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When word leaks out that you’re going to be interviewing Mel Gibson and Danny Glover, the stars of Lethal Weapon and its new sequel, called (what else?) Lethal Weapon 2, you can count on getting two reactions.
Reaction No. 1 (from females of all ages): “MEL GIBSON?!? Oh, my God! Really? Can I go with you? Please? Pleeeese? Pul-leeeeeese? I’ll do
anything . . . “
Reaction No. 2 (from journalists): “Mel Gibson, eh? Tough luck. I’ve heard he’s as friendly as a swamp adder and half as chatty.”
Yes, nearly every story written about Gibson has made him sound like an interviewer’s nightmare–a star who detests talking about himself, his films, his career, his private life, his public life, what he had for breakfast. And topping the list of subjects Gibson most abhors, it has been reported, are journalists, whom he once summarized as the kind of folks who’d “discredit a five-year-old mongoloid.”
The press, in return, dubbed the “Mad Max” star “Mad Mel.” Even when People magazine hailed Gibson as “the sexiest man alive” in 1984, the author of the piece described him as “slumped and sullen,” “acutely uncomfortable in his own skin,” “always . . . at odds with his surroundings.” And he spit a lot.
“I don’t even want to be doing this interview,” Gibson reportedly said while spitting. “I don’t even want to be making this film (Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome). It’s just a piece of shit.”
Not a pretty picture. But if it’s true, who is this relaxed, good-natured, pun-loving fellow occupying “Mad Mel’s” chair in a Vancouver hotel? This guy who’s having a ball cracking “Rob Lowe Job” jokes? (“Well, he’s made his own bed, hasn’t he? Now he’s got to lie in it. Like a rug . . . “)
Permit us to introduce “Mellow Mel,” one of the most misunderstood figures in pop-entertainment journalism.
“Oh, no, I LIKED Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome,” Gibson says. “Really. That quote was directly related to the person I was talking to. I think what I meant to say was, `You’re a piece of shit.'”
Laughing a twangy Australian cackle, Gibson leans back and lights the first of the few hundred unfiltered cigarettes he will smoke in the next half-hour–one of only three small signs that he may be ill at ease Meeting the Press. (The others are constant table-drumming and a pair of knees that never stop bouncing.)
“The truth is,” he continues without prodding, something “Mad Mel” would never do, “that interview came right at the end of a very long work period. I’d just done four films in a row, and I needed time to recharge my batteries, to get my mind right. So after that I went to my farm in Australia, where I have 200 head of cattle.” [Not to mention four children and the former Robyn Moore, his wife of almost ten years.] “I couldn’t get further from filmmaking, and that’s what I love about it. That life is all the better for this one, and vice versa.”
On top of this, Gibson admits in a burst of unsolicited introspection (something else “Mad Mel” would never do), “I’ve changed a good deal. It’s just a process of maturation. Remember, I was in my early twenties when I started getting this attention. To a young mind, realizing you’re going to get a few bumps along the way is an adaptation you’ve got to make. Especially if you’re not sure about things. And I wasn’t sure about
anything.
“I mean, you’re 23, 24, you’re not sure who the hell you are or how you fit into the grand scheme of things. You have strangers digging around in your life, and it irritates you. But now I really don’t give a shit. Life is too short to get upset by those things or to take them seriously. I still take acting seriously, but I know that it just doesn’t matter much. Once you sort of demystify the whole thing, what is it? It’s not the cure for cancer.”
Although Gibson is described in women’s magazines everywhere as “the dish from Down Under”–a label that makes him cringe–he was born, 32 years ago, in Peekskill, New York, and maintains his American citizenship. When he was twelve, his father, an Aussie who worked for the railroads here, moved his family back to Sydney and enrolled his son in Catholic school.
As young Mel was deciding what to do with his life, one of his sisters secretly submitted his application to the prestigious National Institute of Dramatic Arts–and he was accepted. While in school, Gibson won his first two film roles: as a beach bum in “a cheap, nasty flick” that nobody saw called Summer City, and as a warrior in a post-apocalyptic wasteland in Mad Max, a $300,000 action-quickie that everyone saw, to the tune of more than $100 million.
For his subsequent work in Tim and Gallipoli, Gibson received the Australian equivalent of Oscars. His international star status was first clinched by The Road Warrior (a.k.a. Mad Max 2), then The Year of Living Dangerously. In her review of that film, critic Pauline Kael, who doesn’t swoon often, called Gibson “passionate, shrewd, relentless” and, of course, “sexy.”
There may have been less to swoon about in his later films (The River, The Bounty, Mrs. Soffel, and Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome). But if any Gibson devotees began to stray from the fan club, they returned in droves for 1987’s Lethal Weapon, a fast-paced action thriller in which their fave played a CIA-trained homicide cop pushed to the emotional edge by the death of his wife–much to the dismay of his newly assigned partner, played by Danny Glover.
Those fans are now being returned to movie heaven with Lethal Weapon 2, a smashing follow-up in which Gibson (sporting a freshly ironed-out psyche) and Glover try to crack a narcotics and money-laundering syndicate run by white supremacists with a connection to South Africa. Kablooey.
At first, Gibson fought the idea of a sequel, but gave in when Glover, director Richard Donner (Superman, The Goonies), and the entire Lethal Weapon crew–down to the guy who catered lunch–re-upped for action.
