Jonathan Demme has to be a courageous spirit. The director of Philadelphia and Silence of the Lambs was up against it from the beginning. He took on a screenplay that had already been rejected by Peter Weir, Jane Campion and Jodie Foster among others; took it on knowing that this ambitious, literate studio film had to include the world's queen of talk-shows as star and producer, when others had adjudged her wholly unfit for it, both in appearance and acting ability; took it on, furthermore, knowing that Toni Morrison, the formidable author of the famously difficult, Nobel prize-winning novel upon which the movie is based, would be glancing over his shoulder all the way.
And even as he accepted the project, he had his doubts. He began by asking his star to lose 20 lbs ("Listen, I love you, I love your body, but it's too big for this movie . . .") The next challenge was even greater: how to get America to "unremember" Oprah Winfrey. "I was worried that the suspension of disbelief was unachievable because we know her too well as who she is - this important American woman, Oprah. Her image is so emblazoned in our minds. Could we possibly forget who she is?" But as soon as shooting began, all his doubts flew out the window. "Her acting is so extraordinary that it was never an issue for a moment. You can't find Oprah Winfrey in there. She is my favourite, favourite kind of actress. It's something she has in common with Jodie Foster, Denzel Washington and Tom Hanks - she takes full responsibility for the character and is completely open to adjustments and fully exploring every possibility."
But if he ever had doubts about the star, he had none about the movie. Like Winfrey herself who has defied every known Hollywood convention by declaring that she wanted people to come out of it feeling "a sense of devastation", Demme stayed with the brutal, unflinching spirit of the book, in the full knowledge that mainstream US audiences would resist. "It was our goal to not water down or try to improve upon it. It's a big old ocean of a movie and, I agree, it's not particularly uplifting. The film doesn't offer the catharsis audiences might reasonably expect to be provided with, having endured so much. You can imagine them going - `After all that, aren't I entitled to a 20-hankie job?' But so much is left unresolved. I knew it would be an uphill battle, especially with younger audiences. On its opening weekend, it was beaten at the box office by Bride of Chucky. . .," he says ruefully.
It's not only the oppressively brutal nature of the movie that makes it difficult for audiences; it is also Morrison's plot, which centres on a flesh and blood ghost (the Beloved of the title) returned to wreak havoc on her mother (played by Winfrey). Did Demme have a problem with a movie whose central character is a ghost and where the furniture and the family dog levitate? "I believe we share our space with the spirits of the departed. I gravitate towards that concept much more readily than that of souls going up to Heaven," he replies, pointing to the ceiling.
Sharing a space with critics and interviewers (who were issued a copy of the book in advance to help them decipher the plot) may be a tad more difficult. But although Beloved may not be the blockbuster that the combination of such a star and director might have promised, it is clear that both Demme and Winfrey (the acknowledged "mother" of the movie) are genuinely proud of their achievement and see it as a worthy monument to a powerful and worthwhile book.
Beloved opens on Friday, at the IFC, Dublin