TheJohnny Depp Zone
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The Unprocessed Johnny Depp
by John H. Richardson
Photographs by Noman Jean Roy
Esquire Magazine
May 2004
Johnny Depp is 40. BFD.
TheUnprocessed Johnny Depp ~Achatty encounter with America’s most eccentric movie star,whotalks about Hollywood, fatherhood, how he’s made a career offailing, and how it all came together in a movie based on a themepark and the most liberating screen character in memory.
“Withactors—and really all artists—if they do somethingthat reallypleases me on a lot of levels, I’ll stick with them for acouple ofmovies,” says writer at large John H. Richardson.“And I’llkeep seeing Johnny Depp’s next five movies just because ofDeadMan(1996).” Despite his admiration for Depp’s work,Richardson was alittle suspicious as he set out to spend an afternoon with the actor,but Depp’s off-kilter personality and bohemian tastes wonRichardson over. “A lot of people who are on the fringes geta bigattitude about it, and it becomes a way of feeling superior, cuttingthemselves off. Johnny didn’t do that. He kept his integrityandshowed that there’s a meeting point between these two worlds,bringing this joyous, iconoclastic energy to a huge audience. And itreally worked.” Richardson’s nonfiction bookMy Fatherand theSpy willbe published by HarperCollins next year.
The Unprocessed Johnny Depp
Theessential meaning of the actor, patron saint of the lost and lonely
The fact is, I wanted tomeet Johnny Deppbecause of Alison, mysister-in-law. She's about forty-five and pretty but always looks alittle beaten down, one of those people who seem to apologize forliving. She and her husband—who has a job doing landscapingworkfor one of the titans of our modern economy—have spent yearslivingin the usual small apartments trying to raise a kid on spit and sparechange, and Alison would always be so helpful to other people thatshe'd end up taking care of their kids too, for free. Once, she gotso sucked into the lives of all her loser neighbors that she had tomove just to get some free time. But a year or two ago somethinghappened to Alison, a blinding flash of insight and revelation thatchanged her—she discovered JohnnyDepp.
Butlet her tell it. Here she is, come to my office clutching a box shelaughingly calls the JohnnyDepparchives. She looks completely different than she did a year ago,wearing more makeup and tighter clothes and hair gone long and wildwith even a few brand-new gold highlights, and it all comes togetherin a way that purrssexualite—like Isaid, a 180 degreechange from a year ago. And she lays out photocopied articles on mydesk, laughing and telling me how embarrassing it was to stand inline at Kinko’s and copy all this stuff while the womanbehind hergave her the hairy eyeball.
“Whendid I first start getting into him?” she asks. “Ithink withDonJuan DeMarco.” She loved the theme of the movie,that even ifit means everybody is gonna think you’re crazy, you have tobecomethe person you dream of being. Then she sawFrom Helland wasblownaway by that, too. He was so mysterious and beautiful and otherworldly and kind and intelligent and insightful and . . .
Enoughof that. When it comes to adjectives for Johnny, Alison gets a littlecarried away; she even sends me a supplementary list by e-mail thenext day. But all of this just leads up to Alison’s BigTurningPoint, the dayPirates of the Caribbean came out.She was withher friend Cyn, a fellow devotee. And as soon as Johnny made hisentrance on the mast of that sinking ship, stepping off onto the dockwith perfect devil-may-care insouciance, well . . .
“Afterward,we said we hadn’t felt that way since the Beatles.”
Theybecame addicted. Every weekend that summer, they traveled todifferent theaters. After a while it got so embarrassing, theystarted telling their husbands they were going to the mall or the gymor the library—anything to cover up their fiendish Johnnyjones.They started watchingEntertainment Tonight and theE!Channel in hopes of catching the random glimpses of him,scanningthe Internet for Johnny trivia, wishing they lived in Florida, where(as rumor had it) fans had started aRocky Horror-ishinteractivePirates night where they bit into anapple whenJohnny bit the apple and said, “That’s veryinteresting” justwhen Johnny said it. They smuggled airplane bottles of mojito rum intothe theater to keep that Caribbean buzz humming.
