The joys of making the film, beyond its potential for box office success, were many. The movie checked several boxes on my “I want to work with that guy” list. Jan de Bont was the cinematographer, before he went off to direct his own films such as Speed and Twister. While shooting the submarine interior sequences, de Bont had to find a way to shoot in a contained space and still keep it interesting. I think those scenes look fabulous.
One day, the great Peter Firth showed up to play a small but pivotal role: the Russian officer on board the Red October who has his neck broken by the defecting Captain Ramius. Firth, now older and no longer the lovable enfant terrible who seduced audiences in his seminal stage roles in Equus and Amadeus, effortlessly slalomed through a long monologue in perfect Russian, proving why he is one of the best actors of the last many years. Tim Curry, Courtney B. Vance, Scott Glenn, and Sam Neill were also in the cast. The ever-gracious James Earl Jones was the dramatic equivalent of Joe Maher, patient, kind, and helpful. When I met Sean Connery, however, it all got a bit surreal for the boy from Massapequa.
Mace Neufeld threw a party at his home a few days before we began shooting. Nonetheless, Connery, the legendary movie star visiting the world’s movie capital, wasn’t allowed a drink or a bite of food. His wife, Micheline, was his trainer. As a tray of champagne glasses hovered in his direction, Connery reached for one, only to have his hand lightly slapped by Micheline. “No, no, no, Sean,” she chided. “You cannot ’ave zee cham-pan-ya!” Hors d’oeuvres followed. Again, Connery attempted. Again, Micheline blocked him with a slap and “No, no, no, Sean. You cannot ’ave zee paste-ah-reez!” Looking like a high school wrestler struggling to make weight, Connery looked at me and frowned. “It’s not going to be much of a party,” he murmured.
I came to watch Connery shoot on his first day, even though I wasn’t on the schedule. He almost didn’t make the film, because an illness had forced him to withdraw from the project. The producers had hired Klaus Maria Brandauer to play Sean’s role. But before Brandauer showed up, word came down that Sean was recovered and ready to work. McTiernan told me that Paramount figured out a way to make Brandauer “go away.” When Connery walked on the set to begin shooting, appearing trim and fit, he stunned me. From his steel-gray hairpiece to the cuffs of his shirts, from the trim of his beard to the fit of his wardrobe, Connery was a movie god. “A great day, comrades. We sail into history!” he said. No matter that the revered Soviet tactician had a Scottish accent. My first lead role in a big movie was with Double-O Seven. It didn’t get any better than this.
Tom Clancy showed up on set one day, and McTiernan, Neufeld, and a rather tense producer named Larry De Waay escorted him around. Tom knew that no one on that set would be there if it were not for his books. He told me that while he was running an insurance company in Maryland, his approach to writing his first novel was to research as much as possible in the public domain. He’d then add material based on interviews with military types who agreed to speak to him, at times even offering classified information, as long as it wasn’t attributed to them. “I filled in the rest with my imagination,” he told me. He was clearly on to something with this formula: the book sold three million copies. Unfortunately, the producers seemed to barely tolerate Tom. This isn’t surprising, however, as Hollywood executives always insist on putting in their creative two cents. And Clancy didn’t hesitate, between cigarettes, to mutter little comments under his breath. He was on the record with me with his opinion of the script. I’m certain that he realized how much was at stake for him at Paramount. If things went well, he would be in Stephen King territory. If not, he would simply be a very rich novelist instead of a ridiculously rich one with both feet firmly planted in cinematic history.
We started shooting on my thirty-first birthday. I had rented a house close to the lot in Beachwood Canyon, and my brother Billy was living with me while he shot the movie Internal Affairs, also at Paramount. We drove out to Malibu every weekend with a group of friends, and fell in love with the northern head of the peninsula near County Line. We would lie out at Zuma Beach and do as little as possible. The beach in Venice was too crowded with vendors, revelers, and palm readers, but Malibu reminded me of the beaches back home. One Sunday afternoon, driving the long route back to Beachwood, a friend and I stopped to watch Batman, whose ubiquitous billboards actually suggested an interesting movie. At a late-afternoon screening, my friend and I were perhaps the only two adults not accompanying a child. Having worked with Tim Burton on Beetlejuice, I was even more curious. On-screen, I saw Kim Basinger, whom I had seen in films like The Natural and Fool for Love. The kids in the theater perked up over the Batsuit and the Batmobile. When Kim came on-screen, they frowned and wanted to get back to the action. I, on the other hand, turned to my friend and said, “She’s a very beautiful woman.”
Back on the set, I dined one afternoon in the commissary with two Paramount executives, Don Granger and Gary Lucchesi, while we discussed their idea of casting me in John Milius’s film Flight of the Intruder. I didn’t know what I wanted to do next, but an effects-heavy military-hardware picture wasn’t it. Lucchesi turned to Granger and said, “I know what he wants. He wants the good stuff.” I stared at them for a moment and said dryly, “Yes, I suppose.” Once we wrapped Hunt, as we referred to it, I went home to New York. Soon after, an offer to audition for The Godfather, Part III came. As I read the screenplay while sitting in Central Park, I would literally hum the theme from the original Godfather as I turned the pages. The role eventually went to Andy Garcia, but on that one afternoon in New York, what a fantasy I had!
I wanted to stay home in New York for a while. I felt confident that movie work was mine to be had. I wasn’t looking for a play to read, but my agent sent me one called Prelude to a Kiss. On a quiet autumn day, I read it straight through. With its mythical premise, odd characters, and beautiful writing, the script put a spell on me. If you know the show, you know there’s no pun intended.