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Perry
King
A Different Story
by
Ronald Sklar
Copyright ©2005
PopEntertainment.com. All rights reserved.
Posted: September 24, 2005.
“I did a [Family
Channel] movie with Sean Young called The Cowboy and the Movie Star,”
underrated actor Perry King tells me recently. “I was playing a
guy who has a cattle ranch who is getting divorced and about to lose the
property. And just after that movie, the same thing happened to me. I
became that character.”
Even though this story,
both in real life and in the film, has a happy ending, the irony of the
tale is not lost on Perry King fans. The fifty-seven-year-old actor, with
a thirty-five-year (and still going strong) resume of wildly diverse
credits, is a study in bigger-than-life circumstance and amazing survival.
The Yale-trained King
has worked with everyone from Shirley MacLaine, Sylvester Stallone and
Andy Warhol; he was thisclose to playing Hans Solo in Star Wars,
and has appeared everywhere on the entertainment map, from major
theatrical releases like The Day After Tomorrow to the most
lathered up of the network miniseries like I’ll Take Manhattan and
The Last Convertible. On series television, he alternated smoothly
between good guys and bad guys on Hawaii Five-O,
Spin City, Melrose Place
and Will and Grace.
However, his vast list
of credits does not deter him from speaking frankly about the nature of
the difficult business he chose.
“The long resume doesn’t
mean a thing,” he says. “In fact, often it’s a detriment. Casting people
and producers and directors don’t really care how much work you’ve done.
They care about whether you’re hot, because that will bring in an
audience. If you’re not hot, it doesn’t matter if you’ve been doing it for
thirty-five years. My biggest problem is getting in the door of offices.
They may say, ‘yeah, we know his work. We don’t need to see him.’ They
think they know me.”
However, most of them
would be surprised to know the real King, and where he comes from. His
family tree reaches back to King Edward II of England (he descends from
one of the bastard sons), and to Roger Sherman and John Morton, two of the
signers of the Declaration of Independence. Relatively more recently, his
grandfather, the legendary literary editor Maxwell Perkins, personally
checked the work of Ernest Hemingway and F. Scott Fitzgerald.
“I’m very proud of the
people I’ve descended from, but it doesn’t mean anything other than being
interesting,” he says. “It has nothing to do with me. I think it’s neat
that they did what they did, but I don’t have any respect for people who
think they are somehow better in any way because they have a certain
ancestry.”
He can also add two more
branches: Priscilla Mullins and John Alden, who arrived in America on the
Mayflower in 1620. He recalls, “One time I said to my mother, isn’t
that neat they we’re descended from them, and she said, ‘Perry, lots of
people are. They had ten children! Hundreds of thousands of people are
descended from them!’”
Meanwhile, back at the
ranch: the 500-acre spread that King owns in the Sierra Nevadas is now
permanent home to his thirteen-year-old daughter, Hannah, while King and
his ex-wife take turns (every two weeks) staying there with her.
“I didn’t want Hannah to
do the ‘divorced kid’s shuffle’,” King says of this unusual arrangement.
“She was having a hard time and not doing well after our divorce. After
the dust settled a little bit, I suggested we consider that ranch Hannah’s
home. I own it, I pay the bills on it, but it’s Hannah’s house. She lives
there full-time, and her mother and I take turns moving in and out. This
is so that we do the shuffle instead of the kid, because we’re the
ones who got divorced. Our daughter didn’t do anything wrong. We’re the
ones who screwed up. It all works for Hannah, that’s all we care about.”
Although the 400-mile
commute from LA to Northern California
every two weeks could put a little wear and tear into King’s acting
career, he has a strong sense of his priorities.
“Kids don’t need quality
time – what they need is quantity time,” he says. “Ten good minutes
giggling at night just doesn’t cut it. You have to be there all the time.”
That’s why the
made-for-cable TV movie genre, of which King is king, is the perfect match
for him at this period of his life. He says, “A full shoot on a TV movie
for Lifetime is very quick nowadays -- perhaps fourteen days. But
you have a nice story with a beginning, a middle and an end. There will be
very long days, but they will only last for a few weeks or so. What I like
about it is that I can fit that into my life now.”
King’s life itself
sounds vaguely like the plot of a TV movie. Among the first of the baby
boomers, he was born the fourth of five children in the sleepy town of
Alliance, Ohio. His father was a physician; his mother a former Manhattan
socialite (“actually, there was nothing really social about her. She was a
quiet, shy lady who was a Phi Beta Kappa at Radcliffe in her sophomore
year. Then she quit to become a seamstress.”).
