Articles about...
Olivia D'Abo
Jason Hervey
Snuffy Walden
Giovanni Ribisi
Lanei Chapman
Ben Stein
Neal Marlens



Olivia d'Abo



1) Olivia d'Abo, teen rebel of Wonder Years, handles fame and a romance with Julian Lennon just like a grown-up
2) Learning to Say No
3) 'Big Green': Just another 'Ducks' out of water

OD1) "Olivia D'Abo, Teen Rebel Of Wonder Years,
Handles Fame And A Romance With Julian Lennon Just Like A Grown-Up"

by Cynthia Sanz, People, May 21, 1990



Outside the funky, half-million-dollar house near the Hollywood Hills, a ponytailed gardener waters a bed of flowers, a handyman lugs a ladder, and a crew of cleaning men unload buckets from a car. Cuddling her Labrador on the front porch, the owner surveys the action and smiles with satisfaction. "I like to have all these men running around," says 21-year-old Olivia d'Abo. "It makes me feel like Norma Desmond."

Not that anyone would be likely to confuse the fresh-faced young actress who portrays Karen Arnold on TV's The Wonder Years with Sunset Boulevard's withered has-been. But d'Abo is not quite the rebellious flower child she plays in the Emmy-winning ABC series either. Her house, bought with her cousin, actress and Bond girl (The Living Daylights) Maryam d'Abo, 28, was a levelheaded real-estate investment she made at the tender age of 19 to avoid "piddling my money down the toilet every month." And she's handling rumors of her engagement to rock-star boyfriend Julian Lennon (son of late Beatle John) with equal clearheadedness. "We're just close," she says. "I don't think either of us is ready for marriage yet, but we'll take it day by day. I think what's important is that at the end of the day, we both understand each other as artists."

D'Abo and Lennon were introduced by mutual friends at Olivia's 21st-birthday party last winter (Julian's 27) and immediately hit it off. "When we met each other, we spent the whole evening playing different things on the piano together," she says. "I've never met anyone who was as much like me as Julian. He's like a male version of me." She thinks one of the reasons is the similarity of their childhoods. "We have the same background and influences, coming out of the 1960s from our parents," she says. "It's funny."

The daughter of English songwriter Mike d'Abo (the lead singer of the 1960s rock group Manfred Mann) and model-actress Maggie d'Abo, Olivia aspired to show business early. "She used to compose songs at the age of 3," recalls her father, now a BBC broadcaster, producer and radio talk show host in London. "I remember riding in the car and she would make up songs about cats." But until the family left England for an artists' colony in Taos, NM, in 1976 (Olivia was 8 and her brother Benjamin 9), all those songs were in French. "I went to a French school, and it was more or less my first language," d'Abo remembers. "I didn't know how to read and write English until I came to this country."

It was in Taos that Olivia took an interest in acting, performing with her father in community theater productions of Fiddler on the Roof and Guys and Dolls. After her parents divorced and Maggie took the children to Los Angeles, where she sells real estate, Olivia decided commercials might be a door-opener for her. She did win a McDonald's gig - but her quick success backfired on her. "In the beginning, her natural talent worked against her because she felt she didn't need to prepare for auditions," Maggie says. "When she lost several roles because she had not done her homework, she finally realized that being an actress is hard work."

Still, by 16, d'Abo had co-starred in four movies, including Conan the Destroyer with Arnold Schwarzenegger. The experience helped mature her. "I was the only person on the set of Conan my age," she explains, "so I had to be on another level." And when her agent brought her the first script for The Wonder Years in 1987, her already practiced eye knew it was something special. "The script just had so much wonder and mysticism to it," she says. To win the part of Karen Arnold, she spent weeks researching the '60s and showed up for the auditions in tie-dyed duds and love beads.

On the set these days, d'Abo is known as a bit of a clown. "She's a kook," says Jason Hervey, who plays the bullying middle child, Wayne Arnold. "If you look into Olivia's eyes, you can see she's not all there, she ain't got all her dogs barking." But she has enough to give Fred Savage (the youngest child and hero, Kevin) a good case of puppy love. "She's the most unusual, most exciting and nicest person you could work with," he says. "If I were 30, she would probably be my type."

D'Abo has not yet given up on her own first love, music. She recruits Hervey and Savage for impromptu rap sessions and hopes someday to land a recording contract. "All my music is very simple, just piano and voice," she says. "It's like Carole King or Rickie Lee Jones, a lot of ballads and honky-tonk." While she won't be singing on Lennon's next album, she cautiously hints that they may collaborate in the future. "I listen to his stuff, and he listens to mine," she says. "I think things like recording together kind of come in time." Eventually, d'Abo wants to raise a family, but that will have to wait. "I really want to have a career first, before I have kids," she says. "I know there is an amazing mother inside of me, but I'll sacrifice that need until I know I can do it properly."

D'Abo is now awaiting the release of her newest film, Spirit of '76, a futuristic comedy in which she co-stars with Leif Garrett and David Cassidy, and trying her hand at an L.A. theater production of the British musical It's a Girl. "It's very easy to be on a series and earn money every week, but you really need to keep focused on why you are doing what you are doing," she says. "This play enables me to do music and singing and dancing, to really use my talents to the fullest." One of her favorite acting experiences so far was Beyond the Stars, a film she made last year with Martin Sheen. Even though the movie never played theaters and went straight to video, d'Abo says she learned a lot from her politically conscious co-star. "We would have long lunches together, talking about a lot of issues," she recalls. "It was strange because most girls my age would probably be, like, `Oh, my God, what are your sons like?'"

But then, d'Abo outgrew her age ages ago.

OD2) "Learning To Say No"

by Paul Young, Buzz Inc., 1995



Prancing around in a string bikini, Olivia d'Abo made an indelible impression in the otherwise forgetable 1994 comedy Greedy, playing a free-spirited sex kitten who purrs her way into Kirk Douglas's heart - and bank account. Now, in The Last Good Time, out this month from the Samuel Goldwyn Company, d'Abo once again plays the spring end of a May-December romance, in this case a 20-year-old runaway who becomes the object of an aging violinist's obsession. "After I got the part," says the 25-year-old actress, "I was trying to figure out if somebody was trying to tell me something, because all my leading men seem to be over 65!"

The Last Good Time, though, is no comedy, and by playing it straight, d'Abo turns what could have been a creepy grandpa thing into a moving tale of human need. "I was concerned with the love scene," she admits. "Not because of the age difference, but because if the audience didn't understand how much the two characters needed each other, the whole thing could have come off wrong."

A master of foreign accents and physical comedy, the British-born d'Abo is best-known to audiences as the hippie sister from the ABC series The Wonder Years. But she is equally proud of a job she was offered but didn't take - a regular spot on NBC's Saturday Night Live. "It was a dream come true to even be considered," she says, "because I've always looked up to women like Gilda Radner and Lily Tomlin, but I just couldn't make the five-year commitment."

That's just as well. With no fewer than four films slated for release this year, d'Abo says she's finally learning how to say no. "That's always been my biggest problem," she says with a laugh. "I'm a complete pushover."

OD3) "Big Green: Just Another Ducks Out Of Water"

by Roger Ebert, The Detroit News, September 29, 1995



I am unspeakably bored by the prospect of writing a review in which I observe that The Big Green is a retread of The Mighty Ducks. You know this, I know this, and without a doubt the people at Walt Disney Pictures know this, which is why they commissioned the project. The Big Green does for soccer what Mighty Ducks (1992) did for ice hockey, which was not very much.

