Christian Slater

No introduction needed here. Christian Slater is not only a cult great, he's also worked shoulder to shoulder with almost every great in the business. His work speaks for himself. Ladies and Gentleman. Mr Christian Slater.



Let’s talk about your background. You were born and raised in New York.
Yeah, my dad’s an actor, he was the first Jack Ryan on Ryan’s Hope and was a pretty big soap star. My mom’s a very well-known casting director. I would make my dad take me to work with him when I was little, and watch him do his thing. He was creative, and funny, and just this wild actor. He had a real command of the stage.

It’s in the DNA, you could say.
Yes, absolutely. I started auditioning for things and got discovered by the director Michael Kidd, who saw me on The Joe Franklin Show, and cast me as Winthrop in The Music Man.

Was there one particular moment you knew that you were an actor? Was there one play, or movie or performance you saw that crystallized it for you?
This might sound strange, but it was probably more recently that I realized I was really an actor, when I was doing some stage work in London, on the West End. As a result of making some choices to work with a teacher, it really brought a lot of things to light for me. For years, I felt like I was just kind of winging it, and that any moment this committee was going to show up and discover that I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. So I worked with a great acting coach named Larry Moss, who’s just the best, and I learned a lot and rediscovered what a gift it is to be an actor, and that it really is a lot of fun. You get to escape from your own life for a couple hours a night when you’re doing a play.

The play was One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, right?
Yeah. I played McMurphy, at the Gielgud Theater. It was like doing a rock concert for eight months, really amazing.

Slater (center) with the London cast of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest.

So you got to assume the mantle of McMurphy, the role which most people would argue made Jack Nicholson, whom you were often compared to right after breaking out in Heathers. Was it tough to play a part that’s so heavily identified with one iconic actor’s interpretation of it?
It was tricky, and obviously I was scared of unconsciously imitating Nicholson’s performance. So I stayed away from the movie. I’d seen it of course, but not in years. I read the book, and that really provided me with my own source material for that character, and it’s a great character. Plus the book and the play are quite different from the movie, in terms of it being from the Chief’s point-of-view. I realized after doing it that Jack Nicholson has built a career out of doing that character. And why wouldn’t you? The guy’s heroic, he’s funny, he’s incredibly smart, just a great character.

What was your interpretation of him?
I didn’t play him as a lunatic, certainly. I played it more like it was all a big misunderstanding, and he was in this situation and trying to make the best of it, but he was in a totalitarian scenario, and his passion and ability to rally the troops and get the guys on his side was the thing I really identified with, and his ability to take on the system created a great sense of passion. The guy just wanted to have fun, and there was someone constantly standing in the way. He’s also a Christ-like figure who’s got his disciples and has to be sacrificed at the end in order to get these guys to rally.

It’s especially topical for the times we’re living in.
Oh yeah! It’s a universally identifiable story, and you can’t help but get caught up in it. We’d have nights where the audience would get so caught up in it that they’d be cheering for us to watch the World Series! One night people got into fights in the audience. Everyone really got into it. There was a sense of reality. Once the lights came up, I think they all felt like they’d been in the asylum with us.

Slater and Sean Connery in The Name of the Rose.

The first film I saw you in was The Name of the Rose, where you got to play opposite the great Sean Connery. Heady stuff for a kid?
Sean Connery was great. I grew up watching the Bond movies, and working with him at 16 was like having a master class in acting, life, all sorts of things. He’s an incredible professional, a real gentleman, a man’s man. He also didn’t take any shit from anybody. He had earned his right to be who he was, and things moved along according to his plan. He was concerned about every element and how everything was treated on the set. He didn’t even want to see the horses mistreated. There was a horse wrangler on the set, and Sean didn’t like the way the guy had hit the horse with his riding crop. So he grabbed it from the guy and said (in Connery’s voice) “Don’t hit the fucking horses!” (laughs) I watched the film recently on cable, and really got emotional because it took me back to that time, and everything I was going through. It really is an absolutely astoundingly beautiful movie. The work that Jean-Jacques Annaud did…I don’t think I had a clue then what a special film it was. Every once in a while there’s a special project you get to be a part of, and that was one. I was always a sensitive kid, and I remember that wrapping that film was really hard for me. It was five months in Germany and Rome, and it was hard to say good-bye.

