Tommy Lee Jones: The Hollywood Interview

Tommy Lee Jones: The Hollywood Interview

Western  

Tommy Lee Jones: Director, star, co-writer of The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada.

TOMMY LEE JONES DIGS DEEP
By
Alex Simon

Editor’s Note: This article originally was published in the December/January 2005-06 issue of Venice Magazine.

Tommy Lee Jones first brought his trademark intensity to the box office hit Love Story, in 1970, playing the small, albeit memorable role of Ryan O’Neal’s roommate, a Harvard football player. Appropriately enough, Jones himself was a real-life star of the Harvard gridiron, and graduated with a degree in English Literature just two years prior to Love Story’s release. Born in San Saba, Texas September 15, 1946, Jones was raised in the Midland area of west Texas, and spent his formative high school years at the exclusive St. Mark’s Academy in Dallas. After years perfecting his craft on the stage and in smaller films, Jones first garnered attention with his portrait of Howard Hughes in the 1977 television film The Amazing Howard Hughes, a turn that many consider the definitive portrait of Hughes by an actor to this day. Jones became a household name with his complex portrait of Doolittle Lynn, the ambitious husband of country singer Loretta Lynn (Oscar-winner Sissy Spacek) in Michael Apted’s 1980 classic Coal Miner’s Daughter. From that point on, Jones’ career has moved forward with a momentum that hasn’t ceased.
Tommy Lee Jones, who won a 1993 Best Supporting Actor Oscar for his portrait of the Javert-like U.S. Marshall who relentlessly pursues Harrison Ford’s Dr. Richard Kimble in The Fugitive, has now added the position of auteur to his already impressive resume. Co-written with Guillermo Arriaga (Amores Perros, 21 Grams), although Jones receives no credit, The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada tells the picaresque story of a Texas rancher (Jones) who sets out to avenge the shooting death of his friend at the hands of a callow Deputy Sheriff (Barry Pepper). An existentialist western road trip worthy of the best films by masters such as Sam Peckinpah, Jerry Schatzberg, and Anthony Mann, Three Burials takes the viewer on a harrowing journey that you simply can’t shake off once the credits have rolled. In his feature directing debut (he helmed the television film The Good Old Boys for Turner Network Television in 1995), Jones shows that he is every bit as gifted behind the camera as before it (Jones’ acting chops earned him a Best Actor award at this year’s Cannes Film Festival). The Sony Pictures Classics release hits screens December 22 in limited release and goes wide February 3, 2006.
Tommy Lee Jones spoke with Venice over a beer during a recent stay in Los Angeles. Here’s what transpired:

This film reminded me of the great, existentialist road pictures of the 70s. Are you a Peckinpah fan?
Tommy Lee Jones: Yes, I am. Not for the clichéd reasons of violence and male bondage, but mainly for color and rhythm. It’s interesting you mention him and existentialism, because alienation is a theme of this movie, and we look at if from more than one perspective. Everyone’s an alien.

How was the film born?
Guillermo Arriaga and I thought it up together. This is the movie we wanted to make. I came up with a narrative form, which was basically an old, classical narrative form and we both liked the place and the issues there. With a classical form you can take those issues and raise even more, bigger issues, like alienation.

I like the fact that you took your time with it: the long takes, the emphasis on character. You let the characters be who they were, which you don’t see much in film anymore.
They’re all real. I would stand around the camera and say ‘You know guys, everyone in this movie’s an idiot.’ And they would say “What?!” They didn’t want to hear that because they felt they had a hierarchy of villains and heroes worked out. Eventually they caught on to what I meant, which was they were all human beings.

That’s something else Peckinpah was good at: painting shades of gray. There was no black and white in his films.
Yeah, he made very interesting characters. You just reminded me of the two killers in Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia. They were very interesting killers, sort of Southern California suave.

Yeah, and they were both gay.
(laughs) Yeah, right.

