When he's not avoiding questions with a cagey "no comment," Eric Stoltz has a lot to say about fantasizing over his Little Women co-stars, what he and girlfriend Bridget Fonda thought of a recent Movieline profile of Charlie Sheen, and why he doesn't mind getting naked on the big screen.
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In 1988, as we strolled alongside New York's festering East River, I dogged Eric Stoltz, then 27, about his relationship with Jennifer Jason Leigh. In vain. For hours, all I could get out of him was "Jennifer who?" and "No comment." Until finally, he tossed me this morsel: "I lost my virginity when I was 19," he said. "To Ally Sheedy." Tenacity--and temerity--paid off.
Six years later, I meet up with him again, this time perched on a wall in New York's festive Washington Square Park. The 33-year-old actor is on a publicity break midway through filming Rob Roy in Scotland. His bright orange hair is long, augmented by four layers of ingenious extensions applied for his role in the Highland adventure. "They did a good job, huh?" he says. "Is your hair real?" Eric Stoltz is uncomfortable with the interview format--unless he's asking the questions.
"I'd prefer a really short article about me," he says. "Like maybe two paragraphs, with no quotes. In my mind, I've already said too much."
No journalist worth his Macintosh can accuse Stoltz of saying too much. Sure, he told a New York Post "Page Six" reporter, covering a Killing Zoe party at the Tunnel nightclub, that he has two small children and a wife named Jennifer whom he'd met five years earlier when she was bartending at the club. But that was "too much" only in the sense that it was the absurd fabrication of an artful dodger. A retraction appeared the next day, not apologizing for shoddy fact-checking, but reproaching the childless bachelor for having "such a strange sense of humor that nobody gets his jokes" and for making up tall tales for the local press.
I say God bless him. I get his jokes. I enjoy his tall tales. In fact, I wouldn't have it any other way. "It makes it more fun than the usual go-see-my-movie bullshit," he says. "Facts are always the least interesting parts of stories on actors.Usually, the punctuation is the most interesting thing. Although I hate the parenthetical. The ellipsis is my personal favorite..." (Which is not surprising, given the elliptical nature of the guy.)
We meet at high noon, apt timing for a confrontation. We meet at the arch, apt setting for one so inclined. Indeed, Stoltz had alarmed his publicist earlier by telling her that we were going to spend the day copping heroin, as a colorful raison d'etre for the location. But Washington Square Park was virtually dealer-free, thanks to the intermittent rain--dope traffic, like highway traffic, is slippery when wet. Stoltz seems in a good mood. He's an engaging conversationalist--witty, well-spoken and a well-spring of Weltanschauung--but he's also a cagey bastard. Badgered on one subject, he'll shift to another.
"You'll create something out of nothing," he says to me.
"One has to with you," I say.
"Exactly. But it works well."
"Actually," I say, "I like nothing."
"I like nothing too," he says. "I think nothing is underrated."
"Which, of course, is the nature of nothing," I say. Then, out of the blue--or gray, in this case--I ask, "How long have you been with Bridget Fonda?" They have been a hot item for a while now. "I think she's very cool."
"Do you?"
"Well, I don't know her, but I like her work. Um..." I clear my throat and hesitate. "Um. In a relationship with someone do you have to respect her professionally?"
He looks pained. It was probably too personal too soon. "It seems I have a hard time being attracted to someone unless I respect what they do on some level. Otherwise, I would feel disdain for them. Which is not always pleasant in a relationship." He pauses, then adds, "Sometimes it's fun though."
"So how long have you been with Bridget?"
"I'm not gonna talk about Bridget."
"You can say 'No comment.'"
"No comment," he says.
"What do you think of Jim Carrey's remake of that movie you made with Cher, Mask?" I ask, lightening up.
"I haven't seen it," he says, laughing, "but I'd be interested to see his take on my character."
"His interpretation, I believe, is green."
"I'm amused thinking about a few years down the line when the two movies get mixed up at the video store," Stoltz says. "People go in to rent this Jim Carrey wacky comedy and end up with a drama about a kid with a big head!"
I told him I'd just seen a screening of Pulp Fiction. "It's one of the best movies I've seen in a long time," I say. "Of course, I haven't seen any movies in a long time. I know we're here to talk about you, but can we talk about John Travolta for a minute?"
"I'd rather talk about him," Stoltz says eagerly. "You know, you grow up with the image of John Travolta being super cool--_Saturday Night Fever_, Brian De Palma, handsome young god... he, in reality, is a very silly man. And I mean that in a good way. He'll walk around the set talking in little weird voices, making people laugh. He's just..." Stoltz searches for the right word, "...strange. And kind as hell; he's the nicest guy on the set. I never expected him to have a whacked-out sense of humor."
