The actor: John Larroquette, who so dominated the Emmys' best-supporting-actor category in the mid-'80s for his role as a sleazy, sex-obsessed lawyer on Night Court that he took his name out of contention after winning his fourth consecutive award in 1988. Larroquette went on to garner three more Emmy nominations and one more win, two for his guest turns on David Kelley's The Practice (he won in 1998) and one for his lead role in the critically acclaimed John Larroquette Show. Larroquette has remained busy in the past few years, popping up in Richard Kelly's oddball dark comedy Southland Tales and Kelley's latest hit legal drama, Boston Legal.
The Texas Chain Saw Massacre (1974)—"Narrator"
John Larroquette: Summer of 1969, I was living in Colorado in a very small town up in the mountains. A friend of the fellow for whom I worked had a friend come up from Texas to spend some time. That friend turned out to be Tobe Hooper, who was the writer and director of The Texas Chain Saw Massacre. This was long before he was going to do the movie. We spent some time in the mountains together, doing what people did in the '60s in the mountains.
The A.V. Club: Eating tofu and drinking health shakes?
JL: Absolutely. And going to Ingmar Bergman film festivals. Enjoying the beauty of the mountains. And Tobe and I really hit it off. It was a really short time we spent in the mountains together. He was really there for a vacation. I spent about a year. Anyway, fast-forward to 1974, when I moved to Los Angeles to pursue an acting career through the same fellow whom I had worked for in Colorado. I got a call and he said, "Listen, remember my friend Tobe, yadda-yadda, he just made this film, and he wants to talk to you." So I talked to Tobe, and he had no money. He said, "I need a favor." And I said, "Yeah, I'd be happy to." I was a DJ in the '60s, so I had already worked with my voice. A lot of people knew that I at least had decent chops when it came to speaking the English language. I went into a studio, saw the piece of paper, read it for him, recorded it, said adios, he gave me a joint, I think as payment, and that was that. And later on, the film came out and I didn't really pay attention to it. I've never seen it. It sort of became the cult hit. And then it becomes sort of a preamble to my résumé, after all the years I've been acting and everything I've done. But as all things happen in this world, you never know how nature and the universe are going to treat you. Years later, when they re-did it, when they re-imagined it again without Tobe, I was called in to do the narration again, and actually got paid really well for it. So a favor I did in the '70s for a friend for no money came full circle, and I actually made a great deal of money from it later on.
AVC: So you didn't read the script for The Texas Chain Saw Massacre before you signed on?
JL: I did not. Not at all.
AVC: You didn't see it even after it became a pop-culture phenomenon?
JL: I have never seen it.
AVC: Are you not a horror buff?
JL: I think that's partially it. I certainly didn't stay away from it for any particular reason, I just don't go to those kind of movies on a regular basis. I like Tobe, and I like Marilyn [Burns], who was one of the girls in it—I met her in Colorado as well. It just never occurred to me, I'm not sure why. I certainly wouldn't go, "Hey, let's go listen to my voice!"
AVC: Did you see the remake?
JL: No, I've never seen any of it. An inch of any of them.
Greatest Heroes Of The Bible (1978)—"Joseph's Brother"
JL: HA! HA! HA! HA! HA! Or as I like to call, Greatest Hemorrhoids Of The Bible. Well, what I do remember about that experience that was beneficial was that I hadn't worked for a little while, and I was also at that point taking out some time to pursue a serious drinking problem. And it actually gave me money to get an apartment for my family and begin the road back to recovery. I played the brother of Joseph, I guess the one that sold him into bondage, and he comes back with his Technicolor coat. He was a messenger of God. So basically, I was a bad guy with a towel over my head for a while in Arizona. It was a whole miniseries, I suppose. There were several. I forgot who did them. But it was pretty big at the time, if I recall, as far as ratings and stuff are concerned. They took several stories from the Bible, and I don't think any actually deal specifically with Jesus. Two-hour movies, I guess they were.
AVC: But with no singing and no dancing.
JL: No, just sandals and rather flimsy afghans and a lot of really hot, as I recall it, sand.
Fantasy Island (1979)—"Jeff"
JL: I don't remember that I played Jeff on Fantasy Island, though that may have been the angel's name. I played an ethereal creature that was never seen, but whose voice and shining image was projected to one of the guest stars to show them the way that they should go. I was never in front of a camera with other actors on Fantasy Island.
AVC: It's just your voice, like a radio experience.
JL: That's right. It was sort of like Cecil B. DeMille talking to Charlton Heston as Moses in The Ten Commandments.
AVC: Do you remember who you were inspiring with your words of wisdom?
JL: I do not.
