Jesse Eisenberg: ‘Is our modern pain valid?’ | Little White Lies

Interviews

Jesse Eisen­berg: Is our mod­ern pain valid?’

13 Jan 2025

Words by Darren Richman

Illustration of a young man with curly hair, glasses, and a red cap, wearing a green and blue checkered shirt against an orange and yellow background.
Illustration of a young man with curly hair, glasses, and a red cap, wearing a green and blue checkered shirt against an orange and yellow background.
The actor and writer/​director of A Real Pain dis­cuss­es his Pol­ish her­itage and the tricky prospect of film­ing scenes for a com­e­dy dra­ma in a con­cen­tra­tion camp.

A Real Pain, writ­ten and direct­ed by Jesse Eisen­berg, fol­lows David (Eisen­berg) and Ben­ji (Kier­an Culkin), mak­ing their way round Poland on a tour in hon­our of their recent­ly depart­ed grand­moth­er. The bick­er­ing cousins with an odd cou­ple dynam­ic vis­it Maj­danek con­cen­tra­tion camp as well as the child­hood home of their beloved ances­tor, a Holo­caust sur­vivor, in a des­per­ate bid to feel something.

My own grand­fa­ther sur­vived Auschwitz and, after he died on his 93rd birth­day in ear­ly 2023, my moth­er and I trav­elled to Poland to see the apart­ment of his youth, the place he lived until his­to­ry had oth­er ideas. I went to Maj­danek and oth­er camps with friends and fam­i­ly on an organ­ised tour in 2019. When I told him all this, Eisen­berg spent the first few min­utes of our time togeth­er pep­per­ing me with ques­tions and googling my grand­fa­ther. He was fid­gety and inquis­i­tive, seem­ing­ly keen­er to talk about my fam­i­ly than his film. In truth, there isn’t much that sep­a­rates the two things.

I know you’ve been try­ing to sort Pol­ish cit­i­zen­ship in recent years – did that lead to A Real Pain?

I became real­ly inter­est­ed in my family’s Pol­ish his­to­ry when I was 18-years-old. I became inter­est­ed because I had start­ed to become close to my dad’s aunt Doris (who we call Grand­ma Dory in the movie). From the time I was 18 to 36 I saw her every Thurs­day and I even lived with her for a peri­od in my ear­ly 30s. She was a very close per­son to me and she lived to 107. She was born in Poland and left before the war but I became so obsessed with her his­to­ry prob­a­bly because I felt a cer­tain lack of mean­ing in my life as I became a pro­fes­sion­al actor and became cel­e­brat­ed for some­thing that didn’t feel wor­thy of cel­e­bra­tion. I became inter­est­ed in my past and the suf­fer­ing of my ances­tors to con­nect to some­thing more real and meaningful.

Did you make a sim­i­lar trip to the one shown in the film?

My wife and I went to Poland in 2008. Her fam­i­ly, like your grand­fa­ther, was from Lodz and we did the trip shown in the movie but not on a tour. I real­ly felt this deep con­nec­tion to the place. I stood out­side the house my fam­i­ly lived in up until 1939 and felt the fluke of his­to­ry that I’m Amer­i­can with this JanS­port back­pack and I’m not liv­ing inside these doors. We were in this city for much longer than we were in New York City. I was fur­ther inter­est­ed in get­ting Pol­ish cit­i­zen­ship when I met all these peo­ple who were not only help­ing with the movie but also pre­serv­ing the mem­o­ry of my fam­i­ly by work­ing at con­cen­tra­tion camps and memo­ri­al­is­ing Jew­ish his­to­ry. In the town my family’s from, the town’s gynae­col­o­gist is also the Jew­ish genealogist–

It’s like a dyslex­ia joke.

I know, I know! He’s not Jew­ish but he knew more about my fam­i­ly than I did.

Did you go back to write the script?

No. I was so des­per­ate to go back but it was Covid when I was writ­ing and it just seemed like an impos­si­ble thing to tell my wife, I’ve had this idea for a movie, I’m going to leave you for a week and go on a tour of Poland.” Espe­cial­ly when nine­ty per­cent of what I write doesn’t get pro­duced. I end­ed up doing this real­ly weird thing of get­ting brochures online for Holo­caust tours and then using Google Street View and going street by street walk­ing where the char­ac­ters would go.

Which of the two main char­ac­ters is clos­est to the per­son you were doing that trip in 2008?

I prob­a­bly present to the world what David presents to the world.

You look a lot like him.

Exact­ly! But I was actu­al­ly going to play Ben­ji. I did that char­ac­ter in a play I wrote called The Spoils which played here in Lon­don. But the pro­duc­er of this, Emma Stone, said I should not play an unhinged char­ac­ter while also try­ing to direct. It’s too much cog­ni­tive dis­so­nance to try and rec­on­cile on a set. I have ele­ments of Ben­ji in that I’m also a per­former and at times I’m in con­trol of groups but I’m much more self-con­scious and self-aware than Ben­ji is.

Kier­an Culkin is per­fect in the role but did you think about cast­ing a Jew­ish actor?

Of course. The only rea­son I didn’t send the first ten pages I wrote to Kier­an Culkin was because we thought a Jew should play this role. It was a very com­plex process where I was try­ing to mine my own feel­ings about rep­re­sen­ta­tion and what I ulti­mate­ly felt, after ask­ing a lot of peo­ple, was that this is a movie that’s in my head about my family’s sto­ry. Who is best to illus­trate this sto­ry in a way that’s clos­est to my real­i­ty? It’s Kier­an Culkin.

