If you saw the episode, you know damn well why we’re here. Tony Soprano murdered Pantoliano’s character, Ralphie, in a fit of rage, because he suspected that Ralphie had burned down a stable to collect the insurance money–destroying, in the process, the racehorse that Tony had come to love even more than his elusive ducks. Prior to “The Sopranos,” Pantoliano, known in the industry as “Joey Pants,” appeared in every movie you’ve ever seen–or close to it, anyway. Among the best known are “Risky Business,” “The Matrix,” “The Fugitive,” “Bad Boys” and “Memento.” He’s also written a memoir, titled “Who’s Sorry Now: The True Story of a Stand-Up Guy,” about growing up in Hoboken, NJ He spoke with NEWSWEEK’s Jeff Giles about life and death on screens big and small.
When did you know your character was going to get killed?
I always knew. David Chase hired me two years ago and said it was a two-year job. I never saw a word of dialogue when I took it. Chase called me and said, “The character is going to be a bad guy, but they’re all bad guys.” He said that he was going to be charming and funny and a stone in Tony’s shoe, and in the end he would lose out to Tony. That’s all he ever said to me. He never said who, when or why until episode five of season four when he called me in and told me what was going to happen. Of course I was hoping that I could continue because I was having fun.
The viewers were hoping you could continue, too.
This has been like the one-armed man being caught by Richard Kimble. I’ve never seen such a strong reaction to a fictional character on television. And frankly, subjectively speaking, it’s the best thing that has ever happened to me–to be killed off of this hit show while it’s at the top of its game and to get a send off like this. When David said I was going I said “just let me go out with a bang” and, boy, did he.
Tell me about the fight itself. How much did you choreograph yourself?
It was brilliantly choreographed by the stunt coordinator. I think we shot that entire scene over a three-day period. The fight and the lead up took about a day and a half and the aftermath took another half day.
What was actually being sprayed out of the Raid can?
Water. It’s really a feat of all of the departments coming together when you do a scene like that. The cabinetry in the kitchen was built so you could get cameras behind the glass and the glass was made with candy glass so my head could go through it. The frying pan was made of rubber, the knife was made of rubber, the Raid was really water. The only that was real was the egg.
I was sorry that you didn’t make it out of “Matrix” alive–and now this.
I’ve been bumped off some of the greatest movies and now television. I’m the only actor in the history of film to be killed in the first two minutes of a movie, in “Memento.” I’m used to really sexy death scenes. I jokingly said you need to look at my other death scenes, I remember saying “that’s already been done to me once” at some points. I even did an obscure movie called “Downtown” with Anthony Edwards and Forrest Whitaker, and they put me in a shredder.
One of the great things about your career, especially after “Memento” and “The Sopranos,” is that it seems like no matter what movie is on cable, you’re in it. You watch “Risky Business” and you see Guido the Killer Pimp and you go, “Hey, that’s Joey Pants.” It’s like “Where’s Waldo.”
There’s that old joke that talks about the five degrees of an actor’s career. It goes ‘Who’s Joey Pants?" then “We want Joey Pants” then “We want a young Joey Pants” then “We want a Joey Pants type” and finally “Whatever happened to Joey Pants?”
You’ve written a memoir about growing up in Hoboken. Will you ever write one about being a character actor?
The book is having great success. We made The New York Times’ extended best-seller list. We just went into the third printing. Because the book deals with the first 19 years of my life, we’re talking about doing a trilogy. The next 20 years would be the story of me beginning to be successful. And then the last 20 years would be the real Hollywood stuff–how a kid came from humble beginnings is now eating with princes and presidents and senators.
What sorts of projects are you thinking about from here?
I like good parts in good pictures. I really cut my teeth by taking smaller roles and breathing life into them, like the Eddie Moscone role in “Midnight Run,” the Cosmo Renfro role in the “Fugitive,” Captain Howard in “Bad Boys.” I just finished “Bad Boys 2” where I’m reprising that role. So even though the celebrity factor rises and the size of the role does, too, I’ve always tried to be a really great character actor in the tradition of Gene Hackman and Robert Duvall and Spencer Tracy. Those were my heroes growing up. Most of all, I wanted to be able to have a 40- or 50-year career. I wanted to be able to make a living every year. The first seven or eight years, that was impossible. But since 1979 I’ve been able to make a living as an actor and that’s awfully hard to do.
People seem to be drawn to you because of what you seem to know about the streets and about real life.
That’s what my book is about, looking back and remembering where I came from. The fact that Frank Sinatra is from Hoboken or that Jimmy Roselli, the singer, was from Hoboken, or the fact that “On the Waterfront” was filmed there….
And I was married in Hoboken–I’m just trying to add to your list of great things that have happened there.
Where were you married?
The Episcopal church across from the Blimpie shop on Washington and …
The one with the red trim? Yeah I know that place. One of the things that inspired me was being dyslexic and having a third-grade reading level at 19. When I decided I wanted to be an actor I knew I had to learn how to read and my dad took me to the houseboat from “On the Waterfront” where Marlon Brando gets the crap beat out of him. My dad was fascinated by the idea that this guy from Nebraska could come to Hoboken and pretend to be a guy from Hoboken before getting in his limousine and driving back to Manhattan. He said, “You can make a lot of money out of lying.” He told me I came from a long line of bullshit artists and could probably do that. It was never my intention to be an artist. I never looked at it like an art. It’s a craft and a thing I have a passion and aptitude for–like I can make a good plate of pasta.
When you were introduced to Hollywood were you disgusted by all the phoniness?
One of the things I did when I got my Screen Actors Guild card was a lot of work as an extra. I watched the actors work in front of a camera and I watched their process and I learned from that experience as a fly on the wall. The bigger the talent, the more real the person.
Really?
Absolutely. The only phonies are the ones with nothing in their wallets; they’re like hollow chocolate Easter bunnies.
What do you mean they have nothing in their wallets?
They don’t have talent, they don’t have the goods. The Harrison Fords, the Tommy Lee Joneses however, these guys are worth their weight in gold.
In terms of being recognized on the street, what has given you the biggest bump–“Sopranos” or “Matrix” or what?
On the way to do a Fox interview I had to go through a police guard who was quoting dialogue from the “The Fugitive” and then somebody stopped me and said I was the best thing about “Midnight Run” and people ask me “What the hell happened in “Memento?’” And then I was getting in a car and this guy asks me if I’m Paulie. That put the whole thing in perspective, here I was being recognized–and then some guy thought I was Tony Sirico. You can’t take it seriously.
