I’ve arrived at The Grange Hall Restaurant in New York City’s West Village for my interview with Stanley Tucci and, miraculously considering the war I just waged through downtown traffic, I’m 15 minutes early. The place is perfect, classic old New York right down to the dark wood and Jazz Age soundtrack. It’s also packed with a lunchtime crowd and there’s not a table in sight. Shouldn’t be a problem, since I’m betting Stanley will be late—he’s working on Ed Burns’ new project, Sidewalks of New York, and will likely be coming over from the set. Unbelievably, I spot an empty booth in the back corner and a pretty blonde points to it with a smile, like it’s reserved for me. Another miracle in the same two-minute period. The day is looking up. I order a drink, settle in like the pope of Greenwich Village, and wait for my subject to arrive.

I’m looking forward to this interview. I’ve always admired Stanley Tucci’s work, and a few weeks earlier at the Sundance Film Festival I saw the premiere of his new picture, Joe Gould’s Secret. For days afterward I rode one of those delicious, much-too-rare celluloid highs that movie junkies live for. This should be a treat.

While waiting I read over my notes. Born 1960 in New York, where he still lives. Veteran actor of television and film. Writer, producer and critically acclaimed director of arthouse hits Big Night and The Impostors. Married: Kate Tucci. Children: daughter Christine, 12, and twins Nicolo and Isabel, (born Jan. 21, providing the best reason for a dad to miss the Sundance premiere of his new movie). Production company: First Cold Press Productions. Gourmet chef and author of a new cookbook on traditional Italian recipes. Not a bad resume for a guy a couple of months out of his 30s.

At this point I look up from my notes and see another attractive woman smiling and gesturing. I love this place. She must be pointing the way to the salad bar. What service. No, she’s pointing at the man across from her at the table. He’s holding court with about five others, involved in an intense conversation. Could it be... Stanley? He’s been here the whole time. And now that the interview is scheduled to begin, he excuses himself and with the grace of Joe DiMaggio, crosses to my booth.

Stanley Tucci, always on budget, always on time.

He’s extremely polite and gracious, and has that graceful but unsettling (for a journalist) ability to get you to talk about yourself. We discuss his career, and especially his latest effort as an auteur, Joe Gould’s Secret. Based on the poignant friendship between The New Yorker’s longtime columnist Joseph Mitchell and vagabond eccentric Joe Gould in the 1940s and ’50s, this is one motion picture that rises to the level of art. I probably wouldn’t argue if somebody told me Stanley Tucci is a genius, but what I do know for sure is he’s an artist, and to me there’s very little difference anyway.

Timothy Rhys (TR): This music is just your style, isn’t it?

Stanley Tucci (ST): I know, I love this stuff. I think one of them was the Marx Brothers’ recording of "Monkey Doodle Doo."

TR: So you’re moving back to the Village?

ST: Yeah, we moved up to Westchester about five years ago, and we really miss it here.

TR: I love it down here. Loved your movie, too.

ST: Really?

TR: I’d read Up in the Old Hotel a few years ago, and when I first heard you were doing this I have to admit I was a little jealous.

ST: You were? Why?

TR: Well (blush) I’m a moviemaker, too, and I thought, ‘Oh, my God—this is going to be really terrific or it’s going to be just terrible.’

ST: I’m glad you think it’s terrific.

TR: You pulled it off perfectly. That certain feeling in Mitchell’s stories, that quiet elegance and pathos, comes across visually.

ST: I just don’t know anymore. You get to a certain point and you can’t tell. By the end of November when we finished the thing, I could no longer look at it. I despised it. But then I’d see people walking out who were crying and saying, ‘God, I loved it so much.’ They can’t all be crazy.

TR: After I saw it, I called the people at my office and said, ‘We have to interview Stanley and do something for this movie.’ Your performance (as Joseph Mitchell) was wonderful. And Ian’s (as Joe Gould) is out of this world.

