New Directions for Sean Penn

“I knew without a doubt when I was in an L.A. stage production of ‘Hurlyburly’ three years ago that I’d had enough of acting,” Sean Penn recalls. “I remember thinking, ‘I’m working with strong material, with David Rabe, who’s a terrific director, and a great cast, but I’m miserable doing this.’

“It’s not that acting stopped challenging me,” he adds, as he lights one in an unending series of cigarettes. “It’s more to do with the way I approach it emotionally--for me it’s like tearing your soul apart for money. Of course, any process of psychological growth involves an element of tearing yourself apart, but you’re not expected to do it on cue at 6 in the morning for money--that’s not exactly an organic way of learning about life. So I decided it was silly to keep doing it.”

Thus, with 13 films under his belt, a controversial persona, a brief marriage to Madonna and more than a few battle scars resulting from the perils of public life, the 31-year-old actor bids goodby to his 20s and embarks on a new chapter. Acknowledged as the leading actor of his generation, a blazing talent in the tradition of Dean, Brando and De Niro from the time he first appeared on screen in the 1981 film “Taps,” Penn kisses it off without so much as a backward glance.

There aren’t any directors he’d still like to work with? “No,” he says firmly. No amount of money would change his mind? “It would have to be a lot of money. I get paid well now for what I do, so it would have to be a figure that shocks me,” he adds with a laugh.

This isn’t to suggest that Penn’s taking early retirement--rather, Penn’s debut directorial effort, “The Indian Runner,” a Cain and Abel fable written by Penn and inspired by the Bruce Springsteen song “Highway Patrolman” will be released next month. The film--starring David Morse, Viggo Mortensen, Patricia Arquette, Valeria Golino and Dennis Hopper--will be the first release of the newly formed Mount Film Group headed by Thom Mount, a friend of Penn’s since 1983.

Shot in seven weeks on location in Nebraska for just under $10 million, the film has been percolating in Penn’s mind since 1982. A harrowing family drama involving themes of loyalty, betrayal and the human drive toward destruction, this complex, multilayered film will need some help from Penn in finding an audience. He knows that too, so despite his often expressed aversion to the press, he’s agreed to be interviewed.

Dressed in nondescript clothes--black slacks and a sport coat over a white sweat shirt--and slumped down with a glass of iced tea at a corner table in the coffee shop of a Westwood hotel, Penn comes across very differently from what his reputation leads one to expect. During his days with Madonna, Penn earned a name as quite the brawling boozer--he even wound up doing a month in jail in 1987 for punching an extra on the film “Colors.” Outspoken and aggressive in his work, he’s also had some rather heated professional relationships.

However, it’s hard to connect all that conflict with the soft-spoken, thoughtful man who turns up today. Granted, Penn is noticeably guarded and wary (you get the sense he always feels he’s about to be ambushed), but there’s an endearing streak of idealism about him; something sweet and straightforward that make him easy to like. Last spring, he and his girlfriend of two years, actress Robin Wright, celebrated the arrival of their first child (a daughter they named Dylan), and this event no doubt played a role in his mellowing. More significant, perhaps, is that Penn managed to take control of his life and put a stop to the aspects of it that were making him unhappy and is now venturing forth into new creative terrain.

“I’ve been around movies a lot, so I pretty much knew what to expect from directing,” says the L.A.-born actor, whose father, Leo Penn, is a director and mother, Eileen Ryan, is an actress. “The most pleasantly surprising part of it was I discovered I wasn’t quite the megalomaniac I thought I’d be, and that made making this movie a real joy. It won’t upset me if people love the film or hate it, but I think--and I don’t mean this as a pat on my own back--that it’s not conventional movie making. The movie isn’t structured to scratch the itch the moment it occurs, but if people stick it out, the itch gets scratched.”

Thus far the critics agree with Penn. When the film screened at Cannes in May, Roger Ebert described Penn’s directing as “heartfelt, strong and true”; the Hollywood Reporter said that “Penn guides this commanding hard-edged drama like a seasoned pro,” and Variety observed that “as with the work of John Cassavetes, ‘The Indian Runner’ is rooted in a commitment to the actor’s process above all else, and a belief that the truth will best emerge from the combustibility of emotions between performers.”

But then, the critics have always been on Penn’s side. Even when his private life was being smeared across the tabloid press, his work was treated with a respect that was usually warranted. From the permanently stoked surfer Spicoli in “Fast Times at Ridgemont High,” to the whining, coke-snorting weasel in “The Falcon and the Snowman,” to various interpretations of the brooding loner (“Bad Boys,” “At Close Range,” “Colors,” “State of Grace”), Penn consistently proved himself an actor of range and originality.

