Deeply
Deppy
By
David Aldridge
Film Review
August 1993
In
Benny & Joon, Johnny Depp
goes
off the deep-end. David Aldridge finds out why.
Johnny
Depp doesn’t do mornings, I’ve been told. As
an inveterate nightbird, rumor had it he
was rarely up and around for them.
So
I’m both a little
surprised and mildly
apprehensive to find myself allocated an 11 a.m. chat slot with
filmdom’s
favorite “oddball.” But I needn’t have
worried.
Barely
ten minutes after the appointed time, a pretty hep Depp strolls into
his London
hotel room, shucks off his lived-in leather jacket, brushes the
shoulder-length
brown hair back off his face—and politely asks me if I mind
him lighting his
lungs up.
I
don’t. So the teen-dream star of Cry-Baby,
Edward Scissorhands and the new
borderline-reality romance Benny &
Joon, out on July 9th, fires up the first in a chain of
cowboy-country
cigarettes—and amiably and openly submits to an interview
which wide-ranges
from his relationship with Winona Ryder to his late
grandmother’s toenails!
But
before we get deeply Deppy, I ask
Johnny whether he actively seeks out the left-of-center roles that he
seems to
have cornered the market in—or whether that’s just
the way the kookiness
crumbles.
Johnny
takes time over the reply, and chooses his words with care.
“If
you mean do I search out the weirdest thing I can find, and do it just because it’s the weirdest thing
I can
find,” he says, “well, the answer is
‘No.’ I just do the things I like.
However,” he adds, “I have to admit that what
I like does tend to be left-field. I somehow feel much more comfortable
playing
it. I relate more easily than I do when I run across straight roles. I hate the obvious stuff. I just
don’t
respond to it. I get a bad feeling from it.”
Scarring
It
doesn’t take much pushing to get Johnny to admit
that
maybe he’s drawn to filmdom’s freaks and oddballs,
to characters whose
interiors and exteriors maybe don’t quite match, because
he’s more than a
little like that himself.
And,
indeed, this backwoods-born former
musician does sometimes seem as
off-the-wall for
real as he invariably is for reel. For instance, there’s his
instant response
when I ask him for his earliest childhood memory.
“My
great-grandmother’s toenails,” he replies, with
absolute sincerity. “I don’t
know why, but I can just remember seeing them. They were like cashews.
She was
about 102 when she died, and I was just a kid.”
And
then there’s the self-scarring, which Johnny says he started
doing when he was
12. “I remember carving my initials on my arm,” he
recalls. “And I’ve scarred
myself from time to time since then. In a way, your body’s a
journal. And the
scars are sort of entries in it. But it’s a stupid thing to
do. I realize that.
I haven’t done it in a few years. Hell, I’m 30
now—I shouldn’t
still be doing it. No, don’t do this
one at home, kids.”
Johnny
says that, like many of the parts he plays, he’s often felt
at odds with the
rest of his world. “And what I feel inside isn’t
necessarily what I show
outside,” he adds.
“But
maybe I’ve done
enough of this
wearing-my-art-on-my-sleeve stuff. Maybe I’ve played all the
pure-hearted,
vulnerable oddballs that I should do. Maybe it’s time to
enter into another
acting arena altogether. Because I don’t want to wind up just
repeating
myself.”
However,
one suspects that Johnny won’t ever stray too
far workwise from the not-so-straight and narrow. For he cites as his
“dream
role,” the one he’d really
like to
play, that of the hapless hero of Kafka’s classic Metamorphosis—the
creepy-crawly
tale of a man who inexplicably
mutates overnight into a giant waterbug!
Buster
Keaton
When
we meet, Johnny is mid-way through a three-day trip
to London to
promote his new movie Benny & Joon.
In
this brink-of-reality romance, Mary Stuart
Masterson is Joon, a
pretty schizophrenic,
and Aidan Quinn is Benny, her overprotective elder brother.
Into
their sheltered world comes Johnny’s Sam, a simple
wonderment-maker who
mentally dances to a different drummer from almost everybody else. Joon
can
follow his beat, but Benny isn’t sure she should.
In
the film, Sam is a Keaton and Chaplin freak who can uncannily recreate
his
heroes’ slapstick antics. Off screen, Johnny thinks silents
are golden, too. In
particular, he’s keen as Buster on Keaton.
“He’s
an unrecognized genius,” he reckons. “He could
convey worlds without words—with
just a gesture of the hand, or the merest movement of an eye. Silent
comedy,
silent acting—they’re real challenges.
It’s pretty simple to say
to someone that you love them. But
it’s a lot, lot harder to express that love without
words. I’m fascinated,” Johnny adds, “by
the whole idea of speaking without
speaking. Silence attracts me more than something loud does.
It’s like the way
a growling dog can be more scary than a barking one.”
A
professional mime helped Johnny fine-tune his innate Keaton-esque and
Chaplin-esque “silent” skills for Benny
& Joon. Some of the slapstick is new stuff, merely
“inspired” by his
mentors.
But,
in one or two scenes, Johnny perfectly apes
them—as when he does
Chaplin’s famous dancing-breadrolls sequence. Interestingly,
Robert Downey Jr.
recreated the very same sequence for Charlie biopic Chaplin—a
film that Johnny was reportedly shortlisted for.
“I
went to a meeting with Richard Attenborough,” Johnny admits.
