional resources needed to process what just happened. Fallen Angel on the contrary is a desperately calm moment of reflection on what their situation in the universe is, on how their respective cages are hurting them, and how painfully hard it is to summon the courage to escape them, to even think of escaping them. It seems to me that even the set choice confirms this mood: after an entire episode spent almost exclusively in closed, sometimes claustrophobic spaces, they are finally “outside”, on the top of a cliff (like when they briefly met at the beginning of the episode, but now the dry canyon is a beautiful gulf), watching a calm blue sea under a calm blue sky: everything is wide open, vast, unobstructed, with no living thing around as if they are alone in the universe, their thoughts and fears can flow freely and unrestricted. And in this moment of honesty, when they for the first time open up to each other, we have Fallen Angel, which is not just sad, is also nostalgic. But how and why can it be nostalgic? If the title only refers to Aziraphale, nostalgia makes no sense, because his feelings in those moments are feelings of desperation and angst. But if the title refers to both of them, then it does make sense, because nostalgia is the pain of something that has been lost, and while Aziraphale has not lost anything yet, sitting next to him there is someone who has lost something that cannot entirely be forgotten. Surely, one could say that by now Aziraphale has lost his original “innocence”, but I would argue that, on the wall of Eden, having just given away the flaming sword, he was already letting that sliver of doubt creep in, and he was definitely not comfortable with discussing the flood. Furthermore, telling his first lie counts as a loss (of innocence and peace of mind) no more than it counts as a gain (of awareness, freedom, and self-actualization). On the other side, Crowley was denied the chance to work his situation out in such a safe space. He just lost his original status over asking questions.

If Aziraphale is in denial of the traits of his personality that make him not entirely angelic, Crowley is equally – if not more – in denial of the traits of his personality that still link him to an ideal of good that is, or at least should be angelical. And it is a quite visible denial. He is annoyed by the smallest allusion to his good qualities, but as soon as he lets his guard down he goes back to remembering that he “didn’t mean to fall”, just “hung around the wrong people”, that he “didn’t really fall”, just “sauntered vaguely downwards”. That’s why Fallen Angel can be nostalgic. It’s not just about Aziraphale contemplating for a moment that he could be (or deserve to become) a fallen angel, but it’s also about the actual fallen angel sitting next to him, who, as much as he wants to paint himself as tranquil and satisfied with his situation, is still aching from the absolute pain and terror that he felt when he was cast out of Heaven. He used to be, after all, the angel that we see before the Beginning: he was so sure that just asking questions could not get him into trouble, he had no intention of rebelling or leaving. This – obviously – does not mean that Crowley is still an angel or wants by any means to go back to being an angel: he could never go back to that, exactly because he has experienced too much grief to be ever able to fit in the narrow mould of an angel again, to be able to just bask in the joyous light of God’s will in the unshaken certainty that it is entirely Good and Just and Forgiving. He has first-hand experienced that it can be cruel and unjust and unforgiving. He has forged and conquered an identity of his own, but it is an identity born out of the pain of not having a place to belong. He had to carve out a new path for himself, he didn’t mean to, he barely realized that it was about to fall (“didn’t have anything on the rest of the afternoon… next thing I was doing a million light year freestyle dive into a pull of boiling sulfur”).

So let’s look at what is happening from Crowley’s point of view. There you have an angel that has just violated the Heavenly code of conduct, and he is so pure of heart that he is just going to turn himself in to a blind and vindictive authority. If he let him go ahead, there is a chance that this could give him a fellow “demon who goes along with Hell as far as he can”, but at what cost? If Aziraphale’s conflict is a conflict between living by his own independent judgment (which includes choosing Crowley over obedience to Heaven) and staying true to the side “of good, of truth, of light”, Crowley’s conflict is a conflict between the need to escape solitude by pulling Aziraphale to his side and saving Aziraphale from the trauma that the Fall gave him and that being fallen still gives him.

A couple of millennia later he will joke about how being damned “is not so bad when you get used to it”, but Fallen Angel playing under this dialogue in ep. 2 tells us that he would never put Aziraphale through what being damned really means. He is a demon who is actually saving an angel from the risk of becoming a demon himself, because he knows how deeply and irreparably that can wound your soul, to the point that you would rather lie than admit it. “I’m a demon, I lied”: I know what it means to be in this place, don’t drag yourself here, it’s a realm of exile and loneliness, let’s agree that an angel can still be an angel even if he steps out of line from time to time, let’s create a margin of maneuver that did not exist when all this happened to me. Now it’s too late for me, but not for you.

