Accounting for His Image
by Sean Mitchell
Newsday
November 26, 1995
In
Nick of Time the punk rocker who once owned the
Viper Club
plays a mild-mannered, bespectacled accountant with a 6-year-old
daughter.
LOS
ANGELES
“Do
you mind the cigarette?” Johnny Depp asks ever so politely, taking
a seat. Couldn't be nicer. A bad boy? The actor as punk rocker? Not
today. A photographer points out that he is not looking into the
light, and Depp blurts, “Oh, sorry,” and
immediately corrects
himself.
You
say this guy once owned the Viper Club? [Editor’s
Note: In 1995, Johnny still co-owned the Viper Club, and would for
several years.] True, on closer inspection it appears he is
wearing a skull ring on one finger and has a tattoo on the webbing of
his left hand. But in slacks and a dress shirt in a suite at the Four
Seasons Hotel, Johnny Depp is, in sum, the picture of something other
than weird. He does, after all, manage to pass as a wire-rimmed
accountant in his new movie, Nick of Time.
It
is a change of style for an actor who has played Edward Scissorhands
and the cross-dressing B-picture flame out director Ed Wood, not to
mention the deluded Don Juan de Marco, “the world's greatest
lover.” In Nick of Time, a by-the-numbers
thriller directed
by John Badham, Depp is just a regular guy who happens to get
kidnapped by some not-so-regular guys who want him to assassinate the
governor of California or they're going to kill his 6-year-old
daughter. Synchronize your watches: He's got 90 minutes to beat the
clock.
“I've
been insanely lucky, insanely lucky,” says the
philosophically-inclined Depp, exhaling and reflecting on the career
opportunities that have allowed him to create performances onscreen
that he says he would prefer never to see. In any case, the
opportunities have taken him down some less-traveled roads in
Hollywood to heavy name recognition at age 32.
“The
more visible I'm made, the more invisible I become,” Depp
says
about fame, quoting the experimental French writer and director Jean
Cocteau. “The more visible I've become, the more sort of
inside
myself I've gone. I was never a real outgoing-type person, but when
you get to a place where you're known by a lot of people, some people
take it and become extroverted. I went more inside.”
Maybe
this accounts for some of his choices in roles. What
other young TV star would have segued, as Depp did, from his
success as a cop on 21 Jump Street to a John Waters
movie
(Cry-Baby)? Or would have thrown his heartthrob
looks into
the title role in What's Eating Gilbert Grape, a
little film
about a dysfunctional family in which the symbol of dysfunction is a
mother so obese that she hasn't gotten out of bed in years?
Compared
to these, Nick of Time (Paramount) seems like a
gesture of
good box office, a detour into the territory of popcorn drama and
opening-weekend grosses just in case Hollywood might care about such
things in evaluating an actor.
Depp
chooses slightly different words to comment on the situation at hand.
“It's in the grand tradition of the old Hitchcock-style
thrillers,”
he says about his latest movie. “And I've been accused of
doing
only strange films and oddball characters. I thought it was a good
time to do the opposite--someone who is completely straight, a
regular-Joe-type guy.”
He
had not previously encountered John Badham, the British-born director
whose resume includes WarGames, Blue
Thunder, Stakeout
and, most notably, the 1977 John Travolta smash, Saturday
Night
Fever (which Depp had never seen until a couple of years
ago). “I
had waited seventeen years to see Saturday Night Fever.
I
refused to go see it when I was a kid, because of the disco thing. I
was much more into loud guitars, rock and roll, punk rock.”
On
meeting Badham, he recalls, “I thought he was a very nice man
with
a perverse sense of humor. He seems like Mr. Normal, but he's got a
pretty twisted vein, which I like very much. But I was sold when I
read the script. I was confident he would do a good job with it, and
I'm sure he has.” Realizing this might sound odd to some
people,
Depp clarifies things. “I haven't seen the movie
yet,” he says.
