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William Petersen
C.S.I. c/o CBS Television
7800 Beverly Blvd., Room 18
Los Angeles, CA 90036-2615

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Chicago Tribune - Aprril 7, 1985 by Christine Koyama


Some time in late summer, William Friedkin's new film, the action-packed "To Live and Die in L.A.," will open in theaters across the country. In the unpredictable world of the movies, there's no telling how it will be received; but one thing is sure: Bill Petersen is the movie's star.


Intense is the single word that best describes this 32-year-old actor whose career began nine years ago in Chicago. An intense energy and a fiercely burning concentration that--coupled with talent and growing experience--infuse his work and personal life.


The last two years for Petersen passed in a whirlwind of non-stop work in leading roles on the Chicago stage, capped by his stunning portrayal of the convict killer Jack Henry Abbott in "In the Belly of the Beast" at Wisdom Bridge Theatre.


His riveting performances there earned him consistent critical praise in Chicago, and it seemed only a matter of time before the rest of the world discovered his particular talents.


Last year, that discovery began when Petersen was cast as Stanley in the Stratford (Ontario) Festival's production of "A Streetcar Named Desire." Plans were also underway at Wisdom Bridge to remount "Belly of the Beast" for a short run in Chicago (April 14-28 in the Ivanhoe Theatre) before heading overseas to Glasgow's Mayfest and London's West End.


Then, scarcely three days after the opening of "Streetcar," Petersen snared the lead in Friedkin's movie. Overnight, he was thrown into the major leagues: Big money with the prospect of even more in the future. Phone calls from agents. Offers for more film and TV work.


Yet thoughts of stardom seem far away as Petersen stands chain-smoking cigarettes and drinking cup after cup of black coffee on location late on a chilly night in a slightly seedy district of southern Los Angeles.


Already, with three months of filming under his belt and one more to go, Petersen seems totally at home in this new medium. Between takes, he talks enthusiastically about the movie and his character, Richard Chance, a hard- living federal agent who relentlessly tracks down the master criminal who killed Hart, his long-time partner. Occasionally, Friedkin himself and co-star John Pankow (also from Chicago) join the conversation. Clearly, there is a tight-knit family feeling that everyone shares working on this film. And after several hours of talking, it's also clear that this closeness and the work are Petersen's touchstones. Together they form his one reality in a career that is zooming beyond his comprehension.

 

Asked how it all happened, Petersen still seems incredulous. The day after "Streetcar" opened, Bob Wiener, Friedkin's casting director, flew up to Canada to see Petersen. Wiener had been auditioning in New York, and two actors--Gary Sinise of Steppenwolf and Pankow--mentioned that Petersen would be perfect for the role of Chance. After seeing Petersen as Stanley, Wiener gave him the script, asking him to fly into New York the next day for an audition.


"I barely had time to read the script on the plane," Petersen recalls. "There were three great parts. Chance and his new partner, John Vukovich, and the criminal they were after. But I had already decided I was only interested in playing the hero, Chance.


"Wiener and I walked over to Park Avenue, and there he was, sitting by himself in this huge apartment: William Friedkin, the man who makes movies I've always respected and loved to see--like 'The Exorcist' and 'The French Connection,' which I saw nine times.


"Now I was in his apartment and he turns out to be a real gentleman --very softspoken. He took me into the kitchen, made me coffee and then asked if I'd like to read the script with him. After doing less than a page, Friedkin threw down the script and said, 'That's it. I don't need to hear any more. You have the part.'"I sat there, stunned. The first thing that went through my mind was, this can't be real. This isn't really Friedkin or his casting director, but someone who's playing an elaborate joke, like 'Candid Camera.' "


But later that evening, when Petersen was back at his hotel, the phone rang. It was Wiener, who wanted to start negotiations that night. While Cindy Chvatal, Petersen's manager, began discussions, Petersen spent the evening with Pankow, who was up for the role of Vukovich and who had worked with Petersen in last season's Goodman Theatre revival of "The Time of Your Life."