"It doesn't surprise me," I say. "But what does amaze me is what a good actor he is, especially in Pulp. That whole date scene with Uma Thurman..."
"Uma! Oh my God!" Stoltz interrupts. "Can we talk about Uma Thurman? On smack, in a black wig, knocked out on the floor, oozing blood, foaming at the mouth--and she's still a goddess. And what makes her a goddess is that she's probably smarter than... well, certainly than anyone in this park."
"Present company included?"
"Yes. She's an incredibly bright woman. And I find that enormously appealing."
Just then, as I'm about to ask why he's so often cast in drug-related roles--as he was in both Pulp Fiction and Killing Zoe--we're approached by two confident black youths wearing identical T-shirts and carrying clipboards. "Excuse me," the male says, grinning, "would you like to buy a raffle ticket to fight the antidrug war in New York? Dollar donation, $500 first prize."
His question, as presented, was masterful in its power to pose further questions. Whose side had he actually invited us to join? Were we being asked to battle the troops opposed to drugs, or align with those fighting the problem? Was he simply offering us chances in a raffle or unloading the entire lottery? Or, was the whole thing just a ruse to peddle dope? But since Stoltz, of course, prefers asking to answering, I sit back and wait.
"An antidrug war?" Stoltz asks. "You're fighting drugs? You're not selling them?"
"Nah, I'm done with that," the youth says. "I'm three years clean already."
"That's amazing. Did you deal at all?"
The proud kid nods. "I dealt for about a year."
"When you were a dealer," Stoltz asks brightly, "were you a friendly dealer?"
The guy laughs at the odd question, but gives it some thought. "Ehh, depends who I dealt with, you know? Lotta times you get a wise one, know what I'm sayin'?"
"Yeah. So did you carry a piece?"
His friend had been put in jail for carryin' a piece, he says.
"Oddly enough," Stoltz says finally, after we paid our dollars and took our chances, "I play a heroin dealer in a movie."
"Oh yeah?" the guy says, with only polite interest--he'd actually been a dealer.
After they move on, I ask Stoltz what he'd written on his raffle stub so that the antidrug foundation could contact him if he won. "I wrote my number," he says. "I really think I've got a shot at the $500."
"You were so interested in those two," I say. "Have you ever done heroin?"
"No, I haven't. But I've filmed a person doing it so I could see how it affected him physically and imitate it, for Killing Zoe. It was completely voyeuristic and educational and it didn't endanger my own health."
"What do actors snort as cocaine in movies?"
"It's like a crushed up B vitamin," he says. "It's awful."
"Wasn't there a lot of real cocaine use in the industry when you started?"
"Oh yeah, in the '80s. Fast Times at Ridgemont High was one giant party movie. I remember people going to certain crew trucks to indulge. That doesn't happen anymore. On movie sets."
"Because of the times? Or the budgets?"
"I think it's the times," he says. "You know, in the early '80s everyone was indulging in everything."
"So who was indulging in Fast Times? Cast or crew?"
"No comment," Stoltz says.
Although it's virtually a waste of time to even dabble in research prior to going up against Stoltz, I did arrive with a few movie titles from the actor's early career. "I'd never even heard of these," I explain to him, "let alone seen them."
"I might not have seen them either," he says, laughing. "What are they?"
"Running Hot."
"I think that was my second or third film, and we literally made it for about 70 grand and shot it in 12 days. A lurid little couple-on-the-lam kind of picture. It was fun."
"Surf II. Which seems interesting not only because there was no Surf I, but the cast included Ruth Buzzi, Terry Kiser, Eddie Deezen, Carol Wayne, Lyle Waggoner... I looked it up; don't hate me because I'm dutiful."
"Yeah," he says, "it was one of those chock-full-o'-comedians beach-schlock films. I had a small role. I don't remember much about it. Keep 'em coming, Stephen."
"Code Name: Emerald."
"That was not bad, actually. It was with Ed Harris, Max von Sydow and Helmut Berger. A World War II espionage thing we shot in Paris. I had a supporting role."
"Foreign Affairs."
"A TV movie with Joanne Woodward and Brian Dennehy."
"Then that's one you definitely haven't seen," I say. "Not having a TV. A fact people seem obsessed with."
"Yeah. People seem shocked and occasionally offended that I choose not to have one."
"Maybe I'm offended, too."
"But I'm a vegetarian," Stoltz says, "and I'm not offended when you eat meat. I don't force my way of living on anyone. Yet."
How did he know I was carnivorous? "What else don't you have?"
"A life."