So it was a completely different take on a familiar theme. Then you had Warren Oates, who was one of our greatest actors. He could say more with a raised eyebrow than he could with a soliloquy.
Yeah, I think so, too. You loved him that movie, but he was a sleazebag. But he was also a hero, and likable, and troubled. Peckinpah had an interest in humanity and a respect for real human character that was admirable.

Let’s talk about your character in the film, who is very much composed of grays. Tell us how you saw him.
When Guillermo and I made this character up, Guillermo wrote the screenplay in Spanish and I translated it, and how did I see it…? We just built him. I didn’t spend a lot of time working on the character once we were filming because I’d already created him. He emerged through the process of Guillermo’s writing and my re-writing and his criticism and this process went on through eleven drafts.

You directed one other film prior to this, The Good Old Boys. What was it like putting on the director’s hat for the first time?
Those were the happiest days of my creative life at that point. It’s a very happy occasion for me to be producer/writer/director/actor, very happy. My motivation, of course, is lust for creative control. I want everybody’s job! I don’t have time for craft service, but I would do it if I had time.

Did you not direct again during the past decade because you didn’t come across any material you were passionate enough about?
Well, those jobs are hard to get. I was busy acting, and I didn’t really aggressively solicit work, because I don’t have to direct movies for a living. My only motivation for directing a movie is complete control. Not everybody’s willing to give that away to a director. Not everybody’s willing to let a director direct. In many situations it seems that a director is expected to take direction.

Did you find that when you directed that first film you had a different take on the filmmaking process because you were already a seasoned actor?
I would think that was a help, it really is. It was an advantage to have been there. I’ve known a lot of directors who are afraid of actors, who hold them in contempt, or pretend to because they are afraid. Or regard them with both fear and contempt, and loathing. Some directors also hold actors in awe somehow, as they would a wizard who is possessed of some incomprehensible magic power or skill. I’m very comfortable with actors. (laughs)

Since you do have that comfort factor with actors, are you the type of director who “casts well,” then gets out of the way, once the cameras roll, or does it depend on the actor?
Of course it depends on the actor! The first thing we look for when we cast is the ability to read. In this screenplay, you can look at the pages and look at the words on them, and it will look pretty simple. You need someone who can read to find out exactly what’s going on there, because most of the action, whether it be emotional or physical, is certainly not in the dialogue.

The great thing about this cast was that while some of the faces were slightly familiar, there were no big stars with the baggage that iconic status entails. This really allowed them to disappear into their characters.
Yeah, wasn’t that wonderful? The thing they all had in common was they were really in love with the story and the idea of doing this, and as a result, were very highly motivated, and considered that reward and motivation enough, because we didn’t have any money.

What was your budget?
Not very much.

But you shot on 35mm, right?
Super 35. It’s easier to tweak and come up with that so-called “anamorphic format,” without using anamorphic lenses, which is a big savings, at least until you get into post-production. (laughs)

You grew up in Texas. Did you spend a lot of time south of the border growing up?
Well, west Texas is a bi-cultural society, so you’re going to be exposed to the Spanish language, culture, food. I started studying Spanish academically in the seventh grade and continued until halfway through college: a total of eight and a half years of academic Spanish. I’ve traveled a great deal in Mexico, Spain, Argentina and I’ve worked with a lot of people who don’t speak English, and I live in San Antonio, actually north of San Antonio, about 165 miles.

You have a working cattle ranch there.
Yeah, it works the hell out of me.

Did you feel an affinity with Latin culture growing up?
I lived in one. There are a lot of ethnocentric people who won’t admit to west Texas culture being bi-cultural…actually there’s only one culture there, and some of those people would deny that it’s of Hispanic character. I hope they see the film. (laughs)

You went from Midland to Dallas for high school, attending an exclusive school called St. Mark’s. What was that like for you?
It was a hell of a culture shock. I wasn’t used to doing any homework. It was a common thing in Midland to settle your differences with other people through violence, and I had to change those two things very quickly, in order to survive.

The gridiron was a place of refuge for you initially, both in high school and in college. Did you discover athletics concurrently with drama?
No. If you’re a kid in west Texas, you’re raised to play football. I had a great desire to play that game as a kid. It was a way for many kids to define achievement, manhood. It was a burning desire of mine from very early on.

