There and Back Again by Sean Astin with Joe Layden Read Free Book Online Page A

biggest paycheck of my life ($250,000), coupled with the promise of directing a short film and then a feature (or two or three). I rationalized it, in part, by telling myself that I’d be able to use the money to put both myself and Christine through college, which I did. (This is no knock against my parents. My father made it clear that he would have been happy to pay for my education—if I had pursued it in a more traditional manner by going to college directly from high school and focusing exclusively on academics. And I’m sure that my mother would have helped.) The movie would open doors. And yet, my attitude just sucked. When I walked out of the meeting, the first thing I did was call my agent.
    â€œHow did it go?” he asked.
    â€œOh, great. It was an audition for Pauly Shore, just like I figured.”
    â€œWell, you can always walk away from it.”
    â€œI can?”
    â€œAbsolutely.”
    The studio had planned a promotional photo shoot the next day at the famous Pink Car Wash on Ventura Boulevard. The plan was for Pauly and me to ham it up, act like the best buddies we were supposed to portray in Encino Man. He was into it, of course, because he understood the value of what he was doing, and because that’s the kind of person he is, but I felt like a complete fool. For one thing, physiologically, I was a mess. I had shocked my system by losing so much weight so quickly, and then I had stopped working out while Christine and I traveled around Europe, so my weight had ballooned to 175 pounds. I didn’t like the way I looked or felt. But mostly I just resented the fact that Pauly was being goofy, and I didn’t know what to do. It was like I’d run off to join the circus without having an act to put on display. I was embarrassed. I didn’t understand the character or the movie; I was totally out of my element but wasn’t smart enough to ask anyone for guidance or help, because I was so focused on the business element of things. I wasn’t thinking the way I should have been thinking: as an actor. Be natural, concentrate on each scene … do the job! I was completely lost, and yet here I was, before filming even began, before a single rehearsal, having my picture taken so that my image could be made into a poster with Pauly fucking Shore! Meanwhile, I was thinking, Oh God, what have I gotten myself into?
    A couple of days later, after I had challenged my agent and accused him of withholding information about potential jobs, I was called into the offices of CAA to be publicly rebuked. My anger stemmed in part from a conversation with a friend. Will Wheaton—a contemporary who had played one of the lead characters in Stand by Me and who would later become a regular on Star Trek: The Next Generation —had called to ask me why I wasn’t interested in a particular project to which he had been attached. I told him I wasn’t even aware of it.
    â€œOh,” Will said, “well, your agency got the call.”
    I blew up and accused my representation of lying to me and, worse, of trying to make me feel bad about accusing them of lying. (In fact, they had lied, but they hadn’t thought anything of it, because lying is considered by many people to be acceptable behavior in Hollywood.) I was venting some of my frustrations and trying to figure out exactly where I was going with my career, and whether my management team had any specific plan for getting me there. I didn’t understand then that it was all up to me, that I had to be in control of my own destiny. So I had to make a decision. I could say, The hell with you people. I don’t want to be here, in your agency, because you lied to me and you’re treating me badly. But that wasn’t me. I put my head down, stuck my tail between my legs, apologized for my behavior, and that was that. Then, as I walked out of the office, I ran into Josh Lieberman in the hallway. Josh was a young