figured if I could go and pee in front of those four thousand people I could get back there and I could do anything on film.â
Hopper had his own Liz hang-upsâheâd hug his pillow at night and pretend it was herâbut somehow it didnât befit his role as the young upright son of a cattle baron, Jordan Benedict III, to expose himself like Jimmy. But he didnât want to get all frozen up like one of those lit-up Marfa jackrabbits he and Jimmy shot with .22s, hypnotizing âem in the headlights of the pickup truck.
âWell, you know,â advised Jimmy, âif youâre smoking a cigarette, donât act smoking the cigarette. Just smoke the cigarette when you feel like it.â
Dean had plenty of tricks up his sleeve. To embody his character, Jett Rink, the young wildcatter who had aged into a bitter drunk by the time of the climactic banquet, Dean didnât actually drink himself into a stupor when the script called for him to be raging drunk. He just spun around and around until he was disoriented, then staggered ahead, making him appear soused as he stepped into the scene and tried to regain his balance.
Suddenly it came together for Hopper. The trick was to just be . When his time came to smoke the cigarette before Liz, playing his mother, Hopper smoked it. Not smoke it all contemplative like Rock Hudson, the big hunk of beefcake playing his father, but how Jimmy smoked it.
âAnd thatâs great acting,â said Hopper. âBecause then it isnât acting at all.â
That night, Dennis ate with Dean at the Villa Capri. The Rat Pack had finally accepted Jimmy into the fold. At last showing up in a suit and tie, not his overalls, Dean clowned around with Sammy Davis Jr. like they were old pals. Jimmy was growing up. The kid had a big future ahead of him.
âI saw what you did today,â said Dean. âI wish Edmund Kean could have seen you. And John Barrymore. Because today you were great.â
Dennis started tearing up, the tears brimming.
âItâs very sweet,â said Dean. âYouâre showing appreciation for what Iâm saying, but when you really become a fucking actor youâll have to leave the room to cry. Then youâll be there.â
A year after Jimmy died, Hopper strutted down the red carpet in his black tie for the star-studded Texas-sized Giant premiere. He pushed his way into the dazzlingly lit Roxy Theatre in New York.
âYou are a very, very fine actor,â said the television hostess, wrapped in a mink stole and glittering diamond tiara.
âThank you very much,â said Hopper, holding her white-gloved hand for a little too long.
Wielding a microphone like a scepter for the telecast event, she told him how great he was with Natalie Wood the night before on The Kaiser Aluminum Hour . Yes. That was the episode where Hopper played a carnival barker who keeps Natalie, a hoochie-coochie dancer, in his evil clutches. Hopper hoped those days were winding to a close. Heâd snubbed Natalie as his date tonight for the sophisticated Southern belle of the Actors Studio, elegant Joanne Woodward with chic new Joan of Arc bangs, soon to flex her mastery of the craft by playing multiple personalities in The Three Faces of Eve .
âIs this your wife?â asked the hostess.
âNo, no, itâs not my wife !â giggled Hopper, like it was the most ridiculous thing heâd ever heard.
Bubbling with boyish charm that night, he tried to wiggle his way into Joanneâs apartment. Why was Joanne suddenly pushing him down a flight of stairs? Alas, the naive lad paled in comparison to the suave lady-killer awaiting a secret rendezvous on the other side of her door, her Actors Studio classmate with the blazing blue eyes.
That guy? Newman ? How boring . Hopper took him out one time to see Miles Davis and he didnât even get it.
âWhat is this music ?â asked Newman.
What a square. Of course Paul
Hopper had his own Liz hang-upsâheâd hug his pillow at night and pretend it was herâbut somehow it didnât befit his role as the young upright son of a cattle baron, Jordan Benedict III, to expose himself like Jimmy. But he didnât want to get all frozen up like one of those lit-up Marfa jackrabbits he and Jimmy shot with .22s, hypnotizing âem in the headlights of the pickup truck.
âWell, you know,â advised Jimmy, âif youâre smoking a cigarette, donât act smoking the cigarette. Just smoke the cigarette when you feel like it.â
Dean had plenty of tricks up his sleeve. To embody his character, Jett Rink, the young wildcatter who had aged into a bitter drunk by the time of the climactic banquet, Dean didnât actually drink himself into a stupor when the script called for him to be raging drunk. He just spun around and around until he was disoriented, then staggered ahead, making him appear soused as he stepped into the scene and tried to regain his balance.
Suddenly it came together for Hopper. The trick was to just be . When his time came to smoke the cigarette before Liz, playing his mother, Hopper smoked it. Not smoke it all contemplative like Rock Hudson, the big hunk of beefcake playing his father, but how Jimmy smoked it.
âAnd thatâs great acting,â said Hopper. âBecause then it isnât acting at all.â
That night, Dennis ate with Dean at the Villa Capri. The Rat Pack had finally accepted Jimmy into the fold. At last showing up in a suit and tie, not his overalls, Dean clowned around with Sammy Davis Jr. like they were old pals. Jimmy was growing up. The kid had a big future ahead of him.
âI saw what you did today,â said Dean. âI wish Edmund Kean could have seen you. And John Barrymore. Because today you were great.â
Dennis started tearing up, the tears brimming.
âItâs very sweet,â said Dean. âYouâre showing appreciation for what Iâm saying, but when you really become a fucking actor youâll have to leave the room to cry. Then youâll be there.â
A year after Jimmy died, Hopper strutted down the red carpet in his black tie for the star-studded Texas-sized Giant premiere. He pushed his way into the dazzlingly lit Roxy Theatre in New York.
âYou are a very, very fine actor,â said the television hostess, wrapped in a mink stole and glittering diamond tiara.
âThank you very much,â said Hopper, holding her white-gloved hand for a little too long.
Wielding a microphone like a scepter for the telecast event, she told him how great he was with Natalie Wood the night before on The Kaiser Aluminum Hour . Yes. That was the episode where Hopper played a carnival barker who keeps Natalie, a hoochie-coochie dancer, in his evil clutches. Hopper hoped those days were winding to a close. Heâd snubbed Natalie as his date tonight for the sophisticated Southern belle of the Actors Studio, elegant Joanne Woodward with chic new Joan of Arc bangs, soon to flex her mastery of the craft by playing multiple personalities in The Three Faces of Eve .
âIs this your wife?â asked the hostess.
âNo, no, itâs not my wife !â giggled Hopper, like it was the most ridiculous thing heâd ever heard.
Bubbling with boyish charm that night, he tried to wiggle his way into Joanneâs apartment. Why was Joanne suddenly pushing him down a flight of stairs? Alas, the naive lad paled in comparison to the suave lady-killer awaiting a secret rendezvous on the other side of her door, her Actors Studio classmate with the blazing blue eyes.
That guy? Newman ? How boring . Hopper took him out one time to see Miles Davis and he didnât even get it.
âWhat is this music ?â asked Newman.
What a square. Of course Paul
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