Nowadays, the scripts are just so much better, that you don’t have to feel that way. You feel like the script’s coming to you, you can just relax. You don’t have to drive the boat.
We’re born alone. We do need each other. It’s lonely to really effectively live your life, and anyone you can get help from or give help to; that’s part of your obligation.
I would jump into the middle of the street and say, “excuse me, there’s a Mercedes that’s got to get through here.” And I would push people out of the way, “get out of the way! Let him through!” Smacking their cars and stuff. Just like, “whack” and you just jump into it.
You can’t think about what you’re going to do. It just gets in the way. You have to be just available for life, otherwise you’re not bringing anything to the party. So I don’t lie awake thinking about what I’m going to do workwise. There’s just too much going on.
It’s much harder to play beloved than to play a rotten guy. Rotten guy is a piece of cake. So playing a beloved person really sets a high bar for your behavior and your acting and what you project.
I didn’t get into this position by being like a stiff sitting on the set in a folding chair. I did it by walking around on the streets and stirring things up.
I’d sort of gone through some sort of spiritual change in the late 70s where I sort of saw there was some other life to live. It changed the way that I worked just having a different presence and a different tension.
So I went, and one of the funniest film moments I’ve ever had was when they introduced the New York film critics. They all stood up – motley isn’t the word for that group.
