This Oliver Stone story from Jared Harris (Pryce on Mad Men) is grrreat.
Posted by
Reagen (aka Reagen)
Feb 4 '10, 07:25
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Natural Born Killers (1994)—“London Boy”
JH: That was wild. I went in to audition for a different part, and clearly, before I got in, the casting director had told Oliver Stone my name, and who I was, and that I was Richard Harris’ son. Oliver was clearly pissed off that he was seeing an English actor to audition for an American role, because I get in there, and Oliver calls me Richard the entire time, and when we start to do the scene, the casting director doesn’t even wait for me to get halfway through my lines before he gives me the cue for the next line. He’s just basically rushing me out of there. I can see that he’s cowering a bit, and that he’s being chewed out, so I’m assuming that’s what happened. It was a fucking disaster. I get out of there thinking that was a fucking waste of time. “What the fuck? He didn’t even get my fucking name right!”
So I’m going home, and a phone call comes through to my agent, and they want me to come back and read for a different part that is an English part. So I go back in there a couple of days later— this time he’s got my name right—and I’m halfway through that, and Oliver Stone cuts me off and went, “Yeah, yeah, you’re a natural. You’ve got this part. It’s yours. Do you want to… do you have a girlfriend?” I say, “Yeah.” “Is she an actress?” Now, she was just thinking about getting into the business, so I immediately go “Yeah, of course she is.” She has that one line at the end of the scene. So he goes, “Bring her along and she can say that line.” I go “Great.” So I go home, and I’m all proud and everything. I’m like “I got you a part in an Oliver Stone movie,” right? So I’m a hero for a couple of days.
We get to the set, and the girl is absolutely gorgeous, and they dress her up in this long wig with this tank top where the pits are out and these tiny hot pants and these long boots, and she looks basically like a tart on any boulevard late at night on a Friday, you know, hustling. Which is kind of strange. But Oliver’s tongue falls out of his mouth like the cartoon wolf as soon as he sees her, and he comes up to her, he goes, “Oh my God, oh my God, you are so beautiful.” He goes “You are so beautiful. Don’t you know that all the men here are in love with you?” I’m looking at him, and it’s kind of embarrassing. I’m standing next to her while he’s doing this, and I say, “Are you speaking for yourself there, Oliver?” And he looks at me like I’m an ant. “What the fuck is this peon doing talking to me? Why is he opening his mouth?” He kind of withers me with his stare, and he turns back to her, and he goes “So, tell me, have you got a boyfriend?” And she takes a little bit too long to answer. There’s this long pause, and she sort of sticks up her hand, points her thumb, and jerks it in my direction.
And he goes “Him?” And she goes “Yeah.” “With him? This guy?” She goes “Yeah.” He goes “Jared?” She goes “Yes.” He says “But… with… where did you meet… I mean, Jared?” And I look at Oliver Stone, and I went “Yes. You knew that. You asked me to bring her.” I said, “On your way, Stone. Turn around and on your way.” And he gets a bit shocked, and he turns around and starts to walk away, but then he remembers that he’s the director. He stops, and he looks back at me, and he goes, “That was a typically English thing to say.” And I look at him, and I go, “I’m sorry, what would the American thing have been? You can have her if I can have a bigger part?” From that point on, he fucked with us all day long. He was furious. That was my Oliver Stone experience.
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