“Any sequel is potentially dangerous,” Gibson says, “and it’s little wonder why. Very few of them succeed. You’re sort of trying to outrun yourself. But this was a first-class script, and I couldn’t resist working with these people again. Dick, Danny . . . it’s ridiculous getting paid to work with jokers like that.”
An additional plus, he says, was security. “In a way, being an actor is like pulling your pants down in front of everybody. You’re an emotional prostitute. And if you don’t know the people you’re working with, well, it’s like me getting up in the middle of this table and singing a song.”
At this point in the interview, Gibson does get up in the middle of the table and sings, “THE HILLS ARE ALIVE, WITH THE SOUND OF MUUUU-SIIIIIC . . . .” Returning to his seat he says, “See? It’s hard. I’m no Maria von Krapp.”
Anyway . . . “We didn’t have to go through that getting-to-know-you stuff on this film. We were loose. And Danny was really cooking. I mean, he was great before, but this time he was really energized. Halfway through the movie, he admitted to Dick [Donner] and me that he was a little uncomfortable working on Lethal Weapon. We couldn’t believe it. He said he was intimidated by us. We sat there saying, `What?!’ It surprised the heck out of me. I’ve never intimidated anyone as big as Danny.”
It is hard to imagine. At six foot five and 215 pounds, with hands the size of Rhode Island, you wouldn’t think Danny Glover would be put on edge by anyone. But he swears Gibson’s story is true.
“I’m intimidated by everyone I admire,” Glover says. “But there’s really no pressure in it. It’s something you grow into, something that allows me to feel and acknowledge all the things that are happening to me. It’s like some actors get nervous before a performance, and they use it to enhance their work. That’s what I do. I love being intimidated. It usually means I’m in good company.”
Glover, 42, became a name-above-the-title movie star with Lethal Weapon, but the ex-San Francisco stage actor hardly lacked critical or audience attention before it–thanks to a career-establishing series of performances in The Color Purple (he played the abusive, tormented Mister), Places in the Heart (the sharecropper Moze), Witness (a detective), and Silverado (the noble cowboy who joined forces with Kevin Kline and Kevin Costner to rid the town of bad guys).
Stardom hasn’t changed Glover since he told his visitor, after The Color Purple, that he loved acting so much he’d be happy to do it free. But the man’s business acumen has sharpened considerably. When someone mentions that they’d recently seen Places in the Heart on commercial TV, Glover rubs his hands together, grins and says, “Residuals! Oh, how I love residuals!”
Glover laughs when reminded that he once vowed never to make a Lethal Weapon sequel. “Did I say that? Nawwww, I didn’t say that. I did? Well, I lied.
“You know, everything comes together in a certain way. We had no idea how successful the first film was going to be. I loved my relationships with everyone who worked on it, but that doesn’t mean anything. I loved my relationship with Lawrence Kasdan on Silverado, but that doesn’t mean a sequel’s gonna come out of it.
“We often lose sight of the fact that actors actually like working in situations where they work comfortably and grow. The industry is tough enough as it is, and finding people whom you like working with gives you a great feeling. It’s something special. And when you find something special, well, the first thing you learn in acting is don’t mess with it. Don’t analyze it. Don’t think about it. Just be happy that it works and take advantage of it.”
Speaking of his working relationships, inquiring minds would surely love to know what’s it like to hang out with Mel Gibson.
“I don’t know!” Glover exclaims. “After two movies, I don’t know! We both go home to our families! He brings his family with him, and I bring my family with me. Wait a minute. I think we went out to a Lakers game. Oh, yeah, and we went out for breakfast once. We had bacon and eggs over in [Los Angeles’] Crenshaw area. Is that the kind of juicy stuff you’re looking for?”
Not exactly.
Of their on-screen chemistry, which seems to bring out the best in both actors, Glover says, “We really didn’t have to learn to like and trust each other. With us, that happened immediately, the moment we started reading through the first script. We genuinely liked each other right off the bat, and that made it easy.
“You can act our kind of chemistry. If you don’t like the other person, but you like something about them–their table manners or whatever–you can focus on it and magnify it. But with us, there was nothing to object to. There was none of that bickering that gets in the way of creativity and causes needless tension.
“The thing is, I trust Mel. He’s very generous. And vulnerable. It’s all there with him, everything you could want from another actor. I’d walk to the end of the world for him.”
Now that the former Mad Mel has taken control of his life, he’s now taking greater control over his career by accepting “the kinds of projects that are difficult to pull off when the decision-makers prefer to see you do the same things over and over again.” The first of those is “a fresh interpretation” of Shakespeare’s Hamlet, in which he’ll play the Danish prince under the direction of Franco Zeffirelli
(Romeo and Juliet).
“It’s going to go where no man has gone before,” Gibson promises in his best William Shatner voice. “I’m sure I’m going to get kicked around for it [by the critics], but I don’t care. If the reviews are good, good. But I won’t give a shit if they’re bad.”
One last question. Is it true Gibson was asked to play Batman?
“Nah.”
If he had been asked, would he have slipped into the Batcloak?
“Not a chance. Well, let’s put it this way: I’d have given it some serious consideration if they offered me a lot of money. $90 million? Sure, I’d have done it. I may be a lot of things, but I’m not mad.”
Nope. Not Mellow Mel.
