From the Archives: Actor Clarence Williams III.

Show: FRESH AIR
Date: MARCH 26, 1999
Time: 12:00
Tran: 032601np.217
Type: FEATURE
Head: Clarence Williams III
Sect: Entertainment
Time: 12:06

BARBARA BOGAEV, HOST: This is FRESH AIR. I'm Barbara Bogaev filling in for Terry Gross.

The film "The Mod Squad," which opens today, is based on the 1960s TV series about three hippie undercover cops. On today's show we feature an interview with one of the original "Squad" members, Clarence Williams III.

From 1968 to 1973, he co-starred in "The Mod Squad" as Linc. Though he played a role model in the series, he went on to specialize in quirky, sometimes brutal, characters. He played a killer in "52 Pick-Up," an abusive father in Prince's film "Purple Rain," and a heroin addict in "Sugar Hill." He played a mortician, and was great fun to watch in the comic horror film "Tales From The Hood."

This year he is appearing in a number of films, including "Reindeer Games," directed by John Frankenheimer. And "Shepherd," written and directed by James Rowe.

Terry spoke with Williams in 1995. He said it was Bill Cosby who first suggested him for the role in "The Mod Squad." Cosby was then co-starring in the TV series "I Spy." Williams was invited out to L.A. to do a screen test and to meet with producer Aaron Spelling.

TERRY GROSS, HOST: How did they first describe "The Mod Squad" to you?

CLARENCE WILLIAMS III, ACTOR, "THE MOD SQUAD": Well, you know, something it was called "The Young Detectives." It was called "The Young Detectives," and these guys had -- in the script these guys were running around with all kinds of guns and machine pistols and this that and the other thing and da da da da da.

And all praises to Aaron, he was the one who wrote all of that stuff out. And he says, no, there's guns and there's not all of this sort of stuff. Which is interesting, somewhere somebody was telling me how much they loved the show and they used to love the shootouts we had.

And Michael Cole, who was in the show, and Peggy Lipton and Ty Daniels (ph) and myself -- we never once carried guns. With the exception of Ty who was really a policeman. In fact, the three of us were never really a part -- officially a part -- of the police department. We were sort of like these juvenile delinquents who were being smoothed out to be better persons.

But we never carried guns or had any shootouts or anything like that. But...

GROSS: ...but you were undercover.

WILLIAMS: We were -- definitely, we were undercover. We were definitely undercover. Sort of like troubleshooters. And every now and then -- I could always tell when the writers were having difficulty coming up with a different show for us because they were always do -- we'd break out the old chestnuts.

Well, there were two chestnuts you bring out when the writers were having a little trouble. The one is, that the police commissioner is complaining to Captain Greer (ph) that these young kids are running around. And so you would do that show about two times a season.

And then toward the end of the year when we were running low on funds, because a few of the shows would go over budget, there would always be some kind of murder -- the theatrical studio. So we could shoot one on the lot without going on location..

LAUGHTER

And so we always a movie a star who got knocked off or some makeup person who got knocked off. And "The Mod Squad" was brought in undercover, and so we would wind up being a grip or makeup person or something or other or a script supervisor and we would solve the case.

That means -- because that meant we could not go off the lot for that particular episode because we used to shoot four days out and three days in.

GROSS: Now you always used to say -- Linc always used to say, "solid."

WILLIAMS: That came out of -- that, I ad-libbed in the show because that came out of -- I used to hear a lot of jazz musicians would say to an individual who was just on such a terrific solo or made some really creative move with his or her instrument. And someone would say, "solid."

And so I used that a couple of times, and then all of a sudden it started appearing in a lot of scripts and I stopped using it. Because I didn't want to make it my hook or whatever they call it when you have a line that you're noted for. But nonetheless it still stuck.

GROSS: Were you able to tell -- like do you think one could tell, looking back at the reruns, what year it was in by your hair?

LAUGHTER

WILLIAMS: Of course they can. They knew it was in the late '60s. You know, it's interesting talking about that hair. I wore my hair long like that long before I was even an actor. My grandfather, after he came out of the Navy, for some reason he rarely cut his hair. And his hair was always long.

And I always just liked the look of his hair. So I stopped getting haircuts -- just totally stopped. I wasn't making any kind of political statement.

GROSS: This was before the afro, you were wearing your hair...

WILLIAMS: ...long before. Long, long, long before. Ask anybody who knew me of the period and they will all tell you that my hair was always that long. But I used to shave it all off in the summertime. And that was the only time during the year I would have a haircut.

In the summertime I would shave it all off, and then by the time it was coming to go to school again or whatever -- when September would roll around it would begin to grow back in and look, you know, have a semblance of normalcy as opposed to a shaved head.

But no, it had nothing to do with any of that. But anyway, so I started -- the term -- so all of a sudden they put this term "afro" to it. So it's called this afro. And I used to -- I always used to say to myself well, the term is basically a misnomer because if you had your hair, in fact, that long and you were living in the jungle -- I mean, everything would be collecting in your hair. You would have bugs in your hair.

I mean, as you ran through the jungle chasing your equivalent of Jane it would be -- it would get snagged on trees and all kinds of things like that would happen to it. But that's how that really happened.

But interestingly, when I first got out to California and so -- and they decided they wanted to use me in the pilot for the television show, and so I was in Mr. Spelling's office and he was sitting behind his desk and he was puffing on his pipe.

And you can tell when Aaron is really thinking hard because the puffs on the pipe get more puffier. And so these puffs were puffing and then all of a sudden he finally said, "we got to do something about your hair."

And so I said, "well, what do you mean do something about my hair?" He says, "well, you've got to do something about your hair." So what he did was -- this is truly funny -- and he says to, I think it's Shelly Hull (ph) who was his assistant -- and still is -- was there.