His father, who did not
believe in forcing his children against their will to follow in his
physician footsteps, encouraged his son to pursue his passion for acting.
Perry graduated Yale in 1970. The Vietnam draft prevented him from going
to London to study (although he was dismissed from the war as 4F).
However, his chiseled good looks and dedication to the craft allowed him
to hit the ground running in Hollywood.
“The first thing I ever did was the best part I ever had.”
King admits candidly. He is speaking of the 1971 horror film, The
Possession of Joel Delaney, in which he was offered the very rare
opportunity of landing the title lead role in his very first project. He
says, “At the time, I thought, gee, this is a good way to get
started and it’s only going to get better. I never did get a part as good
as that again. I was playing the title lead in a feature film opposite
Shirley MacLaine, who was just glorious. This is long before she had come
to the beliefs that she had, about other lives and various spiritual
viewpoints. She was a great rationalist, I think, and not somebody who
believed in other lives and spirits and I think that film had a lot to do
with her opening her mind up to that. It had something to do with
spiritismo, which is Puerto Rican spiritualism.”
Soon after, he landed
the starring role in the low-budget nostalgic powerhouse (and now a major
cult classic), The Lords of Flatbush. Fresh off the sparks of the
success of American Graffiti, Flatbush celebrated fifties rebel
culture and introduced us to future superstars Sylvester Stallone and
Henry Winkler. Although King is hard on himself in his personal assessment
of his role (“I fell so short of the mark on that one.”), this WASPy Yalie
playing a Brooklyn Jewish hood (along with Winkler, his pal from Yale) was
quite the stretch that may only happen once in a lifetime.
He says of that
experience, “Once you become known, you can’t do this, but when you’re
unknown, you can audition in character! I went to Brooklyn, I got the
leather jacket, and I talked in character. When I showed up to the
audition, I brought as much to the character as I could bring to it. I
didn’t want them to know who I really was because I figured they wouldn’t
want me. Once people know you, you can’t do that anymore.”
Though King had the lead
in the film, Sylvester Stallone – practically days away from getting
Rocky flying high now -- got the most notice. “[Stallone] started out
playing what was intended to be a small part,” King says. “We rehearsed
for a couple of weeks before that movie was shot, and that was very
unusual. Marty Davidson, who was one of the directors, wanted to develop
everything in improvs in rehearsal. We’d write it down and we’d shape it
into scenes and we’d do it. Stallone was so brilliant that he just took
over more and more of the movie and that’s the way it goes when you’re
working with somebody who has that much unique talent. He’s a brilliant
guy. Nobody has ever really recognized how exceptional he is.”
From there, it was onto
the shocking drive-in classic, Mandingo, in which King plays the
heir of a Southern plantation family of sadistic slave owners. He says,
“We all thought that we were making quite an intelligent film. When I
first read the script, I thought it was salacious junk. Then I did a lot
of research and I found out that there was a tremendous amount of truth --
that was the way life on a plantation in the pre-Civil War South was. When
[actor] James Mason and Richard Fleisher – a very underrated director --
made that film, they took it very seriously. There have not been many
movies I have been in that I like, but that’s one of them. That’s a good
film. It was released by Dino De Laurentiis as a
piece of money-making junk. And it did make a lot of money. But it was
presented as crap, and it really is a much better film than that. Perhaps
more people are starting to notice that it has more substance, more
weight.
“James Mason loved that
film. He thought it was a good. If I thought it was a good film without
him thinking that, I would question my taste. But he really believed in
it. Of all the people I’ve had a chance to work with, he was the finest,
most wonderful experience I ever had. He was just glorious to work with.
What a generous man he was. He taught me so much. He was so open and
giving with his knowledge about acting. I’ve got it all engraved in my
head. I remember all the things he taught me.”
From the proverbial
frying pan into the fire, King went on to Andy Warhol’s Bad, and,
as he remembers, “Many of the reviews said, ‘yes, it is!’ In every one of
the Warhol films there was an actor named Joe Dallesandro. So everybody
just assumed that I was him. People called me Joe Dallesandro and I gave
up arguing with them. That was like a trip to the moon. I did it because I
thought that it would be an adventure and it really was an adventure. Only
toward the end of the film is when I finally figured out how to work on
it. For Andy – and all the people he hung out with – everything was upside
down in their world. Ugly was pretty. Slow was fast. Sad was funny. They
just flipped everything. When I realized that, it became a lot easier to
work with them and to fit myself into that film.
