Actors Don't Create Themselves, They Just Think They Do

I can’t watch the Oscars. Before this year, I literally cannot remember the last time I did. A few years ago my wife had to have an Oscar party because a visiting friend insisted, so I set up a television in the garage and watched “Team America: World Police” with a bunch of friends. Of course, we had to watch it twice, since the slobbering, tongue-kissing self-congratulation went on for over 4 hours.

This year was different. My friends and I wanted to see two things. I wanted to see Jerry Lewis get his award in the hopes he’d come out with thick glasses, buck teeth, and make a “Why didn’t I win for THE PATSY, you putzes!” speech. Needless to say, that didn’t happen. Instead, they treated Lewis like a Great-Aunt at a wedding nobody knows but is allowed to make a toast anyway. I guess today’s egomaniacs don’t respect their elder egomaniacs.

I was ready to turn it off right then, but my friend insisted we see Mickey Rourke’s speech. I knew this was never going to happen, that the Academy would never vote for a guy who said he was “not one of those who blames Bush for everything,” and that they vote for Sean Penn BECAUSE of his political stances, not in spite of them, as Penn likes to pretend. But since “The Wrestler” is one of my personal all-time favorites (for obvious reasons), and since Mickey Rourke had created the best portrait of a professional wrestler since Henry Winkler in “The One and Only” — OK, best portrait of a professional wrestler EVER — I allowed myself to get my hopes up a little and struggle through to the end. Maybe, just maybe, we wouldn’t have to listen to The Smug Little Prince’s sermon this year.

But as you know, that was not to be.

I don’t want to rehash Penn’s self-aggrandizing testament to his own bravery in being willing to stand in any room in Hollywood and say something that 99.9% of the people in the room agree with, as others have done that much better than I could. But one thing occurred to me as my eyes rolled heavenward listening to him congratulate himself.

Does anyone at the Oscars ever thank God?

Now as I say, I haven’t watched in years, but I have watched sports and seen countless athletes receive trophies and thank God for their abilities. Kurt Warner recently did so after his team won the NFC Championship. A lot of people poke fun at these athletes, claiming God has nothing to do with passing ability or a willingness to spend hours in the gym honing a skill, but as a former athlete (to a small degree), I’m sure most professional athletes know hard work doesn’t do it all. They’ve all shared locker rooms with guys who worked just as hard as they did, but didn’t grow to be 6’5″ with quick feet and a great arm.

I was a great basketball player – for a 6’1″ shooting guard who could barely touch the rim. I wish God had blessed me with another 8 inches of height and a decent 24″ vertical leap. But He had other things in mind, and I appreciate the humility of athletes who acknowledge they’ve been blessed.

Members of the military who receive medals frequently thank God. These men and women who receive little to no recognition in popular culture, who literally risk their lives in anonymity to preserve the freedom to make bad movies and obnoxious acceptance speeches, are the polar opposites of the “beautiful people” in Hollywood.

I’m an actor who thanks God I’ve been fortunate enough to make a living in this business for twenty years. In my first film where I had a lead role, after looking at the first dailies the director called me and said, “Good news. You look good on film. A lot of good actors don’t look good on film. You’re lucky.” I’ve known countless actors over the years who were terrific, maybe even better than me (if such a thing can be imagined), but who never got anywhere.

Why do I have a career and they don’t?

Actors and actresses don’t give themselves the ability to empathize and project their imagination into the lives of others and they don’t make themselves beautiful (at least before they can afford plastic surgery, and even then, it doesn’t always work). And yet, they thank their agents, writers, directors, dogs (which I understand completely, Mickey), wives, children and on and on — as if they created their own beauty, brains, physical grace and everything else required to be award-winning objects of public adoration.

But they didn’t create themselves. None of us did. And maybe by not watching all these years I missed all the Oscar winners who thanked God for the gifts with which they have been blessed. But somehow, I just don’t think that’s how this town works.