When did you know you were an actor?
Well, I still haven’t decided what to do when I grow up. I’ve always thought acting was a lot of fun, and I haven’t had to quit it yet. I stumbled into it first when I was in prep school and stumbled into the little theater they had there and saw a rehearsal going on, and I’d done school plays and had fun, but that was really the first time it caught my eye. I did play Sneezy in Snow White and the Seven Dwarves in second grade, and having played the lead in Baby Bear’s Birthday Party in the third grade, I was already a seasoned actor by then. But I’d never really seen people moving through light in a communal effort to bring literature to life, until I got to St. Mark’s. When I saw that, I found it very attractive and I haven’t stopped acting since.

From there you studied English Literature at Harvard, and continued to excel at both dramatics and football. Your roommate was Al Gore. You also played in the famous “tie” game between Harvard and Yale in 1968.
Yeah, the 29-29 tie. That’s a very famous football game. We scored 16 points in the last 42 seconds of the game to tie Yale for the Ivy League championship. It was an exciting game. I played offensive guard.

I know you did a lot of theater at Harvard. Is that how you were discovered for Love Story?
No. I did do a lot of theater at Harvard when I wasn’t playing football. It became my summer job. During the summer I would join repertory companies. I’d done a lot of plays and inexpensive movies by the time I graduated and went to New York. I was there for a while, working in theater. I did not have a Screen Actor’s Guild union card, but I had been trying to get parts in movies, by going to open calls and agents. When they asked if I was a member of the union, I would slap my pockets and pretend to have left my wallet at home. I was able to insinuate myself into some interviews with casting directors. I went to see the casting director for Paramount, who casting roles for this upcoming movie called Love Story. It was for the role of a Harvard football player. I thought this might be a chance to do a couple day’s work and get a union card. So I went to the Paramount office and waited for a long time, and was finally admitted to see the casting director. As I opened the door, she glanced up at me and said “You’re not right.” I said ‘Well…,’ she said “No! You might pass for a football player, but these are special football players. Thank you very much.”

So how did you get cast?
I called an old Harvard guy, who was a friend of her boss’, boss’ boss. The next day they called me back and asked if I’d like to read for the director, Arthur Hiller. I did and I got the job and a union card.

The first film I remember seeing you in was The Amazing Howard Hughes. What did you learn about Mr. Hughes during the time you prepared for and played that role?
I did a lot of work on that, because I was very happy to have that part. I read every magazine and newspaper article that had ever been written about him. I had him profiled, a psychological profile, by a company in Connecticut. So I had a complete dossier on him, as well as every frame of film that had been shot of him, and all the recorded interviews. When it came time to shoot his testimony before the senate, we matched it pretty close. I tried to match his breathing patterns. That would be an interesting exercise: to look at the actual footage, shot I think by RKO News, and compare that to what you see in the film. I found a guy who wrote the December, 1946 Time Magazine story about Howard. He was an old guy, worn out, retired, living in one of those little houses at the bottom of Laurel Canyon, on the right side. He was happy to have the company, so I came and talked to him for about an hour, and he said “Come with me. I want to show you something.” We went down to his basement, and he wiped cobwebs out of the way, and moved boxes aside, and finally he found an old filling cabinet and pulled out all the notes that he’d made when he’d interviewed Howard—all of them! And there was the original manuscript of his article, complete with his editors’ red lines, of what they wanted to cut. So I got to read what Time wouldn’t print. That was really invaluable. Howard had a lot of things to say about his father that were not published in his lifetime, but could have been. I’m certain they thought it would have been too dangerous to print at that time.

Do you think a lot of Hughes’ personal psychology was based on his relationship with his father?
Absolutely. In the article he referred to his father as “a plenty tough son of a bitch.” Howard Sr. was a notorious character in the early days of the oil fields. History has changed him from “a plenty tough son of a bitch” to a swashbuckler. He was very hard on that kid. Very hard.