So let's provide an obligatory summary and move on. Here goes: This is another formula movie in which a team of small-town misfits is inspired by its offbeat coach to master a sport. The kids are humiliated by the ace team from the big city, with the expensive black uniforms and the obsessive coach. Then they start getting better. No prizes for who wins their big rematch with the bad guys in black.

Why soccer? Because their teacher is from England, and is visiting tiny Elma, Texas, on an exchange program. She's good at soccer - or "football," as those zany Brits call it.

Let's write a movie. Pick a sport. How about lacrosse? Water polo? Curling? Then apply the formula. The kids in tiny Elko, NV, never have heard of water polo. Then they get an offbeat exchange teacher - the Mariner, visiting from Waterworld, who teaches them water polo. Why water polo? Because he's good at it. Soon the kids...

I knew The Big Green was in trouble right at the top, when the writer-director, Holly Goldberg Sloan, used the amateurish gimmick of speeding up the action to make something funny. I have never seen a scene in which speeding up the action made it funny; not even in the Keystone Kops silent comedies, where it was already a cliche.

But there is one element of The Big Green which deserves comment, and that element is Olivia d'Abo as the visiting teacher. All she really brings to the role is freshness, energy and vigor, but she has a refreshing presence and a healthy, glowing face.

D'Abo was fine in a little-seen recent film named The Last Good Time, about an old man and a troubled young girl. Her credits are otherwise a roll call of forgotten films: Clean Slate, Greedy, Wayne's World II, Spirit of '76 and so on.

She has been in the movies for 10 years, although she doesn't look it. Now, strangely, in this disposable picture, she projects the freshness that made Doris Day a star - and please do not chuckle condescendingly, because Doris Day was a great star, and someday the record will be set straight on that. There are a good many actresses a work today who can do things, I am sure, that Olivia d'Abo cannot. But d'Abo has a presence, an essence, that cannot be faked.

The movies are so heartbreaking in their failure to use resources. In the right role, Olivia d'Abo would be irreplaceable. She has never found that role. Here, struggling gamely with the hopelessly predictable Big Green, she shows a quality that in another role, in another picture, could be luminous. Casting directors, please note. A Walt Disney release. Opens today at area theaters.

Jason Hervey



JH1) "Bullying Jason Hervey Is The Wonder Brother America Loves To Loathe"

by Steve Dougherty, People Weekly, January 29, 1990



Jason Hervey can understand why so many people hate his guts. But that doesn't mean the 17-year-old actor, who plays Fred Savage's big brother on The Wonder Years, enjoys suffering for the sins of Wayne Arnold, the character who became TV's most reviled bully last season when he engineered a fatal encounter between Kevin's (Savage's) pet hamster and the Arnold family vacuum cleaner. "A lot of people assume I'm Wayne," gripes Hervey, a pugnacious 5 ft.6 in. bantam whose lip curls naturally into the slight sneer that seems to bring out the worst in teen passersby. "People always come up and call me a jerk and say, `Why don't you leave Kevin alone? How'd you like it if I beat you up? Come on, let's fight!'"

Little wonder. In addition to having Hoovered Kevin's hamster, Hervey's Wayne calls his brother Butthead in public and once gleefully broadcast the appearance of Kevin's first zit. Even Hervey admits it's easy to despise anyone who would pick on Fred Savage. "He's a cute little kid, with the cutest little face I've ever seen," Hervey says. "If I were watching TV, I'd take his side too." Hervey is philosophical about the bad vibes - "They let me know I'm doing a good job" - but he would like to tell the world that the real Jason Hervey, the private Jason Hervey, is warm, sensitive, the kind of guy who's not too macho to own a bunny named Muffin. "When I saw this rabbit, I just fell in love," says Hervey, who claims to have rescued Muffin, a runt, from a litter of aggressive bunny siblings. "Now would Wayne Arnold have a bunny rabbit?"

For dinner, maybe. Seriously though, Hervey, whose father is a retail sales manager and whose mother is a talent agent, never had the opportunity to play Wayne in real life. "The truth is, I was always in Kevin's position," he says. "If I was annoying my brother, I'd get slammed." True enough, says older brother Scott, 22, a student at Cal State-Northridge. "He'd be a brat, so I used to beat him up. Brattiness comes naturally to him."

A veteran of more than 250 TV commercials - he did his first at age 4 - and several hit movies, including Back to the Future, Hervey worried that he had blown his auditions for Wonder Years in 1987. But series co-creator Neil Marlens thought Hervey was right for the part. "To play a character so unlikable and unsympathetic, you must be funny," Marlens says.

Today, Hervey leads a teen dream life. He dates "an older woman," secretary Dawn Bailey, 21 ("He's really got his head on straight," she says), rents an apartment in an L.A. complex owned by his parents, who live downstairs, and can choose among his Corvette, Jeep or two motorcycles when he wants to take a ride. Often that ride ends at Slammers, a club where Hervey practices wrestling, to the taped accompaniment of 10,000 screaming fans. "I love it," says Hervey. "My godfather is [famed wrestling villain] Terry Funk. He once kicked in my pinkie finger. I'm going to be a professional wrestler or manager, I think."

That, of course, will have to wait until the end of The Wonder Years, which Hervey hopes won't be anytime soon. As for his next movie, "I want something challenging," he says. "But if they just give me Wayne Arnold-type roles, I'm comfortable with that too. I'll just do a good job at being a jerk."

Snuffy Walden



1) TV Composers Put Their Craft In Focus
2) You Know Him by His Music
3) The Stand Original Television Soundtrack

SW1) "TV Composers Put Their Craft In Focus"

by Jon Burlingame



Four top BMI composers talked about the challenges of creating original music for television at a BMI-sponsored seminar held October 12 at the Museum of Television & Radio in New York City. Steve Dorff, Charles Fox, Edd Kalehoff and W.G. "Snuffy" Walden addressed an audience of almost 300 in a 90-minute presentation titled "Facing the Music: A Discussion with Four Television Composers." In answering questions from Museum Director and moderator Ron Simon and the audience, they outlined their backgrounds, the writing process, the growing influence of technology, and how some of their most famous themes came about.

"This is not where I had intended to be," explained Walden (Emmy-nominated composer for Stephen King's The Stand and My So-Called Life, co-writer of the thirtysomething theme and currently scoring Ellen). After years of touring as a guitarist, an agent approached him to ask if he would consider writing for film and television. Walden's answer: "Why not?"

For Dorff, writing for film and TV had "an element of being in the right place at the right time." A hit songwriter, he was asked to replace an earlier score for Clint Eastwood's Every Which Way But Loose and went on to write the Emmy-nominated themes for Growing Pains, Major Dad and others, including the signature music for Robert Urich's popular series Spenser: For Hire.

Fox, BMI's 1992 Richard Kirk Award recipient, came to television after years of arranging and a couple of well-received film scores. For his first series, Love, American Style, he won two music Emmys; he went on to write the familiar themes for Happy Days, Laverne & Shirley, The Love Boat, Wonder Woman and others, and continues to score both TV movies and feature films.

Kalehoff, composer of the themes for the news programs 48 Hours, A Current Affair and Inside Edition and an Emmy winner for his Monday Night Football music, was a highly respected keyboard and synthesizer player before becoming a full-time composer. He was the sole New York-based composer on the panel.

All lamented the recent trend of reducing most TV main-title sequences to 10 seconds or less, as well as the ongoing problems of shrinking music budgets and impossible schedules. Walden said he had just six weeks to write and record four and a half hours of music for ABC's The Stand. Added Dorff: "Music is definitely an afterthought (for many producers)- `oh, yeah, we've got to do the music.'"

