RON PERLMAN INTERVIEW FROM VENICE MAGAZINE

In one of Hellboy's many great, ghoulish images the film's erstwhile hero is bound in a stock and chains. He's tormented by humans more monstrous than he is, reduced to unworldly pity for the love of a woman he might never have. The comparison to the Hunchback of Notre Dame is inescapable. Here's a demon reduced to the depths by an impossible love, a creature with more soul than the so called humans who torment him. And then it hits you. Ron Perlman is the greatest character actor of his kind since Lon Chaney donned a thousand faces.

While he might let others do the creature makeup on him, Perlman shares Chaney's ability to switch effortlessly between straight "human" parts and uniquely odd creatures. But whether he might be playing a police captain or a caveman, Perlman gives his roles an absolute commitment and heart. Perlman's visage is striking, the kind of face that's gold for a character actor. He's been an attorney in Romeo is Bleeding, a mercenary in Alien Resurrection, and an understanding colonel in the Oscar-winning short Two Soldiers. But for all of Perlman's human roles aside, it's his "creature" face that you remember.

Making an impressive screen debut as a befuddled Cro-Magnon in 1981's Quest for Fire, Perlman's monstrous resume has included a hunchback in Name of the Rose, The City of Lost Children's simple strongman, the Sayer of the Law in The Island of Dr. Moreau and the Reman viceroy of Star Trek Nemesis. And with his sonorous voice, Perlman's role as the lion-like Vincent in the CBS series "Beauty and the Beast" brought him a legion of fans, turning him into one of television's most unlikely romantic heroes.

Ron Perlman's acting in these creature parts has always been about letting us see the soul inside the makeup, no more so than in his leading man breakthrough as Hellboy. Born into a world he never made, the Nazi-generated little devil grows into one bad-assed demon, with a face and pile driver arm that only H.P. Lovecraft could love. Rescued by an understanding scientist and turned into an unlikely and very reluctant superhero, Hellboy is the muscle for the monster-busting Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense. Yet Hellboy is kept under lock and key, his downtime spent stewing in a vault where he slurps down beer, nachos, and cigarettes. But like any great monster, Hellboy doesn't want to fulfill his destiny as the bringer of Armageddon. He'd rather find love and acceptance, especially in the arms of BHPD firestarter Liz Sherman (Selma Blair), to whom he spends most of his free time penning love letters. But when evil strikes, Hellboy saddles up the big guns, and kicks demonic ass with no short supply of explosive punches and wisecracks.

Not since Frankenstein has a big lug been so lovable as Hellboy, and Perlman's ability to bring out this "red monkey's" soul does wonders with this already impressive character. Hellboy has the heart and pathos of the truly great monsters. He masks his depression with self-deprecating humor, shaving his horns to deny his nature. Hellboy is the ultimate reward for a character actor like Perlman. His distinctive looks might have brought him no end of creature roles. But now it's leading creature time in a mega action film, which is no small thanks to writer and director Guillermo del Toro.

One of horror's most distinctive filmmakers, Guillermo del Toro first had the inspiration to cast Perlman as a sadistic enforcer in Cronos. As he kicked the crap out of a hapless old vampire, Perlman's heavy displayed a bloodlust beyond his victim. After using Perlman's hellraising talents again as a bad attitude vampire in Blade 2, del Toro has now gone the distance to cast Perlman in the lead as Hellboy. And Ron Perlman has delivered the dark goods in spades, with a role and film that stand out as one of the best and most imaginative superhero films that's come out of the Hollywood gate. With a dry wit to match this lovelorn, wise-ass hulk, Ron Perlman reflects on what it takes to bring out his inner beast.

Venice: Why do you think you have such a talent for playing "human" monsters?

Ron Perlman: It's really weird talking about the strange twists and turns that have led up to this event in my life. And I can't help but to reflect on how many transformational roles I've had in my career. Characters like Hellboy are one thing outwardly, but are something totally different inside. One informs the other. From the moment that I started walking the planet, there were things about myself that I considered monstrous, and were the cause of no small degree of pain. And those things have never left me. They've only taken on slight degrees of how they've consumed me or not. But those feelings of suppressing your "monstrousness" are what define your humanity. So it's profoundly trippy to me how many opportunities I've had to portray "monsters." Vincent in "Beauty and the Beast" was as well articulated a telling of that dilemma as I've ever experienced. Here was this guy who was literally monstrous, yet was as beautiful in his humanity as any character you could think of. There's a great deal of similarity between Vincent and Hellboy. And I'm thankful to Guillermo del Toro for giving me an opportunity to explore this kind of character again, because it resonates so deeply in me.