Do you think that horrible plane crash in Beverly Hills that almost killed him aggravated his psychosis?
Absolutely. It broke every bone in his body, damn near, and began his addictions. And it opened up the floodgates with those insecurities. It created a phobia of being invaded: by germs, by people coming through the door, by listening devices in the lamps, snakes under the carpet. Who knows where they are, or what they’re doing? You have to be ever vigilant…

Coal Miner’s Daughter was the film that really put you on the map in the film world. Did you spend a lot of time with your real-life counterpart, Doolittle Lynn?
Sure did. He taught me how to drive a bulldozer, the old kind, which has no real steering. You steer with the brakes. First of all, it has a decelerator instead of an accelerator. If you want it to run at an idle, you step on the pedal, which shuts the throttle down. If you want to go faster and open the throttle, you let the pedal up. It’s the exact opposite of what happens in your car. There’s no way to steer it other than by braking one of the tracks. You know, before that movie was made, the only way audiences had experienced people from those mountains was on The Beverly Hillbillies or Ma and Pa Kettle. It was a very good feeling to take part in something that had a chance of eroding the hillbilly stereotype.

You did three movies with Oliver Stone (Natural Born Killers, JFK, Heaven and Earth). Tell us about him.
He’s very bright, very smart and very talented, and very bold, and everybody knows that. He’s a friend. I just happen to like Oliver a great deal. He expects people to be prepared, rehearses a little bit, then shoots. He doesn’t waste time. He’s very unobtrusive.

Arguably Clay Shaw, in terms of the real people you’ve played, was your most mysterious character. What were your impressions of him?
He had an assistant who worked with him, and that assistant happened to be dying. His son interviewed his dying father on the subject of Clay Shaw, and I was able to acquire those interviews, and get really very close, about as close as you could to a dead man. This was a long-time employee who had no reason to lie, or distort. I also interviewed Jim Garrison three or four times specifically on Shaw, and of course the screenplay was pretty good. Shaw was a strange duck, to be sure. A desperate fellow, in some ways.

Andrew Davis is a terrific director, largely unheralded, that you’ve also done three pictures with (The Package, Under Seige, The Fugitive). He guided you to an Oscar on the last one, The Fugitive. What’s his process like?
Andy’s a good pal, also. He’s quite liberal, and very healthy in a sort of Chicago way. He’s a child of the theater, both his parents are actors. He’s also very bold. He’ll start shooting a movie before he’s got a completed script. Often working with Andy is a continual process of coming up with desperate, last minute solutions to impossible problems.

Some of that involves trusting his actors, too. Some of your best lines from all three of those films were improvised by you, right?
I don’t improvise, at all. I have written a few lines here and there, out of necessity. Sometimes that’s a good thing, to come up with your own dialogue, but not always. Ideally, you want a finished, shootable script before you start. That’s the way I prefer to approach thing. I don’t like writing or rewriting the day’s work at 7:00 in the morning, 45 minutes before we turn the damn cameras on.

You got to work with one of my heroes, Tony Richardson, on his last film Blue Sky. Tell us about that.
Oh, he was wonderful. He was a very elegant man of the theater, which is not to say that he wore fancy clothes, but he was very well prepared, very subtle. Totally disinterested in gimmicks or tricks. Or fads, or trends. I remember watching him review a script one time. I was just walking by, and he was in an isolated place but I could see him, and he was just going through the script, page-by-page, completely focused. It impressed me.

You worked with Clint Eastwood on Space Cowboys.
Another great one. He’s a hero. He’s iconic. He’s a hell of a lot of fun to be around. With those three guys: Sutherland, Jim Garner and Clint, I thought I’d heard every old actor joke there was, but they took me to school and kept me laughing every day. I had a hell of a lot of fun with them. It was so much fun to experience Clint’s work ethic. I’d heard about it, and admired what I’d heard. Then with the first movie I directed tried to follow what I’d heard second hand, but then to spend an entire shooting schedule with Clint, to watch him work and be part of the process was gratifying, of course, and educational to some degree. He was teaching me what I already knew.

