Michael Douglas is remarkably low-key—from introducing himself to the reporter (as if she might not know who he is) to admitting that he was "never a natural actor and puked into the wastebasket before going on stage as a young man. Acting never came easy to me. I was a grinder." He's modest about his track record too: "The résumé looks good, but if you count the films up, I haven't done that many. I may do one picture a year. My father did five a year."
That father would be Kirk Douglas, and measuring one's achievements against those of a cinematic icon is bound to humble any actor. But the son has no reason to hang his head: His Oscar-winning turn as Gordon Gekko in Wall Street tops a long list of first-rate films, including The China Syndrome, Romancing the Stone, Fatal Attraction, The War of the Roses, Basic Instinct, Falling Down, Wonder Boys, and Traffic. Douglas is also a notable producer, and his first effort in that area, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, earned him an Oscar when it was named the best picture of 1975.
A relaxed-looking Douglas is in his New York publicist's office to talk about his new film, King of California, which depicts the evolving relationship between the bipolar Charlie (Douglas) and his teenage daughter (Evan Rachel Wood), who has essentially raised herself. Charlie is certain there's treasure buried beneath a suburban mall and convinces his daughter to help him dig it up.
"I've always loved Man of La Mancha and 'dream the impossible dream,' " Douglas says. "And this is such a cool, fresh take. I also love the way [the film] juxtaposes a great folkloric theme with parallel stories: the urbanization of California, parents acting like children and children acting like parents, and, of course, redemption." He adds that the film also has personal resonance for him, evoking "what it means when a child takes a back seat to a parent's career."
But the film still had its challenges. "When you act crazy, it's a delicate balance," he says. "It gives you freedom. But you can chew up the scenery if you're not careful. Mania can become exhaustive for the audience too. Also, a character like Charlie doesn't have a lot of redeeming qualities, so you have to gain audience support. He has to be likable, and it's tough. He's a terrible dad."
A character with likability is not necessarily something he seeks out, though. On the contrary, while he tries not to repeat himself, Douglas says, "I relish the challenge of making a villain someone an audience cares about. Most of the characters I've played are ambivalent." He cites Wall Street and Fatal Attraction, adding that those films also confirmed that he'd come into his own as an actor.
"I only make movies for myself, though I feel if we do it well enough, others will like it too," he says. "On the other hand, I liked Wonder Boys, and it never succeeded the way I thought it would. For the most part, I've been pretty fortunate in choosing movies that stood out beyond the character I was playing. So audiences knew they'd be seeing a well-made movie, even if my role in it was not predictable. I enjoy the danger element, flying without a net. I enjoy being in movies that are not necessarily comfort food."
Though not all his films are socially relevant—nor should they be, he says—Douglas is known for his liberal politics. Over the years, he has contributed to various Democratic candidates, and in 1998 he was named a Messenger of Peace for the United Nations by Secretary-General Kofi Annan. Douglas is particularly concerned with nuclear disarmament and gun control. Indeed, he says his activism takes precedence over his career: "I take these responsibilities seriously. I'm a great supporter of the U.N. and have worked hard for disarmament. I'm optimistic that now, for the first time, we are reducing nuclear weapons."
Douglas describes himself as very much a family man. He's happily married to Catherine Zeta-Jones, with whom he has two children, Dylan and Carys. He has another son, actor Cameron Douglas from a previous marriage. "I'm having a great time at home—we live in Bermuda—and it's tough to get me out of the house," he says. "Anyway, there are no roles at this point that I'm dying to play. That's not an issue anymore." And it's just as well, he says. "Though it's not as rough as it is for the ladies, of course, I have fewer roles offered to me today than I did years ago. That's reality. I can't compete with the younger men. I'm 62 years old. I'm not looking to be taking off my shirt."
Other industry realities also keep him from rushing to do another movie. "The whole business has changed," he says with a shrug. "Studios today are just a division of an entertainment media corporation. Look, it was always a business, but there was at least the sense of a struggle between art and commerce. It's gone now. That was brought home with the death of Ingmar Bergman and [Michelangelo] Antonioni. On the other hand, it's nice to see Marty Scorsese out there doing such good work. But it's a tough economic climate. You're either doing big-budget studio pictures or low-budget independent films. Middle-budget films—it's Death Valley."
Douglas sees greater opportunity today in television and on the Internet, though he admits, "I'm old-fashioned and always trying to catch up with the technology." He may even be executive-producing a TV series in the near future: "The good writers have left feature films and gone into television. I also want to produce some documentaries. It'll be a mix. But talking about it is premature."
Asked if he'll act in the TV series, he says no, explaining the conflicting approaches of actors and producers: "Actors are selfish. Producers, on the other hand, need 360-degree vision. They're responsible for everything. I certainly don't enjoy acting and producing at the same time."
Early in his career, however, Douglas began producing films to move his acting career beyond the small screen. "I had done quite a lot of television," he says. "I did episodic TV—FBI and Medical Center—and then I appeared on The Streets of San Francisco with Karl Malden. But at that time it wasn't easy for a TV actor to move from television to feature films, though Steve McQueen had done it and so had Clint Eastwood. So I created a production company to give myself roles. I gave myself a small part in China Syndrome, though it was Jack Lemmon and Jane Fonda's film, and then we produced Romancing the Stone," in which Douglas co-starred with Kathleen Turner. "But then I started to branch out to produce films that I was not in," he continues. "Other films I produced I starred in and shouldn't have. But I had a responsibility to the production company and therefore sacrificed myself as an actor on the altar of getting a picture made. But I will not say which pictures. I don't kiss and tell."