Three's Company (1979)—"Cop"
JL: Two things about that were fun: I got to meet John [Ritter] and we became close friends. I found out at that time that we shared a rather obsessive compulsion with The Beatles. So we traded a lot of anecdotes about the Beatles and tried to stump each other with questions, which was fun. He and I got along well. And the other, which proves what a true thespian I am—there's one scene where John is breaking a window, and the cop runs in. I grab him and we exchange lines, the gist of which is "You're living here with these two beautiful women and you're trying to break out? You're crazy!" But it occurred to me that sitcoms are all lit from above, because there are four cameras working, so there are no lights on the floor looking directly at you, like there are in movies. And walking into this apartment with a cop's hat on, nobody's ever going to see my face. So I had to figure out a way to get my hat off. And this is all completely selfish and premeditated. So inside my hat, I've written the Miranda rights. So I take my hat off and tell him, "You have the right to remain silent." So my hat is off for the remainder of the scene, which allows you to see my face and my confidence, as it were. Had I not thought of that, it would have just been this hated cop figure for 30 seconds or whatever, and no one would have really known who he was. Being the man that I am, I had to find a way to make sure my entire face was shown. If anybody complained about it, I would have said, "You know what, the cop doesn't remember the thing…" but they were like, "Oh, that's funny."
Altered States (1980)—"X-Ray Technician"
JL: Phil, I think, was actually his name. I think in the script it said Phil, but in the titles, it said "X-Ray Technician." Paddy Chayefsky was on the set for at least the beginning of the film—I think he distanced himself from it later. But I actually got to sit down on a stage with him, and I was 25, 26 years old. And I got to sit on the soundstage with Paddy Chayefsky and Ken Russell. I was able to talk about Network and, you know, Paddy Chayefsky's work as a writer. His plays, I had read in the middle of the night. And a very young Bill Hurt and Charlie Haid and Bob Balaban were the three stars in it, and I was there for, like, three days on this role. But it was quite exciting to be directed by Ken Russell.
AVC: Paddy Chayefsky is known for being a stickler about people not altering his work. Was he there in part to make sure that nobody improvised?
JL: Yes, I'm sure. I think eventually he did not win that battle, because as I recall—I don't know if this is Hollywood legend, or I'm just making this up—he did finally leave and say, "Fuck this. This isn't what I signed on for." Something, I don't know the history of that.
AVC: Ken Russell and Paddy Chayefsky are both known as strong-willed individuals.
JL: Yeah, Russell particularly, I remember one time he was doing a scene with me, and there was a close-up of my hand and the X-ray. Obviously, since I was the X-ray technician. And they shot this, it was an over-the-shoulder insert of the X-ray picture. And I heard "Cut," so I put my hand down. And he came over and yelled at me, and says, "Okay, you don't move until I come over directly and say, 'Okay, you can put your hand down.'" So he was very imposing, but not in an unpleasant way. I was very happy to be directed by people. He definitely did take charge of a set when he was on.
Stripes (1981)—"Captain Stillman"
JL: I just knew I'd be able to pay my rent. I mean, I knew it was going to be fun. I was obviously familiar with Bill Murray, I was familiar with John Candy's work. They were really the only two people that I knew in it. Everybody else was sort of new, like me, except for those two. But it was revelatory, working with John Candy and Bill Murray. I still have friends from that—John Diehl, who was in that, and I remained friends. We did theater together several years later. We're always in touch. John Candy and I became great friends.
AVC: Was there a lot of improv in Stripes
JL: No. You know what, that's not true. Yes. In a way. It's amazing the way these things kind of happen—it was in 1981, this picture was made, so 27 years later, people still come up to me and go, "I wish I was a loofah." That's one of the lines that I say. When that scene occurred, I'm just looking out a window, I'm not seeing naked women, obviously, I'm just looking out a window. This set we were on—Ivan Reitman describes the scene that I'm actually looking at, he says that I'm looking at naked women in the shower, so he just wanted me to ad lib: you know, ooohs and aaahs, making noises. And at one point, as I think about what these girls were doing, I go, "I wish I was a loofah. I wish I was a loofah." Ivan eventually goes "Cut!" and comes up to me and says, "What the fuck's a loofah?" And I explained to him what it was, and he goes, "Oh! Leave it, I think it's funny." And so it became sort of this line that's been repeated forever.
AVC: History has vindicated you.
JL: John Lennon was killed while we were filming that movie. It was the summer of 1980, and we were in Kentucky, and it was devastating to all of us, obviously. And most of us were drunk for the next two weeks, on film, off film, regardless of where we were. That's the only movie of mine that I can watch—because I got sober nine months after that—it's the only piece of work where I can look back and go, "Oh man, are you fucked-up!" There are some scenes, particularly late at night, we were out at 4 o'clock in the morning. We were outside, it was cold. The crew had been wrestling or something, and they came back, and I'm chiding them. And it's so obvious that I'm drunk. To me, anyway. Anybody who knew me when I was drunk knows that my tongue is just a little too thick for my mouth.
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