Noted Kalehoff: "Television has become much more sophisticated in what it is demanding from the composer," whether it's a fully electronically executed piece (as he has done with several news shows) or a room filled with live players - "a most welcome addition," Kalehoff said, resulting in "more substance in the writing, rather than ear candy."

Communication with producers, or the lack thereof, was the subject of some of the evening's best stories. On Growing Pains, Dorff recalled, one producer wanted a John Sebastian-style tune; another liked the sound of guitarist Pat Metheny; a third wanted "lots of percussion" for the Alan Thicke-Joanna Kerns sitcom. "I said, `Well, yeah, I can do that,'" Dorff said. "I just went home and wrote what I felt." In collaboration with lyricist John Bettis, he came up with the song As Long As We Got Each Other for vocalist B.J. Thomas and all three - despite having asked for something different - were happy with the result.

"Talking about music is like dancing about architecture," Walden quipped. "I just try to listen," he said, interpreting what the producers are saying and coming up with the right sounds that "carry the essence of what you want it to feel."

"We have to do what we feel is right for the picture," Fox pointed out. And while he noted that television movie scores often must be written in half the time of a feature-film score, "I always look at a movie as a movie - to support the moments, whether tense or happy. To me, a film is a film. I don't think we necessarily need to be limited by the size of the screen."

Jon Burlingame's history of American television scoring, "TV's Biggest Hits: The Story of Television Themes from 'Dragnet' to 'Friends'," will be published in May by Schirmer Books.

SW2) "You Know Him By His Music"

by Laurie Benenson, The New York Times, November 20, 1994



Writing the music for a prime-time television show is an impressive credential for a composer: his audience numbers in the millions, and they hear his work on a regular basis. Devising the scores for five prime-time shows is more than prodigious. But this is what W.G. (Snuffy) Walden has done. And though most viewers may not know his name, they know his music.

A lanky, graying musician from Texas, Mr. Walden (Snuffy is a family nickname) has a low-key, modest demeanor that belies his status in the realm of television composers. "I take credit for showing up and working real hard," he says, playing a moody refrain for My So-Called Life at a keyboard in his studio near Los Angeles. "I don't take credit for the inspiration. I think I was just given a gift."

Mr. Walden, 44, arrives at his studio by 5 every morning and often works until 7 at night. The results are heard by viewers across the country several evenings each week - from the eerie electric-guitar underscores for My So-Called Life to the rollicking bluesy riffs of the theme for Roseanne. He also writes the music for Ellen, Sisters and Sweet Justice. From his blues and rock roots, he says, "I've evolved a simple minimalist style that's full of emotion. When I'm writing for television and film, I'll try to play the person, not the situation."

The blast-off in Mr. Walden's current trajectory came in 1987, when, having become a presence on the Los Angeles music scene, he was asked to score the pilot for a show called Thirtysomething. "We wanted something that was familiar generationally," says Edward Zwick, co-creator of the show, "but also that could find an interpretation of the more wry, subtle subtextual humor of the piece."

Mr. Walden and his partner, Stewart Levin, interpreted that to mean two acoustic guitars and the electronically altered sound of air blown across the mouth of a Coke bottle - a radical departure from traditional television music. "We did all the things they said you couldn't do in television, which was traditionally flutes and oboes and strings," Mr. Walden says.

Thirtysomething, with its angst-ridden, talkative baby boomers struggling to reconcile hedonism with parenthood, became the iconic show of its time, and Mr. Walden and Mr. Levin's drolly hip acoustic-guitar accompaniment came in for its share of attention. In fact the music for a number of high-profile commercials, like those for AT&T, Life Savers and G.M. (scored by Mr. Walden himself), imitated the Thirtysomething theme.

Following on the heels of Thirtysomething, the composer wrote the music for The Wonder Years and I'll Fly Away as well as for a few less successful series, including the now-defunct Jackie Thomas Show. But the project for which he felt the most affinity was an eight-hour mini-series, The Stand, televised earlier this year. "Stephen King is my favorite author, and The Stand is my favorite book," notes Mr. Walden. Indeed, he knew the book so well he'd come up with thematic material before even looking at the television show.

As a young man, Mr. Walden intended to practice medicine, like his mother. But, an avid fan of rock-and-roll, he started playing the guitar at age 12 and by 15 was touring with the singer B. J. Thomas, whose manager had heard Mr. Walden playing in a local band. In college he was a disk jockey and played in a Houston strip joint, where, he says, he learned to improvise.

It was sometime in 1968, Mr. Walden says, that "I just woke up and realized I was a musician."

"I worked at a club and was getting paid $12 a night. It didn't seem to matter, though. It was a different time; it was loose; it was O.K. if you put the mayonnaise in the back of the toilet to keep it cold." He left school that same year.

During a time when Texas rockers like Billy Gibson of ZZ Top, Johnny Winter, and Jimmie and Stevie Ray Vaughn were making their mark, Mr. Walden decided to leave Texas. "I realized there were only a few jobs, and if I was going to get work I'd better move out of Texas."

Alighting in California in 1972, after a stint in London working with Emerson, Lake and Palmer, Mr. Walden lived the life of the hard-partying rock-and-roller for the next 10 years, playing guitar for performers like Eric Burdon, Chaka Khan and Laura Branigan. "I loved it," he says. "I might live in the back of a truck for a couple of days - that was fine. I didn't have any family or responsibilities." But by the early 80's Mr. Walden was in trouble. "I had gone past the point of social drinking and drug using," he says, "and I had to make a choice. On Jan. 11, 1982, I chose not to do music anymore; I really wasn't sure I had much music left in me. So I quit for about a year and a half and got my life on a very stable, very simple basis." He supported himself by selling power tools over the phone to farmers.

When, newly sober, he resumed playing, he imagined himself at 55 working in a club in a backup band, and he didn't like it. "I began putting some energy into the other sides of my career - writing and producing."

His efforts began to bear fruit when he was asked to produce demonstration records for a number of singers. Finally, in 1986, he was approached by talent agents to see whether he'd be interested in doing movie or television scoring. "I went up for a couple of films and didn't get them," he says. "The third meeting I went to was for Thirtysomething."

Of his work as a television composer, Mr. Walden says: "I have no illusions about what I'm doing. It's not to make some incredible music statement of 'look at how talented I am.' I'm not writing a concerto to be played in Albert Hall. My job is to serve the film." He is currently finishing the music for a film called Homage, starring Blythe Danner.

"In order to grow, I need to immerse myself in something more - I'm not going to say more challenging, because it's a challenge every time you sit down to write music for a show," he says. "But with episodic TV, once you find a format it's really a matter of lining up the ducks. You're not getting as deeply inside your own process. To me that's the most painful part of doing it, but it's also the most rewarding. It's the part that makes me step up a level, as a composer and as a human being."

Mr. Walden may not be living in the back of a truck anymore, but he still doesn't want to get too comfortable.

SW3) "The Stand Original Television Soundtrack"

by Mick Garris and Stephen King, From The StandSoundtrack Liner Notes, 1994



One thousand one hundred forty-one book pages; four hundred sixty script pages; six states; one hundred shooting days; one hundred twenty-five (plus) speaking roles; ninety-five scripted shooting locations in nineteen scripted states; eight hours of screen time; over four and a half hours of music. Daunting?

For all involved, the adaptation of Stephen King's cross-country epic novel was the magnum opus. Developed unsuccessfully for the screen for over a dozen years, it was widely considered doomed to never make the screen, too huge and unwieldy to make the cinematic transformation from page to screen. Gettysburg to the contrary, the studios would be hard pressed to bring out a movie of over four hours to the neighborhood cineplex.