So, to wrap up, thank you David Arnold for your invaluable work.

[shkspr]

The Gospel according to David and Michael

transcribed from [x]

Good Omens, Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett’s darkly comic novel about the battle between good and evil, comes to Amazon Prime this spring. To mark the occasion, the British stars of this hugely anticipated show  — Michael Sheen and David Tennant  — take New York in style. HAYLEY CAMPBELL meets them.

It’s Sunday morning in New York City and it’s snowing outside the warm, jazz-filled Beekman hotel, where a 50th-birthday balloon has been trapped for months at the apex of the glass atrium at the top of one of the city’s first skyscrapers. One thousand New Year’s Eve balloons have risen and fallen in the time this one silver balloon has taken to not die. If the apocalypse were to arrive tomorrow, this balloon would survive along with the cockroaches, the deep-sea fish, and the angel and the demon who tried to avert the disaster. If the prophecies of Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman’s cult novel Good Omens prove to be correct, this balloon would bob high above their heads as it is doing now — above Michael Sheen and David Tennant, light and dark, good and evil, an angel and a demon sitting either side of me in lower Manhattan, eating eggs.

I last saw these two together in 2017, in the middle of London’s Battersea Park, shooting some early scenes of their hugely anticipated television show. Good Omens is about the birth of Satan, the coming of the End Times, and an angel (Aziraphale — who has been living on Earth since the dawn of creation and is currently working in a bookshop avoiding selling books because he really just likes to collect them) and a demon (Crowley — who used to be known as Crawly, the snake who tempted Eve with the apple). The pair have spent so much time on earth that they’ve come to quite like it, and don’t much fancy the idea of it all ending. The novel was published in 1990 and has gone on to become so loved that it is rare to see a pristine copy in the world: copies of Good Omens almost always come pre-dunked in tea. Shortly before his death from Alzheimer’s in early 2015, Pratchett wrote an email to his collaborator Gaiman asking him to take it to the screen, to do it properly. “I’m making it for Terry,” says Gaiman. “I wanted to make the thing that Terry would have liked.”

Sheen and Tennant star as the angelic and demonic representatives of their respective head offices, Heaven and Hell, along with a knee-weakening list of stars including Jon Hamm as the archangel Gabriel, Spinal Tap’s Michael McKean as the last of a once proud witchfinder army, and Frances McDormand as the voice of God. There’s Miranda Richardson, Jack Whitehall, three quarters of the League of Gentlemen, and Nick Offerman as the father of the Antichrist (sort of). The cast list reads like someone collecting acting talent to put on an ark ready for a biblical flood.

For months, we have tried to get them together again to talk about the end of the world. But life and work had them circling the globe separately, unmatchable as opposing magnets. Sheen is currently in New York filming The Good Fight, in which he plays a Machiavellian lawyer, and Tennant has flown in on the red-eye from Phoenix, Arizona, where he was appearing at the Ace Comic Con, mobbed by Doctor Who fans. Both of them have, since they last saw each other, grown beards. Tennant is ecstatic about the beards, and both are thrilled to see each other, and New York, again.

“I’ve spent a lot of time in New York over the years now,” says Sheen. “But still there’s times where you look at something and you think it just looks so incredibly beautiful, or strange, or filmic. It never loses that sense of unreality. I love being able to take it in by walking through the streets. Los Angeles feels like everything happens indoors, whereas here in New York, everything happens outdoors.”

“I do like New York,” adds Tennant. “I love a big city, and I love a busy city.”

Tennant and Sheen have bumped into each other before, both appearing in Stephen Fry’s 2003 film Bright Young Things, but they were never in the same scene. Sheen voice a character in an episode of Doctor Who written by Gaiman, but by then Tennant’s Doctor had regenerated. They tend to go for similar roles so there’s rarely a chance for them to both be cast — it’s usually one or the other. Gaiman, the author and showrunner of Good Omens, selected Sheen for the role. “I’ve known Michael for about a decade and one of the things that always impressed me about him was his goodness,” he says. “He’s just very good. He radiates goodness and lovability. I was always fascinated by the fact that he tends to play characters who, at least on the outside, are sort of brittle and perhaps a little damaged or dangerous.”