Dennis Farina: The Hollywood Interview

Dennis Farina: The Hollywood Interview

Steven Soderbergh  

Actor Dennis Farina.


DENNIS FARINA FINDS BIG TROUBLE ON THE SIDEWALKS OF NEW YORK
By
Alex Simon

Editor’s Note: This article originally appeared in the September 2001 issue of Venice Magazine.

Part tough guy, part comic foil, and 100% Chicago through-and-through, Dennis Farina is one of those rare and enviable souls who has made the transition from one wildly divergent career to another with the greatest of aplomb. Born in the windy city on February 22, 1944, Farina, the son of a doctor and one of seven children, was an active duty Chicago police officer for 20 years, before discovering the theater and becoming a full time, working actor.

Initially hired by director Michael Mann for bit part in his feature directing debut, Thief, in 1981, Farina went on to steadily build himself a niche in the acting world as one of the most distinctive character actors of his generation, delivering memorable turns in diverse films such as Andrew Davis' Chuck Norris thriller Code of Silence (1985), Michael Mann's Manhunter (1986) which was notable for being the first film to introduce the character of Dr. Hannibal Lecter (Brian Cox), Martin Brest's Midnight Run (1988), Barry Sonnenfeld's Get Shorty (1995), Steven Soderbergh's Out of Sight (1998), Steven Spielberg's sublime Saving Private Ryan (1998), and John Frankenheimer's Reindeer Games (1999).

Farina has also made a distinctive mark on television, as well, playing the lead on the now-legendary NBC series "Crime Story," as Chicago police detective Mike Torello. The series, executive produced and created by Michael Mann, was a stylish blend of 1960's period flavor and hard-boiled noir drama. It still has a strong cult following, and can now be seen on the A&E network. Farnia proved his acting chops in spades with his chilling portrait of serial killer Angelo Buono in the TV movie "The Hillside Stranglers," co-starring Richard Crenna. In 1998, Farina executive produced and played the title role of "Buddy Faro," a critically well-received, albeit short-lived series about a hip, rat pack-era detective doing his thing in the 1990's.

2001 sees Farnia featured in three very different films. Earlier in the year, he gave a deft comic portrait in Guy Ritchie's Snatch as Avi, a conniving Jewish diamond merchant. In Ed Burns' upcoming Sidewalks of New York, he plays a renowned ladies' man and father confessor to Burns' confused protagonist. In Barry Sonnenfeld's riotous new comedy Big Trouble, Farina gives one of his best recent performances as a world-weary hitman attempting to execute what he hoped would be a simple contract in Miami, only to have it plagued by a series of comic disasters.

Dennis Farina, who has seasonal homes in both Chicago and Phoenix (you guess which seasons), sat down with Venice recently at his favorite Beverly Hills hotel, looking ever the dapper gent in a double breasted blue blazer and crisp white shirt. A model of old school charm and pizzazz, Farina held court like the mayor of a major metropolis, greeting hotel employees and guests alike with patented Chicago pleasantries such as "How ya doin', palie?" Consider it an invitation to read on...

You're in two very different movies right now: Big Trouble and Sidewalks of New York.
Dennis Farina: Yeah, they are very different but I had a lot of fun on both. I like Ed Burns a lot. We met on Saving Private Ryan, and I'd enjoyed his work before we'd met: The Brothers McMullen, She's the One. That's a case where Ed just called me up one day and sent it to me. I thought it was a great part, even thought it's not a huge part. Ed's a guy who's very easy to get along with, knows what he wants. There's a time to play and a time to be serious about things. The nice thing about Ed, and Guy Ritchie as well, is that they're also the writers, so if you have a question about your character, they're right there to work with you.

Big Trouble reunites you with director Barry Sonnenfeld.
Yeah, I love working with Barry. He's a terrific director and also a great cinematographer. He shot a lot of the Coen brothers' films. Barry's just one of those guys that if he calls you, you go to work for him. I love his sense of humor. I like and admire him as a person and as a director.