And he said, "Shelly, where's Bill Cosby?" And so Shelly says, "I don't know boss, but I'll find out." So he goes and grabs a phone and he calls Sheldon Leonard's office, who was the executive producer of "I Spy," and he says, "where is "I Spy" shooting at?" And he told them in Acapulco. They're shooting down there.

So Aaron says, "get me the phone number of where they're staying in Acapulco." He gets the phone number. Aaron Spelling calls Bill Cosby in Acapulco and says, "hey Bill, who cuts your hair? What's the name of your barber."

And to get Bill's barber to come up to the studio to cut my hair. So I mean, they got a big broohaha about this hair. So this guy comes to the studio to cut my hair, and I really truly didn't want this haircut. So I said, OK, I'll get this haircut.

So he and I go into one of the dressing rooms alone, which was perfect, and I said, "now here's what I want you to do. Just trim it. Just trim it, trim it, trim it. That's all. Make it trim. Not a lot." And then I went into the bathroom and I just soaked it all the way wet totally through.

Then I came back and he had some kind of palmay (ph). And I said, "now some of that stuff on it." And then we packed it and combed it down -- really packed it down tight. Then went back into Mr. Spelling's office, and he says, "that's better." I said "no, I don't want to take any more off." He says, "OK, we'll stay with that."

Some now we start shooting the show -- each time I would tease it out just a little bit more. A little bit more. A little bit more. Until it became what it became. Which is the way I used to wear it.

GROSS: This is a very important story in American culture, I think.

LAUGHTER

So listen, of all the people who you went undercover as what was your favorite?

WILLIAMS: I don't have a favorite. But there were some favorite people who were doing the show at that time.

GROSS: Sammy Davis?

WILLIAMS: Sammy Davis was a joy. But I was thinking about another thing because with Sammy, basically we played ourselves.

GROSS: Right.

WILLIAMS: But I was like Maurice Evans. He played an admiral, a retired admiral. And my undercover thing was to be this admiral's aide. And that was a lot of fun because here is Maurice Evans, who represents a great deal of the English theater and Shakespeare and all of that. It was a joy to work with him for the seven days that he was there.

GROSS: Were you glad or sorry when "The Mod Squad" came to an end?

WILLIAMS: Well, I wasn't glad and/or sorry. And it didn't come to an end in the kind of way that normally shows come to an end. My contract was up and I would not renew. The show was never really canceled in the sense that, guys the ratings are no good so it's over.

I had done my five years and I decided I had done that long enough. So I said that's it for me. And I went back to New York, and then they decided not to continue with it.

GROSS: I see. Now, you know, correct me if I'm wrong year but you were this really good role model, right, in "The Mod Squad?"

WILLIAMS: That was the perception.

GROSS: But then after that most of the roles of yours that I know, you've been killers, abusers -- people who are really nuts. And that was it for your good role model era.

WILLIAMS: Well, you know, it's interesting. You know, those were the kinds of parts that put me in feature films.

GROSS: The crazy parts.

WILLIAMS: Well, the guys were not so crazy, they had a different point of view.

LAUGHTER

The one that turned it for me was John Frankenheimer.

GROSS: Oh, oh, "52 Pick-Up."

WILLIAMS: Yeah. And Mr. Frankenheimer, I think, probably is -- all credit is due to him for my "resurgence."

GROSS: OK, let me say that's where I started noticing you again. Let me play a clip from "52 Pick-Up" so people can hear how you sounded in it.

WILLIAMS: Sure.

(BEGIN AUDIO CLIP -- SCENE FROM THE FILM "52 PICK-UP")

UNIDENTIFIED ACTOR: What is this? Don't be fooling with guns in here.

UNIDENTIFIED ACTOR: You ready for the big question?

UNIDENTIFIED ACTOR: Oh, man. What are you on?

UNIDENTIFIED ACTOR: The question is, how much did the man say he was going to give you?

UNIDENTIFIED ACTOR: Give me?

UNIDENTIFIED ACTOR: Give you. Give us. Just say it.

UNIDENTIFIED ACTOR: Yeah, you went out to see the guy didn't you?

UNIDENTIFIED ACTOR: What's the answer?

UNIDENTIFIED ACTOR: Before I can talk to you, you go out on your own and see the guy yourself. Is that it?

SOUND OF GUNSHOT

UNIDENTIFIED ACTOR: Hey, hey. Now. Listen to me a minute.

UNIDENTIFIED ACTOR: When a man pulls (expletive) on me, he's either very brave or very stoned. Which are you?

UNIDENTIFIED ACTOR: Hey.

SOUND OF GUNSHOT

GROSS: That's a clip from "52 Pick-Up." And my guest is Clarence Williams III. I want to make a confession to you, and I don't know how you'll take this, but after seeing you play the psychotic killer in "52 Pick-Up;" playing the abusive father in "Purple Rain;" the really strange evangelizing cop in "Deep Cover;" Wesley Snipes' heroine addicted father in "Sugar Hill;" I was thinking, Clarence Williams, he is really great but I bet he's a pretty strange man.

I mean, I want to interview this man, but I wonder if he is even sane. Because you're so eccentric. What makes you so gifted at getting in touch with a certain type of character who has broken from reality?

WILLIAMS: I don't know how to answer that. I really don't. I don't. I don't know how to answer that.

GROSS: I mean, you just have such a gift for it. I mean, I just think you're so remarkable in those roles.

WILLIAMS: I'm not trying to be disingenuous, but I think a great deal of the credit has to go to the writers. I mean, these people put the stuff on the page and I'm bent or strange or whatever enough to be able to get in touch with it. But I really don't know how.

BOGAEV: If you're just joining us, Terry's guest is Clarence Williams. He played Linc in the 1960s TV series "The Mod Squad." A movie based on "The Mod Squad" opens in theaters today. We'll hear more of their conversation after the break.

This is FRESH AIR.

BREAK

BOGAEV: Let's get back to Terry's interview with Clarence Williams III, best-known for his role as Linc in the TV series "The Mod Squad."