Maybe he can't afford a TV? "Are you wealthy at least?"
"I think I'm wealthy," he says, though even less private actors would be reluctant to talk about money. "I make a good living for what I do. Well, it depends. If I'm doing an independent film I'm making no money--probably losing money. But if I'm doing a studio film, I'll make a decent wage. I can live for a year without working."
"How much cash do you have on you right now?"
He stands up, pulls some bills from his jeans pocket and counts them in front of God-knows-who in the park. "Seventy-three dollars," he announces. "I have a friend who likes to carry around a wad of a thousand dollars, because it makes him feel powerful."
"Who?"
"No comment."
"So are you as nice a guy as you seem?" I ask.
"I can be," he says. "I'm certainly trying to be a nice guy for an interview."
I laugh. "That's right," I say, shaking my head. "You're an actor! How stupid of me."
"I mean, I can be a jerk like everyone else, but I save that for the people I love."
"Like Bridget?"
"Hey!"
"Why won't you talk about her?" I ask. "I'm not asking for anything grisly."
"Okay," he says. "Bridget and I read the interview with Charlie Sheen in Movieline, and Bridget said to tell you that she was repulsed by it. And I must say that I wasn't exactly amused."
He's referring, of course, to the September issue, in which Sheen told Stephen Rebello, "I'd like to jam Bridget Fonda. She's sexy. Really sexy. I think we would be good together."
"But there are several actors," Stoltz continues, "who would simply lie and say that they'd had an affair with her, rather than that they'd want to. So on one level I appreciate his honesty, even while I think he's...not a gentleman."
Later, in a fax from Scotland, Stoltz elaborates. "I think [Sheen] obviously has some need to be perceived as a shocking, in-your-face predator. A lot of actors are like this. I find there are two kinds of actors (or actresses) that you work with constantly: 1) The Respectful Actor. This person is kind and giving and talented and fun to work with and respectful of your relationship. 2) The Predatory Actor. This person is kind and giving and talented and fun to work with but feels that because they are famous they don't have to function within society's rules, i.e., if they are hungry, they eat; if they are attracted to their co-star, they act on it, married or not, no matter what destruction may ensue. These people obviously should be in therapy. The strange thing is that Predatory Actors are often so charming that people forgive them for their heinous behavior. Actors can get away with murder, literally and figuratively, and still be loved. I don't know why this is, but it's odd. Now, most actors would like to be thought of as a Respectful Actor. Obviously Mr. Sheen has a different plan. I think that's too bad. When I knew him 10 years ago, he was a perfectly nice guy."
Back in the park, I say, "But doesn't it make you feel sort of good that people covet your girlfriend?"
"Nothing makes me feel good," he says.
"Not even a massage?"
"No," he says. "At this point, I'm probably... I just don't... I'm not... happy. In my life."
It seems authentic, especially the ellipses. "And you say this in all sincerity?" I ask him, genuinely concerned.
"I guess so," he says. "He just came right out and said it. I guess he wants to shock people in interviews, which is one way of functioning."
"Wait," I say. "Who are we talking about?"
Stoltz begins laughing. "I just like to lapse into the third person!" he says. "To confuse you! Poor Stephen. 'Suddenly Eric was speaking in the third person! I had no idea who he was referring to.'"
"So how long have you been with Bridget?"
"No. Comment."
"I really just wanted to know about Peter," I say.
"Then why didn't you just ask?" Stoltz says, relieved. "Peter Fonda is... very cool. I almost did a film with him a few months ago, a very strange, low-budget vampire film called Nadja. Suzy Amis and I were to play brother and sister, and Peter was to play our father. Unfortunately, I had to back out because of family commitments. But I so regret not getting to play Suzy Amis's brother and Peter Fonda's son. I think it could've been so much fun. Although I know Peter Fonda's son and I'm sure he has many stories of how it can not be cool at times."
Maybe Stoltz will get to play Peter's son offscreen. For some reason, that thought segued into this one: I'm not a homosexual, but I play one on TV. "You played a homosexual in 'Roommates' on television," I remind him. "And now there seems to be a sudden spate of transvestite movies. Would you take a cross-dressing part?"
"Oh, absolutely!" he says immediately. "Although they might as well just hire Suzy Amis to play me playing a cross-dresser. But yes, I'd love to. What an interesting frame of mind that must be. And plus, frankly, I'm wearing kilts over in Scotland."
Suddenly, as if from nowhere, two lovely teenage girls float up on rollerskates. A breeze blows their hair back, revealing Walkman wires. "Shhh," one of them says, handing each of us a flier advertising the best grilled-chicken sandwich on earth, "don't say anything."
