Civil War director Alex Garland materializes in a Zoom window, against a junket-room backdrop as black as outer space. He is 53, salt-and-pepper-bearded, and characteristically dour. It’s just past noon on a Wednesday; he’s been in an L.A. hotel suite all morning doing back-to-back-to-back interviews with reporters about Civil War, and when it’s suggested by his latest interlocutor that his day’s probably been a whirlwind already, he responds with a slight clarification: “It’s been a fucking... Read this story