It looked like you guys were having a lot of fun.
Yeah, Jack, the guy who plays my partner, and I did. I call Jack the Walter Brennan of our generation because he's been in every movie that's ever been made. (laughs) It was funny because we never really saw a lot of the other cast members since most of our scenes just involved the two of us, which is too bad, because I always like seeing Renee (Russo) and Stanley (Tucci). Like all of Barry's movies, it's really smart and really funny and really inventive the way it's shot. When you have a director who's also a cinematographer, that's someone who really knows his way around a set and knows exactly what he wants. Andy Davis (Under Siege) started as a D.P. too, and he's the same way.

You've almost become synonymous with the city of your birth: Chicago. What part of the city did you grow up in?
The near north side. We just call it "the old neighborhood," but the new term for it is "near north side." If you met someone from Chicago who asked where you're from and you said "The old neighborhood," my neighborhood is the one you'd be talking about.

Mostly Italian?
Yeah, mostly. Some Jewish people. Our landlords were Jewish. A few Irish. Mainly Italian.

You were a Chicago police officer for 20 years before becoming an actor. Are there any other cops in the family?
Just one: my uncle, my mother's brother, but that was years before I joined. Most of my family became lawyers, actually.

What did your dad do?
He was the neighborhood doctor. I have three brothers and three sisters, also. There were a bunch of us running around.

What division of the police did you work in?
I worked in burglary, which we called "the burglary room." In New York they call it "B & E." The more I know people from New York, it's almost like the United States versus England, how they have different terms for the same things. "Lifts" are elevators, for example. In New York they say "macaroni," we say "spaghetti." We say "sauce," they say "gravy," that sort of thing. Little things like that are interesting.

Did being a cop help in developing your acting skills?
No not at all. In fact, it gets in the way sometimes. As Michael Mann told me once, we're in the business of entertainment, not reality. I'm sure doctors cringe every time they see medical shows. You can't let reality seep into what you're doing as entertainment.

When you were a Chicago police officer, were on duty during the riots at the 1968 Democratic Convention?
Yes, I was.

I've never heard a cop's point of view of what really happened there.
Honestly, to us, it was just another day's work. I was never political in my life, and I'm still not. Nothing remarkable happened to me during that incident that didn't happen to everyone else. From my point of view, as a guy who was there, it was we have to go there and do what we have to do, and then go home when we're done. It's kind of like the way a soldier would look at things. Not in the combat sense of the word, necessarily, but police departments are semi-military organizations and that's the way they do business.

When did you start getting interested in acting?
With Michael Mann. When he came to Chicago, he put me in Thief. Then pretty soon, I started meeting people from the Steppenwolf Theater: Gary Sinise, John Malkovich, John Mahoney, Terry Kinney, people like that. They kind of took me under their wing and took a nice chance with me, put me in plays, and I started doing some theater around town. Then eventually, I made the move to acting full-time.

What's it like working like Michael Mann, with whom you've worked several times.
I'll always have a soft spot for Michael. He's a moviemaker and a storyteller and knows what he wants to do. He has a vision and doesn't let anything stand in his way of doing it. He does nothing haphazardly. Everything is very well thought-out and planned. He doesn't do anything that he himself wouldn't do as far as hours and doing hard work. I think in the final analysis all of that comes out as natural as anybody can get. Michael's a pretty sharp cookie.

Manhunter is an overlooked masterpiece, in my opinion, every bit as good as Silence of the Lambs.
I thought so, too, but then again, I'll always like that film a little bit more because I was involved in it. But what I think is a little more scary about it is that you don't know much about Dr. Lecter. I think in the other one the mystery isn't quite there as much. In Manhunter, Lecter (played by Brian Cox) is a very normal-looking and even to an extent, normally-behaving person. That's what's so scary. He could be anybody.

William Petersen, your co-star in that, is another amazing actor. How was he to work with?
Billy's a great guy. We did a couple plays together in Chicago, and we both did our first film together, which was Thief. I got to know Billy well doing theater at the Steppenwolf. Billy was another one who really looked after me during my salad days in the theater.