“Sean’s not afraid of going way out there--he’s fearless, and that’s what makes him such a special actor,” says Amy Heckerling, who directed “Fast Times at Ridgemont High.” Despite his brilliant comic turn in “Fast Times,” his other comedic performances--in “Shanghai Surprise,” “Crackers” and “We’re No Angels”--fell flat, but even then, Penn’s acting was never less than interesting.

Equally interesting is the way Penn has handled his fame. When he married Madonna in 1985, a degree of notoriety was thrust upon him that he never wanted and he struggled against it throughout the stormy 18-month marriage. He simply refused to accept that his life was no longer his own because the media had taken an interest in him, and all the photographers lurking behind bushes, all the reporters who asked prying questions and then proceeded to misquote him, felt the full force of Penn’s wrath.

Reflecting on the media assault he endured during the mid-’80s, he says: “My experience with that was short term--as soon as my marriage ended that craziness ended, and my life’s been pretty simple ever since. The way I got through that period was by remembering that there was really nothing they could do to harm me. I don’t have to have an acting career or a directing career.

“I’ve always been fueled to some degree by anger, and I think I’ve always channeled my anger constructively,” he says of his behavior during that period. “I never hit anybody who didn’t damn well deserve to get smacked, and I don’t have a single regret. Obviously if slugging someone can be avoided it’s certainly preferable, but there are times when it’s the appropriate action to take. I was in the eye of a media hurricane, which is kind of a no-win situation.

“One thing my experience with the media led to was I stopped reading newspapers, because I learned firsthand that the media lie. I also learned what a precious thing anonymity is, and though I have it in certain situations, people approach me fairly often. As to what they want from me, I think I represent a curiosity. Am I gonna grunt at them, or will I give them an autograph? Nine out of 10 people who come up are just as willing to tell me I’m an (obscenity) as they are to say, ‘Nice to meet you.’ I get a lot of people with chips on their shoulders.”

The emotions the public feels toward high-profile figures like Penn may be ambivalent, but they’re undeniably intense. Asked why actors and musicians have been elevated to such a powerful position in the culture, Penn says: “It’s a misguided, pathetic attempt to fill other needs in people, and it’s a sickness that’s gone much too far. Most stars are regarded with a bizarre mix of admiration and curiosity--there’s a freak-show aspect to the whole thing. As a kid I used to go to the drag races, and at the races there was always a section of people who went to see the accident, and America’s obsession with celebrities is sort of similar. It’s a sad relationship all the way around. I’ve been around a lot of celebrities, and I’ve seen how much of their souls some of them give up to keep people interested in them.

“As far as what’s in it for people who obsess on celebrities,” he adds, “there’s a universal need to masturbate, and a lot of people are too repressed to do it themselves. I don’t mean this literally, but there’s a lot of masturbating going on in movies and music right now. People too repressed to do it themselves support it by watching, but the cultural significance of it is nil. It’s a vacuum.”

Penn was quoted in the past as saying that the hostility he’s experienced from the press was partly attributable to the fact that in marrying Madonna, he’d claimed an untouchable icon who was the property of the public and the media. Does he still believe that? “Sure,” he says, “that was certainly an aspect of it. I think anybody short of a prince or a Kennedy would have run up against what I went through. That whole thing was a fiasco on every level.”

How large a role did the press play in derailing his marriage? “The answer to that is no big secret to me, but to answer that I’d be saying private things involving another person without their permission, so I’ll say nothing.”

Penn’s former wife isn’t so reluctant to talk about him, and in recent interviews she’s made no secret that she’s still carrying a torch for him. When Penn is asked how he feels about the fact that Madonna continues to talk about him publicly, an amused smile flickers across his face, and he says: “I like Madonna. She says a lot of things, some of which are very dramatic, but as far as some of the more personal things she’s said, my reaction is that sometimes it’s fun to believe things from a safe distance. Mostly I take what she says with a grain of salt. I don’t have any negative feelings about her talking about me.” He says he hasn’t seen Madonna’s film “Truth or Dare.”

By all accounts, Penn has changed considerably in the years since his divorce.

“The Sean Penn of today is very much a man in transition,” says producer Thom Mount, “and I think he’ll have a much better relationship with the media as a director than he had as an actor. I would add, however, that the controversy surrounding Sean is somewhat overblown. When we were shooting the film in Nebraska, the people there were tremendously supportive of him and we saw very little of the querulous backbiting one gets from media types in L.A. and New York. Most of America just doesn’t revolve around the same narrow group of restaurants--thank God.”

Says Dennis Hopper, who directed Penn in “Colors” and has a small part in “The Indian Runner”: “A lot of people who’ve worked with Sean have misunderstood him. They don’t know how to handle his intensity, and a lot of them are such control freaks they’re incapable of working with somebody who’s really dedicated and wants to be completely involved in their work. A lot of directors would rather have somebody they can just move around, who does their lines and doesn’t demand any creative input, but Sean can’t function as a puppet, because he’s a creative person.