Here's a clip of Williams in the 1995 comic horror film, "Tales from the Hood." Three young dealers are looking for a lost drug shipment at an address that turns out to be a funeral home. The mortician, who seems to come from the world of the dead, is played by Clarence Williams. He tells the dealers he'll get them the drugs.

But first, he opens up a series of coffins and terrifies the dealers by telling them the supernatural stories behind the death of each of the corpses. This is the opening, in which Williams first meets the young drug dealers.

(BEGIN AUDIO CLIP -- SCENE FROM THE FILM "TALES FROM THE HOOD")

CLARENCE WILLIAMS, ACTOR, PORTRAYING A MORTICIAN: Now, this is all new to me. I'm not a drug dealer. I'm a mortician. The only drugs I know about are those that have to do with the deceased.

UNIDENTIFIED ACTOR: Yo man, what kind of drugs do dead people be needing?

WILLIAMS: All kinds. We shoot them real good with embalming fluid mainly. You know it keeps them from smelling and decomposing before the surface.

UNIDENTIFIED ACTOR: Cool. So what happened to him?

WIILIAMS: Oh, they say he went crazy. Death, it comes in many strange packages.

GROSS: Now I read that you grew up over a funeral parlor, yes?

WILLIAMS: That's true. I lived over one -- 135th Street and 7th Avenue in New York City in Harlem there was a Griffin and Peters funeral home, which a lot of people may have seen because it was like four doors down from the world famous Small's Paradise Nightclub were a lot of the things like jazz musicians all through the years have played. Back in the heyday of the '40s, '50s and part of the '60s.

And my grandmother, she was an organist. And she used to play for funerals. And we -- my sister and I -- lived with her for part of the time. And we lived above the funeral parlor. And when you took the trash out you would have to go through the embalming room to the back alley.

LAUGHTER

And so it was my first encounter with Gray's Anatomy without having Gray's Anatomy.

GROSS: Were you impressionable and superstitious?

WILLIAMS: Not at all. Not at all. And I don't know why -- it's true -- it's an interesting question. I never really thought about it. I mean, it's sort of like -- it's sort of like that's where I lived and so it's normal. And plus, with my grandmother obviously working at funeral parlors.

Because I used to -- when I used to come home from school sometimes it was -- unfortunately a lot of times -- I mean, she was booked like four or five a day. So she would go from one to the other. And sometimes I'd have to bring her lunch when I came home from school or early dinner, and I would bring it to the funeral parlor and then I would wait.

And she would play because a lot times -- I remember this one particular funeral -- it wasn't a funeral, it was called the viewing of the body. And it was a man whose name I don't know, but evidently he was a big-time underworld type figure. And his lady had passed away, and he had hired my grandmother to play music all day long.

If persons were there or if they were not there he wanted music playing while she was laying in repose. And he had this big glass coffin, of sort of a Cinderella -- Cinderella-ish. And so she was playing there. That stuck in my mind, but that's the only time I really think about it. I never really thought about that much.

GROSS: So when you were younger you were constantly exposed to other people's tragedies.

WILLIAMS: Well, no. Not really. Because, I mean, I didn't spend my time around it. And also, interestingly, my grandmother played the organ for church services at the prison on Ryker's Island in New York City -- the prison in the harbor. She played there for many many years prior to her passing.

But no, she didn't bring that stuff home. I mean, we never talked about it at home at all. And the only reason why I did see a bit of it from time to time is because we lived over the funeral parlor. But no, it wasn't a major thing in our lives at all.

GROSS: Did you ever go with her to Ryker's Island?

WILLIAMS: No. No. I was in school, and I was a child. I doubt seriously they let children go over there. So no, I never did. I do remember thing one thing, she was -- her name was Helen -- and she was a very very kind woman and so she was out at Ryker's Island one time at the church services playing the organ.

And some of the guys were all sniffling and coughing and sniffling and coughing. And they were saying, Mrs. Williams, we have colds and we can't get cough syrup and so on and so on. And she was an impressionable lady, totally totally devoid of any knowledge of underworld or nefarious activity.

So, the next week when she was going back out to the Island to play for church services she had stopped by the drugstore and bought inhalers and codeine cough syrup and all these things.

LAUGHTER

And she's going to distribute this stuff to these people. And obviously, she is a fixture going in and out of the place so she is never searched or anything like that. But she presents this stuff to the guard and she says, "you must give us to the boys because they have colds."

And the guard looks in the bag and says, "Mrs. Williams, these are narcotics. We don't allow this stuff in here."

LAUGHTER

And that's the kind of lady she was. I mean, one of the grand things that she did for my sister and I -- and I guess -- we're going back so many many years. My sister and I, we had a charge account, believe it or not, at a local candy store. And we could go in there and charge like two or three dollars worth of comic books and a half pint of -- and back in those days ice cream -- they used to freshly dip it.

You know, the guy would pack it right behind counter. It's not like now you just buy the carton already packed at the factory. And it was a really great thing. And she was a wonderful lady.

GROSS: So how old were you when you started to think about acting and what made you start to think about it?

WILLIAMS: It started quite accidentally. I was out -- I was way out of high school. I was maybe two years out -- not way out, but about two years out of high school. And I was working here in New York at Gray Advertising Agency (ph) when they were at 430 Park Avenue.

And I was working basically, you know, in the daytime. They had two guys who were just -- not quite maintenance men but sort of Jack of all trade kind of guys, and I was one of those. And I also served in the executive dining room for Mr. Fat (ph), who was the president of the company at the time. And he had a private dining room and he had account people and prospective clients to come in and talk business.

And so I would serve the dinner and cocktails and all that sort of stuff. But they paid every two weeks, and being at that age, you know, money was not a serious thing to me so I was always broke the second week. Budgeting was not a part of my vocabulary. So I had a date to take a girl to a dance.

