September 18, 2005
'My Name Is Joaquin, and I Am an Actor'
By LYNN HIRSCHBERG
After Joaquin Phoenix shoots the final scene of a film, as he did last September when he finished portraying Johnny Cash in "Walk the Line," he falls into a state of confusion and loneliness. ''It was really hard for me to leave that movie,'' Phoenix recalled, as he smoked a cigarette in the garden of the restaurant of the Chateau Marmont in Hollywood. ''I was angry and hurt and felt abandoned. I didn't know what to do. To play Cash, I had learned a whole new way of functioning in the world, and suddenly, I couldn't rely on that anymore. You go into a space of not having a routine to your day, of not knowing what you're going to say, and it's like, who are you? What are you? It's so easy to have a drink to just feel O.K. about being nothing.''
Phoenix picked at a green salad. Since the age of 3, when he saw fishermen brutally killing their catch, he has been a strict vegan, which doesn't mean, as I often suspect with vegans, that he has renounced worldly goods and has no aesthetic sensibility. In all things, from the projects he's chosen to the music he likes to his appearance, Phoenix, who is 30, has refined, particular taste: on this day, his dark green sweater brought out the hazel in his eyes; his beat-up black T-shirt was imported; and he had driven to the hotel in a loud, electric-yellow 1972 Le Mans. ''The car is a way to be incognito and fuel-efficient,'' he deadpanned. ''That car does bring out the man in me.'' This afternoon, Phoenix was a few minutes late for our meeting because he was deliberating over drapes with his decorator. ''I said to the decorator, 'They all look fine -- just pick one.' When she did, I said, 'Oh, no, it's not quite right.'''
Although he considers himself a New Yorker, Phoenix has been living in Los Angeles for most of the past year. He recently entered rehabilitation for alcohol abuse, and since April, he's been regularly attending meetings of Alcoholics Anonymous. ''This is the best thing I ever did,'' he explained. ''I didn't know anything about the program, but I looked into addiction in preparation for playing Cash. He was a big drinker, but I don't think he considered drinking his addiction. He took amphetamines and barbiturates, and I studied up on what his detox was like and what that does to your body. But for me, it was about drinking. You get this great allowance when you're an actor -- there's an expectation that you'll be drinking or you're not real. And it takes a lot of courage to look at yourself in a rigorously honest way. And I like rigor.''
Before taking the role, Phoenix did not play guitar, would not sing and was not an avid fan of Cash's music. And yet, said James Mangold, who wrote and directed the film: ''I could shoot Joaquin from the back, and without seeing his face, you would be able to tell what he was feeling. He never impersonated Johnny Cash -- he became him.''
From the age of 8, when he first appeared on television shows like ''Murder, She Wrote'' and ''Hill Street Blues,'' Phoenix has never been interested in what he calls performance. ''As a kid,'' he said, lighting another cigarette, ''I remember going up for commercials and never getting one. I realized, even then, that they wanted me to perform, which to me means to be over-the-top. Even then, I just tried to be. I don't know what that is, but we need the word for it.''
This drive for authenticity mixed with ambition probably stems from his unusual background. His parents went from being missionaries for a Christian sect called the Children of God to being believers in their five children's potential fame. By the time Joaquin (then known as Leaf) was 5, his mother was a secretary to the head of casting at NBC and was determined to present the world with the gift of her offspring's abilities. It helped that the Phoenix clan was remarkably talented and attractive. River Phoenix, who died of a drug overdose in 1993, was heartbreaking in his delicacy and emotional transparency. River led the way, and Joaquin, who was darker and yet somehow more vulnerable, was cast in ''SpaceCamp,'' his first film, when he was 11. ''It's funny,'' Phoenix said. ''We rarely watched ourselves on TV when we were children. And I think that was good. Even now, I don't watch myself on the monitor or in the dailies. I can be really affected by things like, 'Do I look good?' 'Do I look bad?' I want it to be what I'm feeling as opposed to something outside the experience.''
Toward this end, Phoenix immerses himself in his characters, whether it be the evil emperor Commodus in ''Gladiator,'' for which he was nominated for an Oscar in 2001; his breakthrough part as the lovesick high school student in ''To Die For''; or the doomed small-time hood in ''The Yards.'' These characters all have demons, and those demons are seductive and motivating. ''I understand darkness,'' Phoenix said. ''And that was definitely something that attracted me to 'Walk the Line.'''
For the part of Cash, Phoenix learned guitar and started writing songs, just ''to see what it was like to construct a verse, a melody and all that.'' He was terrified of singing. ''At first, my voice would go high, and I would sound like I was singing Christmas-carol Cash.'' Eventually, after working with a coach, his vocal skills improved dramatically. Phoenix's rendition of ''Folsom Prison Blues'' is riveting -- as if the song is being sung for the first time. That sense of discovery infuses his portrayal of Cash, an icon we all think we know.
''When I met John before all this started, he told me he'd seen 'Gladiator' three times.'' Phoenix smiled sheepishly. ''I was shocked. And he quoted two of my lines: 'Your son squealed like a girl when they nailed him to the cross. And your wife moaned like a whore when they ravaged her.' I couldn't believe Johnny Cash was quoting my dialogue. Later, I thought a lot about why those lines particularly appealed to him. He understood something about punishment and redemption.''
Phoenix stared at his hand, where the numbers 3812 were written in blue ink. He also had names scribbled on his forearm. ''That's an address,'' he explained, pointing to the number. Although he didn't specify exactly, it seemed as if it were probably the address of an A.A. meeting. ''Look,'' he said, as he prepared to leave, ''I believe there's always room for improvement. When I pray, which I've been doing a lot lately, it's to keep myself from being driven by my ego, to try and listen to what's in my heart. I'm not a murderer. I don't randomly beat people up. But I like the idea of being aware of how you interact with the world.'' He shrugged. ''There is no finish line with this. I don't think I'll ever know if I succeed. But that's O.K. -- it makes you work harder.''
The NY Times Style Magazine Fall 2005
Seems like an Aspie to me .
03 Jun 2007, 9:42 pm
