British director Andrew Haigh has a penchant for dissecting the human condition, and his latest cinematic offering, All of Us Strangers is a blistering portrayal of love, loss and connection in all its gut-wrenching glory. Loosely based on Taichi Yamada’s 1987 novel Strangers, Haigh’s narrative reinterprets Yamada’s supernatural tale of a man’s relationship with a pair of ghosts who eerily resemble his dead parents through a naturalistic lens, allowing his characters’ worlds to exist in the liminality which lies on the precipice of reality and fantasy.

Andrew Scott is Haigh’s protagonist, a lone writer named Adam orbiting in the monotonous cycle of his own existence as he struggles to pen a story based on his parents, who died in a car accident when he was twelve years old. Troubled by his past and the trappings of the present, the only other inhabitant of his London tower block is Paul Mescal’s character Harry, with whom he becomes romantically intertwined as their paths cross in elevators and Soho basements. Set in the present day, Haigh unpicks notions of modern queerness and the complexities of being born to a generation of parents void of acceptance, manifesting these ideas through Adam and Harry’s relationship allows for Adam’s desire for solitude to become dismantled in the presence of Harry’s openness, and so the quest for intimacy unravels.

Love affair aside, the real plot twist arrives when Adam visits his childhood home and finds his parents – played by Jamie Bell and Claire Foy – still alive in the home he grew up in, the age at which they died, completely unchanged. Whether this is a ghost story or not is something Haigh himself is not concerned with, it is a chance for not only Adam but for the director himself to rewrite history.

Bell plays Adam’s moustachioed father trapped in 1980s Britain, a man of his time being made aware of the lasting impression his actions had on his now openly gay son. In a subversion of gender roles, surprisingly it is Bell’s character who is more accepting of his son’s sexuality while Foy fails to see a world in which 1980s prejudice doesn’t exist. Aching moments of intimacy which the family have been denied as a consequence of loss arrive as all three fully grown adults share a bed as if their son is still twelve years old, vocalise heartfelt apologies and exchange agonising farewells. All the while, we get the feeling these passing moments could have either transcended time or lasted a mere second.

Beautifully written and shot, the art of Haigh’s work lies in the ambiguity of its narrative, the visceral, syrupy hues of its colouring and the painfully sharp observations on what it means to seek human connection – even if only for a fleeting moment – and have it shape you forever. In the conversation below, we sat down with Bell to discuss the inevitability of goodbyes, building an on-screen father-son dynamic with Andrew Scott and the inescapable truth of time’s transience.

Ella Joyce: All of Us Strangers recently won seven awards at the British Independent Film Awards, congratulations! How did it feel to see the film get that kind of recognition? 
Jamie Bell: I know it’s silly to say there is a ‘best’ of something, but it is nice to be recognised. I think more than anything, for Andrew Haigh himself to be recognised is great because it’s such a personal film. He put so much of himself into it and took some big risks. For it to be honoured in that way, to be seen, and for the story to land with people is just extremely rewarding. To see him being feted and applauded was great – he’s the best.

EJ: It is such a personal story, what was your initial reaction to the script? 
JB: I just found it so moving, it’s one of the best scripts I’ve ever read. Andrew has this ability to articulate specific things, the film never wanders too deep into a kind of sentimentality or melodrama because he finds real conflict in these moments of connection. It’s quite thorny and difficult in some places, it’s incredibly moving. There are only four characters yet each of them has their moments. The intimacy is done so well and it propels the story, a signature of Andrews’ work is how intimacy is about the unspoken stuff between people. I knew he would capture all that brilliantly and on top of that, all the great fucking actors that we had – you’d be an idiot to not do it. [laughs]

“…it’s one of the best scripts I’ve ever read.”

EJ: Having only four of you on set must’ve been such an intimate filming process. Some productions are so large that cast members can never even meet.
JB: I loved it. I’ve done that, I’ve worked with people on a film and never actually met them, which is bizarre. You’re right, it did create this unit – it was so personal. After all, we were in this space that was Andrew’s space, there was respect and protection for him. We had two sons, they were both called Andrew, one was Andrew Scott and one was the director. [both laugh] But at the same time, Andrew never put the weight of it on us, he gave us the space to bring our uniqueness to the characters. It’s one of the best filming experiences I’ve ever had, I was in love with everybody. Everyone was bringing their personal lives to this, for reference pictures the crew used their own family photographs of parents who had passed on or parents who were ill, or people they’d lost and we had all these grainy photographs of moustachioed men. Everyone was bringing so much of themselves to it and when a film has elements of truth in it the connection to the audience is just so much greater.

“I think the reach for connection is so important, no matter how absurd it is. If what you’re doing is trying to understand yourself more, it somehow makes sense.”