So I called my sister up, who was married at the time and living in Brooklyn but she had a job working at the Harlem YMCA at night as a switchboard operator. And during the day, she worked for the hospital union Local 1199.

And so I called her up and said could I borrow $20 because I was going to this dance. And she said sure but you have to get here before 5:30 before I get off work. Because she's going home to Brooklyn. I said sure, no problem.

So I went by and she gave me the $20, and obviously that's all I had and I had the date that evening so I couldn't spend it or do anything. So she says they're rehearsing a play downstairs why don't you go down there and watch some of that. And I said sure. And I did.

So I went downstairs and I opened the door. And the play was in -- the theater was in blackout and they were having a run through. So when I opened the door this shaft of light shot across the auditorium, and the director was the Vinette Carol (ph).

And this voice boomed out, "shut that `GD' door!" And I shut the door. But I was on the inside and literally was too embarrassed to open the door, and have this shaft of light shoot across the auditorium and disturb these people further, to leave.

So I crouch down in the back and the run through was over and the house lights came up. And she turned around and she said, "come here." So I went over to apologize for having disturbed what was going on in this theater. And she says, "are you an actor?" And I said no. And she said, "would you like to be?" And I said yes.

Basically what I was saying was, I just want to placate her and just say please forgive me for disturbing what you were doing. And she says, "well, go on stage and read these lines." Which I did. And obviously read them not particularly well. And she came back and she says, "OK, you have the part. Come to rehearsals tomorrow night at 7:00." And that's how it started.

And I came in -- and interestingly, in that production, was all --either doing their very first or maybe second roles was Cecily Tyson, was Roscoe Lee Brown, was Isabel Sanford from "The Jeffersons." All totally unknown people. And they were down there doing this play, "Darken the Moon." (ph)

GROSS: So you started studying theater.

WILLIAMS: Yes.

GROSS: As a young African-American actor did you think that you would end up building your career in the black theater?

WILLIAMS: Well, I never really worked in the black theater. And I was never a member of the Negro Ensemble company at all.

GROSS: Mmm-hmm.

WILLIAMS: Maybe I should fast forward then. So I started -- and so I went and auditioned for this play called "Double Talk." It was written by Louis John Carlino (ph). And it was produced by Cheryl Crawford. And Ms. Crawford was one of the founders of the Group Theater and one of the co-founders of the Actors Studio.

And so I walked in and said, "my name Clarence Williams, may I see Ms. Crawford please?" And the person says, "just sign your name here and when Ms. Crawford is ready to cast you you'll get a notice that she's casting." So I said, OK. So I signed it and a card came.

I had an appointment at four, or whatever it was, in the afternoon many weeks later. And I went down there thinking I had this appointment. I show up and there's like 400 people there. Cattle calls are what they call it. And I was just included.

And so everybody sort of had like two minutes or a minute or 30 seconds or whatever it was -- in, next person in, next person in, next person. And so when I walked inside Ms. Crawford was behind her desk. She says, "OK, what have you done."

And I said, "I played two leads at the Harlem Y." This made her laugh because everybody else is coming in blowing smoke about well, I played Hamlet at Northwestern University and I did King Lear over here and I did this over there. And I was just totally straight and honest. I played two leads at the Harlem Y.

And this lady leaned back in her chair and smiled and she said sit down. And she talked to me for about a good 15 minutes, which is an awful lot of time out of her day.

And so to make a long story short, they cast the play and she tells me to come to the Martin Beck Theater and I walk in the Martin Beck Theater and the play is all cast and everything --there's no jobs at all. And she says, "make Clarence the general understudy."

GROSS: Whoa.

WILLIAMS: And that was my first job -- professional job -- on Broadway.

BOGAEV: Clarence Williams III, from a 1995 interview with Terry Gross. Williams is appearing in "Reindeer Games," directed by John Frankenheimer and "Shepherd," written and directed by James Rowe. Both are scheduled for release sometime this year.

I'm Barbara Bogaev and this is FRESH AIR.

This is a rush transcript. This copy may not
be in its final form and may be updated.

TO PURCHASE AN AUDIOTAPE OF THIS PIECE, PLEASE CALL 877-21FRESH
Dateline: Terry Gross, Washington DC
Guest: Clarence Williams III
High: Actor Clarence Williams III. He is best known as the bell bottomed clad hippie cop on the TV series "The Mod Squad." Williams also has appeared in numerous TV shows such as "The Cosby Show" and "Hill Street Blues." He has appeared in the films "Purple Rain" and "Sugar Hill." Williams plays a mortician in the horror film "Tales From The Hood." A new film based on the TV series opens nationally today. Williams is not in the film.
Spec: Entertainment; Movie Industry; Lifestyle; Culture; Clarence Williams III

Please note, this is not the final feed of record
Copy: Content and programming copyright 1999 WHYY, Inc. All rights reserved. Transcribed by FDCH, Inc. under license from WHYY, Inc. Formatting copyright 1999 FDCH, Inc. All rights reserved. No quotes from the materials contained herein may be used in any media without attribution to WHYY, Inc. This transcript may not be reproduced in whole or in part without prior written permission.
End-Story: Clarence Williams III

Show: FRESH AIR
Date: MARCH 26, 1999
Time: 12:00
Tran: 032602NP.217
Type: FEATURE
Head: John Powers
Sect: Entertainment
Time: 12:30

BARBARA BOGAEV, HOST: This is FRESH AIR. I'm Barbara Bogaev in for Terry Gross.

Ron Howard directs Matthew McConaughey, Woody Harrelson, Ellen DeGeneres and Jenna Elfman in the new comedy, "Edtv." Our film critic John Powers has this review.

JOHN POWERS, FILM CRITIC: From "Saturday Night Live" and "Network" to "Talk Soup" and "Natural Born Killers" media culture has made a cliche of mocking media culture. It's silliness, it's voyeurism, it's inescapability.