For
that matter, he still hasn't seen Gilbert Grape.
“It's weird. I'm uncomfortable watching [my films]. So if I
can
get away with not seeing them at all, I will. Gilbert
Grape
was just a heavy time for me. It was a heavy subject. I just
thought, ‘I don't want to go back there.’ It has
nothing to do
with Lasse [Hallstrom, the director], whom I worship--the guy's
amazing. And Leonardo [diCaprio] is great and Darlene Cates is
great. But I haven't been able to bring myself to see it.
“They
drag you to the premiere if they can. I saw Dead Man
once,”
he says, referring to the new Jim Jarmusch western not yet in general
release. “I saw Don Juan once. Cry-Baby
I
saw twice. I can't go back and watch 'em. I feel like an
idiot.”
So
where is the satisfaction in that? Besides the money, assuming that
counts. “I really like creating stuff, whether it's in a
movie or
making a short film at home or drawing a picture.” But if you
never see the result . . .
Is
it the difference between being a painter or writer and being a
performing artist? “Satisfaction is a strange
word,” Depp
answers. “I guess I'm never really satisfied.
“As
an actor you're trying to be true to the author's intent, to the
director's vision and at the same time be true to yourself as an
actor. You try to mix those three things together without
compromising. Then this other thing happens--[film] editing
happens--which can either save you or kill you. Or just make it sort
of blah.”
Some
people, to quote the ubiquitous Los Angeles bumper sticker, are
born to act (or at least think they are). Depp, on the other hand, is
one who
came relatively late to the profession. His bumper sticker, if he
had one, would be something like “God Made Me Do
It.”
“From
the age of twelve, all the arrows were pointing to music. That was,
for sure, my life. I had made the decision. That was just it.
Definitely.”
Born
in Kentucky, and raised in Miramar, Florida from the age of 9, Depp
formed the punk-rock band Kids in high school and moved with it to
Los Angeles in 1983, when he was 20.
“I
guess I was twenty-one when I did my first movie, which was a total
fluke. The first couple I did [Nightmare on Elm Street, Slow
Burn] just because they gave me the jobs and gave me some
money. But I had always planned on going back to my band and playing.
“Then
suddenly everything started happening in the acting. The band broke
up and I kept doing the movies to make money. At a certain point it
was truly beyond my control. It was almost like I had no choice in
the matter.” A mystical thought. “I guess I'm
supposed to be
here. I guess this is what I'm supposed to be doing. I have to
believe in destiny. There's got to be some sort of divine
intervention or something.”
His
sense of a greater power at work is reflected even in his tattoos. The
number 3, for instance. “I just have always felt very close
to
the number three,” he explains. “For some reason I
like it. One
night I was at a friend's house who's a tattoo artist and I said,
‘Put a number three on my hand.’ I don't know why.
I just felt
it. It's been a very important number for me. And I think it's
going to be more important, I feel.
“I've got a few more. I'm riddled with 'em,” he says about his tattoos. “I started when I was young. I got my first one when I was, like, seventeen. I think the body is like a journal, your permanent journal.”
Although
his life's path is laid through the movies now,
Depp still thinks of himself as a musician first. “I
certainly
don't want a career in music, that's for sure. But I never stopped
being a musician. It was and always will be my first love. Now it's
totally therapeutic. It's rehabilitation, a great escape from my
brain sometimes. I just get lost in my guitar. I don't have to
think of music as a job.
“When
the band broke up, that was very difficult for me. We'd been together
three or four years. Those guys were my brothers. It was like a
family unit. There was comfort and safety in it.
Whereas, as an
actor, you're just sort of out there alone, and there's no team; it's
just you. It's a little scary and definitely something that took
some getting used to.”
Engaged
four times--including once to Winona Ryder--but yet to marry,
[Editor’s Note: An error—Johnny married
Lori Anne Allison
before his move to L.A.; they divorced two years later.] Depp
has
been keeping company with waif-like model Kate Moss for a
year-and-a-half. This requires frequent travel
from his home
in Los
Angeles to New York, Paris, London. “She commutes, I commute.