Nevermind the bad teeth. Never mind the makeup. In fact, that was thepoint: Captain Jack was so piratically liberated, he made Alison andCyn question their entire lives. How had they become so cautious, soboring, so utterly middle-of-the-road? What the hell happened tothem?
Oddly enough, JohnnyDepp had the exact same experience himself, which hedescribed fiveyears ago in a lovely little article he wrote called“Kerouac,Ginsberg, the Beats and Other Bastards Who Ruined My Life.”
Thestory begins with the day his older brother rippedFramptonComesAlive! off the turntable, put onAstral Weeks,and handedhim a copy ofOn the Road:
“Andso began my ascension (or descension) into the mysteries of allthings consideredOutside. I had burrowed too deepinto thecounterculture of my brother’s golden repository, and asyears wentby, he would turn me on to other areas of his expertise, sending meeven further into the dark chasm of alternative learning . . . Iwantedmy education to come from living life, getting out there in theworld, seeing and doing and moving among the other vagabonds who hadhad the same sneaking suspicion that I did, that there would be nogreat need for high-end mathematics, nope . . . I was not going tobedoing other people’s taxes and going home at 5:37 p.m. to patmydog’s head and sit down to my one meat and two vegetabletablewaiting forJeopardy to pop on the glass tit, thePat Sajak ofmy own private game show . . .”
Hegoes on, doing that spontaneous bop prosody thing.
Soit makes perfect sense that when I finally do get my Johnny moment,it’s like a drug deal: Check into the Chateau Marmont andwe’llcall you when we call you. It’s perfect not just becauseJohnny hashimself spent time waiting on the man, not just because he builthimself through unwavering loyalty to a vision given to him byothers, not just because he’s a rock ‘n’roll dude who startedout in bands (and got this close to a record deal with an eightiesglam band called the Rock City Angels), but because Zen BeatnikLesson Number One is that you must abandon your will beforerefreshment arrives. So I sit in my room and watch theHustlerandTouch of Evilon AMC and remember what moviescan do whenthey’re sufficiently inspired or deranged, and finally thephonerings and a voice comes on and says, Johnny’s running alittlelate. Hang tight.
LikeI said, it makes perfect sense. What movie star has enacted theparadigm of celebrity evasion more perfectly than Johnny Depp? Theguy hides behind masks and makeup and scissor hands and bald spotsand oddball, bizarre weirdness more than any other movie star inhistory. Look at the filmography:Cry-Baby, EdwardScissorhands,Dead Man, From Hell, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Thisain’ta career; it’s a cry for help.
Anotherhalf hour, then the phone rings again. Down the hall, knock knock,and there he is, sitting in a chair. For a guy who doesn’tgive adamn he’s definitely sporting a look—professionallyripped denim,in a floppy old brown fedora, amulets up his arm, and some kinda mojohand necklace dangling to his breastbone. He smiles sweetly, asksabout my room, opens a window, and pretends to be alarmed that maybehe broke it, making a joke about the days when he trashed a hotelroom or two. And we start to talk, mostly pretty boring stuff atfirst. In the spirit of Johnny, I’ll give this to you prettymuchunprocessed.
Johnny Depp:OS X was a nightmare. 9.2 was fine.
JohnRichardson: Yeah.
Whenthe room-service waiter comes in, Johnny starts talking to him aboutantiques and even walks him to the door. The kid leaves beaming.
Depp:When you first got to the teenage period, were you scared shitless?
Richardson: Spoken like a father.
Everyso often, he asks me if I want some more coffee. Every so often, herolls a cigarette and smokes it. And adds a little water to hiscoffee.
Richardson: You have spent some time inFrance, right? Don’t they do that in France?