And then, of all things, television to the rescue. An offer from ABC to provide an eight-hour canvas. Well, all of that was before my time. I first heard about the possibility of the mini-series when Stephen King and I were in the finishing stages of Sleepwalkers. Steve told me then that it might actually be happening, and asked if I might be interested. Might I? But that was early; you never count on it until you're doing it.

And we did it.

It's like no other job I've ever had...or any I'm ever likely to have again.

All of the work I've done BTS (Before The Stand) has been on a relatively intimate scale, but what was unique about the The Stand was it's intimacy on a grand scale. Though it has (more than) its share of special effects, morphs, and monstrousness, The Stand is, at its core, an epic human drama, a story about people. It is, more than anything, what makes the novels of Stephen King so rich and fulfilling: heartfelt, passionate, and perceptive human introspective.

The King movies that successfully survive transition from book to movie are the ones that understand his tales are about real, complex human beings confronted with horrifying events; Misery, The Dead Zone, and Stand By Me are, to me, examples of the apex. The ones that don't succeed are the spook shows, the ones that believe it's more about the "Boo!" than the boo-ed.

King's script for The Stand was incredibly faithful to the book; rich in passion and emotion. I feel incredibly fortunate to have been allowed to interpret his best work, to work from such a full, nutritious meal of a screenplay, which itself reads like a fine novel.

To me, the heart of The Stand is the opportunity to be a patriot again, in the truest, noblest, proudest sense. It is the chance to start America all over again, without the corruption of multi-media political campaigns to run. To go to the ideal of our founding fathers, and to be proud of a flag that was dragged through the mud of history by decades of political abuse. When Stu Redman escapes the Vermont Disease Control Center, and looks up to see the American flag fluttering above him, I can feel his conflict; the nation whose government has damn near wiped out all of its citizens with chemical warfare vs. the America that was and could be again.

And that's what the music had to convey.

Now, I've got to admit that I was unfamiliar with Snuffy Walden's work before The Stand...and to my shame, I had to be convinced. King, on the other hand, was a fan. I had never seen any of the shows Snuffy has composed, and tapes of the themes really didn't seem to be what I was looking for. Music is so crucial to filmmaking...and it is one area where King and I don't always agree. Every show I've ever directed has a live orchestral score. I'm not a big fan of electronic (or even electric) scores, in most cases, and King is not crazy about orchestral film music.

But we both agreed that The Stand should have a score of what King called "bluejeans music." To me, that means Americana, something homegrown, rustic and noble, heartfelt and organic in the dramatic scenes. But we also had tension-building scenes, action scenes, and scenes of enormous scope. Whoever the composer, he was going to have his hands full.

Well, first and foremost, Snuffy Walden is a terrific guitarist; that's him doing all that great acoustic and electric slide guitar you hear. And he truly got this movie. He fought hard to get the job, because, like so many others involved in this production, The Stand is his favorite book, and it was important to him. And, you'll no doubt agree, he certainly did the show justice.

Working with Snuffster is an experience any filmmaker would be lucky to have. Aside from his obvious talent and dedication, the man is a pleasure to collaborate with, even under the most trying of circumstances (like trying to deliver four and a half hours of music in next to no time on an extremely limited budget, communicating over the phone between New York and LA). But from the intentionally synthetic, ominous drones of impending doom in Project Blue, to a simple, melancholy piano melody as Larry, Ralph, and Glen are leaving Stu behind - perhaps to die - when he has broken his leg in the washout, to the building orchestral climax in the streets of downtown Las Vegas, to the gentle theme of the birth of the new generation at the very end of the show, Snuffy hit his mark time and time again.

I'm very proud of The Stand and the opportunity to encourage and allow so many talented people to do such fine work, from the illustrious Stephen King, to a remarkable cast of wonderful actors, a crew that cared about more than punching a timeclock, and finally, for a composer with the unlikely moniker of "Snuffy."

I can't wait until the next time.

*
"Setting the End of the World to Music"

by Stephen King

Cranking up the machinery to start filming an eigth-hour miniseries (or novel for television, if you prefer) gives a whole new meaning to the phrase "So much to do, so little time." When the show is about a desolated America following a killer epidemic, and the script contains a hundred and twenty-five speaking parts, it starts to feel more like getting ready for a banzai charge than getting ready to spill some film.

Somebody from wardrobe comes rushing in to ask if the survivors will be wearing a lot of jewelry. "After all, there'd be Rolexes and great big diamonds everywhere," the guy says, clearly excited by prospect. "Think about it." (We do, and opt for no clunky wristwatches or good-egg diamond.) Somebody else wants to know what we do about casting Randall Flagg if Jeff Goldblum, our first choice, turns us down. (He did, and we cast Jamey Sheridan, who turned in a performance that was simultaneously fiery and chilling; Bruce Springsteen crossed with Jim Jones.) A third somebody wants to know what we do about the "snot factor"; because the plague that decimated America in The Stand is a souped-up flu germ, there's a lot of snot in the novel. (We soft-pedal the snot - we're talkin' network TV, after all - but it's there if you really look.)

Then somebody wants to know - in the offhand way such questions are discussed before shooting begins, and panic sets in - what kind of music I think would suit the show, which starts out being about death and ends up being about life, regeneration, and the sacrifices which love and belief sometimes demand. A lot of the other questions have puzzled me, but I can answer this one without so much as a beat of hesitation. "Blue jeans music," I say. The Stand should sound like blue jeans, truckstop rest areas, and Main Street on Friday night."

I got what I wanted on that score, thanks to Snuffy Walden - cue up these sounds and listen, if you don't believe me.

Epic music is sometimes okay - that big old sixteen thousand-track John Williams thang - but sometimes it's not okay, even when the show the music is meant for is, life The Stand epic in scope. The book was about ordinary people in an extraordinary situation: they are survivors of a terrible plague who are faced with rebuilding a society that falls to ruins all about them in the space of a summer. It was about people in motion, traveling across the broad expanse of this country in pick-um-ups and on motorcycles. And it was most of all about people rediscovering a power greater than themselves, a force of renewal, a force which is, paradoxically, worth dying for.

Story is one thing; a good screenplay can bring a story to life, if the actors and the direction are also good. The feel of a story is another thing, though, and while many different departments work together to create that feel, the style and emotional coloring of the music is the most important. I wanted music throughout The Stand which sounded as though three or four fellows could have played it on some back porch in Appalachia. A number of names were floated in our pre-production meetings, but it seemed to me almost from the beginning that Snuffy Walden was the best guy for the job...maybe the only guy for the job.

I had heard (and been knocked out by) numerous scores he'd done for movies and TV shows, but I think the two that impressed me the most in the year or so prior to starting work on The Stand was his work on a made-for-TV film (sort of a no-brainer, but fun) called The Chase, and a TV series (very definitely not a no-brainer) called I'll Fly Away. In both cases, Snuffy read the feel of the story - the story behind the story, if you like - and provided musical walls against which that story could resonate. In The Chase, the feel is urban angst; sullen, jittery guitar riffs that nibble away at your nerves. In I'll Fly Away, that jittery quality - spare and ominous - has been replaced by a lovely but unpretentious gospel feel. We wanted both kinds of music for The Stand (and about a hundred other kinds in between). Snuffy gave us what we wanted. Hell, what we needed.

He was a joy to work with; intelligent, helpful, articulate, frequently brilliant. He was also determined to give us the soundtrack we wanted, and one we could be proud of, despite limitations of time and money so extreme that they became almost surreal before we were through.

