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  • Michael Madsen by Brantley Bardin

    Michael Madsen

    A few words of testosterone-soaked advice from actor Michael Madsen.


    When your best-known movie scene involves slicing off a cop’s ear, people tend to have preconceived notions about you. And yeah, Michael Madsen’s done his share of hard living. But even more shocking: at 45, he’s the author of two books of poetry and father of five boys, ages six to 16. That’s a lot of testosterone under one roof (and, says Madsen, “a lot of pee on the toilet seats”). As he creates another blood-soaked villain in Kill Bill Vol. II, we asked Madsen how he tutors his boys about the delicate balance between tender and tough.

    ON CHANGING FROM PARTYER TO PARENT
    I don’t think that there’s a drug that I haven’t done, and I drank enough Jack Daniel’s to float a battleship. But you can only walk in the door so many times late at night and look at your little monkeys sleeping and think about how much they need you. It has an effect on you. My boys saved me from a certain lifestyle and self-destructive behaviour.

    ON HANDLING FIVE KIDS
    They dressed up like the “reservoir dogs” for Halloween, in sunglasses and black suits, and ran through this house like a mad herd of animals. And that’s funny and amazing as a father, but sometimes you start to feel like “I’m just a referee, a judge.” Sometimes I just want to be Dad and lie on the couch. It doesn’t work that way. Every one of the boys has his own personality and needs. They’re like five separate pieces of me.

    ON BALANCING TOUGH AND TENDER
    My mother gave me culture. She encouraged me to be a sculptor and to read. And from my dad I got, “Ya gotta be the toughest son of a gun on the street.” So I had this bizarre duality. I encourage my boys to do stuff in the arts, but I’m also a big advocate of not taking any sh*t. I have a heavy bag (at my house in Montana), and every morning the boys go three three-minute rounds on the heavy bag with the gloves.

    ON DISCIPLINE
    My father beat the sh*t out of me. That whole thing about cracking somebody on the ass is archaic: I feared my father, and that isn’t the dad I am. He was only doing what he knew, but I want my sons to do what they do because they love me and know that I love them.

    ON BATTLING FOR CUSTODY
    Two of my sons were involved in a long, horrifying custody battle that I went through with their mom. I don’t know where it’s written that a man can’t be as good a parent as a mother. It’s all set up to favour the mother. It was about my having a dick. That’s an expensive piece of anatomy to have dangling between your legs, man.

    ON PAYING THE BILLS
    The actor thing is a tortured, lonely life and it’s feast or famine. There’s nothing more insane than someone asking for your autograph when you can’t afford a loaf of bread. I’ve done a lot of pictures I wish to God I’d never done. My sons say, “Dad, I was watching TV and I saw you in this movie. It was so bad, so stupid. Why did you do it?” I say, “I have to keep this roof over our heads, that’s why.” Two months ago I’m in London shooting a movie, and the financing drops out. I’m not getting paid, and I’m stuck with the hotel bill. I call the production company, and they say, “We can’t afford to get you an airline ticket.” What am I going to do, row back to the US?

    ON THE WEIRD WORLD OF TARANTINO
    Warren Beatty was supposed to play Bill, but Warren didn’t understand what Kill Bill was about. The trades said he decided not to do the movie, but as I understood, Warren was fired. So I’m up on my roof in a massive rainstorm, trying to stop a leak, ready to slide off the roof to my death. My wife comes out and says, “Quentin’s on the phone!” and climbs up the ladder and hands it to me. And Quentin’s like, “Warren’s out.” I go, “What are we gonna do?” And he goes, “I got another one, I got Bill!” And I go, “Who the f*ck is it?” And he goes, “David Carradine.” So there I am in the rain, on the roof, and I’ll never forget that moment. How do you go from Warren Beatty to David Carradine? So I go, “Well, damn it, Quentin, that’s pretty interesting...”



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