"Why?" Stoltz asks her. "Is someone filming you doing this?" But she rolls away without saying anything.
Stoltz laughs and says, "That was the original title of that Cameron Crowe film I did. Actually, it was the name of the intended sequel. Shhh, Don't Say Anything should be the title of this interview. In fact, I'm going to start saying that. Ask me a question."
"Do you wear underwear under your kilt?"
"Shhh, don't say anything," he says, putting his finger to his lips. "You'll have to see the film."
"Why? Are there some extraordinary camera angles?"
"Some surprising horse-mounting," he says.
"Do you think of yourself as famous?"
"No, but I think that I'm occasionally recognizable. I like it that way. I'm able to function in [public]. I can go to the grocery store, go to the Laundromat. I can live a life."
That's a life? "Is there a Stoltz machine of people who manage your career?"
"It's a very meager one," he says. "Let me put it this way," he says. "I'm with CAA, who represents Tom Cruise on one level and me on the other. Now, who do you think requires more machinery?"
Mmm, multiple choice. I have a fifty-fifty chance of answering correctly. "You," I say.
"Why would you say that?"
"Because if Tom's up there and you're down here, you'd need more of a push."
"Ah, but you're assuming that I wanna change my position," he says. "Well, I'm very content with where I am. I'm kind of happy with my career. Most of the movies [I have coming out] are small ones that I've produced, that won't necessarily enhance me financially or increase my popularity. They're just films I wanted to do."
Stoltz co-produced Bodies, Rest & Motion and Sleep With Me "for a reasonable budget," he says. "And Bodies actually turned a healthy profit, what with video and foreign rights." And he's poised to co-produce Bullet's Dream, a psychological action-thriller. So what's in it for him to produce?
"An opportunity to work with friends, to have creative control over what we wanna film, who we wanna cast, what crew members we wanna hire. If we wanna change a scene and improvise 10 minutes, we can, without having to get permission from studio heads. The inmates are running the asylum. I think that that lack of organization lends independent films a certain spontaneity and energy."
"Do I smell directing?"
"I don't know," he says. "I've been offered a few things, and I've thought about it. But, having produced, I'm really aware of how much energy and angst goes into directing. I don't think I have the stamina to direct at this point. Although someday I might like to try my hand at it."
"Do you think Bridget Fonda is famous?"
"No comment."
"When you go out together, do people come up to you?"
Stoltz laughs. '"No comment,' he says, laughing and lapsing again into the third person."
"When they do approach you, is it because of you or her or both?"
"A little of both," he says. And that was it for then on Fonda. Later, from Scotland, he pours his heart out: "I have a great deal of love for her, but I'm not interested at this point in dragging her into my press. It's intrusive, and in the past it's been a mistake."
Back in New York, I press on. "Other than scripts," I ask, "do you read?"
"I do read," he says. "I just started a novel called Girl, Interrupted, given to me by a girl who is... short. And yet very attractive."
"What do you mean by 'and yet'? Julie Christie is short."
"She didn't give me the book though. I loved her in Don't Look Now. Although I always confuse that film with Don't Look Back, the Dylan film."
"Viewed side by side," I say, "you can really tell the difference. One's in color, the other's in black-and-white, for example. A more difficult task is distinguishing between Mask and The Mask, which are both in color."
"There's also The Waterdance and Waterland," he says.
"You know, The Waterdance is constantly on cable, but I've yet to see it all the way through," I confess. "But I've seen many parts."
"My sex scene with Helen Hunt?"
"I love Helen Hunt. Can we talk about her for a minute? I know you don't have a TV, but she..."
"No, actually I've been trying to get on her TV show," Stoltz says. "I go down occasionally to watch Helen tape her show, because she's a friend and I adore her. I told the producers that I wanted to be on the show. Cut to two years later and I haven't heard from them. I came up with a plot where I would play Helen's old boyfriend who comes to town and is going through a divorce and asks to sleep on their couch and has a wild sexual affair with Helen. She's entirely capable of it. There's a side to Helen Hunt that is extremely sensual and not [evident] on the show. But that was my idea and I'm still hoping."
"Who else do you love?"
"I love Meg Tilly. And Winona Ryder and Uma Thurman and Jessica Lange. And, of course, Bridget."
"You've probably noticed this," I say, "but it seems that you work repeatedly with the same people."
"Usually they're guys," he says, as if the male were a noxious odor. "Enough with the guys. But I've worked with Laura Dern twice, in Mask and Haunted Summer."
"Haunted Summer, the movie you were naked in. And you've been naked ever since. You were naked in Naked in New York."
