[the times: 97/11/15]

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Dish of the day with Sam Rockwell
by Lottie Moggach

He's friendly, he's modest and he thinks Hollywood is all hype. Either that or he's a very good actor. Lottie Moggach hopes the star of Lawn Dogs isn't faking it.

If you have to sit and wait for someone, the drawing room at Hazlitt's, the beautiful, wood-panelled hotel in Soho, London, much favoured by visiting actors, is the place to do it. But as I only have an hour to talk to actor Sam Rockwell, the ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece is not relaxing.

While his publicist rushes off to see if he is ready, a young, good-looking American wanders in with bare feet. He introduces himself as Ivan, Rockwell's travelling companion and fellow actor, leans against the wall and regards me with amusement. "I'd better warn you," he says, "Sam's a real animal."

What I know of Rockwell doesn't contradict him.

The cuttings I have read are, mostly, reviews of his role as an eccentric, free- spirited nymph called Kid in Tom DiCillo's film Box of Moonlight, which was applauded at this year's Sundance Film Festival.

"Mr Rockwell," wrote a New York Times critic, "is a sexy and prankish embodiment of exhilarating freedom... [his] performance also offers a reminder that Mr DiCillo, with his early Johnny Suede, cast another good-looking nobody, named Brad Pitt."

Rockwell's part in Lawn Dogs, the film he is in London to promote, and for which he has just won Best Actor at the Montreal Film Festival, is similarly off-beat; Trent is a bronzed, enigmatic loner, who lives in a caravan in the woods, and likes to somersault off bridges naked in full view of passing cars.

"None of the mostly women surburban drivers protests as he dries himself off with his jeans and drives away," boasts the film's press release.

When Rockwell, 29, finally walks in, bundled up against the cold in a sheepskin jacket and woolly hat, apologising for being late, there is only 40 minutes left to go out to lunch and get the lowdown on a contender for the next Hot Young Actor Award.

The restaurant is only a few doors away, and it is not until his layers have been given to the coat-check and we sit down at a quiet table that I see he is much smaller than he appears on screen, and is sporting a shock of badly dyed blonde hair.

He apologises for looking so tired, and launches into the bread basket. "Man, it's been tough. These last couple of days have just been solid interviews." And, presumably, the nights have been spent decimating the women of London.

"Oh no! Not much partying at all. Well, I suppose we drank a little last night, but really, I'm trying to get in as much theatre as possible. Gosh, what great bread! This is a really nice restaurant you've taken me to!"

Sam Rockwell is not acting like the next Brad Pitt is supposed to. Does he still get a kick out of people buying him lunch? "Oh yeah, it's wonderful, it's great. It's very flattering, all this attention, but also kind of weird."

Weird in that it's taken this long to happen. Rockwell's recent success is the result of a decade of extremely hard work. He has been acting in theatre since the age of ten, and, since being plucked from acting school at 18 to appear in Clown House , has completed 17 films. His slow, steady trudge up the ladder of his profession perhaps explains why his enthusiasm for the trimmings of fame is tempered by a low-key pragmatism.

"After a while, you stop thinking that the film you're in is going to be your big break," he says. "I mean, I was sure that the TV show I did in 1989 was going to make me."

Rockwell's parents split up when he was five, and he spent his formative years in San Francisco with his dad. In the summers he would visit his mother, who was part of the New York theatre scene, and it was she who encouraged him to act.

"I did the odd bit of theatre from the age of ten, but I spent most of my time doing the usual teenage things - you know, thinking I was black, trying to breakdance and smoking a lot of dope."

In 1983 he went to the High School of the Performing Arts in San Francisco, but it was not until his last year, when he was cast in the Francis Ford Coppola-produced Clown House, that he began to think seriously about acting.

He moved to New York, where, in between "McJobs", he had a few small parts in films such as Last Exit to Brooklyn.

He also spent the obligatory season in L.A., "Going to meet the Networks"; a euphemism, Rockwell says, for utter misery.

"God, I hate L.A. It's an evil place. So uncreative. You can't walk anywhere, that's what really gets me. I lived there for eight months - it's something that you've really got to do when you're starting out. You join the scrum of pilot season. Even as an unknown, you can make the most phenomenal amount of money. But it's so awful. You go in to a room with 20 network executives, who are all holding popcorn, and they watch your screen test in total silence. Not even a chuckle. It's all very businesslike."

He did manage to get one job, however, the short-lived Dream Street, but was promptly fired. "They replaced me with someone a little more all-American. I had a bit of baby fat on me, I think I looked a little too 'street'. What's kind of funny is that the person they replaced me with is my co-star in Lawn Dogs , David Barry Gray."