EJ: The story revolves around Andrew Scott’s character’s relationship with his deceased parents, what was it like working opposite him in this role and bringing the story to life? 
JB: He’s doing an incredibly difficult job because he’s straddling these two things: this trapped adult, and trapped child. He’s physicalising that and it’s coming out in these spontaneous ways because whenever you see people you know and they’re suddenly around their families, you’re like, “Whoa, this is a completely different dynamic.” You become someone so different, all of a sudden, you click into these moulds that you’re used to through this muscle memory of a former life or a former person. He’s doing these two very specific things – he’s at a distance, but also so familiar. It’s so hard to do that convincingly and brilliantly, as the actor opposite him you are so surprised by the choices he’s making and genuinely so moved by them. There’s a scene close to the end of the film, where I say, “This is done, we kind of need to say goodbye now” and he reaches out and puts his hand on my mouth. That’s what my four-year-old does because she is of the mentality that if you don’t say it, it doesn’t exist. There is such a childlike mentality and conflict with the adult man who’s doing it, you’re just kind of reacting to what he’s doing because he’s giving you gold so it makes your job a lot easier.

EJ: I wanted to talk about that father-and-son dynamic because not only are you exploring complicated notions of masculinity and sexuality but you have the added layer of the climate at the time. The 1980s in Britain was not somewhere homosexuality was accepted, what was it like tapping into that? 
JB: Andrew speaks about it so eloquently and so well, he talks about the accidental cruelty of families to their children. It’s so offhand but it can mark a person and change the way that they identify themselves. They can think they’re a shy person purely because you say, “Why are you so shy? Stop being so shy!” All of these small little gestures that you as a parent think nothing of, over time they build up. I’m a parent of three small children and I probably fuck up all the time. The big scene with Andrew and I in the lounge where the dad is trying to say sorry, he’s still kind of fucking up, he’s still saying, “Well, you couldn’t catch a ball.” All these really specific things he still isn’t able to realise are hurtful, you’re still being hurtful even though you’re saying sorry. That’s the thing with being a parent, you’re kind of stuck in your ways to some degree. Obviously, he is a man trapped in this country in the 80s which isn’t the best place to be. I grew up at a time in a certain part of the world that had very specific feelings towards this community and was not accepting of it, it was almost like a death sentence and I was able to bring that understanding from my childhood to the role. Claire [Foy] captures that brilliantly, the affection but the ignorant fear of it. I like that in terms of gender roles because the father is the one who is more accepting of this fact than his mother is. That is so acutely and brilliantly observed by Andrew Haigh and it’s really unique. I’m bringing all my baggage to it, I’ve never had a dad! [laughs] All I wanted for so long was to sit down with him and now I’m doing that scene. So for me, it’s a whole cathartic process as well on top of everything else.

EJ: There’s a universality to it and I think it’s really interesting that neither your nor Claire’s characters are ever given names. I feel like that allows it to be relatable to anybody because you’re not picturing specificities.
JB: Totally. We all call our parents mum and dad so it just adds to us being completely immersed in Andrew’s point of view – it’s perfect. Whenever I text Andrew Scott now, because I text Andrew Scott, just so you know. [both laugh] I always say, “Love, Dad” at the end of it. I’m sure he’s like, “Enough now, relax.” But I just find it cute, I love him and adore him.

“For reference pictures the crew used their own family photographs of parents who had passed on or parents who were ill”

EJ: That is very cute. You filmed in Andrew Haigh’s childhood home which looks like a real 80s time capsule on screen. What was that like? 
JB: I was just looking at Haigh all the time thinking, “Is this the day that he breaks down or becomes overwhelmed and has to take a second?” I usually hang out on set all the time, because I’m so anxious and I like to get comfortable in the space. So a lot of the time they’d be setting stuff up, he’d just be sitting there and I’d catch him and go, “Are you doing OK?” It’s impossible not to feel some kind of way. Sometimes it was funny for him too I’m sure, like “Billy Elliot and the Queen are in my dad’s bed, I saw that coming when I was ten years old!” [both laugh] It’s such a wonderful leap of faith to take and to trust these actors and this crew with the life and memory of your family.

EJ: Speaking of that scene where the Queen and Billy Elliot are in bed… [both laugh] The film is split between two worlds but they are so seamless in a way that could be easy to lose track of. When Andrew Scott gets into bed with you both as a grown man, in another world that could be seen as almost absurd but there is a normalcy to it which I found fascinating. 
JB: You’re so right. I think the reach for connection is so important, no matter how absurd it is. If what you’re doing is trying to understand yourself more, it somehow makes sense. His search at the end of the day is, “Who the fuck am I? What does this all mean?” It’s what we all want to figure out but the only way we can do that is through our connection with other people. Whenever that’s the intention of the scene, even if it’s Claire putting baubles on a fucking Christmas tree singing a Pet Shop Boys song, you can accept it because it’s her communicating to him that she’s sorry. No matter what way that all comes together, if that’s the meaning of it then I’m so accepting of it. Andrew Haigh is completely uninterested in explaining what any of it means. I have no interest in the rules of these ghosts either, what time do they go to bed, if they eat food does it just fall out of their stomach, do we use the bathroom? [both laugh] It’s not of interest to us either, it doesn’t matter.