I especially remember an exchange we had early in our discussions about the music, when Snuffy and I were still feeling each other out. I repeatedly used the term "blue jeans music," which by then had attained an almost talismanic quality in my mind, and I talked about stuff I wanted The Stand to sound like: Ry Cooder's slide guitar in Southern Comfort and Johnny Handsome, the chase music in Cool Hand Luke, the soundtrack Who'll Stop the Rain. I think I even mentioned "Dueling Banjos," from Deliverance. The more I talked, the less well I felt I was expressing myself; the more I talked, the more I felt like a blind man trying to described an elephant to a guy with 20/20 vision. When I finally stumbled to a top, Snuffy said, "You want a homemade sound...and something you could listen to on a record and not get tired of it."

"Well, yeah," I said. "I guess that's what I was talking about."

It was what I was talking about, and here, by God, is that record. It's one of the best soundtracks I've ever heard - instrumentally spare, emotionally full, beautifully textured. It is a record, in the sense that it can exist quite nicely apart from the show it was created to support...but in a very real way, you are feeling the show as you listen to the music. Best of all, it's definitely not a record you'll get tired of.

Thanks a thousand times, Snuffy. I'll never forget the thrill I felt when I first heard you score for Mother Abigail, or for Stu Redman's panicked flight from the Stovington Disease Center. It was a pleasure to work with you, and it's a joy to have this music.

Bangor, Maine - April 16, 1994

Giovanni Ribisi



GR1) "It's THAT Guy: Giovanni Ribisi"

by Merrill Gillaspy, Flat Earth Media, June 30, 1997



You're at the movies; sucked in. The distance between you and reality is nearly equal to the distance between Fresno and Bombay. You're sipping that $5 Coke, while a bag of unpopped old maids rearranges your dental work. You're at peace for the first time in weeks. But wait. All bug-eyed and day-glow over Harvey Keitel or Elizabeth Shue, your concentration is shattered in an instant.

A secondary, but no less accomplished, actor you've seen before comes into view. "It's THAT guy!" you yell, prompting another moviegoer to shush you, which leads to a rather juvenile exchange of witless insults and the emptying, javelin style, of a king-sized box of Twizzlers. An usher, taking you by the armpit, reintroduces you to the sun and heat of an unforgiving Wednesday afternoon.

Every man, woman, and child enjoying the cinema today can easily avoid this ugly scenario. Just read my series of occasional interviews. Beginning with the off-beat and slightly left-of-kilter young actor Vonni Ribisi, I aim to introduce moviegoers to some of the most talented unknowns (THAT Chick, too) working in film today.

At the time of this writing, Ribisi is exploding out of his unrenowned-actor cocoon as he gets his fancy-ass bearings on location in England with Steven Spielberg. He's begun shooting Saving Private Ryan, a WWII epic that promises an invasion of Normandy the likes of which only ILM creatives could imagine, or so Spielberg wants us to believe. It stars Tom Hanks. Playing the character of Wade, Ribisi ranks ninth, and last, in the cast listing. Still, it's a career break most actors would give their right nipple for.

You might know Ribisi from his lead role - he played Jeff - in Richard Linklater's SubUrbia, or from his part as Chad, the original drummer for The Wonders, in That Thing You Do. He also landed a spot in the coolly received Lost Highway by David Lynch.

I know Ribisi best from his frayed-at-the-edges characters on television. Although I never glimpsed him in Davis Rules or My Two Dads, with good reason, and can't place him in The Wonder Years, Ribisi rules when he's doing guest spots for such series darlings as Chicago Hope, NYPD Blue, Friends, and The X-Files.

I can lay claim to witnessing and cherishing Ribisi's portrayal of Darren Peter Oswald, a freakish lightning-strike victim, in the third-season X-Files episode titled simply "D.P.O." Darren lives in a tiny Oklahoma town. He survives a lightning hit, as only an X-Files character can, allowing him to channel a hot electrical "heart cooking" force into people who tick him off.

Playing a very different, but no less whacked-out character, Ribisi has turned up in a couple of Friends episodes as Phoebe's long lost, plastics-fetishizing brother.

What did Ribisi say when I spoke to him? I'll get to that. First, I thought it might be edifying to share the interview process: the steps on the road to interview pay dirt - the obstacles, the joys. What's the sine quo non of interview writing in general and THAT-Guy stalking in particular?

First and foremost, you need connections, or at least the cool, minty sensation that you're plugged in. I know Roger Ebert. No brag, just fact (well, maybe a little brag - okay, total insecurity-fueled boast-fest). I attended his wedding, the anniversary of which he celebrates every July 18. I also know Gene Siskel. Although I know the famous back-biting critics, I don't KNOW them, if you know what I mean. But I'm a firm believer in the celebrity vibe as rabbit foot.

Also, I'm on very personal terms with a "Siskel & Ebert" staffer. And although he maintains an annoyingly professional no-conflict-of-interests posture (I know never to drop the name of either the fat guy or the bald one in my work), he's a good general film resource, terrific talent agency database, and a highly amicable ex-husband. He located Ribisi's management people for me.

With the knowledge of Ribisi's management company, Joel Stevens Entertainment (JSE), firmly in my grasp, I got on the horn to Los Angeles. A pleasant-sounding receptionist picked up. She was all Milk Duds and popcorn until I blew my inside-Hollywood cover.

Obviously also craving that cool, minty, plugged-in sensation, she was quick to let spill that Ribisi was starting work on "Saving Private Ryan." Since I wanted an idea of the time commitment and didn't know whether this was a TV series or movie, I asked, "So is this a movie production?" Miss Milk Duds promptly turned into machine-gun Valley Girl: "Like, it's the Steven Spielberg movie!!!"

I recovered quickly enough with some skillfully lobbed follow-up queries. Safely back in her box of Milk Duds, the receptionist practically begged me to fax my interview questions. So I bellied up to the Web for a background check on Vonni-boy, amassed a slew of questions from serious to giddy, and faxed the results with Goober-flinging speed to JSE.

The next day, I dialed up JSE again and was "patched in" to agent Dominick Miciotta (clearly the only name that could properly handle a Giovanni Ribisi). Thankfully, he was refreshingly non-Hollywood, more like a Lifesaver than a Tic Tac; genuine and friendly, but without the doggie drool.

After chit-chatting with agent Dom over several days, it seemed I was on toothbrush-sharing terms with the guy. He assured me my fax of "well researched" questions was in the proper hands. Good ol' Dom even visited Entelechy. He gushed with praise. He'd have something for me within the week.

You might think that if you're connected to a hip Webzine; know a few influential, albeit non-Mafioso, people in the movie biz; and have a throaty phone voice, landing an interview with a relatively unknown talent should be as easy as opening a fresh pack of Junior Mints.

You'd be wrong.

Time to come clean. I didn't get the interview. Ribisi was already in England when I first called JSE. And Dom tells me that an extended Vonni bio is barely in the works - this was gonna be my fall-back feeder. Now you'll never know Ribisi's shoe size, underwear preference, or whether he finds David Duchovny to be a drop-dead babe. I apologize.

I'm told that agents maintain a steel-reinforced umbilical cord between themselves and their clients. JSE probably talks to Ribisi on the set at least once a day. In other words, if Vanity Fair insisted that JSE pass a few questions along to Ribisi, it would happen faster than the crack of a lightning bolt.

And there's the rub. As Ribisi relegates roles like Darren Peter Oswald to the dust-heap of his "early career," he's transformed from sweetly approachable It's THAT Guy! to unattainable, big-shot, movie man.