ST: He’s incredible, isn’t he? I’d read Up in the Old Hotel, and I wanted to do something with Mitchell’s stuff for a long time. But I was thinking of constructing a film around a whole bunch of the different stories, and intertwining the characters.

TR: Like a Short Cuts kinda thing?

ST: Yeah, kinda. But the water around Manhattan would be the connection. So you’d have the oystermen, the fishermen in New Jersey, the fish market…

TR: He mentions that a lot in the book.

ST: Yeah, and all these characters would be sort of interconnected. Well, a little while after we made Big Night, we get this script from Howard Rodman. And it’s very pretty, and I’m thinking hmmm... Ian’s the guy to play Joe Gould, no question, right? So I’m hemming and hawing and I decide I can’t make this movie. It’s just not active enough. And Bingham Ray and John Schmidt at October really wanted to make the film.

TR: You told them how apprehensive you were?

ST: Yeah, I said this directly to them. I knew the script was good, but it just needed something. So I took five months and re-wrote it.

TR: You’re uncredited, then, aren’t you?

ST: The Writers Guild wouldn’t give me credit. (He says this softly, like Tony Soprano just before he breaks somebody’s face.)

TR: (laughs) Doesn’t bother you much, does it?

ST: (smiling, teeth clenched) Not at all. Not at all.

TR: This is our screenwriting issue, so it’s an interesting topic. Can you elaborate a little? Why didn’t they allow it? You did do the rewrite.

ST: I rewrote it substantially. I’m not taking anything away from what Howard did, because Howard wrote a beautiful script. And I don’t want to make this The Thing. But I do want to talk about it because the policies of the Writers Guild are absolutely arcane. Vicious, I would say. They are so hateful of the idea of an auteur. They just hate it, for whatever reason.

TR: That’s probably why the whole possessory credit thing is such an issue.

ST: It’s huge for them. Look, Howard wrote, I rewrote, we should both get credit. What’s the big deal? And they’re like, ‘Well, you didn’t rewrite over 50 percent.’ I said I did rewrite over 50 percent. Read his script, then read mine! The dialogue is completely different! There are new characters! Completely new scenes! The structure of the film is different! They replied that dialogue doesn’t matter.

TR: Dialogue doesn’t matter?

ST: I told them I’ve always found it helpful as an actor!

TR: (laughs) Was there no board of appeals, or...

ST: I tried…It’s ridiculous.

TR: You can’t go back on a line-by-line basis, add up exactly what’s different, reach a percentage?

ST: I did. I said look, it’s so evident! They just told me, ‘That’s too bad.’ You know, even now it’s really, really painful. It’s so painful. I worked for five fucking months. For no money.

TR: If Howard was on board with the shared credit, would it have made a difference to the Guild?

ST: No! And that’s the weird thing. I felt I had done so much work I asked for first billing. Howard was insulted by that. And perhaps rightly so. We have not spoken. I like Howard. Howard is a gentleman. It’s the Writers Guild and their ridiculous policies that, even if he had called and said, ‘Hey guys, Stanley did this thing, how about it?’ It wouldn’t have made any difference.

TR: So in the future how do you protect yourself?

ST: You can’t. To me, it’s ultimately about the movie and I have to not worry about the fucking credit. You can’t say you’ll never collaborate again. It’s a collaborative medium. Some of the guilds don’t really see it as such.

TR: They’ve become viciously protective.

ST: Yeah, but overly so. It makes me sick. They took my dues as a writer on the film and then said I didn’t write it. What the fuck kind of union is that? That’s what your union is? And you can’t sue them because the contract you signed is like law.

TR: Does seem like a discrepancy. What was their answer?

ST: I can’t remember, it was so Kafkaesque. I couldn’t even describe it. It’s just disgusting.

TR: How was the shoot itself? Was it difficult?

