I'm Not Dead... Yet! (6 page)

Long before filming began, he asked me to work with him on the script. Joe sat at his typewriter and asked me questions like:

“What would you say here?” I’d speak—he’d type.

“What would the girl say?” I’d speak—he’d type.

“What would happen next?” I’d speak—he’d type.

This went on for the entire writing of the shooting script. He never gave me a writing or story credit, but I did learn an invaluable lesson: I could write a screenplay that was good enough to be made into a movie.

Four days into shooting the film he fired me. It was his first directing job and we had worked for four days and we were four days behind. Age appropriately, I thought that we were friends, so this firing was devastating;
heartbreaking
. I felt completely betrayed. A few days later the financiers made Brooks re-hire me. I told him: I wouldn’t be surprised if you’d fire your wife. (He did. Four times.)

I did my first nude scene with a beautiful, kind, young Glynnis O’Connor. (Why ever go back to school?) The day we shot the scene Brooks said, “Okay—time to get undressed.” I was still remarkably shy, even after my ‘singing lessons.’ We both took off our clothes and stared at each other, scared, in our underwear.

“You’re in your underwear!” Brooks barked. “I said take off your clothes! It’s a nude scene. You’re making love for the first time!”

There were no social workers on the set, no parents, no SAG rules or representatives—no supervision of minors whatsoever. To be a child working in New York at that time, all they needed was a permit from City Hall.

I called home. My mom and dad conferred and decided ‘if I was okay with it, they were too.’ They really did trust me. Unfortunately, they also trusted Joe Brooks and the people making this film.

So, off came the underwear. It was… traumatic. I tried to use my body to shield Glynnis from the eyes of all the set’s lookie-loos. Suddenly Joe Brooks yelled “Cut!” during our naked onscreen kiss. “Robby, you don’t know how to kiss a girl—let me show you,” and the next thing I knew he was kissing an obviously uncomfortable Glynnis. Creepy? Actually life-changing. From that moment on I did not see Glynnis O’Connor as an actor anymore; I saw her as someone I had to protect, heart and soul.

Of course, Glynnis and I fell in love during
Jeremy
.
Back in the day there was only one phone in my apartment. We’d be on the phone for hours, causing my father to say, “Are you gonna just listen to each other breathe all day?”

When a rough cut of the film, an X-rated version showing minors’ genitalia, was purposely shown to Joe Brooks, he did exactly what the producer knew he would do: Brooks disassociated himself from the film and took his name off the movie—which also meant he relinquished his points if the movie made money.

The “PG”-rated
Jeremy
was an international success; it won an award at the Cannes Film Festival, and I was nominated for a Golden Globe for ‘Most Promising Newcomer.’ The odd thing was that at the Cannes Film Festival press conference a man I never met told the press he was the writer/director of the film, and that the movie was based on his life story. I arose from my seat and in front of the international press and blurted out (I couldn’t help it—it was so wrong), “You’re a liar. I’ve never met this man before. He didn’t write the movie or direct it!” My response was exactly what the producer was gambling on—we became an instant manufactured press item and one of the big stories of Cannes that year. But I did get to go to the south of France with my girlfriend and co-star, and François Truffaut called us his “American Parfait!” Truffaut!

First love… A bond was formed between me and Glynnis, and even though we rarely see each other anymore, we are friends for life.

(Joe Brooks, who won an Oscar in 1978 for writing the song “You Light Up My Life,” was indicted in 2009 on ninety-one counts of sexual misconduct when he was caught holding fake auditions for beautiful women.)

Valuable Life Lesson:
I learned—I was a writer! I later got a 3-year deal as a writer at Universal. But seriously, what’s up with these powerful men who get their sexual rocks off in such disgusting ways?

Francis Ford Coppola (Part I)

I was cast by Francis Ford Coppola
as Al Pacino’s son, Anthony Corleone Jr. in
The Godfather Part II
. It was thrilling to be a part of one of the greatest movies of all time. I had one scene. The last scene of the movie. At the very end of the film when Al Pacino sits in a chair, alone on the lawn, looking out at Lake Tahoe, I would enter the scene and have a brief conversation with ‘my father,’ telling him that I didn’t want to be a lawyer—I wanted to follow in his footsteps and be the next Godfather.