What were some of the plays you did that helped you develop your craft?
The first play I ever did was at the Steppenwolf called "A Prayer for My Daughter," directed by Malkovich. It was me and John Mahoney, Jeff Perry and Terry Kinney. Then I did "Streamers" that Terry Kinney directed. We did that for a while, all over, including the Kennedy Center. Then Billy and I did a play called "A Class C Trial at Yokohama," which was a look into the Japanese war crimes trials. Then we went to the Goodman Theater to do "The Time of Your Life," with Don Moffat and Billy and Amy Morton, Natalie West, John Pankow. Then I did a play called "Some Men Need Help," about a young guy who's an alcoholic. There's a knock on his door and there stands this guy who just starts talking to him. You don't know if the guy's an angel, or what. It a two person play with these two men just talking. I think it would make a great movie. If I ever get enough juice, I'd love to do it.

Ever thought about directing yourself?
No, I haven't. I don't know if I'd want to make that kind of commitment. That's a pretty tough road unless you're ready to really commit a year, or more, of your life. As an actor, you're there for two or three months, and then it's over, and you can move on. As the director, the easy part is the filming. The hard part is the post-production, the editing, the pleasing all kinds of producers and studios.

You've worked a lot with Stanley Tucci, as well.
(laughs) You know, it's funny. Stanley and I were just talking the other day about how we've done about five movies together, and never had a scene together! The only time we actually had a scene was when he was in an episode of Crime Story years ago.

Let's talk about Crime Story. It was such an inventive, innovative show, but probably wound up being too offbeat for it's own good.
Thanks, and I think you're right. It was great fun, and really grueling work at the same time. Again, it was Michael and he demanded perfection. I think we worked harder on that show than anything I've ever done. I'm not complaining, because I think the hard work paid off with the final result. We were really making a movie every week, as opposed to a TV show. I learned a lot. It was a great way to learn a lot about what goes on with filmmaking and with television. I'm still learning, and will always be learning, but that was great basic training.

After Manhunter, you did Midnight Run, which was your first stab at comedy, which you do really well.
I'm actually not sure if I have an affinity for comedy, or not. In that case, it was just a very good script. I would've been a fool not to do it. I was just fortunate enough to be there. The more I know about this business, the more I realize you can only bring so much to the project. You have to have a great script, director, cameraman, everything. It's a real collaborative business where no man's an island. If anyone is good, I think it's due to the sum total of what everybody else does.

Does working with an actor like De Niro raise the level of your performance?
I found out that when you work with guys like Robert de Niro, or any number of people that I've worked with, is that those guys are there to work. They come prepared to work. They have nothing to prove. They are the most helpful, generous, understanding people that you could meet. It's actually easier to work with someone like Bob de Niro than someone who's trying to become what guys like Bob already are. Bob just sets you at ease, right away. He did that the first time I met him.

Get Shorty was a terrific movie where you gave another wonderful comic performance. Since you seem equally adept at comedy and drama, is one more difficult than the other for you?
Well, my character in that thought he was very serious, but again, it was in the writing. The book was written that way. The script adaptation was written that way. Again, with Barry Sonnenfeld, who's a great collaborator, it was really a pretty easy process. It's hard to screw up a good hamburger when the ingredients are all there, right? I had a great time on that one and really enjoyed being in the make-up chair putting that nose on everyday! (laughs) Actually doing that "broken nose voice" came pretty easily with that make-up because everything got kind of stuffed up and, well...some things just naturally evolve. (laughs)

In Out of Sight you worked with Steven Soderbergh. What was that like?
Steven's another guy who comes to the set totally prepared, knowing exactly what he wants, a great collaborator. Plus, it was an Elmore Leonard story again, so the ingredients were there. Steven's a pretty low key guy, sort of the calm in the storm.

