Oscar-winning director and polymath filmmaker George Miller listened intently as I recounted my story. I told him that in my 11 years hosting "News Breakfast" on the Australian Broadcasting Corporation (ABC), I never dreamed. From the moment I became a morning news anchor, my nocturnal life, filled with epic cinematic scenes, ceased, only to return the night I stopped broadcasting.
George's eyes widened: the acclaimed director of action films—considered one of the greatest contemporary directors—is fascinated by the life of the subconscious. He believes in the creativity of lucid dreaming and that fleeting space between sleep and consciousness; it's the fertile ground for almost all of his films.
"That's fascinating," he said, "Please tell me in detail." As it turned out, George Miller was the only person in my life who was happy to listen to my dreams. I spent nearly four days with George preparing for the first episode of Virginia Trioli's new season of "Creative Types." Our conversations delved into the boundless role of the subconscious, the history of cinema, and the intricate mechanics of filmmaking.
"I find that everyone is essentially experiencing the same thing," George said when talking about filmmaking. "It is essentially the interplay between intuition and intellect. Films are made on the run. You're making intuitive decisions at every moment, at every turn, tiny decisions."
He brings an energy and focus to filmmaking that was also present in his first career as an emergency room doctor. It was through doing odd jobs—with his partner, the late Byron Kennedy—that he funded his first film, the iconic "Mad Max." Yes, he says he has another "Mad Max" film he wants to make. "Once you've visited that world… you can't get out. I've become a habitual storyteller. I have many, many stories in my head, but not enough time to tell them."
"It's a bit like Darwinism: what happens is that some stories insist on existing, they won't let you go, you keep thinking about them, and then you start putting them together in your head." George lives a rich and internal life, fueled by the stories he dreams and the long history of cinema in his mind. He says that daydreaming is essential to his creative process.
"I remember when I was a kid, people would say, 'Oh, George is a bit of a daydreamer.' I thought, 'Oh my god, is there something wrong with that?' But then I became very grateful that I was like that: you would make up little stories in your head. It's not just stories or narratives, but playing around in your mind." He is perhaps the most thoughtful and profound director I have ever met—a kind of film philosopher, a narrative scholar. And without a doubt, he is also the most easygoing and approachable.
I almost missed my connecting flight from Melbourne to Broken Hill and Silverton, the famous filming locations for "Mad Max 2" and "Mad Max: Fury Road," where we planned to film with him, due to a flight delay. As I ran frantically to the gate, I saw the last passengers boarding, but George Miller was sitting leisurely in a plastic chair in the waiting area, chatting happily with our director of photography, Aaron Smith. George turned to me, beaming, and walked with me to the gate. He had nothing with him but his phone.
"He's really like a pirate who has a very noble and completely rebellious ship that he wants to sail wherever he wants," is how Tilda Swinton, star of "Three Thousand Years of Longing," describes his work. Actors who have worked with him fall in love with him and wait to be invited back. Tilda said she would work with Miller again "in a heartbeat." Chris Hemsworth told me that after seeing "Mad Max: Fury Road," he immediately called his agent from the movie theater lobby, begging him to make sure he got a role in the next "Mad Max" film.
Charlize Theron, who had a very difficult time with her co-star Tom Hardy during the filming of "Mad Max: Fury Road," relied on Miller to get through the conflicts in the desert and later became a close friend of the director and his wife and editor, Margaret Sixel. George Miller is a curious mix of restless and calm. When he wasn't filming with us in the boundless landscapes of his dystopian vision, he was remotely managing projects in Sydney.
His vision is always pushing forward. "Every filmmaker will tell you that once the film is done, there's no point in watching it again," he says. "You know it. I can play every frame in my head, but you can't do anything about it. We are verbs, not nouns… and we have to be verbs because everything is changing."