Hellboy is a huge break for a character actor like you. How much of a struggle was it to get Hollywood to accept you in the leading role for a major film?

RP: The whole project took about six and a half years. Guillermo had to convince the studios that Hellboy was worth making. He told them that they'd have to swallow hard, put their hand to their heart, take a deep breath and say, "Maybe Ron Perlman could pull this off." Ultimately, Sony and Revolution wanted badly to work with Guillermo, and were so captivated by the passion that he brought to this project, that they thought the gamble was worth it.

Your first project with Guillermo was Cronos. At first glance, you'd seem like an odd choice to be in a Mexican horror film. How did you think Guillermo chose you to play the heavy in it?

RP: Guillermo is a horror freak, and has a predilection for using monsters to define his vision of humanity. And while all of his films are celebrations of that genre, they don't resemble any horror movies you've ever seen before. Not only do they work on several different levels, but there's a heart to them as well. When Guillermo started out, there were very few resources in Mexico for aspiring horror directors. So Guillermo had to do his own creature designs, which led him to open his own makeup shop. And Guillermo couldn't help but come across movies I'd done like Quest for Fire and Name of the Rose. Before he contacted me, I had this neurotic response to the parts I'd been doing. I thought I was invisible, that I was flying so far under the radar that no one knew I existed. And that was borne out sometimes by sixteen months of unemployment. Then Guillermo wrote me a letter that was as gracious and beautifully rendered an appreciation of someone else's work as I had ever read. It was an homage to me. It blew my mind. The ultimate thrust of the letter was that Guillermo wanted me to participate in Cronos, and included the script. It absolutely defied categorization. Cronos wasn't trying to aim itself at some audience demographic, or to be part of some film genre. Cronos was as funky as a John Coltrane jazz solo. Then Guillermo showed up in LA. I met him, and he was this big, fat Mexican. He took me to dinner, and asked, "Do you mind if we start with dessert?" And I said, "You know, that's always been my favorite part of the meal." Within five minutes it was like I'd known the guy for twenty-five years. We were absolutely hermanos. Guillermo told me how he wanted to film Cronos, and it was mind-boggling. This was a guy who had a formidable imagination, and that was the beginning of our association. Meeting Guillermo has been one of the greatest things to happen in my life.

You bring a dry humor to many of your roles, especially in Guillermo's work. How important is that self-deprecating humor to Hellboy?

RP: I'd be dead without my sense of humor. I can't imagine processing the shit we are slogging our way through in life without it. In a twenty-four-hour space, you get an acute sense of how all of this injustice and out-rage is absurd. There are things that are truly serious, like when one loses his health or gets into a life-threatening accident. But the rest of it.... If you can't laugh your way through life, then you are fucked. Humor was the first form of armor I ever wore to counteract my self-image. The first girl I ever asked out on a date laughed at me, because she thought I was kidding. While I didn't cry on the surface, inside I was weeping. But outwardly I made a joke out of the situation. So humor has always been my shield against the slings and arrows. I turn them into something satiric.

Were you familiar with Hellboy as a comic book character?

RP: I'm not a comic book guy. Never have been. My favorite films last year were In America, Pieces of April, and Dirty Pretty Things. I only went to see X-Men and Spider-Man because I've got a nine-year-old kid. [This is probably a misprint as Ron's son is fourteen]. And I thought they were great movies, by the way. However, that's not what I would've plunked down my $9.50 to go see. But I happen to have a very dear friend who's as big a comic book geek as anyone who exists on planet Earth, and he's Guillermo. So I've been forced to vicariously appreciate that world through him.

Whom do you enjoy playing more? Creatures or humans?

RP: I enjoy finding the humanity in all the characters I play. And I've been really lucky with the roles I've [taken on] that have required prosthetic makeup. They've had a tremendous amount of dignity, integrity, and ability to say something that was much more important than just the character's outer trappings. And I really enjoy the collaboration of not making a decision about a "creature" until I see what makeup artists like 'Stan Winston, Chris Tucker, or Mike Westmore have decided upon for the character. Their designs make the work multi-layered and more interesting. And to collaborate with a makeup artist like Rick Baker on Hellboy brings your game up a couple of notches. It's like playing basketball with Michael Jordan.

Were you ever worried about turning red after all the body coloring that Rick gave you on Hellboy?

RP: No. There have been makeup glues that have been invented for me because I have such sensitive skin. That's how far back I go in the business.

Before Hellboy, your best leading role in a genre film was in The City of Lost Children. What was that experience like?

