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Empire N° 60, Juin 1994
"IT'S THE EASIEST FUCKING JOB IN THE WHOLE wide world."
So opines young Eddie Furlong, whose rise from poverty-stricken 13-year-old wise guy to 16-year-old teen film heart-throb has become the stuff of movie legend. Now on his fifth major project since he made his debut three years ago, Eddie is understandably happy to apply a little demystification to the job of celluloid thespianship.
"It suits me because I'm real lazy," he confesses. "I'd much rather be an actor than have to work all day being a businessman doing paperwork or being a garbage man. I'd hate that."
Not that such an eventuality was ever likely once he was plucked from obscurity and thrust into a starring role alongside Schwarzenegger in Terminator 2.
"God that was a lot of fun," he remembers. "I think the first film you ever do is still the best, but I've had a great time in every other film I've ever done too..."
Films that include a close encounter with adversaries of the furry kind in Pet Sematary Two and, most recently, trawling the streets of Seattle with Jeff Bridges in the gritty depiction of US low life that was American Heart. This month, however, he appears as the beaten but much-loved son of Kathy Bates in A Home Of Our Own.
"I like having variety," he explains. "And with Home Of Our Own it was nice to be able to do something where I could really act and give it my all. I'm very happy with the film, and Kathy was wonderful - the most down-to-earth Academy Award-winning actress I can think of."
In fact Furlong also comes with that all essential poor upbringing/bumpy ride to success story - not a million miles away from Nick, the street urchin he played in American Heart. Born in Glendale, California, he entered into a court action to be allowed to leave his mother and live with his sister and half-brother. "She blew it," he says of his dear old mum.
"The difference is, Nick was a really sad person. I was pretty happy," he explains of American Heart. "I was streetwise because I had confidence in myself. You can be tough, but you're not streetwise if you don't have confidence. I got into all sorts of trouble. I was a little brat kid, though I wasn't completely out of control. The problem was, I didn't know what I wanted to do. I either wanted to sit at home all day watching TV with the wife working or be a famous rock star like Jim Morrison and do whatever I wanted. Or act. So I guess I got what I wanted."
And he got it fast, attracting not only the attention of Hollywood, but also that of his 30 year-old tutor Jacqui Domac, with whom he's since shacked up in L.A.
"It's no big deal - she's just like a 19-year old," he explains of his former teacher, clearly having heard the isn't-she-a-bit-old-for-you? line of questioning several thousand times before. "I don't really notice the age difference. I don't think she does either - she's just as stupid and immature as me. I'm fine about it, but everybody makes a bigger deal of it than it really is."
Meanwhile it's business as usual for young Eddie as he currently tackles the role of another streetwise kid in Little Odessa, co-starring Tim Roth ("a lot of fun to work with," would you believe?). And, after a string of films that haven't exactly set the box office tills ringing, perhaps this time the punters will enjoy watching it as much as Eddie's enjoying making it.
"I don't do movies for them to do well," he concludes, almost convincingly. "I just do them because I like to act, and if they don't do well, fuck it. As long as I'm in the business for a long time, I don't care... "
Nylon, novembre 2000
Edward Furlong, that picky, prickly young actor, explores the bar scene in his new film, The Animal Factory.
Edward Furlong slides into a booth, offering an apology for steeping in his delicate frame is snugly fitted into jeans and a black ribbed tee, and hisalready shaggy hair is extremely mussed. Due to a non functioning car, Eddie has chosen to meet close to home at a sunny chain restaurant in the San Fernando Valley, where tanned faces regard the actor with a mixture of suspicion and fascination: Furlong's got a semi-malnourished stature, vampiric skin tone, and a melodic smoker's cough.
Between those coughing attacks, he chats about his latest film, The Animal Factory. Written by former inmate Edward Bunker and directed by indie legend Steve Buscemi, the movie follows Furlong's character, Ron Decker, a privileged teenager busted for drug trafficking, who learns the intricacies of life behind bars. "We visited San Quentin before filming. It's pretty wild, the way they live in jail," says Furlong, pausing to blow his nose into a cocktail napkin. "I remember the weirdest thing I saw were these tiny box cages that weren't even big enough to stand in. I think they used them when the prisoners were really bad. It was very inhumane."
While filming in a Philadelphia prison with real convicts as extras, Furlong discovered far greater injustices. "You can't really smoke in prison any more. I think that's wrong. I think that would make you more crazy," he says, dead serious, and then pauses to cough into another napkin. "I was the guy who would give my cigarettes away when the prisoners would ask for some, and they were constantly bumming them. I gave away packs and packs."
The Animal Factory traces the relationship between Furlong and Willem Dafoe, an experienced lifer who teaches the young inmate how to survive in the slammer. "I relate to my character. If I were in prison, I'd be the same way," says Furlong. "I'd make friends with whoever I needed, to get what I needed. But I think my character in the movie has a pretty easy time. He's lucky."
Furlong considers himself lucky. He says he's fortunate to have worked with a cast of experienced actors ranging from Dafoe to old-timer Seymour Cassel to an entirely unrecognizable Mickey Rourke as his transvestite cell mate. But even though Furlong, 23, was the youngest cast member, he wasn't babied on the set. "I definitely look up to someone like Willem Dafoe. People always ask me about the mentor thing, but it wasn't like that. It was always more about being on equal ground with each other than about idol worship."
After two glasses of lemonade and a plate of herb chicken with mashed potatoes, Furlong seems temporarily revived. His eyes fixed in a semi-reptilian stare reminiscent of River Phoenix, he is inspired to wax poetic on metaphoric prisons. "The thing is, LA is kinda like a prison. Especially Hollywood. I try to keep a distance from the scene and just do what I want to do. I'm really happy that I have a roof over my head and that my work is creative. I take advantage of that."
Furlong is a study in mixed emotions. One moment he's pensive, the next playful. Similarly, he swings from feeling confident about his craft to openly doubting his future in Hollywood. "I become more worried about the next project as I get more projects," he admits. "Maybe when you're Ed Bradley on 60 Minutes you don't worry so much but I don't think I can ever be too confident." Still, Furlong can lay claim to a decade-long career spanning an enviable range of projects. From Little Odessa to American History X to the lead in John Waters' Pecker, Furlong's career has maintained a healthy balance of indie and big-budget paydays. "Good movies lead to other good movies. Being successful is about not taking half-assed things," he says. "That's not always an easy tightrope to walk."
Indeed, being selective about scripts could potentially put Furlong out of circulation. "It's definitely hard to sit around in your house waiting for the right script," he admits. "But there are actors my age who do anything, and then have careers that just don't last." As if suddenly considering his luck in the scheme of things, he adds, "Maybe I'll go straight to hell after this life."
Well, for now, Furlong just returned from a five-month stint in Italy, where he finished filming The Knights of the Quest. "A lot of hot outdoor shots in heavy suits," is how he sums up the experience. As for upcoming projects, Furlong may be significantly less selective in the future. More than anything else, he says, the next script should feature a few good women. "Every movie I do is about guys, guys, guys a bunch of guys running around in the heat. I never have a girlfriend in a movie. I gotta do a story in the cold and make snow angels with the girls."