I may be bloodied, but I'm relentlessly unbowed. I'll bag me a little-known actor yet. You'll see.

Lanei Chapman



LC1) "Lanei Chapman Seeks Adventure In Flight To Space"

By JOE NAZZARO, Starlog, February 1996



Saving the universe is hard work. The hours are long, the spaceships are a bit cramped and claustrophobic and there's a bunch of alien types shooting at you most of the time. That's just part of the excitement of working on Space: Above and Beyond. Among the recent recruits to the Marine Corps Space Cavalry is actress Lanei Chapman, who plays fighter pilot Vanessa Damphousse. To misquote the old TV adage, working on Space is not just a job; it's an adventure.

As Chapman relates, the character of Vanessa Damphousse may have been somewhat sketchy in the two-hour Space pilot, but she's gaining definition with each new episode. "The producers were sure that she was going to be a series regular, but they did not have much for her to do in the pilot. As a matter of fact, I auditioned with Shane's sides (excerpts of the script), and that was a little bit tough, because the lines were so specific, you almost had to take on Shane's backstory to make the sides work.

"I don't know exactly what they were looking for, but it was probably some quality in the reading that made them feel that I could play the Damphousse character. They said that whoever they chose would help shape the role specifically around that actress. At that time, they hadn't quite developed the character, but now she's starting to come though a bit. We're all learning a little more about her.

"Damphousse spent four years at Cal Tech studying to be an engineer, and her father was chief engineer at a nuclear plant, which was how her interest in engineering began to develop. It's also how she began to get experience, because she worked at his side and interned under him for a couple of summers. She has become the 'fix-it' Marine - she knows how to put things together and take them apart, which helps them get over some of the obstacles they face."

It seems only logical that as the writers on Space see their characters come to life, they would incorporate aspects of the real-life cast into their creations. "That's true of many series, and I think it's going to be true of this one as well," says Chapman.

"Bits of our personalities were very present in the first episodic script that we received after making the pilot. That was so funny, because we spent a lot of time speaking with (series creator) Glen Morgan and James Wong while we were on the set in Australia shooting the pilot, so I think they got a good sense of our personalities and senses of humor. Those have started to become a part of our characters, which I think is a good thing."

Pressed for specifics, Chapman cites a few examples using her own character. "It seemed that I was always concerned with school and finishing up, and it was so stressful for me to try and juggle the two (acting and academics). I love my job, but at this point, I would desperately like to finish my master's degree, so while I was in Australia, I think that anxiety was still present. I always seemed to be talking to the guys about school and film-making, and that's one of the things that happened to my character. Damphousse has been to school, and her father is an engineer, just like me.

I can get kind of goofy when I'm tired or restless, and my character also has a playful side that I hope we'll get to see even more of. I would describe my character as the one who seems to pursue her goals with a great deal of compassion, and that's definitely part of my personality."

Although Space: Above and Beyond is now shot in Culver City, California, the pilot actually lensed in Australia, which was a somewhat daunting experience for some of the young cast members. "That was a little scary, because as beautiful as Australia is, it's so far from home, and I think that makes any new job tough, especially one like this where the hours are so long - it really consumes you. It's very hard to have a social life or anything outside of work. Maybe it was just because we were getting started, and this is the first series I've done, so maybe things will even out a bit after a while. That's what I'm hoping. It's not that bad, but it's easier being close to family and friends who you can grab a chat with on the phone, if not see frequently. I had some pretty ridiculous phone bills while I was away."

Comrades in Arms

"She has become the 'fix-it' Marine - she knows how to put things together and take them apart," says Lanei Chapman of Vanessa Damphousse, her character in Space.

On the other hand, being thrown together in a high-pressure sitaution thousands of miles from home actually mirrored the characters' on-screen situation, making them partners in adversity, so to speak.

"I think that had a huge impact on the kind of bond we were able to form almost immediately. We were all very dependent on each other for providing a sense of home and security, and it definitely played a part in shaping our feeling of being displaced recruits in the Marine Corps, of feeling something new and having only ourselves to rely on."

Chapman did have the opportunity to meet a few of her fellow cadets before departing on their new assignment. "I met Kristen Cloke, who plays Shane Vansen, at the audition," the actress recalls. "Kristen and I have the same agent, so I knew to look for her, and we gave each other a quick nervous hug and wished each other good luck. I also met Rodney Rowland - Cooper Hawkes - at the network audition, but those things are so nerve-wracking that we were just a bunch of jitters. Other than that, I hadn't met anybody before we got to Australia."

Complicating matters for Chapman was her yet-to-be completed graduate work in the film production program at USC. The actress says continuing education will have to take a back seat to saving the universe, at least for the time being. "I'm on a leave of absence right now. All I have to do is complete a screenwriting course, so I'm doing that at home, mostly on weekends. I haven't been able to get much done during the week. Then, I have to do is a thesis film, and I'm finished."

For Chapman, the character of Vanessa Damphousse is the latest in a string of successful film and TV roles that have kept her fairly busy for most of her relatively short career. Chapman originally majored in Spanish at Dartmouth College, where she also wrote her first play, Home Run, which she has since produced and directed, starring Kim Fields.

Her feature film credits include White Men Can't Jump and Pretty Hattie's Baby, while her television work is comprised of roles in The Wonder Years, Seinfeld, True Colors and China Beach, as well as the mini-series The Jacksons: An American Dream and the TV movie The Mary Thomas Story. Genre fans will no doubt recognize Chapman for her appearances as Ensign Rager in Star Trek: The Next Generation, where she was last seen being rescued from an alien ship by Commander Riker (Jonathan Frakes) in "Schisms."

One might think the experience exploring the final frontier would have come in handy when Chapman auditioned for the role of Marine recruit Damphousse in Space. "It's funny, because I auditioned against so many of my friends, I wouldn't say I was a shoo-in at all. It was just the usual grind of auditioning. I'm not sure how many people there were, because when we went in, our audition times are 15-minute slots, so I would only see five or six girls at one time."

Damphousse is only one of the recruits who would eventually form the 58th Squadron. Other pilots include Nathan West (Morgan Weisser), Shane Vansen (Cloke), Cooper Hawkes (Rowland) and Paul Wang (Joel de la Fuente). Their squadron commander is McQueen (James Morrison), a former pilot who has been sidelined by injuries sustained in battle with the alien invaders.

Discussing her comrades in arms, Chapman says the various role have been very well cast. "For instance, Joel de la Fuente; this guy has a great sense of humor and is always cracking jokes. Our characters are called 'The Wild Cards,' and his card is the Joker. That's so appropriate, and it's an important part of that character's personality.

"That goes for Rodney as well. His energies go from one extreme to the other. They might be very low at the beginning of the sentence, and by the end, boom; he's way over the top. I love that about him and I love his personality. He's such a stud, he's a man's man, and at the same time, he's this innocent kid, who's wondering if everything's going to be OK. That's one of the things that's so appealing about his character.

"Morgan is a pro, and I love to watch him work. He's wonderful. He's a dry, quiet, thinking - I want to say intellectual, but it doesn't really come off like that - guy. He's very intelligent, but his personality is kind of quiet; not shy necessarily, but more observant. Even as I say that, we do spend a lot of time together, and we all have our silly moments. Morgan is a very interesting person, and seems to know so much about so many different things, but at the same time, we all get a little silly and rambunctious, so there's that side, too."

Chapman is also delighted to be working side-by-side with Cloke, her partner against the predominately male-oriented cast. "Oh my God, absolutely ! We talk about that all the time, especially when the boys are really into their 'Boy's Clus,' and start to gravitate towards each other. Being with Kristen was particularly helpful when we were away in Australia. Here, we have our friends and family to lean on, but while we were there, we pretty much only had each other to hang out with. I love having Kristen around."