Selecting an actor to play the BMW driving, skinny-jeans-wearing demon was an equally tricky task. “For David, I was writing episode three and there is a scene set in a church. I had to bring Crowley on and suddenly I knew exactly how I needed that scene to be done in order to work: with him coming down the aisle hopping from foot to foot, going ‘ow ow ow ow ow!’ like he’s at the beach in bare feet. Only David Tennant could do that right. People seemed baffled when it was announced that they were cast because they’re a similar kind of actor, but the similarities between them felt so incredibly right when you’re building this kind of thing.”

Tennant and Sheen joke that when the theatre production of Good Omens (hold your horses, there isn’t one) travels the world, they will swap roles every night, even though Sheen says he couldn’t imagine it the other way around: “Ultimately I don’t think I can pull off cool,” he says, as Tennant scoffs in disbelief. “I think it just suits my natural being, that I’m kind of a worrier, and a little bit too anal for my own good. Things annoy me if they’re not quite right. And yet I like to think of myself as being a good person. So all of that hypocrisy and finickiness seems to lend itself to the natural rhythm of Aziraphale.”

“I love that you describe Crowley as cool,” laughs Tennant. “I think he thinks he’s cool, but isn’t.”

Tennant is adamant that having Gaiman as a showrunner is the pin that is holding this strange world together, one that is “tonally sort of nebulous”, but definitely very funny, and one that would benefit from a bingewatch to take it in all at once (all six episodes will be available on Amazon at once and later the BBC will broadcast them week-by-week). “I think if anyone else was running this they would’ve normalised it, would’ve made it saner, and would’ve ironed out some of the quirks of it,” he says. “Neil’s been fantastically clever at making it televisual where he had to, but it still has the madness, the impracticality of the book.”

Plus, there’s the fact that Gaiman is 50 per cent of the book. Because of that, his casting choices landed a little more softly in the world of Good Omens fandom. But Sheen and Tennant aren’t too worried about being unwelcome: they have in their short time as Aziraphale and Crowley discovered that Good Omens fans may be devoted to the point of madness (the cosplay and pornographic fan fiction has already begun), but they are certainly kind. “I have found that Neil’s work is almost like the Arthurian sword in the stone,” says Sheen. “You can only pull the sword out if you are pure of heart. And I think you only like Neil’s stuff if there’s something about you that means you won’t be mean to people on the whole.”

“I think that’s true of Doctor Who fans as well,” says Tennant. “If your mind is set in that way, then you have a generosity of spirit. And there’s quite an overlap between the two fandoms.”

They seem almost wistful until I bring up the airfield. Days after filming during a cold snap in Battersea Park, where we huddled like penguins around glowing heaters in tents, production moved to an airfield outside London where they had built a fake Soho to house Aziraphale’s bookshop. It was the place that changed everyone’s idea of what ‘cold’ actually meant, but it also became the ultimate green room of all time. Both of them look wide-eyed at the mention of the place, for both reasons.

“That blasted airfield! It was blasted in every sense of the word,” says Tennant. “But the great joy was you had all the cast together at once. Between takes we had this big trailer where they would blast the heaters and we’d go and recover.”

“We’d drink hot chocolate, tell stories, and watch TV,” beams Sheen, who says the thing he misses most about the UK is the fact that he can mention The Flumps and people actually know what that is.

“But the only TV channel that would work was some version of Turner Classic Movies,” says Tennant. “Ancient old movies on a loop. Michael McKean would just sit there telling us stories about people he knew or about some sort of terrible Hollywood lifestyle they’d once lived.”

Though it took months to get them both in the same room in the same city, it is a genuine treat to see Sheen and Tennant together. They seem to prop each other up, to fill the space where the other is not, in both acting and conversing. Neither steps on the other’s toes. Above all, they seem to have a deep respect for one another. “It genuinely made me sad when we stopped filming,” says Sheen. “I didn’t want to not be doing it any more.” Good Omens makes you wonder why nobody thought of putting them together sooner. It is the strangest buddy story so far, the one just before the end of the world, starring the most unlikely pals who for some reason quite like each other — mostly because they’ve just been posted here a bit too long by their superiors so they have more in common with each other than they do with Heaven or Hell — and, crucially, quite like us. It’s the kind of thing that makes you believe the world is worth saving.