The mockery continues in "EDtv," a crowd pleasing new comedy whose plot may seem have been cribbed from "The Truman Show," but is actually based on an obscure French Canadian picture called "Louis XIX: King of the Airwaves."

Matthew McConaughey stars as Ed Pekurny, a good hearted video clerk who agrees to become the subject of a 24-hour a day true life TV program created by a producer played by Ellen DeGeneres. The show becomes a hit when Ed falls in love on camera with his brother's girlfriend Shari, a winsome blonde played by "Dharma and Greg's" Jenna Elfman.

As millions watch, pundits pontificate and Leno cracks jokes about the latest developments Ed's life loses its bearings. His long-lost father appears in the form of Dennis Hopper. He falls out with his brother Ray, a studdly braggadocio played by Woody Harrelson with total Woody Harrelson-ness.

And Shari is driven crazy by the constant presence of cameras. Even worse, the bullying network boss, that's Rob Reiner, begins to manipulate Ed's life to keep the ratings high. Meanwhile, the audience is hooked and keeps hoping for revelatory moments like the one in the bar when the country realizes, even before Ed and Shari do, that the two are hot for each other.

(BEGIN AUDIO CLIP -- SCENE FROM THE FILM "EDTV")

MATTHEW MCCONAUGHEY, ACTOR, PORTRAYING ED: You are though.

JENNA ELFMAN, ACTRESS, PORTRAYING SHARI: What?

MCCONAUGHEY: Beautiful.

ELFMAN: Thank you.

MCCONAUGHEY: You're welcome.

UNIDENTIFIED ACTOR: Hey, man.

MCCONAUGHEY: Yeah, buddy.

UNIDENTIFIED ACTOR: I'm taking a poll on whether or not I should shave my head. I've had about 19 beers.

UNIDENTIFIED ACTOR: Hey Perry, did you see that?

UNIDENTIFIED ACTOR: What?

UNIDENTIFIED ACTOR: The girl. The look.

UNIDENTIFIED ACTOR: Yeah.

UNIDENTIFIED ACTOR: She likes the Ed guy better than she likes the brother.

POWERS: Director Ron Howard has always been better at comedy than drama. And though "EDtv" is no triumph of style, it's easy, loose and freewheeling. And it boasts Matthew McConaughey's best and most relaxed performance since "Dazed and Confused."

Ever since McConaughey was anointed as the next big thing, Hollywood has tried to shoehorn him into prissy well-scrubbed leading man roles. He even had to wear a scarf in "Contact." These roles turn him into a stiff.

But as the scruffy Ed, he finally gets to show off his raggedy Texas charisma: sly comic timing, confident masculinity and seductive working man's decency. The movie makes him a star on the screen rather than just on magazine covers.

McConaughey make us care about Ed as we never cared about Jim Carrey's scooped out Truman in "The Truman Show." Still, for all its intellectual coldness "The Truman Show" captured a common modern feeling, the eerie sense that media have so invaded our souls that we can no longer have any authentic experience.

In contrast, Howard's film is a slippery piece of pseudopopulism. It keeps insisting that Ed's story touches on a universal concern: how the media destroys our privacy. But in fact, it's real theme is the price of fame.

Ed Pekurny aside, people like you and me don't face the problem of being hounded by cameras or having our peccadillos broadcast to the world. Celebrities like Ron Howard and Matthew McConaughey do. At bottom, "EDtv" is simply Hollywood telling us once again how terribly hard it is to be a star.

And though Howard and company are probably not aware of it, the movie also demonstrates Hollywood's casual contempt for its audience. At one point, Ed tells the network boss that he's not the bumpkin that media folk think. This may sound like a rousing defense of ordinary Americans until you see how ordinary Americans are actually portrayed in "EDtv."

From beginning to end the movie keeps showing us the viewers who are hooked on Ed's story. And just like "The Truman Show" and "Natural Born Killers" it treats today's TV watching Americans as star struck boobs who sit, mouths agape, transfixed and delighted by whatever hot story happens to be on the tube.

Is this really how Ron Howard sees the vast American public? Or are people who pay $8 to see his new movie exempt?

BOGAEV: John Powers is film critic for FRESH AIR and "Vogue."

This is FRESH AIR.

This is a rush transcript. This copy may not
be in its final form and may be updated.

TO PURCHASE AN AUDIOTAPE OF THIS PIECE, PLEASE CALL 877-21FRESH
Dateline: Barbara Bogaev, Washington, DC
Guest: John Powers
High: Film critic John Powers reviews the new film "Edtv." It opens in theaters nationally today.
Spec: Entertainment; Movie Industry; Lifestyle; Culture; Ron Howard; John Powers

Please note, this is not the final feed of record
Copy: Content and programming copyright 1999 WHYY, Inc. All rights reserved. Transcribed by FDCH, Inc. under license from WHYY, Inc. Formatting copyright 1999 FDCH, Inc. All rights reserved. No quotes from the materials contained herein may be used in any media without attribution to WHYY, Inc. This transcript may not be reproduced in whole or in part without prior written permission.
End-Story: John Powers

Show: FRESH AIR
Date: MARCH 26, 1999
Time: 12:00
Tran: 032603NP.217
Type: FEATURE
Head: Ruth Reichl
Sect: Entertainment
Time: 12:38

BARBARA BOGAEV, HOST: When Ruth Reichl dines out, she often wears a wig, phony glasses, and uses an alias. She hides her identity because she's "The New York Times" restaurant critic. Soon though, she'll be able to eat out without all that fuss. She's leaving the paper at the end of April to become editor in chief of "Gourmet" magazine.

Terry Gross spoke with Ruth Reichl last summer, after the publication of her memoir, "Tender at the Bone: Growing Up at the Table." The book is just out in paper back.

You might think Ruth Reichl's love of food dates back to her mother's wonderful home cooking -- but you'd be wrong. Her mother was not only a terrible cook, as Reichl describes it she was "taste blind."