Survivors at Their Fittest

As Chapman recalls, the early days of filming the Space pilot were long, hot and often uncomfortable. Such irritating conditions may well have added authenticity to the final product, but they also formed an unbreakable bond between cast members. "There was a lot of smoke, it was scary, and it was fun all at once," she says of her first day. "It was really exciting to watch other people work, because I didn't have much pressure in terms of having a big scene to do that day, so I got a chance to observe and get a feel for it; I didn't have to jump right in. I don't remember that day being traumatic.

"What I do remember very clearly is the first time we were outside in our flight gear. It was so incredibly hot on that first day we went and shot on the sand dunes for the Mars exterior footage. It hat to be 101 degrees out there, and we had these outfits on that were layer upon layer...they looked cool but they were so hot. We worked a couple of days out there, and then Rodney came. We had been out there for a day or two, so were were getting used to the claustrophobia of the helmets, gear, backpacks and everything else.

As one of the Marine Corps Space Cavalry pilots in the war against unknown alien invaders, Damphousse regularly puts her life on the line flying combat mission.

"I remember watching Rodney freak out a little bit, because this whole sense of being in this helmet and trying to remember how to act, while feeling like you were going to explode because you were so hot and dripping wet and unable to breathe. It took a lot of concentration to do those scenes. The producers promised us that those were going to be the toughest three days, and they were. I felt so much for Rodney because I had already gone through it and gotten used to it and forgotten that first rush of, 'Am I going to make it ?' You're so busy dealing with the gear, and I know Rodney had a lot to do that day.

"During that period in Australia, we really started taking care of each other, because we knew that no one could understand how it felt unless they had stood there in the sun, in our outfits. We knew that we were the only ones who would hold the backpacks for each other so our backs could get a little relief. Only we knew that after every take, what you want more than anything is to get out of the helmet. We were really looking out for each other, which is a lot like our characters in the show."

Where the discomforts of those early days are now only memories for some of the cast, there's one actor who could end up incorporating those feelings, into his character. Explains Chapman, "There's a moment - I've only heard it in a pitch, I haven't seen the script yet - where Rodney may very well have an opportunity to recall that sense of claustrophobia that he felt that day, because it might be a character trait that he'll experience in a future episode.

"Glen told me something about that, and when I first heard about it, I remembered that day of filming, because we all felt for Rodney. That's part of his charm: he comes on the set, bouncing off the walls, all full of energy and excited because he's doing the show, and then in the next instant, he puts on the helmet and becomes this little kid crying, 'Help me.' I'm in love with everyone in the cast."

Putting the actors through their paces for the first time was veteran director David Nutter, who helmed some of the most atmospheric episodes of The X-Files, and brought the same shadowy sensibilites to Space: Above and Beyond.

"I think David Nutter, being who he is, brought a very special energy to the set. He's so pleasant to have around under all the pressure, and he really was the father figure for all of us. He really helped guide us through the Australia shoot and hold things together for us; so much so that the first time he wasn't on the set, we almost panicked. He also directed the first episode, so when we started working for the second, we were feeling a little lost."

Fotunately, there were other top-notch directors ready to pick up the slack when Nutter returned to Vancouver to work on The X-Files. Among them was actor/director Charles Martin Smith. "It was wonderful working with him for just that reason. We quickly saw the difference, that he was very much into the scenes, and giving the actor an opportunity to come up with different interpretations of the scene, or different performances. He would push you to get those performances, and that was different and very exciting."

Now well into the first season of Space, Chapman says the hours are still long and difficult, but the close bond between the cast makes it all worthwile. "I think we're very lucky, but it seems rare that we would all get along so well. I hope that continues, but as it is now, I fell pretty close to everyone, and it's the kind of familiarity where you can tell somebody, 'You're really getting on my nerves; just don't talk to me for the rest of the day,' and come back the next day and everything will be OK.

"Maybe you don't need it put that harshly all the time, but you definitely need to be able to communicate with your co-stars, so you can work together more easily. It's like being part of a family." Lanei Chapman is due back on the set shortly, but there's time for one more comment about her work on the series. "The think that's nice is that we're all different, and we're not going to agree on everything," she explains. "We definitely have our differences, but the nice thing is that there is a mutual admiration between all of us, and great deal of respect for each other's work. I think that definitely plays into our being able to communicate through our differences, to get along and to work together."

Ben Stein



BS1) "Ben Stein: The Revenge Of The Nerds"

by Douglas J. Rowe, Associated Press Writer, L.A. Times - April 16, 1998



The bespectacled, smug-looking egghead who speaks in a monotone is dining at his favorite restaurant after a long day of taping four installments of his game show, Win Ben Stein's Money. And before long he has a gorgeous blonde sitting next to him.

"My show is a giant commercial for me," he says between bites at Morton's in Beverly Hills. "And it's a commercial that sells me to all the people I went to high school with who wish they were me. I think we all want to impress the people we went to high school with."

Corinna, his late-arriving dinner companion who's obviously quite impressed with him, pipes in: "You worked hard to get what you got, and a lot of people don't."

"Oh, people in my high school worked very hard," he corrects. "I went to a high school with super-energetic high-achieving people - super-energetic high-achieving maniacs."

His fellow alumni at Montgomery Blair High School in Silver Spring, MD, include Watergate reporter Carl Bernstein, actress Goldie Hawn and TV newswoman Connie Chung. Stein's resume, though, may be the most eclectic of all of them.

After graduating from Yale Law School as valedictorian in 1970, he became a poverty lawyer in New Haven, Conn. He also went through a long-haired period during which he raised money for the Black Panthers, participated in protests and opposed the war in Vietnam. He then worked as a trial lawyer for the Federal Trade Commission in Washington, D.C., before writing speeches for President Nixon in 1973-74. (Connections didn't hurt: his father, Herb Stein, was then chairman of Nixon's Council of Economic Advisers.)

Ben Stein has written 15 books (seven novels, eight nonfiction, including "A License to Steal: Michael Milken and the Conspiracy to Bilk a Nation") and he still teaches law at Pepperdine University in Malibu, Calif.

"I had no idea what I was going to do when I grew up," he says. "I just knew that I was going to have to work for a living. It was my great hope that at the age of 21 my parents would reveal to me that I had a secret inheritance, but when that didn't happen I realized that I would have to work. I did not like being a lawyer at all. It's the worst job I ever had, being a trial lawyer. Hated it. And I mean really hated it," he says in a voice that has a little more range and inflection than what we hear in his movies and on television.

He loves writing - for Barron's, The Wall Street Journal, The American Spectator and other periodicals - but dislikes "being modestly paid."

Ever since the 1986 comedy hit Ferris Bueller's Day Off, the 53-year-old Stein has happily worked as an actor, usually playing a variation of himself: an owlish, superior, pedagogic know-it-all. He's played a science teacher in The Wonder Years, and served as a pitchman in various TV commercials.

It's that image of a nearly insufferable Renaissance Man that led longtime TV producer Al Burton to wake up one morning with the title if not the idea for a game show, Win Ben Stein's Money.

"The title, when it came to me, was just surefire," says Burton, whose experience as a producer goes back to his days with composer-pianist-actor Oscar Levant. Andrew Golder, an executive producer with Burton, says they developed the Comedy Central show "from ground zero." They came up with two fresh twists to an old formula: the host becomes a contestant in the final rounds, and he risks his own money. Actually, the production company, a Walt Disney subsidiary, puts up the $5,000 for each show, but Stein's motivation is that the less his competitors win the more of that pot he gets to keep.