This is very neat visual proof of the eventual triumph of individuality and integrity over identikit beefsteak. David Barry Gray is now playing a red-necked, football-crazy college kid, who feels threatened when the strange and charismatic Trent turns up in his surburban town, attracting all the women.

"I think David's a very good actor," Rockwell says quickly, in case I think he's crowing. "But generally, I don't think there's any longevity in being a stud." But then, he admits, asking the waiter for rice instead of chips with his steak, even he has had to concede to the body-fascism of film.

"I do go to the gym, yes, you have to stay in shape. You have to look after yourself a bit. I could do with a bit more Mike Leigh realism in films, though."

Mike Leigh is a hero of Rockwell's. "My ex-girlfriend (British actress Sarita Choudhury) made me watch Naked, which turned me on to him. He's just so, so great." The week he gets back to New York, he starts rehearsals for an old Leigh play, Goosepimples.

"The rest of the cast are all British. I get to do a British accent." I urge him to do it, and in broad Cockney straight from EastEnders, says, "Nah, don't feel like it. Don't wanna do it."

Lawn Dogs, although set in Kentucky and with a American cast, is produced (by Four Weddings and a Funeral's Duncan Kenworthy), directed (by John Duigan) and financed out of Britain. Does Rockwell like the British way of doing things?

"Yes, definitely. It's just more civilised, you know? I mean, we rehearsed Lawn Dogs for two weeks, which is really rare for film. It seems like Brits care about their projects. Also, your tastes are a little darker."

Since his break in Box of Moonlight, Rockwell has completed four films back to back - Lawn Dogs, the forthcoming Arresting Gena, Louis and Frank and Safe Men - and is looking forward to the relative ease of stage life.

"I do prefer theatre. The whole process of film is just so tedious. You're there for 18 hours a day, there's so much idle time. You just burn out. Also, there isn't the camaraderie you get in the theatre."

Does he see himself in ten years time as an Ian McKellen-ish grandmaster of the stage? Rockwell likes the idea. "Yeah, that would be great! I'd love that! I really do love the theatre."

Then, not wanting to squash his movie star prospects before they have properly begun, adds, "I'm sure you can do both, though - be a grand stage actor, and also work in film. You've just got to be very disciplined, and work very hard. That's what I've learnt - I mean, you can have an inspired moment, but if you want longevity and consistency, you've got to work hard. Can you be a Gary Oldman rather than a Keanu Reeves?"

When I say that his performance in Lawn Dogs reminded me of a mixture of Gary Oldman and Tommy Lee Jones, he is overjoyed.

"Gosh, that's a really great comparison! They're my heroes!"

Rockwell is an exceptionally down-to-earth chap, but, occasionally, his toughness shows. His cuttings quote him as saying that he got fired from Ridley Scott's film G.I. Jane but when I mention this, he says, in his lilting, amiable way, "I'd rather not talk about that too much. I should have just shut my mouth. Basically, they wanted me to scuba dive, and I didn't know that was part of the deal, and so I chose not to do it. If I want to scuba dive, I'll do it in the Bahamas, not in a cold ocean at 3am."

It's pretty forthright for a young hopeful to opt out of a Ridley Scott film, but then, Rockwell is completely self-confident, in the most modest and attractive way possible. He knows that he deserves to be successful, but his ten years of contact with the film world has restrained the crazy-eyed lust for celebrity status.

"I've seen a lot of people change into double-glazed celebrities," he says. "Sudden fame is a really hard test of character. I wouldn't want to be Leonardo DiCaprio - much as I like him - because it can't be good for you at that age. I actually think that no-one should be allowed to be famous until they're 30."

Is he ready? "I think so. Sometimes I get a bit weirded out by the thought, and wonder if I am, but I think so. I'm definitely ready to make some money, and learn how to be a better actor."

The waiter arrives with the bill, but I haven't even asked Rockwell if he has a girlfriend. As we rush back to Hazlitt's, he answers some quickfire questions.

"No, I don't have a girlfriend at the moment - I just split up with her... My life in New York is very low key, I just read scripts and drink coffee and go to the movies. My best chat-up line? Well, I can't do that at all. Ivan's the ladies' man - he pulls in the girls, and I get the leftovers."

As we reach the door, he is grabbed by his publicist and sent to scrub up for photos. Ivan is still lounging in the drawing room where I left him. "So," he says, "what did you think? Sam's a bit of a wild man, hey?" I say no, I thought he was extremely sweet, polite and modest.

"Hey man," says Ivan, with a glint in his eye, "just remember he's an actor."