You got to work with Francis Coppola soon after on Tucker.
Another great experience. Francis was great, and Jeff Bridges, Joan Allen…God, those cars were amazing! I got to drive one of the Tuckers on this track where we were shooting. We were shooting on these stages at Paramount, and I walked around and saw some of the other things that were being filmed. I walked onto this one stage, and there was the Starship Enterprise! Only it was little. It was tiny. It was in a weird shape, and I was like “What the hell is this?” And it turned out they were building the ship for Star Trek: The Next Generation. Then they were filming the ending of Witches of Eastwick, and they had that anamatronic Jack Nicholson there, which was really weird and scary to see, and just thinking “God, the movies are cool!” (laughs) I also remember working with Fred Forrest on Tucker. Fred’s got a real laid-back, kind of Nicholsonian drawl, and I remember being very aware of that, and really liking that. He was a big influence on me, Fred Forrest. Really interesting guy. The whole film was like a big family. Coppola sets that kind of mood. It was another instance of me looking around, age 18, thinking “Jesus, what the hell am I doing here?” (laughs) It still amazes me when I look at some of the films I’ve been a part of, and some of the people I’ve gotten to meet and work with. I also look back sometimes and realize that I was lucky to have lived through them and even to have survived them, at times. It’s certainly a testament to whatever I have in me that has that instinct.

I can imagine at that age, and through your early 20s, it was like sensory overload at times.
Yes, exactly. The overwhelm of being in these places, as exciting as they were, and dealing with different personalities, the intensity of this business, and the egos involved, dare I say it. It’s wild to be a kid and have those kinds of experiences.

Slater as pirate DJ "Hard Harry" in Pump Up the Volume.

But you also had two parents in the business who could help put it in perspective for you, certainly more so than if your dad had sold insurance and your mom was a schoolteacher.
Absolutely true. They certainly are passionate people, as well, and are colorful in their own ways, but they were always there to answer questions. As I said before, my dad was always the kind of guy who was willing to take me with him to work, and my mother being okay with that and with me being introduced to that life, it says a lot. My mother was casting Hair when I was about six, and I remember being downtown with that whole crew, and watching everybody rehearse, and just being involved in that world at that age was pretty rich. I remember that was the year of the big blackout, and we had to figure out how to get out of there in the dark…there were some really cool moments.

Heathers was the movie that changed everything for you. 20 years later you look at it, and you realize that nobody realized how fortuitous a film it was ten years before Columbine. It seemed so far out at the time, and now it plays much more disturbing than funny.
Yeah, yeah. Interesting. As time goes on, perceptions change. Everything’s changed, particularly after 9/11. It’s scarier and sadder, and not that I claim to know anything about politics, but certainly the last eight years have been difficult for everybody, and confusing and scarier than they were the previous eight years.

When we were growing up, there were certainly bad things that happened in the world, but nobody ever thinks they’ll look back on their childhood as being times of innocence, and now I feel like we really did come of age in a more innocent time.
It’s true. It was pretty simple. Reagan was this sort of father figure, and the ‘80s were a fun time, and now we’re in this warmongering period. I can only have hope for the future, that things are going to move in a more positive direction.



Did you all feel at the time that Heathers was exploring uncharted territory for a “teen” film?
I think we all felt that it was pretty interesting and unique, yeah. I think everything works in retrospect. You don’t really know what you’re working on when you’re working on it. You have ideas what you’d like it to be, what it could be, but you never know until the end result. Nobody sets out to make a bad movie. (laughs) It was actually a really creative, fun shoot.

All the Nicholson comparisons started after that film. I’m sure it was flattering to an extent for you, but it must’ve gotten old eventually, especially considering I’m sure you were just being yourself.
Well look, if you’re going to be compared to someone…(laughs) Like I said, Fred Forrest has a lot of Nicholson qualities, as does my dad, so I’m sure a lot of that rubbed off on me. I’d seen Easy Rider and thought Nicholson was the coolest guy on the planet. When I saw Witches of Eastwick being shot, I just identified with Nicholson, and thought he was the greatest. When I read the script for Heathers, I guess I saw some qualities in the character of Jason Dean that I could identify with, and everything just kind of jelled into something that allowed people to make that kind of comparison. I was certainly playing a character. If they’d shot Jason Dean’s room in the movie, he probably would have had a poster of The Shining or Easy Rider because he was just that guy. So were there qualities in that character that were Nicholsonian? Absolutely!



