Watch the film of our meeting below, and head to the website he made with collaborators Nastja Säde Rönkkö and Luke Turner to read the unedited transcript of our email correspondence in a special format designed by the artists. The pull of a digital connection follows us into the room, yet morphs into something entirely different.īelow is an abridged version of our two-week dialogue. It’s mid-October when we come face to face in his hotel room, both of us with GoPros strapped to our heads, for an hour. Rather than a regular interview, LaBeouf suggests that we keep all of our words online, and meet in person without speaking. We arrange to meet in London when LaBeouf is in town for the premiere of Fury. “I actually totally agree with you, it’s all about finding the humanity of the networks. That’s more variables than Tetris, no? It’s human.” There’s scope for interpretation and response. there’s one of us on either side of the exchange. I’m tipsy on a train when I read this email I pay £4 for an hour of wi-fi because I can’t wait to reply. We talk for two weeks.Īt one point, LaBeouf says that he – as an only child – longed for the kind of family he saw in Home Alone that online connections cannot replace physical presence, that he approaches social media as a game like Tetris.
He holds nothing back: he tells me about his relationship with his father, and traumatic experiences. I tell LaBeouf my feelings on Fury I ask him for running tips, for reading recommendations. He tells me about his search for more challenging projects like Lars von Trier’s Nymphomaniac and David Ayer’s wartime drama Fury, as well as his newfound affinity with metamodernism (a school of thought somewhere between the irony of postmodernism and the sincerity that came before). LaBeouf tells me about the “existential crisis” he underwent after being caught plagiarising graphic novelist Daniel Clowes for a short film, Howard, that aired at Cannes in 2013. I like your point of view.” Suddenly, it becomes very real. If you have any interest, we could start a dialogue. The notion of him being a flesh and blood person with any impact on my life is so strangely distant that the reality of his invasion of my Macbook – my inner sanctum – barely registers. I’ve been followed on Twitter by numerous LaBeouf parodies lately, having written about the ex-Transformers actor’s recent work in the realm of performance art. It’s a Saturday morning at the end of September and I’m still in bed, laptop booted up before I’ve even had a conscious thought, when a notification tells me I have an email from Shia LaBeouf. Taken from the Winter 2014 issue of Dazed:
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