RUTH REICHL, FOOD CRITIC, THE NEW YORK TIMES, AUTHOR, "TENDER AT THE BONE": Well, she literally couldn't taste whether things were spoiled or not spoiled, good or -- I mean, she -- her taste was extremely limited. So when she -- I mean, the first story in the book is about her waking my father up early in the morning and putting something into his mouth, and having him taste it. And he said it was the single-most disgusting thing he had ever encountered. And he really couldn't swallow it and he spit it out, at which point my mother said, "mmm-hmm. Just as I thought. Spoiled."

And I mean, she really didn't know whether it was spoiled. She really needed him to taste it; to figure out whether it was good or not. Of course, the fact that it had mold on the top might have given her a clue, but it didn't.

TERRY GROSS, HOST: Do you have any memories of a particularly bad dish that she served you?

REICHL: Well, I mean, I think that my whole interest in food came really early because my mother -- I mean, at the age of three, she would put things on the table that -- like butter that she'd left uncovered in the refrigerator for a week, which was nauseating. And I would say, "Mom, I can't eat this." And she would taste it, and say, "mmm. Tastes fine to me."

And you know, when you're a child, you see that and you think, you know, there's something wrong in the world. But I think the worst thing, and this isn't in the book, but -- 'cause it's so simple, but she would take the dregs of ice cream cartons and pour them into an ice tray, and put them into the freezer and then serve them so they would be freezer-burned, mushy, and just really revolting. And then she would bring it out for a party and serve it.

LAUGHTER

GROSS: Now, this is the kind of thing that might have ruined somebody when it comes to food. How did it get you to become a restaurant critic? I mean, how did it get you to become a food professional?

REICHL: Well, you know, I mean I really felt that I was sort of shaped by my mother's handicap. You know, I mean, it's the way the children of deaf people are probably more aware of sound. I became very aware of taste because I was so fascinated by the fact that my mother couldn't taste these things.

And then in self defense, I started cooking. And my mother really would make these dreadful concoctions. I mean, she really prided herself on something called "Everything Stew," where she would take everything in the refrigerator, all the leftovers, and put them all together.

And one day I was watching her put in leftover turkey and broccoli and a little, you know, can of mushroom soup. And she's throwing things in. And half an apple pie goes in.

LAUGHTER

And she says -- you know, I'd sort of look at her and say, "Mom!." And she says, "oh, it'll be fine." And then she starts throwing everything in. And you know, in defense, it just -- I started cooking, 'cause I didn't want to eat that.

GROSS: Did you eat out a lot as a kid?

REICHL: Yes, my parents were older when I was born. My dad was 50. My mother was 40. And they had a life and they sort of expected me to fit into their life. And also because my mother was not the world's greatest cook. We fortunately went out a lot.

And we lived in New York. And my mother, she used restaurants in a great way. Even though she was taste-blind, and she really wasn't interested in food, she was very interested in the theater of restaurants. So I was -- I grew up in the great days of restaurant associates, when they were doing the "Forum" with the "Twelve Caesars" and "La Fonda Del Sol" (ph) and all these really exciting theatrical restaurants.

And we didn't have a lot of money, so we wouldn't go eat in those restaurants, but we would go and have a drink. And sit in the bar and look at the restaurant. And then we would go someplace cheap for dinner.

GROSS: You know, in talking about how your mother liked the theater of restaurants, you like to write about the kind of subculture within the restaurant. For example, a recent review, you wrote: "if you are over 30, weigh more than 105 pounds, favor bright colors, or bite your fingernails, Bond Street could do you damage. No matter how confident you may be in the real world, it's hard to face an entire universe of thin, young, beautiful people dressed in black without wondering what you're doing there."

How much do you -- I mean, do you enjoy writing about the subculture that a restaurant seems to attract?

REICHL: Oh, absolutely. I mean, I think you need to know that. I mean, people say, well how is the food? And that's only a piece of it. I mean, if you're walking into a restaurant, you want to know what the people are wearing; what they look like; how you're gonna feel when you're there. And if you're walking into a really hip scene dressed like Grandma Moses, you're going to feel ridiculous.

I love that whole side of restaurants -- that whole ability you have to walk in and be somebody else for the time that you're there. You know, it's like meeting new people. You get to reinvent yourself. And that's one thing that restaurants do for us. It's like -- it's fun.

GROSS: Now at "The New York Times," you're kind of famous for using disguises when you're reviewing a restaurant so that you can't be spotted; so you can eat anonymously. What do you use? Wigs?

REICHL: I use -- not only wigs. I keep buying new wigs. I've now got 11. And I do use those. I also have a lot of glasses. I have fake fingernails. I have whole outfits in different sizes. I mean, I'll sometimes put on, like, three pairs of pants, one over the other; or you know, three skirts so I look much larger than I am.

I've learned -- I'm not normally a makeup person, but I've learned about makeup and you can really do amazing things with -- you can change the shape of your lips and, you know, change the color of your eyebrows. And I do all that stuff.

GROSS: Do you pay cash? Or use fake credit cards?

REICHL: I use fake credit cards.

GROSS: Does "The Times" help you get them?

REICHL: No, I have figured out my own strategies for getting them. They don't want to know about how I do this. I also often ask the people I'm with to pay, and then I just write them a check.

GROSS: Right. Right. Right.

REICHL: I mean, but if you pull -- start pulling out wads of cash, it's a little tell -- you know, it's a giveaway. I mean, go out to a really expensive restaurant and pull out $500 in cash. I mean, who carries that kind of money around?

GROSS: Restaurant critics and coke dealers.

REICHL: Right.

LAUGHTER

GROSS: Now, not every restaurant critic goes to such extremes to make sure they're not noticed. Why is it so important to you that you're not identified by the staff at the restaurant you're reviewing?