ST: So much fun. So much fun. Wonderful people, 35 days. Maryse Alberti shot it; she was a dream. Suzy Elmiger edited it. Andy (Jackness) designed it, Juliet (Polcsa) did costumes. It was wonderful.

TR: Did you have enough time?

ST: Yeah, I did. It was very restricted. You know, we’re shooting on location in New York, period, 43 different locations. But I’d shot enough independent films as an actor, one as a director. I knew that you have to be very specific when you’re shooting a period picture. Your frame has to be exact.

TR: Not many "money" shots.

ST: No. We shot Washington Square Park basically with one angle.

TR: Did the restrictions alter your plan?

ST: I don’t like to move the camera that much anyway. I mean, Scorsese’s a genius, and that’s one way of shooting. But to me, stylistically, if I did that, it would take away, it wouldn’t be right. It had to be as simple as possible. Although it couldn’t be too static because it was so talky. So the actors had to move, sort of truthfully.

TR: How did you create the Joseph Mitchell character? Did you do the proverbial primary research?

ST: Yes, I talked to his family, to people who knew him, listened to tapes of him. It was a very hard accent for me. I got to know his daughters. I learned what shoes he wore, what clothes, cologne, how he combed his hair. I looked at photographs. All that stuff is fun.

TR: How do you choose your projects, as a director?

ST: You just have to love it. Big Night and The Impostors are both things that I wrote. The first I co-wrote with my cousin. I prefer intimate stories. Even The Impostors, as silly as it is, is a very intimate film, in a way.

TR: The other two were ensemble pieces. Joe Gould is more about the two main characters. Was that refreshing, as a director/actor, to not have to deal with so many people?

ST: It was a cakewalk compared with The Impostors, which had 15 principal actors. That was really hard. And we only had one more week of shooting with The Impostors. With this one it was nice to take the time we needed for each scene. We rehearsed a lot.

TR: You’ve worked with Ian Holm before. I know you trust him as an actor. How is the rehearsal process different when you’re working with a veteran and prior collaborator?

ST: Ian doesn’t like to get too specific with his character. He gets a general feeling and creates from there.

TR: Meaning he likes to be spontaneous.

ST: Exactly. At least with film. With theater it’s probably different. So we rehearsed for a couple of weeks, on and off, alone in a rehearsal room. I have to say we got frustrated in rehearsal sometimes. It’s a daunting character to play, even for a brilliant actor like Ian.

TR: Had he heard of Mitchell’s work?

ST: No. It’s funny. A lot of people don’t know Mitchell. And then you meet others who say ‘Joseph Mitchell, oh, my God!’

TR: It was only five or six years ago somebody gave me the book (Up in the Old Hotel).

ST: Yeah, that’s when my wife gave it to me. I’ve kept it by my bedside for years. I still read it from time to time.

TR: How did you got into this business?

ST: I wanted to be an actor when I was a kid. So I went to SUNY. at Purchase, studied acting at the conservatory. Did some plays, later TV. Nothing unusual.

TR: Where you’ve wound up is certainly unusual.

ST: You think so?

TR: Sure. From doing relatively small parts in other people’s movies to putting these amazing projects together on your own. I don’t think that’s common. You obviously have a lot you want to express of your own vision and—

ST: —I do, I guess.

TR: —You’re not able to necessarily satisfy that creative urge except on your own. I think that’s unusual for an actor. Some have tried to do more, of course, but not often to the extent that you have.

ST: I was dissatisfied just being an actor.

TR: How so? Because you weren’t in control?

ST: Yes. I’m a control freak. Totally.

TR: (laughs) I understand. I am, too.

ST: I didn’t feel like I was using enough of myself. I like to use all of myself, and acting wasn’t doing that. I wasn’t using my visual self.

TR: Were you ever frustrated by decisions that directors were making on set?