Depp:No, this is me just growing up on diner coffee. I’m a MaxwellHouseguy. This is way too highfalutin stuff for me.
Ido ask him about showbiz a couple of times, but it doesn’tseem tobe a subject that brings him much joy.
Depp:I don’t recall anything that knocked me out. I like notseeing toomuch of what’s going on out there, you know? In fact, I likenotseeing what’s going on, not knowing what anybody else isdoing andnot knowing who anybody is. It’s like ignorance is bliss.
Richardson:I think out here, you getcaught up in whatotherpeople’s values are. It’s easy to lose sight ofyour own.
Depp:Yeah. I really, more than anything, despise the competitive thingthat just sort of is in this industry, you? It would be different ifit were kill or be killed, but it’s not, you know?
Hegets quiet and internal, sucking on his little brown cigarette,tapping it on the rim of the ashtray, sinking down under his bigsheltering hat. But I try again, asking him if he had to ignore a lotof expensive professional advice to make so many oddball movies.
Depp:Well, I took their advice. It was Cocteau, I think—Cocteausaid advice is a great thing to listen to and disregard. [Helaughs.] And at times it is, you know? Because nobody reallyknows what you’re feeling, what you’re really goingfor, whatyou’re really trying to do. Hell, I didn’t evenknow what I wasgoing for. I just knew that I didn’t want to be assemblyline.
Richardson:Cheez Whiz.
Depp:Yeah, Cheez Whiz. There were agents, upper-echelon agents over theyears who said, Listen, here’s the deal: You have to do thisbecause you can make this much money and you can do this and you cando that, success and power and all that. I listened to them and theywere right, you know, but I was right. I couldn’t go wheretheywanted me to go.
Richardson: Are you happy being an actor?
Depp:Yeah. I’m a lot happier now than I used to be.
Richardson: Yeah?
Depp:‘Cause for a lot of years I was really freaked out. Maybe Itook itall too seriously, you know? I was freaked out about being turnedinto a product. That really used to bug me. Now, more and more, Ienjoy the process. Creating a character, working that character intoa scene, into the movie. I mean, the last couple of things have beenjust a ball.
Youseemed to be having fun onPirates, I say. Alisonis going towant to hear about this.
Depp:I had a ball. I really had a ball every single day. It was just agas. It’s probably the most centered and contentI’ve ever been,starting a little bit before that point, because everything comesfrom home and emotion and what you’re living in. We startedPiratesand my girl was three and a half, a great relationship. My little boywas just in the throes of the caveman period and hilarious.
Richardson: Is that one of their braceletsyou’rewearingthere?
Depp:My daughter made these for me, and then, amazingly, she chose everysingle bead on this one, little skulls and stuff. She put theseskulls on, and then she had one green bead and she said, “Ah,thisis gonna be for Daddy . . .”
Heseems pretty happy talking about his own movies, which gives him achance to praise the directors and other actors. The surprise is thathe often agrees to make them even if he doesn’t much care forthescript. If he’s a fan of Roman Polanski, that’sreason enough tosay yes toThe Ninth Gate.
Depp:I think Polanski is one of the few filmmakers who nearly did aperfect film, a couple of them.Chinatown wasalmost perfect.It may be perfect. And I was really excited about the prospect ofgoing to work with him. The screenplay was sort of like, all right,you know. Maybe when we get in there, we can float around a littlebit and find some stuff and change it. But he doesn’t want todothat so much.
Helaughs again, happy to be talking about the quirks of someone headmires—that’s Roman, and he’s thefilmmaker, so what are yougoing to do? Hell, sometimes Johnny makes movies without even seeinga script.
Depp:Dead Man, there was no script.
Richardson: Just ‘cause you like JimJarmusch?
Depp:‘Cause I love him, and, you know, he’s another guywho’s made aperfect film. Probably a couple of times.
