The actor: When describing his career in Hollywood, Robert Forster once likened his experience to a play, having had “a five-years upwards first act and a 25-year sliding second act.” The third act, however, started off with a major upswing, courtesy of Quentin Tarantino’s decision to cast him as bail bondsman Max Cherry in the 1997 film Jackie Brown (which is newly out on Blu-ray). Since then, Forster has rarely been without work, bouncing between big-screen players like David Lynch (Mulholland Dr.) and the Farrelly Brothers (Me, Myself & Irene) while still pulling the occasional small-screen gig, such as a high-profile stint on NBC’s Heroes.
Jackie Brown (1997)—“Max Cherry”
The A.V. Club: Did Quentin Tarantino approach you to be in this film?
Robert Forster: No, actually, I snared Quentin Tarantino at a little restaurant. He was walking in, unassuming, and another actor and I were sitting there, and I yelled at him. And he wandered over and we talked for a while, we broke his balls a little bit and kidded around, and I said, “What are you working on?” He said he was adapting Rum Punch, an Elmore Leonard novel. He said, “Why don’t you read it?” And I did. Six months later, I walked into the same restaurant—where I have breakfast every morning, so I’m a regular there—and as I came out onto the patio and turned toward my table, he was sitting in my spot. And as I approached him, he lifted up this script and extended it toward me and said, “Read this, see if you like it.” See, my career by then was dead. No agent, no manager, no lawyer, no nothing. And this guy hands me this script and says, “Read it and see if you like it.” And I took it home, and I did read it, and I could not believe that he was talking about the Max Cherry role. And I know that Pam [Grier] had the same exact experience when she read it. I read it, and I couldn’t figure out what part he had in mind for me. But when I called him, he said, “Let’s have breakfast again,” so the following morning we had breakfast again, and because I’d had the experience before of getting close to a good role and having the distributor say, “No, no, no, we want somebody else,” I said to him, “Look, I appreciate it, but I don’t think they’ll let you hire me.” And he said, “I hire anybody I want.” And that’s when the world stopped. I know that Pam had the same experience, because we’ve talked about it. I could not believe that I was going to get another shot at this business. But this guy gave it to me. He gave me a gift, the size of which cannot be exaggerated.
Alligator (1980)—“David Madison”
RF: Alligator! Oh, boy, that’s a favorite of mine. I was losing my hair at the time, and… I was in Schwab’s Drugstore, one of the great meeting places for actors from 1941 to 1983, when it closed, but everybody, everybody, everybody went there for breakfast, including the governor, Jerry Brown. Actors, directors, writers, publicists, hookers, horseplayers, and hangers-on—you name it, they were all at Schwab’s. [Laughs.] And I was sitting there in a booth, reading my paper, and some guy was standing there waiting for a table, and I looked up. I thought he was reading over my shoulder, and I looked up to make sure he had finished before I turned the page, and he wasn’t looking at the newspaper. He said, “Hey, Bob, I’m a friend of yours.” I said, “Yeah, Lenny.” He said, “I’m gonna tell you something, but… I’m a friend of yours.” I said, “Lenny, what is it?” He said, “Bob, you look better with hair, and you’d better do something about it.” And I thought to myself, “Jesus, the guy’s right.” I had gotten to the point where I was making jokes about hair loss.
Now, you may remember that, in Alligator, there are a series of little jokes about a guy who’s sensitive about losing his hair. You remember that? I put those jokes into the movie. I wrote ’em, I asked the director if I could put ’em in here, put ’em in there. He said, “Yes,” and the very first time we saw a rough cut of the movie, they were all in there, and in the second rough cut, they were all gone. And I figured, “Oh, God, this director didn’t like them,” or something, and I was sorry about it to myself. But then the third time, I said, “You know what? I think those belong in the movie.” And he called me back and said, “I’ve had friends tell me that they miss those hair jokes, so I’m gonna put ’em back in the movie.” And you may remember that when the movie was released, those hair jokes, every single reviewer commented on them. Without knowing how they got there, sure, but they all recognized that it was something human about the character, which gave it a little plus. Because, you know, it was a genre movie. It was a spoof of Jaws, basically. With a guy who was losing his hair. So when Lenny said what he said to me, that’s when I said to myself, “Losing my hair is not good enough to make the next joke. You’d better do something about it.” [Laughs.]
Reflections In A Golden Eye (1967)—“Pvt. L.G. Williams”
RF: When they asked me if I knew how to ride a horse, I did what all actors do: I said “Yes.” I had never been on a horse, except when I was a kid, where you paid 10 cents to sit on a pony and walk around in a circle. But I said “Yes.” On the day that we had to shoot that scene of me riding around on the horse—naked!—that was another memorable moment in my career. [Laughs.] I had never made a movie, I didn’t know how they were made, but I remember as I read that scene, where it said, “Guy rides around on a horse naked,” I said to myself, “Boy, I wonder how they do that! Probably trick photography or something.” But when I got there on that morning, here was an Italian extra—we were in Rome—riding around on that horse, riding through those trees. We were driving up to the set, and I saw the guy riding, and I said, “Holy moly, that’s supposed to be me! I’m not going to let that guy do that!” So I went to [John] Huston, and I said, “You know, I can do that.” And he said, [Huston impression] “Could you really, Bobby?” And I said, “Sure I can!” The next thing I know, the wardrobe department hands me a little… you know the pouch part of a jockstrap? Dyed flesh-colored. And a roll of flesh-colored tape. They hand this to me, and they say, “This is for your modesty.” So I tried to tape the damned thing on, and after about two rounds with the horse, the horse is now warm and lathered up, and this thing is flopping around. I finally took it off and tossed it in the bushes, and I said, “Bob, if you are afraid to be naked on this horse, you’d better quit, because if you don’t do it with full abandon, with absolute abandon, then you have no right to be an actor. You’d better quit now.” And that was the moment I said to myself, “All right, just go with it, Bob.”
The Black Hole (1979)— “Captain Dan Holland”
RF: The uniform kept shrinking and shrinking until it was so tight that I… well, it was tight as can be. It was form-fitting, let’s put it that way. [Laughs.] And it was the only steady job I ever had as an actor. Six months to the day, working from 7 in the morning to 7 at night at the Disney studio, shooting on a number of soundstages. It was kind of an adaptation of one of my favorite movies as a kid: 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea. The Black Hole was basically the space version. So it was from one of my favorite movies, and I could not believe my good fortune when I got picked to play the captain. But, otherwise, I remember it as a steady job and a very tight uniform. [Laughs.]