The leading character brings his family into a neighborhood that had once seemed forbidding. But recent improvements in the area allow him to look beyond the miasma on the shabby main streets and envision a comfortable life. Then the trouble begins-minor burglaries, constant noise, a gantlet of panhandlers on the way to the ”L.” The man, for most of his life, had empathized with poor people; now, however, their proximity bothers him.
Yet he finds the signs of ”progress” in his adopted community just as vexing as the hassles-the evictions of impoverished families from apartment buildings slated for rehabilitation, the racism sometimes expressed by fellow gentrifiers. As the issues become more clear and circumstances bombard his longstanding principles, he realizes he must take a stand.
Of course, this is only the scenario for a movie-an imaginary movie, at that-a basis for the sort of motion picture that might emerge from the combined creative and technical forces available in the new Chicago film industry.
Chicago screenwriter Denise DeClue created the story to help demonstrate the indigenous cinematic quality that might result from a collaboration by local motion picture artists, many of whom now command national respect.
Our imaginary production team recruited financier Mel Pearl and director Joe Sedelmaier, who mapped out their preliminary strategies. Then, inevitably, they had to answer an important question: Who`s going to be in this thing?
Sedelmaier, a birddog of undiscovered talent, likes to place amateurs in minor roles. But he will work with casting specialists to fill the major parts.
Although some nationally known actors reside in Chicago, Sedelmaier likes to get fresh faces into his pictures, and so the production team tapped actor Ted Levine for the lead of this production.
Who? Motion picture insiders know Levine belongs to a sizable army of excellent Chicago actors and actresses who appear frequently in the movies but prefer to stay home between assignments.
Levine, 30, occasionally acts and directs at Remains Theatre Ensemble, while performing, at times, as a thug in ”Crime Story,” which shot 13 episodes here last year before moving to Las Vegas. In addition, the actor played one of Richard Gere`s fellow cops in ”No Mercy” and teamed up with Jack Nicholson in ”Ironweed.” Recently he worked on Chicago locations in
”Sundown,” a political thriller directed by Constantin Costa-Gavras.
Levine, then, might serve the imaginary all-Chicago movie as a symbol for the depth of acting talent here. He puts a believable face on the screen and could give us a character who relates well to all sorts of Chicagoans, from radicals to establishment housing developers. Onscreen, he would stand within the maelstrom of a changing neighborhood, trying to sort out his feelings-projecting menace one moment, then confusion, then warmth.
Serious directors seldom look for matinee idols, and even matinee idols prefer roles with texture and grit. Directors want reality, and a lot of them appreciate Levine`s rough good looks, athletic bearing and tough-but-approachable personality.
Levine says most movies filmed in Chicago fail to convey the character of the city and its people.
”I`d like to see scripts originating here with language that doesn`t get bastardized,” he said. ”You watch television and films, and you can tell which ones are from New York or L.A. They`ll have a certain language, an idiom, an aura.
”Then those New York and L.A. people come to make movies in Chicago.”
Levine scowled. His green eyes looked hard enough to pierce a stack of film cans. ”The scripts they bring with them are just ludicrous. They lack a Chicago voice. Until the heartbeat of a project starts here and stays here , you`re not going to get an authentic Chicago film.”
Levine arrived here in 1968 with his parents, both doctors, who had been treating coal miners in Bellaire, Ohio.
As a student at Marlboro (Vt.) College, he appeared in a few plays. ”I got cast one summer in a Shakespeare festival in Burlington, making 150 bucks a week, meeting lots of girls. And I figured, what the hell, I`ll do this for a living.”
After pausing at repertory companies in New York and Ann Arbor, Mich., Levine returned to Chicago in 1980, found odd jobs and occasional parts and, after a year, caught on with Remains Theatre Ensemble.
Levine appeared in some Remains productions and directed others. Between shows, he took almost any employment he could get. He joined carpentry crews, drove a hotel shuttle bus, parked cars, cleaned lion cages at Brookfield Zoo, poured concrete and supervised physical therapy for children with cerebral palsy.
In the last couple of years, Levine has worked steadily in films, plays, television and commercials. He might be most familiar to audiences as Frank Holman, a strangely likeable Outfit underling who makes an occasional appearance in the ”Crime Story” series. When producer Michael Mann filmed 13 ”Crime Story” episodes in Chicago last year, the local movie industry hummed. Then Mann moved the locale to Las Vegas.
”I`m still excited about `Crime Story,` and I wish it would get back to Chicago,” Levine said. ”It brought a lot of work to people. Television and film aren`t going on here all the time, so the actors don`t get the kind of training they need.
”You can do plays forever, but if you`re not on a movie set and get an understanding of how to find the light and be effective in front of a camera, you`re never going to grow as a film actor.”
Levine would rather not hop around the country making films all the time. His girlfriend and his 10-year-old daughter, Melissa, live here. Between movie projects, he can offer a hand to the Remains ensemble. Or he might even buckle up his tool belt again.
”I`m determined to keep my roots here,” he said. ”I think there`s a kind of energy that happens here. People don`t put up with as much bull. I`ve worked in New York and I`ve worked in L.A., and I think that Chicago could be real different.
”Not so much happens in Chicago that`s `saleable,` by television and film standards. It`s not a town that appears to be full of glitter, romance, sex and money. That stuff is here, yeah, but it seems that for years people have gone to Los Angeles or New York to realize a dream. A lot of film ideas involve a character who goes looking for a dream and finds it.