If
she has to be somewhere for a long period of time, I'll go there. If
I have to be somewhere, she'll come down. It's worked out pretty
good.”
Still,
it must be difficult. “We're okay,” Depp says.
“No problem.”
Without
the family fold of his band to rely on, Depp has nevertheless made
friends in Hollywood. There is his agent, Tracey Jacobs, who once
drove him straight from the airport to a meeting with director Tim
Burton that led to his being cast in the title role of Edward
Scissorhands.
“I
would never have gone,” Depp says. “At the time, I
was not
feeling that great about the position I was in--like everybody
thought of me as a TV boy. And I didn't want to embarrass
myself.”
Then
there is Burton himself, who Depp says is “like
smoke” he's so
elusive, yet their happy collaborations on Scissorhands
and Ed
Wood were the kind that forge ties that bind.
“Tim
allowed me a lot of freedom on both Scissorhands
and Ed
Wood. He didn't really know what I was going to do with the
character of Ed Wood until he said ‘action’ for the
first time on
the set. And to tell you the truth, I had ideas of what I was gonna
do and stuff, but I really didn't know until he said
‘action.’
“As
we were shooting it I was constantly thinking, ‘I'm way over
the
top, it's idiotic, it's a cartoon.’ ”
Understandable, since he
was playing the part of a supremely confident young fool who liked to
wear women’s clothes and had no talent except for dreaming
the
Hollywood dream against all evidence he could ever touch it. Talk
about a challenge.
“I
kept asking Tim, ‘Tim, you sure this is where you want me to
be?’ So every day my job was to try to make Tim laugh, so if
I saw him
doing this behind the monitor”--and here Depp imitates the
director
turning his head away to stifle a guffaw—“I knew
that I was doing
the right thing.”
Anyone
who doubted that Depp had talent has had to reckon with
the oddly compelling charm he brought to a loser the caliber of Ed
Wood. In Nick of Time the task appears less
daunting. He
must simply maintain a constant look of determination mixed with
desperation as he does battle with the forces of darkness, led by
Christopher Walken, who shadows him every step of the way toward his
improbable rendezvous with murder.
He
does manage to bring a lucid, mild-mannered speaking voice to the
part that is pure oxford cloth, with no fraying at the edges. Very
un-slacker. Very uptown. It makes a useful contrast with the
feverish tone of Walken's overheated heavy. Depp says he doesn't
know where he gets his voice--he didn't study at Juilliard or
Yale--but he does remember losing his Kentucky accent a long time ago
so as not to be thought of as a hick.
“It's
one thing I'm completely insecure about,” he says about his
voice. “Not necessarily when I'm working, but because of
these hideous
long pauses that I take.”
What
will he remember about the time he spent on the set of Nick
of
Time? “I'll never be able to look at the
Bonaventure Hotel
again,” he says, referring to the downtown Los Angeles Hotel
where
most of the story is played out. He says he'll also remember
shooting a scene in which he falls over a balcony and is suspended in
mid air by a cable.
“Dangling
ninety feet above the earth was pretty strange. You find instant
religion when you're hanging ninety feet on a wire with all eyes on
you.”
Meanwhile,
Capitol Records will release sometime in the new year an album Depp
made recently with Butthole Surfer Gibby Haynes, ex-Sex Pistol Steve
Jones, guitarist Bill Carter, Sal Jenco and the Red Hot Chili
Peppers' Flea.
“The
experience was great,” Depp says, “but it's
certainly not
something I'm pursuing. It's a bunch of guys, we're good friends, we
got to make a bunch of noise together. What's it like? It's loud,
it's sloppy, it's funny. I will say it's a totally organic record .
. . . We wrote a lot of the songs while we were doing the record. We
couldn't have found it funnier that Capitol Records decided they
wanted to sign us for a record deal.”