Crossing the lobby of Ma Maison Hotel to meet actor Henry Thomas, it’s necessary to fight the urge to look for a 10-year-old boy keeping a small alien safe from harm’s way. It’s been 13 years since Thomas starred as Elliott, E.T.’s best friend in Steven Spielberg’s classic fable “E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial.” Despite the years, separating his identity from that film requires a concentrated effort.
Soon that effort should be diminished. This year Thomas stars in three pivotal films that mark his transition from boy to young man and establish him as an actor with range.
In the brooding frontier epic (and last week’s No. 1 movie) “Legends of the Fall,” he portrays Samuel, beloved youngest brother, sibling to Brad Pitt and Aidan Quinn, son of Anthony Hopkins. Next Saturday Showtime premieres the Bruce Beresford adaptation of Sam Shepard’s play “Curse of the Starving Class.” The dark drama features Thomas as the sullen, poetic son of Kathy Bates and James Woods. Currently, he’s in Los Angeles shooting HBO’s “The McMartin Story,” which recounts the high-profile trial of the owners of the Manhattan Beach, Calif., preschool. Thomas plays alleged child molester Ray Buckey in the movie, which airs in May.
The lanky 23-year-old strides across the room with an easygoing gait, greeting hotel staff by their first names, taking time for a friendly wrestle with a guest’s Rottweiler on his way to the restaurant. He settles comfortably into Ma Maison’s elegant eatery as if it were one of his hometown coffee shops and proceeds to tell the story of growing up-on screen and off.
Thomas lives near his folks in a house he built on the family’s 40-acre spread close to San Antonio, Texas. He says he’s indebted to his parents for their decision to stay on the land where he grew up rather than move to Hollywood to capitalize on his “E.T.” success.
“I owe a lot to my parents,” he says. “They were very smart about the things they chose to let me know. And not know. I knew I was a celebrity, and people wanted me in their films. But (my parents) always took a cautious approach. They told me I could act as long as I wanted to, but warned me this business could fall out from under me at any minute. They kept my success in perspective, and they conveyed that perspective to me.”
Living on the silent, peaceful plains of Texas provided the actor with the continuity he needed to survive a potentially tough transition-from anonymity to fame to gangly teenager to young man. When he reached the age of reason, Thomas elected to stay there.
While he’s on location, his father, an employee of Sony Micro Electronics, takes care of his dog. His mother, a horse breaker turned dairy owner turned writer, looks after his horses. Between films he plays the guitar, sings and writes songs for the Rain Dogs, a Celtic folk-rock band that performs around San Antonio.
“I love the familiarity of the land,” he reflects. “And it’s therapeutic to go there after being in a fast-lane city like L.A.”
Ed Zwick, director of “Legends,” thinks Thomas’ decision to live in the Southwest lies at the heart of what makes the actor unique.
“When he read for the part, he seemed extraordinarily gifted, but more important, possessed of real dignity and bearing-an inner poise,” Zwick says. “All the things that young men of that day (the turn of the century) seemed to have and very few young actors today do; Henry had that in abundance. It was that more than anything that led me to cast him.
“I think the decision not to live in Hollywood, but remain in San Antonio, has been very beneficial to him. That transition can be so painful when it’s done in the public eye. Instead, he seems to have lived a real life. That gives him a manhood that is not dependent on the approval of some casting director. I think it centers him.”
Thomas seems born to play “Legends’ ” Samuel Ludlow. The part of the romantic patriot draws on the best of his youth and the best of his maturity. He’s young enough to convey the abiding naivete that touches and ultimately breaks the heart. He’s old enough to convey his ascension into manhood: putting country above self, broaching a lifelong love relationship.
“My goal,” Thomas says, “was to make him so likable, so charming, so pure that people would miss him when he was gone. He was a catalyst for the whole story to change. You have to remember him well, even when he’s not on screen.”
If Thomas seems a likely choice to play Samuel, a character who exemplifies the best in America’s sons, he seems a highly unlikely choice for Buckey, whose public image invites our collective worst fears. Why did he want this part? “I wanted to increase my range,” he responds without hesitation.
“McMartin” director Mick Jackson (“Bodyguard”) was drawn to the actor because he represented an opportunity to undermine the preconceptions of viewers.
“I like the idea of pulling the rug from under people’s preconceptions by picking someone who is associated with a role (Elliott in “E.T.”) which is a personification of childlike innocence and having him play someone who is charged with violating that childlike innocence,” Jackson says.
Only 12 at the time of the trial, Thomas had little knowledge of the event to influence him. He prepared by watching miles of videotape on Buckey, whom the jury acquitted on 52 counts (it was deadlocked on 13), leaving a looming shadow of doubt in the public mind as to Buckey’s guilt or innocence.
“I don’t want to change anybody’s mind,” Thomas says. “I just want to play that doubt to the hilt. That’s what makes this story completely compelling and completely frustrating.”
In acting, the secret to stirring up doubt is a performance that leaves room for interpretation. Jackson believes Thomas offers that quality in large measure.
“One of the reasons I like his whole persona is he’s very calm,” Jackson says. “His face doesn’t express huge contrasts of emotions. He has this kind of tabula rasa face, you can read anything into it, because it doesn’t give you too many clues. It’s not a grand opera face; it’s more of a chamber music face with very subtle expressions.”
“Tabula rasa” describes perfectly the actor’s portrayal of Wesley Tate in “Curse of the Starving Class.” Not until the final scenes does he dismiss the dourness that masks a troubled heart. To understand, viewers must listen to his soliloquies.
In person, Thomas is good-natured, a young man who is clearly happy and comfortable with himself. But there is that sense of something held in reserve. He only waivers when discussing “Curse.” Playing Wesley, a teenager with a lot of miles on him, left its mark on the actor. Buckey was the toughest part to play because of the hopelessness of the man’s circumstances. But Wesley got to him. “He’s the only character that I can relate to so much that it scares me,” Thomas admits.
Shepard’s play focusing on the fate of a downtrodden rural Texas family gives him a chance to display a poignancy that’s become a trademark of his acting style. Zwick calls it “melancholy.” Thomas calls it “sadness.” Even Elliott in “E.T.” reflected the unhappiness that comes of a broken home and losing one’s best friend. “I think sadness is probably the most common recurring theme in our lives,” Thomas says.
These three films put the awkward teens behind Thomas. Those years constituted the most difficult time in his life. A three-year gap in his list of credits attests to the struggle. “Casting agents seemed to think that I hit puberty and lost my talent,” he says. “I never understood it.”
He didn’t understand it, but he survived it. By pure “perseverance,” he reports. Thomas’ list of credits now reflects a steady flow of work, and his face reflects the joy he takes in the performing.
Two more weeks of shooting “McMartin” and Thomas heads back to God’s country to refill his soul, back to the primal source of his strength. You can tell he can’t wait to get there.
