![]() Trust is required of both parties, in the instincts of the actor and in the skills of the makeup man. Their creation, which will be examined on the big screen for as many years as the film holds its audience, is the most physical manifestation of an actor's interpretation of his role. But they are true artists, often unsung, who imprint films with the soft touch of their brushes and the hard work of their craft. Most civilians - people who don't make movies for a living - think makeup men are little more than hovering sprites who powder noses. I had earned enough industry clout - and had learned enough - to choose as the keystone of my squad this 40-year veteran of moviemaking, who had given Elvis Presley his tan in "Viva Las Vegas" and Lawrence Olivier his Roman nose in "Spartacus." Having had a heart scare, he kept in fighting trim with exercise and a diet featuring a lot of Granny Smith apples - "Damn good stuff for the heart," he'd say. He lived in Marina del Rey with his wife, Carol, and spent weekends on his sailboat, so more often than not he was wearing deck shoes, some kind of rope belt and vinyl windbreakers in every color in nature. For, Lo! I was cast in "Dragnet" as Detective Pep Streebeck and placed in Danny Striepeke's makeup chair for the first time, our rhyming names hinting at the rightness of our screenplay-formula cute meet.ĭanny drove a beautiful vintage Mustang convertible back then. In 1986, when I was leaping from one film to another without the benefit of a filmmaking posse - a would-be Boy Wonder without a Batman - Pelicula must have been watching in the ripples of her celestial pond. She turns ordinary moments into serendipitous ones, often propelling careers at the same time. Showbiz has always been full of inspired timing of this sort, supplied by a goddess I call Pelicula, who weaves her magic for everyone from hopeful actors and agents to animal trainers and gate guards. Rather, in what must have been a divinely timed coincidence, I wrapped "The Da Vinci Code" on the same day Dan Striepeke, my makeup man for 19 years, turned 75. The cake wasn't for me I'd already celebrated in July, when the English and French crew sang "Happy Birthday" to me in the Grand Gallery of the Louvre. LAST October, after my final shot as Robert Langdon in "The Da Vinci Code" - after the hugs, presents and the jokes about unemployment - a birthday cake big enough to feed our entire unit was rolled out, candles blazing. ![]()
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