SamewithEd Wood. No screenplay there, just an idea byTim Burton.AndCharlie and the Chocolate Factory, whichhe’s going toshoot with Burton this summer in London. And same withPirates.
Depp:I was sitting in a meeting with Dick Cook over at Disney, a kind ofgeneral meeting, and he said, “What kind of stuff are youlookingto do?” I said, “I don’t know.I’d kind of like to do somekiddie stuff. Something a bit more accessible for mine, youknow.”He said, “We’re thinking of doing this thing,Piratesof theCaribbean,” And I just said,“I’m in.”
Richardson: That’s the last thing I wouldhaveexpected you todo, a movie based on a theme park.
JD:I can’t explain it, you know. I just had a feeling.I don’tknow why. And there was every chance in the world for it to besomething horribly embarrassing. I just had a good feeling, and thenall the elements came together and it worked fine. Interesting.
Ofcourse, they were a little freaked out by the way he came at therole—the makeup, the gold teeth, the weird way he walked andtalked.
Depp:There were a number of people, you know, when those first dailiescame in, it was like, What’s that? What’s he doing?I just kindof ended up having a few conference calls and meetings and stuff, andbasically, again, I just had a feeling that I had my hooks into thisguy so deeply. I just had the feeling that the kiddies would like himand that it wouldn’t just be like a kiddie character; theaverageJoe could like him and the heaviest of intellectuals could like him.What’s amazing to me is I didn’t do anythingdifferent than anyother character, you know what I mean? I mean, I just did the samejob I always do. But somehow the film hit, and now I meet theselittle kids who go, “Man, you’re CaptainJack!” And you can seein their eyes that it’s not Johnny Depp or any of thatbullshit—they’re meeting Captain Jack. God, what ahigh that is.That you’ve somehow pierced that curtain and have made aneffect tosome degree. That little kid’ll have that memory of watchingthatmovie when he’s a grown man or a grown woman. And that, tome,means so much.
Richardson: Ten years ago, when you were inyour thirties orlatetwenties or something, could you imagine yourself saying that?
Depp:No, I was just a dumbass.
Soit’s not quite the no-compromise life Alison imagined, atleast notanymore. Which leads him into the past, how he came out of Floridawith his rock band in 1983 and lived in Nic Cage’s oldapartmentnear Hollywood Boulevard, so broke that he took the Mexican change inCage’s drawers down to the check-cashing joint on the cornerofHollywood and Whitely so he could buy a hot dog or a pack ofcigarettes. Getting his first role inNightmare on Elm Streetfor the “shocking” sum of $1,200 a week. Graduallyrealizing hewasn’t gonna play guitar for a living after all.
Depp:At a certain point you get one of those moments where you just go,okay, apparently this is the path you’re on now. Just go alittlefarther and see what happens. I always figured I could go back andplay music if I needed to.
Thenhe brings up the TV-heartthrob thing, something he spontaneouslyreturns to several times, how he got the part on21 JumpStreetthat changed his life so fast. Suddenly he was living in a nice hoteland getting paid big money and people were staring at him inrestaurants.
Richardson: You were playing some kind ofteen detective,right?
Depp:I was playing a cop who looked young enough to go undercover in highschool.
Richardson: And fuck with the students.
Depp:And fuck with the students.
Richardson: An asshole. You were playing anasshole.
Depp:Yeah, a fascist.
Whichis kind of funny considering that he was theoppositeof thatslick young cop who could get over with the kids because he was sodown and studly and in control.
Depp:I’ve always been drawn to those fringe types. Thewhole “wewho are not as others” thing, you know?
Richardson: What’s that?
Depp:There was a book calledFreaks: We Who Are Not as Others.Ialways loved that title,We Who Are Not as Others.Not so muchfreaks, but we who are not as others. I always thought that wasgreat.
Richardson: That’s why it’s strangeyou’re in Hollywood,‘cause it’s basically a mainstream place.
Depp:Maybe I was just too dumb to sell out.