ST: (smiles) Uh, yeah. The majority of directors I’ve worked with didn’t know how to talk to actors. That was disgusting to me. I thought, ‘Why don’t you just be a still photographer? Or why don’t you go make documentaries?’ If you’re going to tell a story, these people who are pretending to be other people need to get to certain emotional peaks and valleys. You have to know how to talk
to them and tell them how to get there.
They didn’t. And they didn’t care.

TR: Even with great actors, you can’t expect them to get there by themselves.

ST: Of course not. It’s not their job! So that was very, very frustrating. Often, I was astounded and appalled. And then you’d work with somebody who really knew how to do it and you’d go, "Oh my God, this is great!" And then it wouldn’t happen again.

TR: Can you name names, at least on the positive side? Who knows how to do that?

ST: People would do it in different ways. My friend Alex Rockwell (In the Soup) is wonderful. Robert Benton is really good in that gentle, kind, but technical way. He’d get you where you needed to go. And then you’d work with some indie guy who was like, great, or God knows who, and it was just painful.

TR: Because you had to figure it out yourself? You hear these legendary stories of guys like William Wyler, whose only direction supposedly was "Do it again. Do it again." And it seemed to work.

ST: It depends how you say "do it again." (laughs) I think it does! If you say (softly) ‘Do it again,’ the actor knows exactly what you’re talking about. Working with Herb Ross, I had the most fun I’ve ever had. He’d say, "Do it better." And I knew exactly what he meant.

TR: What did he mean? Do it more truthfully?

ST: No. Just do it better. And he was right. Another director could say that and you’d react ‘How could you say that? What does that mean? Don’t you know I know how to act?’ But he was right, and I’ve said that to people.

TR: What other kinds of movies do you have in you, that you want to do?

ST: I’m writing this movie now but I don’t really know what it’s about, so I won’t talk about it. You know how you write something and you say, ‘This is terrible. God, I hate this.’

TR: And then sometimes you look back on it and you think … Yeah, it really is terrible.

ST: (laughs) Yes, I know the feeling.

TR: Although other times you surprise yourself and you think it’s pretty damn good.

ST: I think I’m at the point right now where I’m not so sure.

TR: How do you even find time to write?

ST: I make time to write.

TR: When? What’s your schedule?

ST: I write in the mornings. During my down time. Like for Joe Gould, I set aside five months. Three months for the draft and a couple of months for rewrites. And I’m doing that now. I’m doing this little Ed Burns movie just for five days. But usually I’ll wake up and start writing about nine o’clock. I’ll probably write for about three hours, and I’ll do that over the next month and a half. Hopefully at the end of that time I’ll have a script.

TR: Is it tough to get back into it?

ST: Yeah, it’s a little hard at first, but I’ve been writing periodically, longhand, and now I’m putting it on the computer. I bounce back and forth. I reach a point where I’m very disciplined. And I will not leave the room until I know I’ve hit a wall.

TR: When do you reach that point where you feel so disciplined? When the story clicks in?

ST: Yeah. Once I have a series of issues/38/images and a general idea of a story. Otherwise, I’ll pick up my notebook periodically, write a scene or two, make a few notes, and then not go back to it for about three weeks. Now I’m anxious because I’ve made the decision to write.

TR: You’re referring to this new project?

ST: Yeah. It was easier when I was making notes. Now I’ve said, ‘Okay, now you’re gonna finish this fucking thing.’ I’ve had it in mind for a couple of years. It takes me a long time.

TR: Do you have to find financing for this one, or do you have a first-look deal?

ST: We have a first-look with USA. So I have to give them the script in the next six months. I might not even be finished with it by then. Or they could say, ‘Hey, that’s great, see ya later.’ I don’t know, it could take me five years to find the money. I hope not. I’d like to make it. But maybe it won’t even exist. Maybe my idea’s terrible, I don’t know...

TR: Do the commercial prospects of a movie make a difference as you consider doing a project?

ST: About writing it?

TR: About doing it. I mean, it’s safe to say that Joe Gould’s Secret is probably not going to make you a fortune.