REICHL: Well, I have a really strong belief that I am there to be your eyes and ears when you're at the restaurant. And I'm supposed to tell you what's going to happen to you, not what happens to the restaurant critic of "The New York Times" who is getting the best table and the chef is, you know, cooking the food specially and the portions are getting bigger and so forth.

I think it's really important for you to know what's going to happen to you. And you can't do that if you're sort of, you know, sashaying in as, you know, someone who's going to have a big economic impact on the restaurant.

GROSS: Something you did that was pretty controversial, I think -- I don't remember when this was exactly, but you -- you took a star away from the restaurant Le Cirque, which I guess had been -- what? -- four stars and you demoted it to three? Do I have that right?

REICHL: Yes, you have it right.

GROSS: I don't even know how the story...

REICHL: And that was right after I came.

GROSS: ... it was right after you came?

REICHL: Yeah.

GROSS: I don't even know how the star rating works and who determines what makes a restaurant four or three stars or whatever. So why don't we start with an explanation of that?

REICHL: Well, the star system is very much up to whoever the critic is at the time. And four stars is the most that you can get, and it's a very exalted -- there are only six four-star restaurants at the moment, and it's -- it's a very big deal for restaurants to be...

GROSS: So when you say four-star restaurant, this is like a "New York Times" four-star restaurant.

REICHL: Yes.

GROSS: OK.

REICHL: Yes. And it has a lot of weight to the restaurants. When they get a four-star rating, it's a very big deal for them, and it brings them lots and lots and lots of business.

To demote a restaurant from three stars to two stars is not such a big deal. But to demote it from four stars to three stars is -- it's huge. This was right after I had arrived in New York five years ago. I had not had a star-rating system at the "L.A. Times" where I'd been for 10 years. I wasn't that impressed with the star system at the time. I mean, I've since come to see how, if nothing else, how economically powerful it is for the restaurants.

But I started going to Le Cirque and they didn't know me, and I was not treated well. And everybody had always, you know, jumped up and down about what a great restaurant it was. And you know, I kept -- I had some really terrible experiences there.

You know, I went once with another woman and we were made to wait 45 minutes at the bar for, you know, a supposedly non-smoking table. And we were still stuck in the smoking section. And when I asked for a wine list, a maitre d' came over and snatched it out of my hands after a minute and said "I need that list" and he took it off to some man nearby and I couldn't get it back.

And then I thought, well, I wonder -- after I'd been there a few times -- I thought well I wonder what will happen if, not if I make a reservation in my own name, but just if I go in undisguised. By then, I knew he knew who I was. And sure enough, I go and I have made a -- the only reservation I could get was like 9:45. But I said I think I'll go at nine o'clock and just see what happens.

And we get to the door and there's a huge crowd waiting for tables. And the owner comes -- he parts this crowd. It's like the Red Sea parting -- and he comes through to me and he pulls me forward and says, "the King of Spain is waiting in the bar, but your table is ready." And leads me to a table.

And I thought, you know, this is too wonderful. I've just got to write about, you know, what happened to me as just me, an ordinary person, and then what happened to me at the restaurant critic of "The New York Times;" and write about the two experiences.

GROSS: Now I could see a restaurant easily explaining this by saying, well, of course we treat our regulars with special care. That's why people become regulars 'cause they know -- they know -- they're treated as like part of the family. We know what they like to eat. We know what their preferences are. We know whether they smoke or not.

And it's lovely -- like at a neighborhood restaurant when you come in all the time. They say hello; they bring you the salad when you sit down. They know what you want. Everybody likes to be treated like a regular.

REICHL: Absolutely. And regulars deserve to be treated. I mean, they've paid their dues and they deserve to be treated better. On the other hand, that doesn't mean that ordinary people shouldn't be treated well.

GROSS: Right.

REICHL: And there's a real difference between -- for instance, not every restaurant can have your table ready when you arrive. I mean, there's just -- they can't always calculate how long people are going to stay at a table. An apology goes a long way.

If they come up to you and say, "I'm so sorry that -- can I give you a glass of wine? Can I somehow make this up to you?" You don't feel badly. You don't feel as if you've been dissed.

On the other hand, if it's just, you know, "oh, go wait over there. We'll let you know when your table is ready." It's a matter of attitude. And Le Cirque at that time was really known for not being particularly nice to ordinary people. I have to say that their attitude has changed dramatically.

GROSS: Oh, have you changed their star rating?

REICHL: I have. I mean, they reopened. They closed for a while and they've reopened in a new location. And I went in many times in many disguises, and they were wonderful. They were just wonderful. I really felt that they had sort of seen that there was no point in not trying to be good to everyone.

GROSS: Now, what's your approach to reviewing? How many times do you typically go to a restaurant? How do you order off the menu?

REICHL: I go endlessly. I mean, I go until I really feel that I've eaten just about everything on the menu; that I've been there with a big group and a small group; on a weekend; on a week night; lunch and dinner. I've had every kind of, you know, combination that you can have.

I mean, I'm very lucky. I work for an institution that is willing to put this kind of money into it. I would never go fewer than three times. I've gone as many as nine. And I really do try and, you know, get the entire range of experiences that you can have from the restaurant.

GROSS: And what kind of impact have you seen your reviews have, for better and worse, on restaurants?

REICHL: Well, I felt very good about the Le Cirque thing. I mean, I really felt that that had an impact; that taking that star away which really stung -- I mean, it's a wonderful restaurant. The food is terrific. But I think he really thought, you know, times are changing. I think I've seen women are treated better.

I don't think that's just up to me, but I think, you know, it's also changing times. Women are spending more money. There are more businesswomen. The whole sort of cliche about women not tipping so well is not true anymore. But I've certainly seen that change in the last few years.

You know, I don't tend to go back to restaurants much after I've been there. So it's not that I, you know, can see the impact, but I've certainly read, you know, restaurants saying, you know, they got four stars and you know, they got 20,000 phone calls the next day.