Richardson: I do have a feeling like ifDepp is doingPiratesof the Caribbean, there must be some reason whyhe’s doing itthat’s authentic. Maybe I won’t in ten years.
Depp:Shit, I may be doing TV in ten years. Or doing fucking appearances ata hamburger stand dressed as Captain Jack, you know.
Doubtful,especially when you consider the way he gasses on about how much heloves Ed Wood, the thought that when Ed was storming the beaches inWorld War II, he was wearing a bra and panties underneath his combatfatigues. He seems so happy telling stories about making themovie—“Andthere I was, man, I was in like a tight skirt and my wig all screwedup and lipstick smudged all over my face”—it lightsup his face.
Depp:He was totally pure. It really all came from an absolutely rightplace. That was whyEd Wood was so important to Tim[Burton,the director] and I. It was really like a love letter to him. Weappreciate this guy, you know?
Richardson: There’s purity to all thosecharactersyou play.They’re trying to be sincerely themselves and not fake it.
Depp:I think that’s important. Even in your own life. When youmeetsomeone like Hunter Thompson and watch him, get to knowhim—peoplesay whatever they want to say about Hunter and hisbooks—he’spure, he’s absolutely pure. There’s really not anugly bone inthat guy’s body.
Richardson: Really?
Depp:Yeah He’s just himself. That’s rare. You know, likeRoky Ericksonand the 13th Floor Elevators, a band out ofTexas. Theywere basically the first psychedelic-rock band in 1965. And if youlisten to old 13th Floor Elevatorstuff—Roky Ericksonespecially, his voice—and then go back and listen to earlyLedZepplin, you know that Robert Plant absolutely copped everything fromRoky Erickson. And it’s amazing. And Roky Erickson is sittinginAustin, Texas; he’s just sitting there. And Robert Plant hada hugehit. It always goes back to those guys, you know? I love thosefucking guys.
Helights another one of his little cigarettes, pours a little morewater in his coffee.
Depp:The interesting thing is, like, for the most part, I’ve kindofbeen able to glide through this weird little thing they call a careerin terms of the business world and in terms of the industry in manymovies that were considered absolute failures, flops. So I’vekindof made a career of—
Richardson: Failure.
Depp:Failing.
Thenthere’s a knock on the door and in comes David Koepp,director ofhis latest movie,Secret Window. It’stime for Depp to goback to the odd business of being America’s most eccentricmoviestar, the man who inspired my sister-in-law and made women all overAmerica drool over a fey pirate in makeup.
Depp:That’s the thing, a pirate could do whatever he wants.He’s apirate. Bind his feet like a geisha. He could do whatever he wants.Anything. He’s a pirate. There’s no limit.
Richardson: Yeah.
Depp:That’s what’s so fun.
JohnH. Richardson Interview
By E Bronte
Posted on the Johnny DeppZone
April 21, 2004
Hereis my recent interview with John H. Richardson, writer-at-large forEsquire magazine. For anyone who is new here, Mr. Richardson has acover story about Johnny Depp in the May issue of Esquire (USversion.)
Thequestions asked were all contributed by loyal Johnny Depp Zone“members.” It was actually quite easy to edit thelong list ofquestions that flooded in, because the same one kept coming up againand again and could be consolidated. It seems we do think alike.
Enjoy!
EBronte: What was JD like as an interview subject? Nervous?Guarded? Forthcoming? Chatty? Bored? Boring?
JohnRichardson: He was . . . not chatty, but seemed happy totalk. Heseemed to like to talk about the boring stuff—kids,computers,Django Reinhart—but also seemed happy enough to talk aboutthecareer stuff, although I noticed that he steered it in severaldirections, subtly—one, mentioning the horror ofJumpStreet-celebrityexperience, and two, praising other people. He loves to praise otherpeople. I wonder if some of this comes from his brother.