ST: (laughs) I thought it was going to be a blockbuster!

TR: So if it’s something you love, you’ll do it?

ST: You gotta make the movie you want to make. If it has commercial potential, and they all have some, it’ll have its niche. Otherwise I’d just be a director for hire.

TR: There are, of course, many directors who do that. They do one for themselves, one for the ‘studio.’

ST: But for me it takes so long and I’m so…

TR: Meticulous?

ST: Yes, meticulous. And such a control freak. I would rather just do the things I want to do. I’m lucky because I have final cut with this deal under a certain budget. Up to 12-and-a-half million bucks I can do what I want to do. So really, if I wanted to go and make a big studio movie, unless I had total control over casting, and everything, what’s the point? To be tortured by people going, "Uh, aren’t you gonna do coverage on that scene? Couldn’t she be wearing something sleeveless?" Those are the kind of notes that directors get!

TR: Did it take you long to find a company that would give you final cut?

ST: Yeah, some people were interested in making deals, but a lot of people weren’t. And then Bingham and John came aboard. And they gave us this great deal.

TR: Bet you celebrated that night.

ST: It was really exciting. It’s a terrific feeling to know that you can realize your vision, right or wrong, and that somebody trusts you to do it. Bingham Ray really trusted me, and that’s huge. The thing is, I’m a very practical filmmaker. I never go overbudget on my movies. I’m not interested in wasting money on a project. In fact, the opposite is much more interesting to me. I like to see how I can do it for less money.

TR: Sometimes it comes out better.

ST: It always comes out better. TR: I think Orson Welles’ words were, "The absence of limitation is the enemy of art."

ST: That’s absolutely true.

TR: I know you admire Woody Allen’s career. You’re still a young guy. How do you see your career going? Do you want to keep acting for other directors, as well as continue to do your own projects?

ST: I love acting. And I love doing my own projects; that’s what I’ve always wanted to do. I’m not saying they won’t be bigger projects someday. That would be nice. But I have to have the control I want, otherwise I’m really not interested. I’ve always considered myself an actor first and foremost. So yes, I hope to act in other people’s movies, big and small, because that’s how I make my living, really. But I also want to produce. My partner, Beth Alexander, and I want to produce smaller films, but commercially viable films that will enable me to make the kinds of movies I want to make. That’s the ideal.

TR: Is that one of the reasons you’re moving back into the city, to help facilitate all this?

ST: No, that’s just about being able to go to the museum whenever I want to.

TR: No qualms about raising kids in the city?

ST: All my friends say it’s a wonderful experience. They tell me it’s so much easier to be in the city with kids, in a certain way. If I can keep my place upstate, go there on weekends, that would be nice. I just have to keep working.

TR: Who were your influences as a director and as an actor? At Purchase, who did you think was ‘it’?

ST: God, well we all thought Bob De Niro, Al Pacino, Gene Hackman… And as a filmmaker, Renoir, Tarkovsky…

TR: I saw Ivan’s Childhood for the first time the other night. Blew me away.

ST: Isn’t it amazing? I just watched Nostalgia again. That’s the first of his I ever saw. What a beautiful film. And then there’s Pasolini, Rossellini, all the "inis." And of course, Truffaut.

TR: You’ve just named all foreign directors. Your films also have kind of a foreign sensibility.

ST: They make films on a more human scale.

TR: (laughs) I wanted you to say it.

ST: That’s what it’s about, for me. And that’s why I liked Mitchell’s writing, too. It’s on a human scale. Those directors are without sentimentality. They’re truthful. They have their own very specific vision. Uncompromising. For right or wrong. Not every movie they made was a success, artistically or commercially. And yet they made it the way they wanted to make it. You know, it’s different if you’re a painter. You can paint paintings and hide the ones that you know don’t work. You can’t do that with a movie. They exist for right or wrong. They tell the story of who you are at the time. And that’s the extraordinarily wonderful thing about it. MM