"Hence the title," he says. "Anyway, what is the big deal with nudity? When I see a love scene where the actors are strategically covered, I think, 'There's an actor who's uncomfortable being nude and they shouldn't have taken the role.' It takes me out of the story and I end up thinking about how self-conscious the actor is."
"What about violence?" I ask while he's so forthcoming.
"I think violence, cynicism, brutality and fashion are the staples of our diet. I think in the grand history of story-telling, going back to people sitting around fires, the dark side of human nature has always been very important. Movies are part of that tradition. If you can express the dark side, or evil, in a symbolic way in a film, it's a healthy outlet. I think if you start censoring movies and coming out against violence, all you're gonna have is a bunch of airline movies. Or TV shows."
Or anything on Bravo. "Have you seen Speed?"
"Yes I have," he says. "I'm friends with the woman who's in it."
"Do you mean Sandra Bullock, or some minor, cowering bus passenger?"
"Sandy Bullock. She's more than a friend; she is someone I'm forever indebted to. She searched for and found my dog--who had been mistakenly let out--while I was on location for Little Women. I'm unsure how I can ever repay her. I was a mess and she really came through for me. Add her to my list of actresses."
"Any dope on your role in Little Women?"
"To be honest," he says, "in Little Women, I'm really just a token male. I sorta stand around with facial hair to prove that the little women are, in fact, heterosexual. And I had a vivid and active fantasy life involving almost every one of those little women. How could I not? Every one of them smart, kind and beautiful. Every one of them in corsets everyday. Every one of them unattainable. It was heaven just stepping onto the set."
Yes? And?
Stoltz senses I want more. "If you think for a minute that I'm going to go into detail about my fantasy life," he says with a cruel smile, "you are truly out of your mind. I have too much respect for all the actresses involved."
"Will the film have an NC-17 rating for the '90s?"
"I wish," Stoltz says. "I wish it were a bodice-ripper. But no--unless the studio decides to recut it." A moment later, he adds, "Fluke will be coming out around the same time as Little Women and this interview. It's a film where Matthew Modine dies and is reborn as a puppy and I get involved with his widow, Nancy Travis. We all had to act with dogs of every breed. One day, I'll tell you all about my rich and vivid fantasy life involving almost every one of those dogs. And their trainers."
"It's amazing, the talent you've worked with. And are working with."
"I've been kicking around for a long time," he says. "Almost as long as you have."
"Is there a director you'd like to work with?"
"I'd like to work with Alan Smithee."
"Who?"
"He is one of the most underrated and yet prolific directors in the DGA. He's directed more films than anyone else. Look him up."
Later, I did. And, in fact, Stoltz was correct. But I doubt that at this point in his career he will ever realize his dream of working with the legendary director--at least on purpose. Smithee is the name that's put on a movie's credits when the real director refuses to shoulder the blame. Still, that's not to say Stoltz won't ever appear in a Smithee classic, since he's sure to be acting till he's old and gray.
In fact, he's not fearful about getting older. "I'm looking forward to going white. I had a dream that I became very fat and bald and grew a long beard and all my friends were very concerned. They said, 'Eric, you're fat and bald and you have a beard and you look so unattractive.' And I said, 'Yes, but I'm really happy.'"
Little Eric, happy at last?
"Don't you get sick of seeing actors who are in shape?" he says. "I must say I get a little bored seeing actors who have really great bodies, and actresses with perfect measurements. I'm becoming more interested in odd shapes and imperfections."
"Funny you should say that," I say. "Aidan Quinn recently told me he feels that perfectly muscled bodies on actors are inappropriate in some roles--migrant fanners, for example. But he thinks getting in shape is a good career move, which is probably why he doesn't do it."
Stoltz laughs. "He and I are similar in that way. And we're both talking to you!"
"Talking to me is a bad career move?" I say. "Speaking of career moves, can you get me a small part in one of your films?"
"I could," he says. "Why? Can you act?"
"I once had a line on 'All My Children.'"
"You're avoiding my question," he says. "Can you act?"
"No comment."
"There are many actors who are hard-working and need jobs," he says.
"So, no?"
"The answer is no."
And the interview is over, or so I thought until I got another fax from Stoltz on location in Scotland: "As I was walking down the street [after our interview], one of the girls who had skated over to us came up to me and said, 'Are you an actor?' and I said, rather pleased with myself, 'Yes I am.' She said, 'Can I have your autograph?' and I graciously said, 'Of course you can.' And just as I was about to sign her piece of paper, she said, 'I really loved you in Reservoir Dogs.' So I thanked her and signed Tim Roth's name."
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Stephen Saban interviewed Aidan Quinn for the October Movieline.