“I think people will get an idea of how talented he really is when they see ‘The Indian Runner’--there’s no doubt in my mind that it’s a great film, and as a first effort it’s unparalleled.”

Hopper’s view of Penn as taking an auteur approach to acting is shared by others who’ve worked with him. In fact, Penn’s thwarted need to be more involved in the films in which he acted may be at the heart of his shift to directing. By all accounts, it irked Penn deeply when he was expected to disappear after turning in his performance--he felt entitled to have creative input into every aspect of his films, and many of his Hollywood feuds erupted over this very issue.

Penn himself makes no apologies for his past and dismisses talk of his transformation. “I’m supposed to have made the transition from boy to man, but I don’t know if I buy that. I think human beings grow in some ways and regress in others, and that in terms of living a mature, rational existence, I probably had more on the ball in certain ways when I was 5 than I have now. The biggest change I’ve seen in myself over the past few years is I gain weight a lot easier,” he says with a laugh.

“Actually, the most significant change is that on a personal level I’m no longer interested in acting. The thing that interests me now is the idea of compassion. Not only is that quality lost in this country right now, it’s seen as an alien idea. It’s become acceptable in this country to be indifferent to your fellow man. As to how we lost our compassion--ask the Republicans. Let’s face it, we have an insane fascist in the White House.”

Compassion and the ability to forgive are central subtexts in Penn’s film, but they’re presented cloaked in complex metaphors. Asked to explain the themes in the film, Penn demurs, saying: “One of the most destructive aspects of being a public figure is the opportunity like this one for self-indulgent people to talk about themselves and their ideas. I’m so tired of hearing actors talk about things! Of course I have my own ideas about the themes in the film, but it’s limiting for me to articulate them here because it’s not important that audiences interpret them the same way I do.”

Penn’s self-effacing attitude surfaces again when he’s asked about his directing style. “What’s my style? Knee-jerk. That’s a valid question, but it’s the kind of thing I worry about talking about. One of the most negative things that’s happened with the advent of cable is this endless barrage of behind-the-scenes, this-is-how-we-do-it segments on film. By the time people actually see the film, they feel like they’ve not only already seen it but that they could’ve made it themselves.”

Penn’s cast and crew aren’t so reluctant to discuss his working methods.

“Sean was pretty relaxed and he tried to make us feel at home, but he basically has a very forceful style on the set,” says Viggo Mortensen, who plays Frank, a violent, brooding loner (one imagines that this is the part Penn would’ve played if he were acting in this film rather than directing it). “Sean pretty much let me find my own way of playing this character and gave me lots of room to work, but he was still always there 100%. He really put his guts into this picture--and I had the honor of playing the spleen.”

Says producer Mount: “Watching Sean work I was reminded of John Huston. Like John, Sean is terrific with actors, but he also has a clear master plan for blocking, camera movement and the entirety of the scene as to how it relates to the scene that follows it. He’s able to operate on two levels--the performance level and the strategic level necessary for building dramatic structure.”

“Sean’s incredibly inventive with his camera,” Hopper enthuses. “He cares about his actors--he’s got all the things a great director should have. I think hands-down he’s a great director.”

Only time will tell if Penn is in fact a great director. Now working on an original script titled “A More Perfect Heaven for the Heart of the Big Dog,” and preparing to film an unproduced screenplay by his late friend John Cassavetes, he’s caught up in the excitement of beginning a new body of work. However, he harbors no illusions about the road he’s about to travel.

Summarizing the current state of movies, Penn says: “It’s a tough go, but it’s never not been--to make an interesting movie with a few ideas in it has always been hard. One thing that has changed is that commercial films are worse than ever. When movies like ‘Jaws’ started happening they changed the standard to the point that for a movie to be considered a success it has to make $100 million, and that’s put a limit on how much of a risk studios are willing to take with a picture.

“I particularly don’t like the movies that are getting a lot of critical respect right now. I don’t like movies that set out to shape the culture, and I have a real strong negative reaction to a movie when I feel the movie maker has concocted a dream for me instead of sharing his dream with me--movies like that make me feel pandered to.

“One of the biggest obstacles I’ve had to overcome in my life is accepting the fact that in the work we do in the movies, at least half the time everybody’s wrong-- wrong meaning being dishonest in one way or another,” he adds in conclusion. “Movies have a tremendous capacity to create false expectations of life, and that’s why it’s so important that the people who create popular culture understand the difference between a shared dream and a contrived dream. At this point the contrived dream is in control, and it’s incredibly big and there’s endless amounts of money to be made from it. I don’t know how it’s going to be turned around or where it’s going, but wherever it’s going, I don’t want to help it get there.”