EJ: When I watched the film, there was a Q&A with Andrew Haigh after and someone asked a very similar question about what this all means, what are the rules, and what’s real. And he gave a response along the lines of “I don’t care and I don’t know either, it’s all open to interpretation.” I think that’s exactly where the heart of the story lies, the ambiguity is invaluable to the narrative. There was also not a single person who didn’t leave the cinema in tears. [both laugh]
JB: We were all in tears on set too, Andrew was like, “One of you has to not cry.” [laughs] It was difficult, I say difficult but none of this stuff was difficult because everyone was just coming into it with such an open heart. Andrew [Scott] is such an easy person to love and what he was doing with the performance was incredible, just a little wobble of his mouth and you’re like “Please don’t do that, I’m going to lose my fucking shit.” It’s devastating. My thing is goodbyes, I feel like there’s quite a lot of them in the films I’ve made. Goodbyes are cinematic cruelty but in the best way possible. The goodbye is inevitable, E.T. is probably the ultimate goodbye cinematically speaking. The goodbye in La La Land too…

EJ: Oh god, just the look they give each other!
JB: You get it. They just look at each other, they don’t even say anything but you get it. It’s inevitable and it’s the thing we’re all not talking about.

“The only way you’re ever going to know who you are is through your connection with other people. If it’s there to be had just take it no matter what, please do it.”

EJ: Another really interesting thing is the way memory is used in the film because it’s so subjective and it shows how interactions can differ so drastically for people. Right now, we could leave this conversation and remember it completely differently.
JB: Absolutely. He’s also remembering a certain version of his parents. Parents are completely different when they’re away from their kids. From a child’s point of view you’re going to remember things in a certain way. There are some moments where I also ask, “Am I talking to him as though he’s a twelve-year-old or am I talking to him as though he’s a forty-year-old?” Obviously, those two things are completely different. But then I’m like, “Don’t think about it, just do it!” [laughs] Rational thought is the enemy, it’s about feeling. The one thing I did want to have was a sense of authority, when I tell them to sit down, he’s going to sit down. That was the most important part because there is a way that dads do that, especially dads of a certain generation. Not that I would know what that is… The violins are playing! [laughs]

EJ: You also look the same age, which can be a little jarring without context. For example, when we first meet you we’re so unaware of who you may be and there is a suggestion you are something completely different, which I thought was a very clever introduction. 
JB: Totally. There is a mirroring happening with Paul’s character specifically. I don’t look like Paul, let’s just be honest with each other here that is not the case. [both laugh]

EJ: Hey, you both have a tache. [Jamie laughs]
JB: You’re right, if there’s anything it is the moustache. Paul is also doing a bit of a Northern twang so there are these echoes of the characters that are kind of similar and that is intentional. In the first meeting, there is a suggestion of, “Oh, there’s a spark of attraction here maybe there’s something familiar that feels comfortable or exciting.” I like that kind of introduction, I like that it’s slightly off-centre and daring. It was brilliant because it was so unexpected, it disappeared and it’s never talked about. If you’re getting anything you go, “Yeah, Paul is kind of like his dad, there is some echo of him.” It’s very Freudian.

EJ: We touched upon goodbyes earlier and the final scene is particularly heartbreaking, what do you hope people think or feel when they leave the cinema? 
JB: I definitely have a few things I want people to leave with – this is where I always get sentimental talking about the film. I think that time is just so fleeting. It’s so important and so precious, certainly, as a dad of three, my eldest is already ten so there are only three more years where he thinks I’m cool. Or where he has a fucking fleeting interest in what you have to say. It’s so fast. So there is that, go home, hug your kids, be kind to them, listen to them and be present for them no matter what. I think more than anything, no matter what you’ve been through, the loss that you’ve suffered, the trauma you’ve experienced, whenever there is an opportunity for you to love or for you to find a connection in any way, take it. It’s worth it, no matter if it’s going to be fucking hell at the end of it, or no matter if it’s going to fall apart or if it’s only for a fleeting, brief moment in time. The only way you’re ever going to know who you are is through your connection with other people. If it’s there to be had just take it no matter what, please do it. That I think more than anything, is what the film is speaking to.

All of Us Strangers is out in cinemas now.