“But I knew right
from the start that I wasn’t right for the role. Not physically
right, I mean. Robert was the
perfect choice. He kind of
looks like Chaplin. And he’s built more like him.”
At
this juncture, a Depp-arture from the narrative for a brief bit of
biog. Born
in Kentucky, bluegrasser Johnny actually grew up in Miramar, Florida,
where
music was his first love. Forming a rock band called Kids, he enjoyed
considerable regional success before a move to LA, and a bid to break
into the
bigtime.
But
the band quickly folded, and Johnny turned to acting on the advice of a
friend.
A Nightmare on Elm Street furnished
him with his first major acting job, and he subsequently appeared in
movies as
diverse as the little-known Slow Burn
and the Oscar-winning Platoon.
Breakthrough
However,
his real breakthrough came courtesy of TV—when
he landed the role of
detective Tom Hanson in the hit series 21
Jump Street. He starred for four seasons before seamlessly
segueing into
the lead roles of such big-screen hits as John Waters’ Cry-Baby and Tim Burton’s Edward
Scissorhands.
Johnny’s
dark-and-dreamy good looks have made him a teen-mag fave, with a fan
following
to match. And, though he’s essentially a shy, private kind of
guy, he tolerates
the adulation that goes with the territory.
“I
can’t say that I go down to the mall as much as I used to as
a kid,” he quips,
when we discuss street recognition. “And it’s not
something I’ll ever be really
comfortable with.
“But,
equally, were it all to suddenly stop, I’d probably really
start worrying. It does get a bit
weird, of
course—being
under the microscope and on display all
the time. And I can’t really
understand why there should be all this interest in the private life of
someone
who basically just sells lies for money. An actor is
just an actor, after all.
“But
I don’t mind the teen mags. They’re really
harmless—though I can’t say I much
like the labels they tend to slap on you, the categories they tend to
sling you
into. No, it’s the tabloids-type stuff I really
hate.”
Winona
Ryder
Johnny
has been hounded by teen-mags and tabloids
alike over his much-publicized
on/off relationship with rising Dracula
star Winona Ryder. So what’s the horse’s-mouth
latest on him and the divine
Miss R.
In
confirmation of a million recent rumors, he tells me:
“Winona and I
split up about six weeks back. When you’re with someone, and
you love them,
it’s never easy to cut the string—to sever the
connection. But, with us, it
just came to seem the natural thing to do—a natural
progression—just something
that had to happen. I wouldn’t say that our splitting was
exactly a devastating
experience for either of us, really. We’re still friends. We
still talk. And
everything’s fine. Very amicable. Very nice.”
Johnny
won’t be drawn as to whether anyone has yet replaced Winona
in his affections,
but he hates being lonesome, he says. So, by inference, if he
hasn’t already
found someone, he won’t be long a-looking.
“Being
lonely is scary,” he says. “I’ve been
lonely at times. Making one of my recent
movies was four months of intermittent misery. It isn’t that
much fun.”
But
Johnny doesn’t just worry
about being
lonely. Possessed of a typical actor’s insecurity, he admits
to worrying about
lots of things. And he says his fellow actors are often sources of
great
solace, citing Edward Scissorhands
as
a special instance.
“It
was a tough time for me,” he recalls. “I was
feeling really vulnerable—kind of
insecure. Vincent Price was wonderful—he gave me great
advice. And Alan Arkin
and Dianne Wiest were real supportive, too.
“They
came to me when I was really doubting what I was doing, and how I was
doing it.
And they said that I knew what I
was
doing. That I wasn’t
wrong.”
Cry-Baby
Our
talk butterfly-hops from topic to topic.
Johnny’s greatest fear? “Bees,” he says.
“Yeah, I’ve been stung, and it really, really hurt.
I got stung on the ear by a
whole herd, a whole gaggle of them when I was a kid.
“It
was my own fault. I shook the bush or whatever they had their nest in.
I ran.
But they caught me.”
And
what makes the Cry-Baby cry? “Oh, lots of things,”
he says. “I cry when I’m
hurt. Sometimes I find myself crying when I’m in a
restaurant, and I see, say,
an elderly woman eating.
“It’s
something to do with how human it is. And how necessary.”
Like
Sam, his Benny & Joon
character,
Johnny patently marches to a different drummer than most of us. But we
can
follow the beat of this odd but likeable
“otherworlder.” And that’s made him
one of moviedom’s most-in-demand actors, with a packed work
programme.
Already
in the can, there’s Emir Kusturica’s Arizona
Dream, in which he costars with Faye Dunaway and Jerry Lewis,
and Lasse
Hallstrom’s What’s Eating
Gilbert Grape,
in which he’s partnered with fellow up-and-comer Juliette
Lewis.
Renewing
his friendship with Tim Burton, he’s currently making Ed
Wood, the biopic of
Hollywood’s best-known and most-cultish
B-movie maker. In true Ed Wood-ian tradition, the movie is being made
in
black-and-white.
Depp
also says he’s “attached” to a number of
other projects, most notable of which,
to his reckoning, is something called It Only
Rains at Night, to be directed by Neal Jimenez, maker of
acclaimed movie The Waterdance.
Says
Johnny: “When I first read Edward
Scissorhands, I realized that it was something that was only
going to come
around once. That I would never see it again. It
Only Rains at Night is like that.”
Oh,
and along with Metamorphosis,
mentioned earlier, he’d love, he says, to also make a movie
version of classic
literary heavy Crime and Punishment.