21st century boy

Jonathan Mills is not a man who waits to be asked his opinion. We have barely sat down before he has assessed (unprompted) the impact of the 2008 economic crisis on the International Festival.

“I think there’s been so much doom and gloom in the press that people think they’re like Chicken Little asking ‘Has the sky fallen in?’ It doesn’t work like that,” he says firmly.

“It’s not that I think we will be completely unaffected, but we haven’t felt those effects particularly. And if we end up not feeling those effects then the only reasonable, rational reason I can give is that people are not prepared to let these bastards [international financiers and bankers] rule their lives. And so there’s a level of defiance, people are saying: ‘I’m going to still believe in the power of art to transform and move me.’”

Such an impassioned tirade against both lazy, doom-mongering journalism and the disgraced "masters of the universe" who created the mess in the first place sits at odds with the round glasses and neatly parted hair that define Mills' professorial appearance. At the very least, it is a million miles away from the stuffy, elitist image of the International Festival, which persists in some quarters – much to Mills’ annoyance.

Certainly, the fact that the EIF is an invitation-only event, in contrast to the ‘all acts welcome’ policy of the Fringe, lends an air of exclusivity to the so-called "official" festival. This hasn’t been helped by either the sheer size of the Fringe or its humble origins: the Fringe was, after all, set up by a group of acts who were turned away by the International Festival in 1947.

But since Mills took over the reigns as EIF director three years ago, there has been a concerted effort to dispel some people’s perceptions of the International Festival as inaccessible, overly highbrow or elitist. Such has been the transformation already that much of the most cutting-edge, radical work in Edinburgh is to be found at Mills’ venues.

“We’re now doing things that reach out to audiences from the Fringe. Like last year, we did a lot of crazy alternative theatre, and the year before we had Alan Cumming in The Bacchae; the ultimate Fringe show that the Fringe could never afford.”

His response when I ask if this is a deliberate attempt to attract what would often be called a "Fringe audience" is frank: “Yes, of course. I consider the number of people that the Fringe attracts to Edinburgh and I want a bunch of those people to think about us.”

Pointing out of his office window towards the open-plan area in which the EIF staff are beavering away—decked out in soft-furnishings and primary colours and comparing favourably with any trendy Silicon Valley workplace—he observes: “If you look at the average age of this group it’s not older than the Fringe. This is as young an organisation as the Fringe is. We’re not a bunch of 60-year-old fuddy-duddies.” He’s not lying. There’s barely a single face that looks a day over 35.

As if pre-empting accusations of dumbing-down, he continues: “If your ambition in coming to Edinburgh in August is to be genuinely challenged by creative experience, then you’ll look at the Festival as much as the Fringe. If your ambition in coming to Edinburgh during August is some form of mating ritual, to get a bird drunk in a beer-garden and perhaps take in a show to show how cool you are, then that’s a different matter entirely. I’m sorry, I can’t help you.”

It’s this passion for the transformative, mind-expanding and life-affirming capacity of performance art that seems to be Mills’ motivation for expanding the horizons of the EIF, as opposed to any hint of cynical money grabbing. When he talks about the forthcoming production of Faust by Silviu Purcarete, he is practically giddy with child-like excitement.

“There’s 120 people on stage. It’s like a rave party with pyrotechnics. For those who go and see it, it’s a kind of real-installation theatre piece. We had to put it out at the airport because that’s the only place that could house it. It’s the only place in Edinburgh big enough. Yeah, it’s a piece of classical theatre, but it’s a piece of classical theatre brought to life by a bunch of incredibly sexy young Romanian performers. The woman who plays Mephistopheles, the Devil, I mean…like…she’s a force of nature.”

And in terms of sheer passion, so too, it would seem, is Mills.