Douglas took on producing One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest at the request of his father, who wanted to star in the film, having played the wild-eyed nonconformist Randle P. McMurphy on Broadway in 1963. But by the time the son had raised sufficient capital—it took five years, he recalls—"my father was too old to play McMurphy." To rub salt in the wound, Jack Nicholson won an Oscar in the role, and Kirk Douglas has often said the missed opportunity gnaws at him. But it's also grist for the talk-show mill, suggests his son with a laugh: "My father milks it."
It's obvious Douglas has genuine affection for his father: "I'm so proud. He's remarkable, off the charts! He is one of the great film actors of all time. But beyond that, it's how he's conducted himself in the third act of his life. Twenty years ago, when he was 70, he was in a helicopter crash. At 89, last year, he had a double knee replacement. He's overcoming a stroke, and he's rediscovering his Talmudic roots. He studies with a rabbi and has found spirituality and compassion."
Did having a famous father open industry doors for Douglas? "You have to understand," he says, "my father was not the most well-liked guy in the industry. And it is true he went to summer stock with Karl Malden decades earlier, but I'm not sure that had anything to do with my getting a co-starring role in The Streets of San Francisco." But there was at least one time the family connection paid off: After Douglas was fired from the play Summertree at New York's Lincoln Center in 1968, his father bought the rights and gave his son the part for the film version.
Being the son of a movie star gave Douglas a unique perspective on the business. "I was able to watch my father live in the limelight with all the publicity," he says. "I wasn't awestruck. I saw acting as a business. At the same time, being the second generation takes the joy away from any success you may achieve. You're supposed to succeed, though a lot don't…. The big minus is that you're not your dad, and it takes longer to find your identity. My father went from rags to riches—that was his arc. What do you do about kids born with silver spoons in their mouths? What's their arc? There is no dramatic arc. Most kids of successful parents—not only actors—are usually late bloomers."
Attending the University of California at Santa Barbara "was my first act of rebellion," Douglas says. "I had been groomed for the Ivy League, but I was a hippie. Not that I knew what I wanted to do. I had an undeclared major until my third year and then decided to major in theatre arts." After graduating, he went to New York to study with Wynn Handman at the American Place Theatre. "It was a great experience," he says. "Plus, I was surrounded by all these models who wanted to be actresses!"
Douglas was able to put those distractions aside long enough to appear in George Tabori's play Pinkville at American Place and guest-star in episodic television before landing his breakthrough role on The Streets of San Francisco. "Being in that show helped me a lot," he recalls. "I knew they couldn't take a hook and pull me off. I was fortunate. As a result of a lawsuit the producers had won with ABC, we were guaranteed 26 hours plus the two-hour movie pilot. Being there every week gave me a lot of confidence. I became familiar with the camera, and I had a great mentor in Karl Malden. I think every young actor should keep his eyes peeled for a mentor. If you find someone you're comfortable getting advice from, seek it out. A mentor helps enormously, especially in an age when everyone thinks he knows it all."
Yet his acting epiphany came from within: "Early on in my career someone said to me, 'The camera can always tell when you're lying.' After that, I'd beat myself up, thinking the camera was working like an X-ray machine, knowing whether or not I was truthful. Then a light bulb went off: Acting is lying. Actors make the best liars. We're truthful in our lying. That realization relaxed me and freed me."
King of California's first-time writer-director, Mike Cahill, saw that relaxation in Douglas, though his preconception was quite different. "On the basis of what roles Michael has played in the past, perhaps with the exception of Wonder Boys, I thought he was a kind of type A personality," Cahill says. "In fact, before I met him, I wasn't even sure he'd be right for the role of Charlie. But Michael is a real '60s guy, with an interest in [the spiritual writer] Krishnamurti. Michael brought a certain focus to the part, but when necessary he allowed things to get out of focus and just be there. Whatever Charlie was thinking, there was something going on in Michael's eyes. It's in the eyes. That was the surprise factor: just how good an actor Michael is."
Cahill adds, "Michael never attempted to play director. He might talk about continuity or where the character was at any given point. But he never said where the cameras should be placed or how a scene should be played."
Though the marketplace is so unpredictable even an Oscar winner can't guarantee box office success, for the most part, Douglas says, the critics have been fair to him. Not so the tabloids, however, who harped on his early reputation as a ladies' man. "They called me a sex addict, and that stuck," Douglas says. "And of course, if you're married to a woman 25 years younger than you, they're going to be watching."
Asked if he'd want his children to be actors, Douglas responds, "Why not? Acting is a terrific profession, if you really want to act. If you want to be a star, the chances are you'll be disappointed. And you have to be able to take rejection. Anyone who watches the talent competitions on television—I'm hooked on American Idol—knows how brutal it is."
On the drawing board for Douglas is Racing the Monsoon, the second sequel to 1984's Romancing the Stone, reteaming Douglas and Kathleen Turner. "Though I won't be the love interest," Douglas says. "Kathleen will have a young hunk, and I'll be the villain." The actor says he's even toying with the idea of returning to the stage: "Lights to dark to down—I'd enjoy that. I'm looking around, but there's always the question of the time commitment. I wouldn't want to be away from my family that long." He adds, "I'm old enough now to appreciate family."