We shot the master (the wide shot that establishes geography) and the scene went beautifully. But when it was time to move in for coverage (tighter shots, singles, over-the-shoulders) it began to rain. Mr. Pacino and I went into a nearby truck to wait out the storm. We talked. I knew him from the days when he was in
Panic In Needle Park
and hung around the theater to be with Jill Clayburgh in
The Rothschilds
. He was a really good guy.

The rain lasted all day and finally the scene was rescheduled for the next day. When I went into the house that looked out over the lake, they were trying to get the scene where Fredo is shot in the rowboat on Lake Tahoe. As they were setting up, I heard a loud argument. Finally, out of the room in the house, came a frustrated Francis Ford Coppola, behaving as a son, not an Academy Award-winning director, saying, “Momma, will you please tell Daddy to leave me alone? It’s my movie, not his!” Wow, I thought—this happens to everyone! We waited two more days for the light to be perfect in order to cover the final scene (it remained overcast and the beautiful light never returned), until the producers decided the cost would be in the millions if the company didn’t make the move to the Cuba location. (Unfortunately, weather became a running theme with me and Mr. Coppola.)

I was told that the reshoots would happen in a matter of months and we’d pick up the scene then. Sometime later I received a call from Mr. Coppola telling me how sorry he was, but his worst nightmare would be to make a “Godfather Part III,” so he found a way to end the movie without setting it up as a ‘franchise’ film. A powerful and introspective way to end the film: Al Pacino sits alone on the lawn of his compound... so alone…

I thought it was the right move. I was thrilled to be a part of the film, even if I never had the chance to shoot the entire scene. I still feel that way today. Disappointed, sure, but still honored.

Valuable Life Lesson:
Always be a team player. Always do what is best for the project.
Always
.

Death Be Not Proud
was a tough shoot for a method actor
—it took a lot out of me.

I will always be grateful to
director Donald Wrye. He fought the network executives who wanted another actor. Mr. Wrye went to the mat for me. H
e was as honest with me as any director I’ve ever had. When something didn’t work, he came over and simply said, “I didn’t believe you.” My goal became to make every moment of my performance believable.

I felt I owed that to John Gunther. The book was required reading for high school students across America.
Even though I was a young guy who didn’t understand my own medical problems, I felt a kinship with his journey. How he handled himself throughout his ordeal gave me an entrance into his battlefield, fighting to save his life.

Back in Philadelphia on the pre-Broadway tour for
The Rothschilds,
I ended up in the E.R. with excruciating headache pain. An inexperienced doctor told my parents it was probably a brain tumor—only to find out I had inherited classic migraines.

For the first time as an actor, in
Death Be Not Proud
I came face-to-face with a
true
story, a medical story that didn’t have a happy ending. I felt so close to Johnny Gunther because he understood the ‘darkness’ yet tried with every ounce of his soul to embrace the life he had left.

This understanding (even if it was prefabricated on my part) allowed me to get deeper and deeper into the role until one day during the shoot, at a San Francisco hospital, when we broke for lunch, a security guard thought I was ‘escaping from my room’
(I was still in wardrobe and make-up) and I had to get a producer to tell the guard I was an actor and I only wanted to eat lunch with the rest of the crew. That gave me a great sense of confidence because a complete stranger believed I was deathly ill, yet I felt true shame when I looked back and saw a building full of sick people who weren’t acting.

I also had to learn to play lacrosse for this film—and I remember my heart began to ‘play tricks on me’ during the filming of the lacrosse game. If you see the film and wonder why I’m so out of breath, I’m not acting...

When
Death Be Not Proud
screened in Los Angeles, I was totally unprepared for the response. As the film reached its climax and my character was triumphant even days before death, I heard… primal sounds coming from the audience. People were doing the best they could to stifle cries and sobs. Two seats away, my mother (one of my toughest critics), finally burst into tears. At that moment I knew how powerful this medium could truly be.