EBronte: You indicate that his “I don’tgive a damn” lookappears to be carefully constructed. Did you get the same impressionabout his public persona—that “Johnny Depp,self-deprecating,nice-guy celebrity” is another great character in his actingrepertoire? Or do you think he revealed at least something of hisreal self in your interview? (By the way, I’m not suggestingorasking if he’s a phony. Every celebrity is a product sold forpublic consumption. It’s the nature of the beast.)
Richardson: No, I don’t think the nice-guything isconstructed. It’s intentional, but not constructed. Hedefinitelyseems to have a sense of decency and egalitarianism. This camethrough for me strongest when, at the photo shoot, I talked to hismakeup artist. She’s been with him sinceArizonaDream, andshe wasn’t any glamorous, fabulous person . . . a littlesociallyawkward, a real person.
EBronte: What other celebrities have you interviewed and howdoesJD compare?
Richardson: George Clooney, Keanu Reeves,Sean Connery,AngelinaJolie, lots of others . . . they’re all different,obviously. Most ofthem seem like nice folks, most of them are pretty guarded (exceptAngelina). Johnny’s the most bohemian by a long shot, in thesensethat he’s into all those romantic beatnik artists. And lotsofother artists and musicians. I guess I would say that his frame ofculture references was bigger and hipper than any other actorI’vemet. He’s not faking that at all—really knows hisstuff.
EBronte: Were you given any restrictions up front? Forbiddensubjects?
Richardson: No. Although his publicistemphasized that hedoesn’tlive in France.
EBronte: Realizing that you’re a guy and probablydidn’t spenda whole lot of time noticing, was Johnny physically what you expectedbased on what you’d seen of him in movies and photos? Taller?Shorter? As striking (beautiful) in person? Is his face as fine-bonedand delicate in person as people have reported?
Richardson: He’s smaller than me (J.Richardson is6’.) A bitfine-boned, I suppose, but not dramatically so. He has a way ofhuddling down under his hat and his totems. But when the camera wason him, some of the times, he kind of beamed Johnny out. It wasstriking, like one of those magic powers in those hobbit movies.
EBronte: Was anything additional discussed thatdidn’t make itinto the article that you found interesting?
Richardson: Yeah, of course. I likedtalking about music withhim, Django and swing and such. I liked his little ironic remarks.Lots of those. He knows the names of famous bookbinders. And he has avery sweet affect that’s touching and pleasing.
EBronte: Were you pleased with the outcome/editing of thearticle?
Richardson: Not really. Originally it wastwice as long andmoreambitious, taking the form of a beatnik rant. Oh well.
EBronte: Did JD mention any books by name that he has read andadmired?
Richardson: Beatnik stuff, mostly. Otherstuff Idon’tremember. I think he’s read a lot of what hip Englishstudentsread, minus the litcrit theory.
EBronte: When and where was the photo with the old bottlestaken?And the other photos?
Richardson: All in a house in the HollywoodHills with a viewthat stretched a hundred miles over the bay. When Johnny walked in,he said, “Too bad about the view.”
EBronte: The “scribble” drawing behind thetitle of thearticle—did Johnny draw it?
Richardson: I don’t think so.
EBronte: Did some topics seem to excite Johnny more thanothers,or make him clam up?
Richardson: He was pretty open. He was alittle skittishaboutthe drug references, I suppose. And that France thing.
EBronte: And John, you may scoff at these two questions, buttheyare important to women—what did he smell like, and what washishandshake like?
Richardson: His handshake was firm but notobnoxiously so. Ididn’t notice any smell.
EBronte: People have said that upon meeting him, they had aninstinctive feeling that he was “a little bitdangerous.” Did youfind this to be true?
Richardson: No.
EBronte: And lastly, they want to know about your newbook,MyFather the Spy—when will it be out and is it amemoir,biography, or expose?
Richardson: It’s a biography with a bit ofamemoir, I guess.Supposed to be out next year, but I keep getting distracted.