BOGAEV: Ruth Reichl spoke with Terry last summer. She starts her new job as editor in chief of "Gourmet" magazine in May. Her memoir is called "Tender at the Bone."

This is FRESH AIR.

This is a rush transcript. This copy may not
be in its final form and may be updated.

TO PURCHASE AN AUDIOTAPE OF THIS PIECE, PLEASE CALL 877-21FRESH
Dateline: Terry Gross, Washington DC
Guest: Ruth Reichl
High: Food critic Ruth Reichl. On April 30, 1999 she will leave "The New York Times" and become editor in chief of "Gourmet" magazine. Her book "Tender at the Bone: Growing Up at the Table" has just been published in paperback. Reichl has been the restaurant critic for "The New York Times" since 1993. Prior to that she reviewed restaurants for the "Los Angeles Times." She ran her own restaurant in Berkeley, California in the 1970s.
Spec: Entertainment; Food and Beverages; Lifestyle; Culture; Ruth Reichl

Please note, this is not the final feed of record
Copy: Content and programming copyright 1999 WHYY, Inc. All rights reserved. Transcribed by FDCH, Inc. under license from WHYY, Inc. Formatting copyright 1999 FDCH, Inc. All rights reserved. No quotes from the materials contained herein may be used in any media without attribution to WHYY, Inc. This transcript may not be reproduced in whole or in part without prior written permission.
End-Story: Ruth Reichl

Show: FRESH AIR
Date: MARCH 26, 1999
Time: 12:00
Tran: 032604NP.217
Type: FEATURE
Head: David Bianculli
Sect: Entertainment
Time: 12:52

BARBARA BOGAEV, HOST: This Sunday Fox presents the premier of "Futurama," the latest of many animated series to be produced for prime time this season. The difference this time is that it comes from the man responsible for the current animation boom in the first place -- Matt Groening, creator of "The Simpsons."

TV critic David Bianculli has a review.

DAVID BIANCULLI, TV CRITIC: It's been 10 years since Matt Groening took his goofy yellow cartoon characters from the "Tracy Ulman Show" and transplanted them to their own prime time hit series. But one "The Simpsons" struck gold, Groening didn't follow the standard procedure of hot TV producers in Hollywood.

He didn't walk away from his show and leave it in other hands, and he didn't create a spinoff. His explanation for not leaving "The Simpsons" is that he enjoyed the work too much. And though he wanted to do some sort of "Simpsons" spinoff, too many people were too greedy when it came to ownership and merchandising rights; so nothing ever got off the ground.

But this weekend, finally, comes Matt Groening's second cartoon series for television. It's called "Futurama" and it was worth the wait. The premise of the show is that on New Year's Eve 1999 a New York delivery boy named Fry brings a pizza to a cryogenic institute and accidentally gets frozen for a thousand years. The kid, not the pizza.

When Fry wakes up, it's only hours away from the year 3000. And New York is a very different place called "New New York." Before long, he meets a one-eyed alien woman named Leila (ph), an elderly scientist who's his only living relative and a robot named Bender who drinks too much.

Basically, he is an oilcoholic (ph). Like "The Simpsons," "Futurama" is a multilayered full family treat. Silly and goofy enough to hook the kids and subtle and sarcastic enough to charm their parents. The voice work is good too. With Billy West, who did the voices of Ren and Stempy, as Fry and Katie Seagal (ph), of "Married with Children," as Leila.

As with "The Simpsons," there's no laugh track so you find yourself laughing out loud without prompting to the inside jokes and toss away references. Like the fact that the airport serving New New York is known as the John F. Kennedy Jr. Airport. And that future historians refer to our era as the Stupid Ages.

Nimoy, as guest star, provides his own voice.

(BEGIN AUDIO CLIP -- SCENE FROM THE FOX TELEVISION SERIES "FUTURAMA")

LEONARD NIMOY, ACTOR: Welcome to the Head Musuem. I'm Leonard Nimoy.

UNIDENTIFIED ACTOR: Spock? Hey, do the thing.

NIMOY: I don't do that anymore.

UNIDENTIFIED ACTOR: This is unbelievable. What do you head's do all day?

NIMOY: We share our wisdom with those who seek it. It's a life of quiet dignity.

UNIDENTIFIED ACTOR: Feeding time!

BIANCULLI: That's when Groening provides a terrific visual payoff. The former "Star Trek" Vulcan happily floating in his jar and sucking up fish food like a pet goldfish. I laughed out loud. And that's the first new sitcom all season to make me do that. Welcome back, Matt, your new show, I predict, has a very bright future.

BOGAEV: David Bianculli is TV critic for the "New York Daily News."

For Terry Gross, I'm Barbara Bogaev.

This is a rush transcript. This copy may not
be in its final form and may be updated.

TO PURCHASE AN AUDIOTAPE OF THIS PIECE, PLEASE CALL 877-21FRESH
Dateline: Barbara Bogaev, Washington, DC
Guest: David Bianculli
High: TV critic David Bianculli previews this Sunday night's debut of Matt Groening's "Futurama." Groening is the creator of "The Simpsons."
Spec: Entertainment; Television and Radio; Lifestyle; Culture; Matt Groening; David Bianculli

Please note, this is not the final feed of record
Copy: Content and programming copyright 1999 WHYY, Inc. All rights reserved. Transcribed by FDCH, Inc. under license from WHYY, Inc. Formatting copyright 1999 FDCH, Inc. All rights reserved. No quotes from the materials contained herein may be used in any media without attribution to WHYY, Inc. This transcript may not be reproduced in whole or in part without prior written permission.
End-Story: David Bianculli
Transcripts are created on a rush deadline, and accuracy and availability may vary. This text may not be in its final form and may be updated or revised in the future. Please be aware that the authoritative record of Fresh Air interviews and reviews are the audio recordings of each segment.