Shane Danielsen: 'Any reaction, as long as it's extreme'

He's Australian, he's a critic, and he's angry: meet the new director of the Edinburgh film festival

There were, it must be said, a few raised eyebrows when the Australian film critic, Shane Danielsen, took over from Lizzie Franke as artistic director of the Edinburgh International Film Festival. It wasn't his nationality – he's the third non-Scottish director in a row – but his reputation. Danielsen, the tongues wagged, is prone to losing his temper. The stories circulating include one incident of head-butting, another of a heated exchange during the Venice Film Festival with a chap who refused to turn off his mobile phone. The latter culminated in Danielsen snatching the offending handset and throwing it across the cinema – where it brained another poor pundit.

Some felt that such volatility was not necessarily the best attribute for a festival director. Still, that's only one side of the story, and hardly a rounded picture of the man who first came to prominence in Edinburgh two festivals ago with his curated retrospective of Max Ophüls. The films were sublime but Danielsen's insightful, articulate and entertaining introductions were a revelation. So, too, was his on-stage interview with Liv Ullmann: a perfect balance of respect, mischievous flirtation and background knowledge. It was one of the best examples of such an event and, doubtless, caught the eye of the festival's board.

"I was just over for the Ophüls," he recalls over lunch a few days after this year's festival launch. "Then they dumped Liv Ullmann on me, and then I did more and more – as soon as I demonstrated that I could introduce a film, it became like Jim'll Fix It – 'Shane'll do it'." Though he isn't fazed by the public-speaking, he's worried that he comes across as too cool: "I'm not as over-the-top as Lizzie – her passion just explodes in all directions," he smiles. "I'm as passionate about film, I just don't show it as much, and I'm worried that that makes me look like some kind of apparatchik. And I find the idea of being this recognisable figurehead unnecessarily intrusive."

However, though Danielsen is at pains to distance himself from that idea, personality is what gives a festival its shape. It needs a sense of purpose, otherwise it's just another bunch of films. "This notion worries me," Danielsen frowns . "Because, contrary to expectation, I'm not very big on putting myself forward. I'd rather let the films do the talking."

A confident raconteur with a penchant for hyperbole, Danielsen is no one's idea of a shrinking violet, but it's easy to understand his reluctance to be the "face of the festival". His more usual bullish approach can put people's backs up: in a surprisingly bitchy (and anonymous) editorial, Screen International lamented Danielsen's programme as "laddish"; he's obviously upset someone there in the past.

For his part, though proud of the programme, Danielsen insists that his job is not "rocket science": "You see a film and it strikes you as either very good or not very good – or perhaps somewhere in the middle, in which case it's removed from the equation. If it's very good, then its value is self-evident. If it's not very good, you have to ask yourself why – is it a personal reaction? Or is it so not very good that it's actually an important work of art that you're not responding to?

"I think this is a fantastic programme," he shrugs. "Perfectly pitched between commercial and challenging cinema – but it wasn't hard to assemble."

He has found the business side of programming less pleasurable: "First of all, a lot of the business is conducted at parties. I hate parties," he grimaces. "I don't drink alcohol, I don't do drugs, and you just find the same people talking to the same people, 12 nights in a row." But it's the behind-the-scenes politicking that makes him angry: "Mostly, it's the London Film Festival competing with us, despite Sandra Hebron [director of the LFF] originally saying that we would co-operate," he tells me, with palpable disgust. 'She has decided that London won't play anything that has played in Edinburgh," he explains. "And this has led to unpleasantness"

The example he cites is the first foray into fiction by the veteran documentary-film-maker Frederick Wiseman – The Last Letter. "We saw it at Cannes and liked it. We approached the company and it was happy to give it to us; done deal. Then Wiseman rings to say that Sandra had spoken to him personally and made a deal, but though he was happy to come to both festivals, Sandra told him that she would pull the film from London if he came to Edinburgh.

"And he was really upset," Danielsen adds. "He was on the verge of tears, so I rang her but she wouldn't bend. It's not about the film, it's about the festival and it's the kind of egotism that I don't want to get into."

We move on, but soon Danielsen is back, apologising for belabouring the point: "What's ironic is that, if it's the only chance a Scottish audience has to see something, I feel no compunction about showing a film that's been on at the LFF."

One film that the London Film Festival won't be screening is Irréversible, Gaspar Noé's uncompromising exploration of sex and violence at its most base. "We have a reputation for showing this stuff; we're the only festival that should be showing it," he argues. "I thought it should have won the Palme d'Or. I get really pissed off by the bourgeois nature of critics who say, 'We're so shocked'. They bore me with their platitudes, trying to mask their knee-jerk reaction as some kind of intellectual response."

Is he hoping for such controversy in Edinburgh? "I want people to be moved to extreme reactions," he admits. "My ideal response is for someone to run up to me with a knife and try to stab me, shouting, 'You bastard! I hated that film!'. Nothing's worse than people walking out saying 'That was nice'."

Except – you have been warned – forgetting to turn off their mobile phones.

The Edinburgh International Film Festival opens tomorrow and runs until 25 Aug (0131-229 2550; www.edfilmfest.org.uk)