”What do you go to Chicago to look for and find? I don`t know. It`s hard to say. Maybe just to get the hell out of L.A. or New York.”
–
A few months ago, the offices of Alderman & Andreas, casting directors, echoed with ringing telephones and jubilant shouts when the partners learned that Ted Levine had won a part opposite Debra Winger, Tom Berenger and John Heard in ”Sundown,” directed by Constantin Costa-Gavras (”Z,” ”Missing,” ”State of Siege”).
When the deal came through, the conversation in Jane Alderman`s and Shelley Andreas` handsome Near North loft/office suite went something like this:
Andreas: ”You know that guy?” Alderman: ”The sandy-haired one, the
`Crime Story` guy?” Andreas: ”Yeah, he`s got that part we recommended him for.” Alderman: ”The Costa-Gavras thing. Oh, goody!”
After almost eight years together, the partners speak in a shorthand only they understand, and both possess a Rolodex memory. ”The one nightmare I have,” Alderman said, ”is that I`ll get a brain disease and forget everything.”
Alderman and Andreas, who introduced Costa-Gavras to Levine, have developed a coast-to-coast reputation for their casting skills. Scripts arrive regularly, and they immediately begin riffling through their mental impressions of actors they know.
Alderman and Andreas recruited all the characters except Tom Hanks and Jackie Gleason for ”Nothing in Common.” They came up with all or some of the players for ”Bad Boys,” ”Two Fathers,” ”Welcome Home, Bobby,” ”The Imposter,” ”Open Admissions” and ”Vital Signs,” among others. They have stocked theater stages for ”Evita,” ”Biloxi Blues,” ”Lives and Legends” and ”Sweet Dreams.”
Alderman, a former actress and agent, started the business shortly after a divorce. ”All along, I had been doing some casting as a favor for friends coming in here from New York or Los Angeles to do a play or a movie,” she recalled. ”After my son, Jason, was born, I did acting for 10 years. In January of 1980, I segued into casting.”
Andreas joined Alderman later that year. She had moved to Chicago from New York so her two children could be nearer to her ex-husband, a Decatur businessman. Andreas had studied theater at Northwestern University and had acted a little, but in Chicago, her career foundered for a while. A neighbor introduced her to Alderman, and they decided their backgrounds would mesh.
Casting, the partners insist, is largely a matter of knowing the range of many actors and actresses and exercising good taste. ”We`re hired by the production company and they pay us a flat fee,” Alderman said. ”It`s a mixed bag of creativity and strict business with rules, unions, legalese and a ton of paperwork.”
”Every director`s taste is different,” Andreas added. ”Some of them are easy to please, and some are very picky.”
Alderman lifted her eyes to the ceiling and grimaced. ”Directors can be picky about mood or type,” she said. ”It`s usually not a question of talent. We might choose somebody, and a director might say, `I see the guy as a little skinnier or a little more upper-class.”`
By studying a director`s work, the partners can zero in on acceptable actors. ”For example,” Alderman explained, ”after seeing the films of Martin Scorsese (for whom the partners helped cast ”The Color of Money”), we knew what kind of people he likes-weird street people. Just bringing in a pretty face was not going to be the answer.”
The partners have boosted so many acting careers that they now hate to appear in public. In a restaurant, a waiter other than their own marches over with a gleam in his eye. ”Uh-oh,” Andreas might say, ”get ready for an Actor Attack.”
Alderman said, ”It`s terrible when you just want to be left alone, and the waiter asks, `Any movies coming to town?”`
Andreas shuddered. ”Actors will even get up from another table and come over and say, `Will you come to my show? Why haven`t you called me?` It`s very aggravating.”
Alderman & Andreas, of course, are not the only casting experts in town. The film industry here supports several. Producers often come looking for the services of local talent agents or such casting directors as Kordos & Charbonneu (”The Naked Face,” ”Risky Business,” ”Chicago Story”) and Ken Carlson & Associates (”Winds of War,” ”Ordinary People”). For extras, they might contact Holzer-Roche and Knutsen Casting, either of which can fill the screen with hundreds of people to provide the proper ”atmosphere.”
The casting process itself can be fraught with dramatic tension, with actors and directors playing the sort of cat-and-mouse game that engaged Ted Levine and Costa-Gavras early this year.
When he first met with the director, Levine could feel a sort of Chicago wariness creeping into his sensibilities. For a while, he felt as if Costa-Gavras looked upon him only as a ”type.” ”And I`m thinking, `Hey, I`m an actor. I can play anything,”` Levine recalled.
Costa-Gavras initially refused to show Levine the script for ”Sundown.” Later, Levine learned he might be playing an extremely evil man, a character even rougher than the hoodlums, bums, paramilitary zealots and cops he had portrayed in the past. ”I had to sort of run back through my life before I accepted,” he said. ”I`ve got a kid. I don`t want to be walking down the street one day and get shot because somebody doesn`t understand the difference between film and real life.”
Some of the conferences between Levine and Costa-Gavras took place in a pleasant chamber within the office suite of Alderman & Andreas. ”It`s nice when I go in there to meet a director,” Levine said, smiling. ”I sit down and immediately I have a feeling of security and confidence. Probably it`s because I built that room myself.”