"It really is as much a comedy show as a game show," Golder says, standing on the set after shooting a week's worth of shows. The categories alone can amount to as many as 30 jokes a show, he notes. Among them: "Don't Put Descartes Before the Horse," "Chewed in Italy but Liechtenstein" and "There's a Right Way and a Hemingway."

Added to the whole mix, there's the unlikely chemistry between the host and sidekick Jimmy Kimmel, who plays the idiot to Stein's savant. "Pure luck on my part," Kimmel says about how he and Stein clicked.

For his part, Stein addresses the philosophical question of why it's unseemly to show off how smart you are when it's OK for people to show off how athletic they are, how graceful, how beautiful, how artistic...

"I think that goes back to smart, nerdy kids being teased at school for being smart and nerdy, whereas you're never teased for being a great athlete. I think it has to do with envy," says Stein, whom Burton calls "the universal nerd."

As happy as he is with the success of Win Ben Stein's Money, which has three Daytime Emmy nominations and began a fresh run of shows on April 15 with a Tax Day special, Stein covets a star-vehicle sitcom.

"I really expected to have my own sitcom some time ago," he says. "I don't understand why I don't, to tell you the truth. I think something's wrong."

His concept: He's teaching at a high school in Nevada, and the school is next to a secret government installation ("Area 51"?) "so some of my students are a bit unusual."

Still, his acting career never would have happened if he hadn't been living in Los Angeles, Stein says. Before he did Bueller, he was asked to be in a knockoff of Fast Times at Ridgemont High that was being shot near his house.

"If I lived in Cincinnati, or Des Moines, or Austin, Texas, it wouldn't have happened," he says. "My friend, Joan Didion, who's a really smart woman, says in one of her books, `You can't win if you're not at the table.' And by being in L.A. I was at the table, even though I didn't even know what the game was."

He knocks on the wood of the Morton's table and says he feels "blessed." He adores his 10-year-old adopted son - "he's a god, he's a god" - and has written a soon-to-be-published book about his relationship with the boy. And he says he has a "wonderful, wonderful wifey - we're sort of separated but she's a wonderful wifey."

He explains that they just don't spend that much time together. He and Alexandra Denman, an entertainment industry lawyer, met at Yale. They have been married, divorced and remarried, and he vows: "I will never - I say this without fear of offending Corinna since I'm usually much too old, fat and slow-witted for her - but I will never be married to anybody else besides Alex. Ever. Ever."

As much as he loves Los Angeles, Stein says, "I'm not everybody's favorite person in this town. Because as a Republican fan of Richard Nixon, that puts me on the other side of the fence from most people in this town."

Stein still enjoys returning to Washington, where he spends up to a week each month when he's not busy with the show or other projects. He mainly visits with his father (his mother died last April) and friends, bicycles along the Potomac and eats at his other favorite restaurant, Aquarelle. And he sees Washington as being more power-obsessed than Los Angeles.

"I always remember when I was working at the White House everybody would be talking to you and they'd always be looking over your shoulder to see who was more important that they might be able to talk to. It was a very uncomfortable experience."

He once went to a party at the British embassy when he had long hair, and Washington Post reporter Sally Quinn came up to him and said: "You must be somebody really important to have hair that long and be at a party as fancy as this."

He informed her that he was there with his parents, and that he was a lowly lawyer at the FTC. "She said, `Really?!' And I said, `Yeah, really.' And she said, `OK, bye."' So he was blown off that quickly.

"Isn't that funny? Because I was nobody," he says.

Neal Marlens



Unknown Title

by Verne Gay, LA Times



The hills behind Neal Marlens' house are high and sere. Just beyond is the fashionable town of Malibu. And beyond that, of course, the wide Pacific. All in all, a long way from the green lawns and tree-shrouded streets of South Huntington, where he was raised.

"This is where the Chumash Indians used to live," he says of his California home. "We're sort of overdeveloped now [and] the hills burn on a regular basis - when they're not sliding down."

Marlens, and his wife, Carol Black, and their two children, aged 8 and 4, are Californians now. But the price of success is numbing inquisitiveness on the part of strangers, and so Marlens and Black are forever asked whether the ABC series they created, The Wonder Years (which aired from 1988-93 and is now rerun on Nick at Nite), is a thinly veiled autobiography of their lives in suburban Long Island and Maryland, respectively.

The answer remains the same: no. Funny thing, people never ask whether their other creations, Ellen, or the movie Soul Man, were ripped from the pages of their lives.

But Wonder Years? Ah, the school must be Henry L. Stimson Junior High (now Stimson Middle School), which Marlens attended (Class of '71). Series hero Kevin Arnold, played by Fred Savage, must be an angst-twisted Marlens. And all the wrinkles, permutations and idiosyncrasies of the fictional world of Years must be the same that Marlens and Black endured.

No, says Marlens. No, no, and no. Nevertheless, as any writer will tell you, you can never escape your past, and Marlens most assuredly never fully escaped his. The characters, he admits, "were an amalgam of people we both knew, and obviously, any writer writes from personal experience."

He grew up in the Audubon Woods development of South Huntington, on Robin Lane, in a house where his mother, Hanna, still lives. (His father, Al, a former Newsday managing editor, died in 1977.)

"It's pretty much now what it was like then," says Marlens, 41, in a phone interview. "I guess the trees are bigger, and that is a substantial difference. When we found the neighborhood in Burbank where we shot Wonder Years, we found a street that time had forgotten. For whatever reasons, the trees were uniquely small there, and we had been told there had been some tree blight. But you had homes that were of the same vintage as my home on Long Island and trees of the same height."

Marlens remembers a mostly happy upbringing in Audubon Woods. There were boyhood idylls, like regular jaunts to Jayne's Hill, off Sweet Hollow Road. ("I don't know that it's on any map, and maybe it's a subdivision now, but at the time, it was actually the highest point on Long Island.") There also was tennis, which he excelled at. His skills were strong enough to land him on the varsity team at Walt Whitman High.

"I thought of myself as fundamentally a happy kid," he recalls, "and two of my closest friends are from my youth, Paul Arnold, a violinist with the Philadelphia Orchestra, and Kevin Gliwa, an attorney in Denver." (Kevin Arnold was a not-so-subtle tribute.)

But his youth on Long Island was not perfect, and to this day, a residue of bitterness remains from his school days. He went to West Hills (then Oakwood Elementary) Schools, and from there, to Stimson and on to Walt Whitman. "Both my wife and I felt strongly that the school atmosphere we grew up in was extremely oppressive. Our schools were very similar to (any) large public schools...They are institutions that tend to be stifling and authoritarian, and oppressive to any creative urge that anyone might have."

Stimson, in particular, was "the apotheosis of repression," and he vividly remembers the time a teacher grabbed him by the scruff of the neck for going "down the wrong way in a one-way hall." (For the record, the teacher made a mistake: Marlens had had permission to go against the traffic to reach his home room.)

He left high school for Swarthmore College in Pennsylvania, and rarely looked back. "I would say that since I graduated from high school, other than Thanksgiving and visits from college, I have probably been back no more than 10 times in 20-odd years." (His mother usually makes the trek to California to visit.) "There's nothing," he adds, "compelling me to go back."

These days, Marlens and Black are on "a self-imposed hiatus of indeterminate length." They are working on - as he puts it - "noncommercial creative products," which one day may become commercial.

And no, the kids are not attending local schools. Marlens and Black are teaching them at home.



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09/29/03 20:00