“Carroll Baker was in
it, and Susan Tyrell, a wonderful actress. [Tyrell] was doing so well
during the shooting, and Carroll Baker and I were lost, not doing well,
totally confused. We went to Susan Tyrell and we asked her what to do. She
said, ‘you both made a terrible mistake: you actually read the
script! She said, ‘I just go in every day and wing it.’ And she was right.
An Andy Warhol movie doesn’t have a logical beginning, middle and end.
This was just chaos. The more chaotic, the better.”
From there, his career
pretty much shifted into steady gear, especially on the small screen. In
the late 70s, when television miniseries came into their own (and before
network execs realized that they were too expensive and didn’t make
money), King became much sought after. He also evolved into the go-to
romantic lead in made-for-TV movies. His big-screen appearances were
fewer, and his part in the blockbuster Star Wars –a role that
eventually went to Harrison Ford -- was not meant to be (“I saw that
audition and I thought, no wonder I didn’t get that role. I was terrible.
I was stiff as a board!”).
Ironically, however,
King was eventually cast as Hans Solo – in the radio version of the
Star Wars trilogy for National Public Radio.
“The most enjoyable
acting in the world is radio acting,” he says of his experience being one
of the raiders of the lost art. “There are no technical requirements.
Technical problems on film take up quite a bit of your concentration.
Acting on film is not as easy as it looks. You have to
hit your marks and you
have key lighting and you have to avoid overlapping. It’s not as carefree
as it might look. Stage acting has its own set of difficulties: it’s
equally difficult – maybe even more difficult – with projection and
blocking and how to open up to the audience and things like that. Radio
acting has no technique except you have to learn how to turn pages
silently. You don’t have to memorize, you don’t have to do anything but
entering the world of the character. That’s the fun of it. Playing the
game like you are a kid again. That’s the joy of it!”
The force was also with
him when he made his mark in series television in the mid-80s, in the NBC
series Riptide. He says, “Thom [Bray], Joe [Penny] and I get
together periodically. We’re good friends. It was my idea that we could
get a two-hour reunion TV movie on. We shopped the idea around a
little bit and we found out that nobody was interested. Well, I guess
we’re big stars in our own mind! [The series] probably paid for this
ranch. I loved doing it, but it was utterly exhausting. It was sixteen
hours a day. Every day, month after month. After a while, you felt like
you were hit by a truck. That was the only trouble with that show is that
it was so damn tiring, because I was in everything. When you get that
tired, you get grumpy. We may not have had as much
fun as we might have had because we were so tired we couldn’t see
straight. It was great stuff, though.”
He says, “If I do find
[my work] running on television, I turn the TV off. It’s always so
disappointing. The film in your head is always so much better than the one
that shows up. I learned a long time ago not to watch it. I do the best I
can and I enjoy it enormously, and then I walk away and, if possible,
never see it. It sounds as if I don’t care, but the opposite is true. I
care too much. It’s always – always – disappointing. Years later,
it’s a little less disappointing, because there is a distance from it, but
not after the fact. I’ll look at myself and see the same stupid idiot that
I’ve been looking at for fifty-seven years. There is no value to my seeing
it.”
Is there any one
performance of his that he can actually sit through?
“There is one film that
I really think I’m good in,” he responds, “but it’s not because of me,
it’s because of the director [Paul Aaron]. It was called A Different
Story [1978, with Meg Foster. King plays a gay man who marries a
lesbian woman in order to prevent his deportation, and they wind up
falling in love]. That was the best film I was ever in. That is one that
I actually enjoy watching. It’s a sweet, gentle, loving film. The theme of
the movie is: be true to yourself. There was a humor-filled approach to
that theme. It was so far ahead of its time that it is almost still
too soon to release it. When it was first out, it just disappeared. They
didn’t know what to do with it. It was way too soon for it – but it’s a
good film.”
As modest as he is
successful, King downplays his staying power.
“It’s a lot of luck more
than anything else,” he says. “What I’ve done is what I wanted from the
beginning. What I wanted was longevity. I just wanted to do something that
I loved to do for as long as I could. I was able to make a living as an
actor for thirty-five years, which is almost an oxymoron.”
For more information on Perry
King, go to
www.absolutelyperryking.com.
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