RP: Wow. You talk about guys who are pure artists, and you talk about blessed moments in your career. And the time you spent with guys who are as intense and imaginative as Jean-Pierre Jeunet and Marc Caro are states of grace. It took me five hours to get through the first draft of The City of Lost Children. I'm dyslexic, so I naturally read things slowly. But not this slowly. This script was like 'Titus Andronicus," where you constantly have to go back to the first page and say, "Wait a minute! What is this?" The script was so confusing, and yet so simple. Jeunet and Caro were creating a world from scratch, so I had no frame of reference for it. But once I got into the heart of their world, I felt like I was reading one of the greater pieces of literature that has ever come my way. And when I went off to do their film, I knew it was going to be a movie on the order of Children of Paradise, a film for the ages. The City of Lost Children was gorgeous. It was pristine, gothic, and interesting. It was funky, dirty, and beautiful- all at the same time. And cinematically speaking, it was as imaginative a world as any film I'd ever experienced. Unfortunately, The City of Lost Children didn't hit the mainstream. But the people who love that movie really love that movie. It's a small number. But enthusiastically speaking, it peaks into the red zone.

How was it working with Jean-Jacques Annaud on Quest For Fire, Name of the Rose, and Enemy at the Gates?

RP: Jean is very much like Guillermo. He's intellectually curious and well-read, with a brilliant mind. Jean is way smarter than me. I can't keep up with him. And like all of the great filmmakers, he's really fourteen years old at heart, with an innocence and awkward passion for telling the story. And Jean is an important part of the history of my life. He gave me my first job with Quest for Fire, and then shortly followed it up with Name of the Rose, which was completely tripped-out. I played a retarded hunchback who speaks seven languages, all in one sentence. So between Jean and del Toro, I get to keep working!

You played the Sayer of the Law in The Island of Dr. Moreau. There have been a lot of stories about how crazy that shoot was. Are they true?

RP: Yes, and I'm not going to go into detail. There are too many people still alive who worked on that!

Do you still have fans from "Beauty and the Beast?"

RP: Yeah. I think there are about twenty of them, and they meet once a year. It boggles the mind that I've been a part of so many things that speak to what's important to me and other people. The letters that I started getting when the "Beast" first hit the airwaves were just humbling. People were sharing things on such a personal level because they saw the humanity in this "beast." And that was exactly what was intended. Eventually, I had to stop reading the letters because they became too personal. They were leaning on the character I played to give their own lives meaning.

How did you become involved with Two Soldiers, which just won the short film Oscar?

RP: What an amazing coincidence that I met Aaron Schneider, whom I felt truly wanted to become a filmmaker. And I was there when he decided that he was going to spend his life savings to show the world that he was a director. I helped Aaron to choose and adapt the William Faulkner material. Then Aaron asked me the ultimate favor, which was to come down to North Carolina and work for free for a week on this thing. And I said, "Shit, why not?" Then I forgot about the movie. About a year and a half later, Aaron calls me up and says that we've been invited to the Palm Springs Short Film Festival. I went down and saw Two Soldiers for the first time and was blown away with how beautiful the film was, and what a great director Aaron was. I told him that he was going to win this film festival, and he did. And because of that, Two Soldiers was automatically included in consideration for the Academy Awards. Then I told Aaron that he was going to win that too. Now I'm usually as superstitious as it gets. I don't make statements like that. I don't even know why I said it. And even as I did, I thought, "Jesus Christ, that is so stupid to even mouth that if you think it." Yet Two Soldiers was so beautiful a film that in my mind there was no question, and Aaron won the Oscar for Best Short Film. So I was very proud to be involved with Two Soldiers, and in the emergence of this new filmmaker.

How much of you is in Hellboy?

RP: Well, let's just say that Hellboy is a beer-drinking, cigar-eating underachiever who would rather be watching a Marx Brothers movie than saving the world. So you can draw your own conclusions from that! All I will say is that I made a decision, which was supported by Guillermo, not to decide on or rehearse anything with the character. I never came to the set with any pre-disposed idea of how Hellboy should be played. This part was played as unfettered and un-fucked with as anything I've ever done. Purely, instinctively, and primally. And it was Guillermo who gave me the passport to approach Hellboy that way, because he said, "This guy is written for you. The more you study him, the further afield you're going to get from the heart of the character." And I took Guillermo at his word. I just waited for someone to say, "Action," and then I let Hellboy rip.

Are you looking forward to any Hellboy sequels?

RP: I hope there are Hellboy sequels because I could play this guy every day. Because at the end of it, I'm not interested in characters who don't have to grapple with the monsters in themselves. That monster is the basis of artistry and expression.