Another groundbreaking movie we have to discuss is True Romance.
At the time I got the script, nobody had really heard of Quentin Tarantino. He’d made this little independent movie, Reservoir Dogs. I saw it with Patricia Arquette at the CAA screening room. It really affected me. I laughed, I was horrified, it was something new. I thought Quentin was great, and loved him and his passionate personality. The cast just kept getting bigger and bigger with more and more interesting people. The scene between Dennis Hopper and Chris Walken was one of the first scenes that was edited together, and Tony Scott showed it to us on the set, and we were all just blown away. So yeah, great experience, great script but again, you never know what a film is going to be until you see the final product. In this case, it was another one of those really special experiences that resulted in an equally amazing movie.



In Interview with a Vampire, you took over the role that River Phoenix was originally cast. Did you know him at all?
Not really. We’d met before and I respected him, and his work tremendously. That was so tragic, and it was really awkward to be stepping into that kind of scenario. But I think I eased my own discomfort by not accepting money for it and donating my salary to his charities. It was great to work with Neil Jordan, and Brad Pitt was great, and that was the second time we’d worked together, of course, after True Romance.



You got to work with the great John Woo twice.
Amazing filmmaker. He’s a very cerebral man, very sweet, but very quiet, much in the same way Neal Jordan is. I don’t know where John’s English is today, but at that time, he didn’t speak English that well, so our communication was limited. Basically, he told me I was supposed to be playing Steve McQueen and I forget who he said John Travolta was supposed to be, but that was all the direction I really got. (laughs) But what a genius he is, a real master of the medium. Also, when I did Windtalkers, it was a real treat to work with Nic Cage. He’s one of our greatest actors. Everything he does, every choice he makes, it just blows my mind. I just watched Face/Off again the other night. What an unbelievable movie that is! And Nic and Travolta are amazing in it. I could watch that movie all day.



Recently you were in Emilio Estevez’s Bobby, which I thought did a beautiful job of capturing a time and place in history.
Yeah, it really did. Emilio did a phenomenal job and to be a part of that incredible group that he assembled…I mean Anthony Hopkins, William H. Macy, Sharon Stone, Martin Sheen, Harry Belafonte. It was like a who’s-who of talent. Everybody showed up on that giving 150%, we were all so proud of Emilio who, in my opinion, knocked it out of the park. The audience reaction was amazing in Venice, where it premiered. There was a ten minute standing ovation. What’s even more amazing, is that the film wasn’t even produced by Americans, but by Russians! In terms of acting, it was fun to sort of immerse myself in that character, who was so part of another time, and another mindset. Being on the set of the film was like going back in time. It was really powerful, very realistic, especially recreating those last moments. It’s funny, we shot at The Ambassador Hotel, where it all happened, right before they tore it down, and I’ve shot a couple other things there, including True Romance, and it was a really creepy place. But I’m very happy we got to shoot the film there while it was still standing.

You mentioned River Phoenix earlier. In the past year, we’ve lost a couple talented young actors tragically. You’ve been through a lot professionally and personally in this business, and you’ve survived. Is there an outlook one has to adopt to be a survivor or is it just something you choose?
What can I say? It’s a wild world. It takes a certain amount of denial sometimes just to wake up and get through the day. (laughs) But we try to show up, do our best, do our job, and try not to be an asshole in the process. If you can do that, then you’re ahead of the game.

That’s the magic word, isn’t it?


Amen, brother.

What boomers could learn from John Oates?

By Ned Mackey

Both my father and I could recognize ourselves in the faces of the crowd, almost equally divided between his generation and mine, at the Hall and Oates concert in Chicago on Friday night (July 23, 2010). A 50-something couple sat directly in front of us, while immediately behind us were three teenage girls who loudly demonstrated throughout the concert that they knew all the words to Hall and Oates’ catalogue of hits. Our three rows were emblematic of the entire theater where boomers, Xers, and youngsters joined in chorus with “I Can’t Go For That”, “You Make My Dreams”, “Sara Smile”, etc.

The show itself was a dazzling display of music virtuosity, talent, and craftsmanship. Daryl Hall’s vocals were soulful and soaring, whether he was in raspy rock, falsetto croon, or Cocker-scream incarnation, while the band–powered by saxophone player Charlie DeChant’s eclectic and exciting solos, and the scorching dual lead guitars of John Oates and Paul Pesco–was pitch perfect and tight, leading the crowd through ballads, jam sessions, and funky danceable numbers.

Due to a bear hug embrace of ’80s new wave trends, the most succesful duo of all time was once considered kitsch and relegated to the role of “guilty pleasure,” by critics unable to dismiss or dispute their talent, but unwilling to acknowledge their musical and artistic value. However, after heavy hip hop sampling and everyone from Brandon Flowers (of The Killers) and Travis McCoy (of Gym Class Heroes) citing Hall and Oates as a primary influence, the group has gained what the Chicago Sun-Times calls, in a review of Friday’s show, “unexpected indie cred.”