Do you like to be directed as little as possible, so you have room to spread your wings?
Well, I think you try things all the time. You add or remove a word, or a look, and pretty much when they hire you, it's for what they think you're going to bring to the game. Sometimes you can surprise yourself with what you do when you just sort of go with the flow, so to speak. I remember one time Michael Mann told me "Nobody is gonna know a character better than you are, even more than the writer. You are gonna know that character better than anybody. If I don't like what you're doing, I'll tell you and bring you back."

You have the distinction of co-starring in the one good Chuck Norris movie ever made, Code of Silence, directed by the great Andrew Davis (The Fugitive). What were Chuck and Andy like?
I knew Andy Davis' dad (actor Nate Davis) because I'd worked with him before, so I felt very comfortable with Andy. There was that Chicago connection where I knew he wasn't gonna lead me astray. He treated me so kindly, because he knew I was a novice, and kind of watched after me. And Chuck Norris was just a delight to work with, a hell of a nice guy. That film was a nice break for me. Andy Davis is, I think, a really good director. I wish he'd work more.

"The Hillside Strangler" was probably the first film where people realized what a really terrific actor you were. What was it like getting inside the mind of a psychopath?
I was still on the force in Chicago when that case was happening (in L.A.), so I was very familiar with the particulars going into it. When I did the movie, I had a little bit of an idea of the kind of guy he was, although I didn't have any first-hand knowledge of him. I didn't meet or talk with him for research, and didn't want to. I didn't like the guy, for obvious reasons, so if you were to psychoanalyze it, you could say that it was a portrayal born out of dislike. I really can't comment intelligently on it beyond that.

A lot of actors have trouble shedding the skin of a character who's that dark, but I'm assuming you didn't have that experience.
Not at all! In fact, when the scenes were over, I wouldn't stay in character, or any of that crap. I mean, who would? If you're playing some happy-go-lucky guy, that's one thing. But with a guy like that, what would be the point? The thing I remember most about that experience is that I got to work with Richard Crenna, who's become a very good friend over the years.

Tell us about Saving Private Ryan.
Well, that's another no-brainer! (laughs) I remember when I read the script, it was like reading a great novel. I remember I had gone to meet with someone about it, never heard anything. Then a year later, I got a call, asking if I'd like to come in and work with Steven Spielberg. So I said "Oh, okay. I guess I can do that." (laughs) Not a big dilemma, right? I think everybody involved in that knew that it was going to be an important film. It was an event, even more than a movie. That was obvious just from reading the script. Then you added the talents of Spielberg, Tom Hanks and the rest of those guys. Tom Sizemore, I thought, should have been nominated for something. He was terrific. They filmed a couple of different endings, one of which I appeared in. My character is with a column of tanks that went through the town and we find Hanks and his men, and just keep moving. I thought the ending they used was far superior.

What was Spielberg like as a director?
Well, again, sort of like the calm in the storm. There were tanks going here, and people marching here and cameras moving here, and all these explosions in the middle of all this chaos was Steven, who very calmly would say what he wanted and get it done. He also had a wonderful D.P. who was very easygoing, as well.

You worked with another legendary director, John Frankenheimer, on Reindeer Games.
Yeah, there's another instance. I got a call "Wanna work with John Frankenheimer?" No-brainer! He was terrific, a very old-school director, and I mean that in the best sense of the word. Like Spielberg, and the other people we've talked about, he knows exactly what he wants and he gets it done. He's got this wealth of knowledge and experience and you just let John show you the way. He's a real movie director. A no-nonsense guy, but he's also got a terrific sense of humor. I have a vision of John as what we think of movie directors from the 30's and 40's being: bigger-than-life. I also got to work with my old pal Gary Sinise on that movie, which was fun. Let's face it, it's all fun! Acting is fun. It's a lot more fun than about a hundred other things I could be doing.

Like dodging bullets, for example?
Yeah, or running into a burning building. Now I'm not sophisticated enough to think those things aren't important, because they are. In fact, they're a lot more important than what I do now, but I'm just very fortunate that I get to make a living having fun, and doing something that I love. I'm very blessed. I think if you have a sense of proportion in life that's a very healthy way to be.