The Rolling Stone interviews - Jann Wenner [88]
Then why do you think people believe you do cocaine?
I think it’s the normal assumption to make, particularly about someone who’s been candid about his privacy. I can only blame myself. I’m not so sure I should’ve been this candid. I thought it was a very good thing to do because, first of all, I’m for legalization, and because I know what the costs are. The costs are lying.
How would you describe your drug use?
Convivial.
What does that mean?
It means I have a good time. I don’t drink, although the last couple of years, I’ve started to drink a little alcohol—a glass of wine, maybe two brandies at night after coffee.
Do you still smoke marijuana?
Why talk about it? I’m not helping anybody. I’ve no desire to conceal what I do, but I’ve tried not concealing it, and it has the opposite effect. People love to have a reason to level you. They don’t have to deal with me as directly because they have this disqualifying clause in their perception of me. It’s hard for me to think I live in a world where it’s not good for you to be candid about something that, in your heart, there’s nothing wrong with.
Would you be willing to say you don’t use cocaine?
Would I say? I really have decided I have nothing further to say about this that’s of any use to me or anyone else.
Some people seem to be more worried about your health than your morals, in terms of your alleged drug use.
Doctor, cure yourself. I feel that most of the time I know what I’m doing. I missed no acting classes during the twelve years I was in class, and I haven’t missed a day’s work from illness in thirty years. I’ll put my medical charts, my sanity charts up against anybody’s. I’m not doing anything wrong. I’m not doing anything but trying to do everything right. I know what’s true, who I am. I would like to say I don’t care what people think, but I do. Everyone who knows me may think I’m . . . a tad boyish and fun-loving, but I don’t think anybody thinks I have any negative momentum, corrupting philosophies or overly radical moral opinions. As a workman, I’m known as a model of professionalism. I have to put up with being falsely described because it’s unhip to bridle at it. Besides, it’s just like womanizing. I’m not so sure it ain’t good for business.
You started out in Hollywood writing and producing as well as acting, mostly as part of the Roger Corman B-movie stable. You also directed two films, ‘Drive, He Said’ and ‘Goin’ South’—neither of which was a big hit but both got some decent reviews. Yet directing doesn’t seem to be a burning ambition of yours.
It comes and goes. It’s not burning because I don’t like criticism. I’m not that good at it yet. If I didn’t have another career, I’d be getting more encouragement to do it. I like the action. Directing is a pleasant job to me. I don’t have to go through the self-doubt. So what if I showed my stomach? As a director, I’m just there to help people, and I like that. I don’t have to question my own greed. I also haven’t been writing much, which is one of the banes and torments of my life.
Why aren’t you writing?
Can’t sit down. Life is not going that way—one of the problems about having a lot of possibilities. In the early days, I was writing for my life. That was big money to get Screen Actors Guild minimum of any kind. I wrote quite a few things during that period. It was improving me as an actor. I started producing, which, again, broadened me as a filmmaker. About that time, I adopted my work credo: You’re a tool in the hands of a filmmaker, and you serve the film. If I had no conventional work, I believe I could start from here and have a movie in theaters by the end of the year, doing whatever I had to do. I was the first person of my own generation to be one of those hyphenated people. It wasn’t the big leagues, but the action of making a movie