 

"Pankow had turned me on to the part," Petersen said, "and I wanted him to play my partner. That night, we read scenes and improvised. The next morning, we read for Friedkin and it happened. He said, 'Great, you two have the parts.' "I'll never forget when we left Friedkin's apartment that Tuesday morning. There we were, standing on a New York street corner. John was going uptown to turn down doing a Broadway play. And I had to catch a plane back to Canada. Ten minutes earlier, we had just been told we were playing the leads in this terrific, fun, shoot- 'em-up movie. We just stood there, dumbfounded. Two cabs pulled up at the same time. I told John that it had been a fun 24 hours and that maybe, someday, we really would make a movie together. We laughed and got into our cabs. It still didn't seem real."


The incredible news continued. While negotiating Petersen's contract, Friedkin, impressed with Chvatal, offered to make her his assistant on the film. So, in November, all three--Petersen, Pankow and Chvatal--found themselves headed for Los Angeles and their first feature film.


Pankow vividly recalls those first few weeks: "There we were in new territory, working in a new medium. And we became a kind of support system for one another, grounding each other through our past in Chicago. During filming, if any of us needed an anchor, we'd just make eye contact or give one another a nod. Working together was a gift."


"We've probably learned as much about movie acting from Friedkin in three months as other actors might learn in three years," Petersen noted. "The biggest thing is that he trusts John and me. He lets us improvise and be creative.


"Film is a completely different discipline from the theater. John and I call it snippet acting. You act for 2 lines here, 10 lines there--it's like doing little plays every day. You have to get all the emotion and intensity of the scene but you don't have the build of a normal chronology to get you there. And, through all the stopping and starting, you have to try to keep a handle on your character.


"The most difficult thing for me is living with my character for so long. John and I have been Vukovich and Chance for three months now. When they stop shooting for three days, what do we do with our characters? In theater, I've always lived with the characters I've played. It used to drive me nuts because I'd spend the whole day waiting to do the performance. But then came the show and, even though many of the characters were not tremendously happy guys, being onstage was a rejoicing, a release. The applause freed me of having to be that character, and I'd have at least four hours after the show when I wasn't the character. I could go out and relax before the next day, when the waiting would begin again.


"But with film, you don't get that four hours off. It's 24 hours a day for three or four months, living with this character that you don't get out of your system." Petersen sighs with just a touch of resignation in his voice, then brightens up. "Don't get me wrong. There's a certain joy about exploring the medium, mainly because Friedkin is shooting everything on location, so everything is real." Asked how he felt about seeing the finished movie, and all the trappings of stardom that might attend its opening, Petersen grew quiet before replying: "I went to a screening of 'Paris, Texas' because Harry Dean Stanton, who plays the lead character, has always been one of my great heroes and I've always wanted to meet him. After the show, there he was, standing in the almost-deserted lobby. Someone started to take me over to meet him, but suddenly, I didn't want him to come down off that screen. I couldn't walk up to him and say, 'I think you're great.' I panicked and pulled away and that's when I almost knocked over Jack Nicholson who was
standing right behind me. He was really nice about it and put out his hand, saying, 'Hi.' I bolted out of the theater."


Late in the evening, while Petersen was off preparing for a scene, Friedkin describes his impressions of their work thus far: "For the last couple of years or so," Friedkin recalls, "we kept getting reports out of Chicago about how adventuresome and insightful Bill is. When I decided to do this picture, I wanted to go with fresh faces. And, after hearing Bill read a few lines, I realized he was right for the part. I was that impressed.


"That kind of thing doesn't happen very often. When I first met Roy Scheider for 'The French Connection,' I knew before he got the third word out of his mouth that he was right. Bill has impressed me every day of this film." Shooting continues far into the night. Petersen took a few moments to sum up his feelings on his career. The money, he admitted, was incredible, but its major advantage was to be able to do nice things--such as have his parents come out for a visit and put them up in a house in Malibu, on the beach. As for personal goals, Petersen laughed and shook his head: "When I first started acting in Chicago, I set some goals for myself: to be able to work consistently; to do major roles and be asked to do them without auditioning; and to work with people on a continuing basis. Once I had all of that, I couldn't figure out why I wasn't happy. It took me a long time to realize that I had actually achieved my goals and needed new ones. Finally, I decided on three: A pickup truck, a horse and a ranch. Right now, I've got the truck--a 1976 Ford pickup with a camper shell on the back." The horse and the ranch? They are somewhere off in a future that holds no rosy visions of super-stardom for Bill Petersen. What counts--as it has from the beginning of his career--is his work and the artistic associations and friendships it brings him. And somehow, one suspects, Bill Petersen will never really go Hollywood.