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I. Hi! We’re happy to have you with us. First thing’s first, can you slate for us please?

“Sure. The name’s Cillian Bristow. You haven’t heard of me. But perhaps you’ve heard my music; I’m a composer, and once in a blue moon I’ll have the opportunity to write a quality score and not the generic bullshit that’s usually asked of me. I’m thirty-seven, go by masculine pronouns. I’ve gotten more than one person asking, ‘Omigod are you Tom Ellis?’ I have more talent than an actor. But hey, if they can’t tell the difference, I’ll autograph his name anyway.”

II. It’s great to meet you. So you have to know that everyone’s been curious about you, why don’t we start with where you’re from? Tell us where you grew up and what your childhood and family were like.

“I grew up in a beautiful estate outside of Oxford. The last name might remind you of the local Bristows, titans of industry. That’ll be because they’re unfortunately my family, and I’m the first to drop the ball on helming the empire. A musician. God forbid. I grew up wanting for nothing, I’ll admit, but the experience was stuffy and dour. I have no use for that life.”

III. Well, they say our upbringing molds who we become. I’m sure that you got your reputation for being confident, talented and perceptive; but arrogant, cynical, and tactless from that. 

“Ha. I’d like to think I’m a self-made asshole. I suppose high standards might come with being a Bristow, even if it’s in a different field. But I don’t owe them a shred of my talent. I’m a genius. Sure, arrogant, but justly so.”

IV. And what about that lead you to your current career? How did that impact you enough to want to do what you do now?

“From the first piano lesson, the goal was music, not film. I didn’t start out in Hollywood. I hope I won’t remain here. But the point is, the career followed the ability. I have perfect pitch, I can sight read music with multiple instruments like I can read a page from a book. What my parents hoped would be a passing hobby became my core. I started writing music soon after learning to play it. I believe I would be wasted doing anything else.”

V. That’s awesome. I’m sure our readers will love to hear that. So you knew you had a calling, what came next? How did you get yourself to Hollywood? What was your first job?

“In my mid twenties, I was composing and conducting in London and NYC. Believe it or not, I wasn’t making a killing. My inheritance was funding most of my lifestyle, much to my chagrin. Then I got chatting with an old university of buddy of mine, another creative type, a director. He showed me his early ideas for the score of the picture he was working on. I looked it over, told him it was trash, went home, then returned to him with drafts of a better theme. He asked me to fly out to Hollywood and work with him. The price tag convinced me.”

VI. Of course, but we all know there’s a sea of faces out here trying to get famous as well, right? It must have been hard, the first few rejections or being told something wasn’t good enough. What was the most difficult thing you faced on your journey?

“I learned very quickly that success in this place means giving people what they want, even if they’re… objectively wrong. That’s really fucking frustrating. I know music. The people writing the cheques don’t. I’ve had countless people insist on essentially replicating the temp music they’ve spliced into early cuts, just because it’s become ingrained in their creative vision. Or they want something bland, unobtrusive, the elevator music of film scores to fill the awkward silences. Or my favourite, sad strings to make the audience feel sad when the dialogue won’t cut it. I have… a lot of obstacles. But I live well. Sometimes the gods of Hollywood even throw me an award.”

VII. So then what was the moment that you realized you made it? Or are you still waiting for that moment?

“I’m a solid C-lister, according to an unsolicited comment at a premiere the other night. I’m surprised I’m on a list at all. I’m not great at image, and my energy is better spent on my work. Let others clamber for their names up in lights. As long as I’m kept busy and respected within the close circles of my profession, that suits me.”

VIII. It’s amazing when you make it far enough in this town when so many people end up giving up and going home, isn’t it? So now that you’re here, what’s next for you?

“Yes, yes, congratulations are in order. I should have left long ago, before my soul completely left my body. But the money keeps rolling in. I have a few films ongoing, and a few of my own compositions laying neglected by the piano. I’d love to be known for real music. But as of now, the film scores are taking up the majority of my time.”

IX.  Now we know it’s personal but we have to ask,  do you have any comment about the rumors going around about you?

“I am not, in fact, ‘secretly dating’ the actress I have been photographed with, sharing such intimate moments as 'laughing’ and 'drinking coffee’. I have friends. Sometimes I spend time with friends. Hard to believe, I know. Besides, I wouldn’t date a celebrity. That seems exhausting.”

X. Thank you so much for talking to us today. Lastly, is there anything you want our readers to know about you?

With each successful film he made, Andre became more and more in demand which meant the work got harder and the hours got longer. He loved making movies, but hated when his contract with a studio turned making a piece of art into a commercial cash grab that he was basically forced to direct. Like producers, he flipped through scripts looking for a gem he wanted to be a part of, still hoping to find something he could be proud of even though his next project was basically a joke on celluloid. Still, he was determined to make it a hit if only for the sake of his reputation, and that meant calling in one of the best music producers he knew of. Cillian Bristow had a long history of being a talented asshole with a temper and ego that rivaled his own, and while it made for a difficult work environment, Andre knew that the final product would have been something great. o long as they didn’t kill each other.

Walking into the room with coffee as an olive branch, Andre grumbled under his breath as having just gotten off of the phone had him already in a bad mood before the day even really started. “I make one of the scariest most talked about films of the decade, give a whole new generation of kids nightmares from the same bastard that haunted my dreams when I was younger, but I can’t go online without reading about how badly people wanna fuck the clown. Please tell me you didn’t spend all night waving your little stick around but have nothing to show for it. I’m sure you’re exes are fine with that but I need a score for this polished up turd I have to release with my name on it.”

The composer made no attempt to look busy as Andre announced himself with the latest tirade. Cillian couldn’t summon any sympathy; as far as he was concerned, this was just another trashy horror flick in the director’s long series of trashy horror flicks. Wasn’t exactly his genre, but this guy happened to be paying the bills. Kicking back, Cillian smirked. “Not tonight, pal. I’ve got to say, you’ve really killed the mood.” He gestured to a notebook lying by the piano, open to a blank first page. “I watched some of your footage. It’s irredeemable. Perhaps if you blast the Can-can for the two hour duration, someone will call it avante-garde.”

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