Thomas Conner, the Chicago paper’s pop music critic, elaborates:

Hall & Oates within the last year have enjoyed a more direct appreciation among a new generation. Daryl Hall performed his hits with Montreal-based electro duo Chromeo at the Bonnaroo concert festival. In last year’s indie film “(500) Days of Summer,” Joseph Gordon-Levitt’s character celebrates his new romance in a Broadway-like production number to “You Make My Dreams.” Smooth pop duo The Bird & the Bee released their third album this year, an entire set of Hall & Oates covers. “There’s definitely no irony,” said Greg “The Bee” Kurstin defending the release. “They’re great songwriters and these are great songs.”

The pop and R&B sensibilities of Hall and Oates possess generational and racial crossover appeal that demonstrates, through hip hop sampling, modified covers from neo-soul singers to country performers, and questionable rip-offs–Nelly Furtado’s “Maneater”, that the rock bands and songwriters that aging critics continue to cherish, including Bruce Springsteen–for whom your youthful correspondent has a special appreciation–have relatively very little influence outside a small selection of earnest rock bands with cult followings, and will soon, at least musically, be tossed into the heap of cultural oblivion as rock ‘n’ roll inches closer and closer towards its tomb.

The death of rock ‘n’ roll, which at this point is inevitable and imminent, requires serious mourning–intellectually, emotionally, and spiritually. However, neither sentimentality nor musical preference should get in the way of an honest appraisal of modern music that accepts the fact that the chief influences on the current generation of hitmakers are those that may have dipped a toe in the rock world, but existed most expressively in other genres–Michael Jackson, Madonna, Public Enemy, NWA, Tupac, Prince, and to possibly a lesser, but more interesting extent–Hall and Oates. That list is by no means comprehensive or complete, but it should be read as instructive for understanding where current musical sounds, both exciting and banal, come from.

The most refreshing aspect of the Hall and Oates performance was their expression of creative awareness and flexibility. Rather than simply basking in the nostalgic glory of a thirty-plus year career, millions of record sales, dozens of hits, and a newfound importance, they remain open to influence from the younger musicians who honor them and reveal respect for the twenty-somethings and teens who have recently started downloading their songs and buying their tickets by working to wrap their old hits in new casings.

The stage set and lighting effects had an aesthetic younger than most members of the band. Mid-way through the show, it became obvious that Daryl Hall and John Oates are keeping track of the designs and technical innovations of popular dance clubs and applying appropriate visual updates to their performance. From rave colors, including glowing tambourines, to MTV-style lighting direction, which moves at light speed, nearly all the hallmarks of contemporary clubs were central to the show.

More importantly than flashy progression is musical innovation, and Hall and Oates demonstrated a malleability to modernize, which is rare among their peers. Each month Daryl Hall televises an internet concert called “Live From Daryl’s House” that typically features much younger special guests such as Travis McCoy, Chromeo, Eli “Paperboy” Reed and Diane Birch. Consistent interaction and performance with youthful talent has paid off, and the Hall and Oates live show effectively captures how cross-generational influence can cut both ways.

“I Can’t Go For That” was turned into a funky jam, which would fit well in newly opened dance clubs judging from its updated beat and the reaction it received from the younger members of the audience. “You Make My Dreams” reached a crescendo in a new funkified ending that got the biggest ovation of the night when Hall half sung and half rapped new lyrics over a lightning quick beat. There were plenty more examples of Hall and Oates’ willingness, but more impressively, enthusiasm for adapting to musical changes–a condition that demands modesty and maturity. Hall and Oates are not merely content to teach, nor do they take their newly earned younger audience for granted. They want to learn.

Baby boomers in music, but also in politics, higher education, and the media, who continually behave with obnoxious arrogance, foolish pride, and unearned authority when myopically and irrationally clinging to their own ideas and steadfastly pursuing their own projects, without allowing input from other generations, should accept a lesson in creativity, adaptability, and integrity from Hall and Oates.

The pop duo may be a surprising source of wisdom, but increasingly insulated boomers will eventually acquire many lessons from unlikely people and places. Unwanted and unexpected instruction is one of the many costs for living, as the song says, “out of touch.” Hall and Oates, in their own small but insightful way, are working, albeit in slim company, to avoid such a burdensome price.