You still took on a lead role. What was it like doing that as well as directing?

In some ways, real­ly help­ful. I could pace the scenes as I want­ed to pace them and play things that would come across on screen if not the page. I under­stood the emo­tion­al stakes of my char­ac­ter in a way some read­ers didn’t even under­stand. In terms of a dis­ad­van­tage, I bare­ly watched the scenes. We had the option after every take to do anoth­er one or watch the take back. Almost with­out excep­tion, I’d do anoth­er take. We didn’t have much time or money.

You chose not to deify the sur­vivor in the sto­ry and I real­ly relat­ed to that. My grand­fa­ther was an amaz­ing man but I also saw the way he behaved when he was stuck in traf­fic. When we talk about six mil­lion, the key is to human­ise rather than turn peo­ple into sta­tis­tics. Were you con­scious of that while writing?

My God. I just think about what it took to sur­vive some­thing like that. It requires a real tenac­i­ty. What does that look like in the quiet­ness of reg­u­lar, mod­ern life? The char­ac­ters in this movie are miss­ing their grand­moth­er and Ben­ji in par­tic­u­lar is real­ly griev­ing her loss because she was the only one in the fam­i­ly who would set him straight. But she was not a saint and that prob­a­bly speaks to you because it’s real. Some­times peo­ple who’ve been through real­ly hor­ri­ble sit­u­a­tions can be scary to lit­tle kids because they’ve had to tough­en them­selves up unfair­ly. The per­son who has been tough­est with Ben­ji is the only one he can feel love with.

And he’s felt sui­ci­dal since she died. Judaism puts such a large empha­sis on being alive with the Book of Life, l’chaim, wish­ing some­one a long life when they’ve lost a rel­a­tive etc and that’s even more sig­nif­i­cant when you’re talk­ing about the descen­dants of Holo­caust survivors. 

That’s the great irony of our mod­ern pain. We talk about it more than pre­vi­ous gen­er­a­tions and feel less of it. That’s some­thing I want­ed to explore but the counter irony is that some­times when you have real suf­fer­ing it pro­vides mean­ing in a way this mod­ern life can nev­er do.

I’ve always found it strange to be called a third gen­er­a­tion sur­vivor. I didn’t sur­vive any­thing. But then I read arti­cles about gen­er­a­tional trau­ma and won­der if I’m dif­fer­ent because my grand­fa­ther sur­vived Auschwitz. Were you delib­er­ate­ly attempt­ing to grap­pled with this stuff?

I don’t think of gen­er­a­tional trau­ma as this mag­i­cal, epi­ge­net­ic phe­nom­e­non. I think of it in very prac­ti­cal terms. If your grand­par­ents went through some­thing his­tor­i­cal­ly and epi­cal­ly unbear­able, they were prob­a­bly a stressed-out par­ent to your par­ents and your par­ents were prob­a­bly stressed-out par­ents to you. With the movie I was just try­ing to pose the ques­tion – what pain is valid? Is our mod­ern pain valid? Is my character’s treat­able OCD valid when our grand­par­ents sur­vived the holocaust?

Grow­ing up with this thing, I watched so many films and read so many books about the top­ic. But I was real­ly moved to see some­one do some­thing from our kind of per­spec­tive. I’ve nev­er seen that before.

That was exact­ly my goal. I’d nev­er seen this movie. I’m obsessed with movies about this top­ic because it’s an impos­si­ble sub­ject to under­stand and I watch movies in an attempt to get some lit­tle nugget or some truth. With this, I was try­ing to do some­thing dif­fer­ent with char­ac­ters that are irrev­er­ent. It brought up all sorts of inter­est­ing ques­tions like why are we trav­el­ling on a train to a con­cen­tra­tion camp and sit­ting first class? It sheds light on an irony that peo­ple like you and me would feel where­as our par­ents’ gen­er­a­tion might have a dif­fer­ent perspective.

Sequences like that make you cringe but they’re relat­able. I’ve read you’re a big fan of The Office and I feel like there’s some­thing of that in here.

Oh my God, it’s the great­est. It’s that, it’s that. What they did, and they didn’t even get enough cred­it for, is that Ricky Ger­vais is play­ing this char­ac­ter that’s say­ing all the wrong things and you love him. How do you make that thing work? What’s great is that Kier­an nev­er push­es it too far and he remains lov­able. He makes good argu­ments even when he’s being obnox­ious. Through­out the film, he breaks peo­ple open because he is open himself.

How hard was it to get per­mis­sion to film in a camp giv­en this is a com­e­dy drama?

It was the most inter­est­ing process I’ve ever been involved with. When we got Pol­ish pro­duc­ers on board, they told me that to shoot the Maj­danek con­cen­tra­tion camp it would be a $1 mil­lion build. I said, What do you mean a $1 mil­lion build?” They told me you can’t shoot in con­cen­tra­tion camps; you have to build them. I said, That’s weird, there’s some­body who knows how to build con­cen­tra­tion camps?” That was a third of our bud­get so we couldn’t afford it. I reached out to any­one I’d ever met with a con­nec­tion to the camps and got the word to Maj­danek that it would be a rev­er­en­tial scene about a tour group at the camp now. Nobody would be run­ning around dressed as a Nazi. Even­tu­al­ly I met the peo­ple there and we got along so well as they’re young aca­d­e­mics who’ve devot­ed their lives to pre­serv­ing the mem­o­ry of yours and my fam­i­lies’ his­to­ries. By the end of the expe­ri­ence, we realised that on some lev­el we were all try­ing to do the same thing – let peo­ple know what hap­pened here.

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