Kyle MacLachlan Is Very Happy to Talk to You

Just about nothing flusters Kyle MacLachlan. That’s not some writerly flourish I’m inventing to give this interview of the much-beloved, Emmy-nominated 61-year-old actor an angle. It’s actually something MacLachlan says during the second of our two conversations over the last week. While talking about his frequent collaborator David Lynch, I mentioned the director’s advocacy for Transcendental Meditation and wondered if MacLachlan was a devotee. “I’m not very consistent with it,” MacLachlan says. “It is, though, a great way to just stop everything and take a break.”

“Oh, so what’s your regimen for de-stressing?” I ask in return. 

“I never really do anything to destress,” he tells me. “I’m pretty relaxed. I try not to sweat it.” He laughs at himself. “It doesn’t always happen — I was getting a little stressed out this morning. I was doing an interview for the Today show, and they were asking me if I could pair my AirPods with my laptop. And for some reason, it wasn’t working. So the stress levels were getting up on that as we were ticking down the seconds to going live. But with the help of my wife, who’s pretty savvy about that stuff, I managed to figure it out.”

Unfailingly congenial and upbeat, MacLachlan normally comes across as thoughtful and engaged in interviews, but even in the midst of a pandemic, he remains convivial, happy to talk about any topic and often punctuating his comments with self-deprecating laughter. Many actors make you feel special when you interview them — they have a talent for seduction. But MacLachlan seems interested in the very act of conversation — he likes to dig into the question posed to him in order to explore the emotional essence of what’s being asked. And, by the way, that feeling I had about him wasn’t an isolated incident: When I did a follow-up with him several days later, he was exactly the same way. I think Kyle MacLachlan may just genuinely enjoy talking to people.

He’s here to promote his new film, Tesla, a smart biopic about the eccentric inventor Nikola Tesla (Ethan Hawke), in which he plays the great man’s great nemesis, rival inventor Thomas Edison. But while his is only a supporting role, it’s a reminder what a pleasure it is to see MacLachlan in just about anything. He makes the most of any part, giving every scene a little extra zip. Whether it’s Portlandia or the big-screen version of The Flintstones — whether it’s Sex and the City or The Doors — he exudes a calming presence that suggests you can trust him on screen. The serenity he feels inside is transmitted to us in the audience. He is the very definition of reliable.

Of course, his career has been highlighted by his creative partnership with Lynch, who plucked him out of relative obscurity to play the lead in 1984’s much-anticipated adaptation of Dune. That movie tanked, but MacLachlan and Lynch kept on working together, first on Blue Velvet and later for Twin Peaks, which was a groundbreaker long before television’s current golden age. MacLachlan revisited that world for 2017’s Twin Peaks: The Return, a fresh stunner that found the actor not just reprising his role as perky FBI agent Dale Cooper but taking on two more characters, that of Dougie Jones and the ferocious Mr. C. 

The Showtime series confirmed the show’s place among television’s finest programs, but for MacLachlan, it also gave him a chance to really savor how special the first go-round had been. “I would come to work and have just absolute gratitude every day to be able to work with my dear friend [Lynch] again,” he says of The Return. “Because [we hadn’t] since the last [series]. Recognizing that this ride doesn’t go on forever — that this is something to cherish and to embrace. Really feel every moment.”

Gratitude is something MacLachlan cultivates as he navigates our uncertain COVID age. He’s not acting right now, but he has plenty to occupy his mind, including his 12-year-old son Callum and wife Desiree Gruber, whom he married in 2002. Plus, there’s his Walla Walla-based winery, Pursued by Bear, which he started in 2005. The name is a reference to a famous stage direction from The Winter’s Tale (“Exit, pursued by a bear”), but it’s also a nod to his father, who died in 2011 and helped instill in him a love for vineyards when he was a boy growing up in a small town in Washington state. For most of his life, MacLachlan hadn’t considered becoming a dad himself, but after he met Gruber, his fate was sealed. “The moment that you actually have this little person in your arms,” he explains about the birth of his son, “you go, ‘Oh, my gosh, this is why we’re here.’”

During our conversations, we talked a little about fatherhood, but we also discussed his journey with Lynch, what it’s been like to watch Showgirls receive a reappraisal in recent years — he’s still not entirely convinced — and why he used to have an uneasy relationship with his sensitive side. He was also happy to offer advice on how to be a more knowledgeable wine drinker as well as how to age like one of his best bottles. (Spoiler alert: The former will be easier for you to replicate than the latter.)

When I saw you show up as Thomas Edison in Tesla, I thought, “This makes sense. This is such a Kyle MacLachlan type of character: He’s smart, but there’s also a little twinkle in his eye.” I don’t know if that was your process in terms of how you first approached Edison…

Well, the funny answer is that I waived my fee. [laughs] Michael [Almereyda, the writer-director of Tesla] had been talking to me about playing Edison for, gosh, over a year and trying to figure it out. He was really just trying to find time so that schedules could line up — Ethan’s and myself. 

I was thrilled that [Almereyda] had thought of me for Edison. Obviously, I knew of [Edison], but I thought, “What a great opportunity to do some research and really spend some time learning about him.” That’s part of the fun of being an actor, right? You get an excuse to dig deep into someone and learn about them. 

Michael has a very interesting way of courting you as an actor. He sends a photo of Edison at a moment when the resemblance is closest to me. And I was like, “Oh, my gosh, we have a resemblance, that’s so strange.” Now, granted, he was a much younger man in the photo that he sent than I am now. [Laughs] But he pulls you in, in this very interesting way — and then he sends research books and says, “Oh, take a look at this and take a look at that.” Before you know it, you’re doing the research — I’m working on the film, and I haven’t even really committed to it yet. [Laughs] 

You joked about waving your fee, but I know that low-budget indies like Tesla are a labor of love — for the filmmakers and for the actors. How do you decide, “It’s okay if I don’t make any money on this. I just want to be a part of the movie”?

You know going in what you’re up against, and it’s challenging and fun — I find it fun, anyway. You know you’re going to be struggling for locations. You’re going to be struggling for light. You’re going to be struggling for takes, for time, But what it does is it just causes me to really up my game. It’s not unlike television, actually: You’ve got to deliver in the first one or two [takes], which I like. 

It’s funny, I was talking to Ethan earlier today, and we were talking about [this]. It’s like leaping off the edge of a cliff — you’re just going to throw yourself forward and trust that the work you’ve done is going to be great and that you’re going to bring something lively and alive in those first couple takes that [normally] tend to get lost. It’s like, “Okay, we can do a movie and we can spend three days on a scene,” you know? You just beat it to death — any kind of joy or excitement just dissipates out of it. It’s much more fun to jump in and try and do something spontaneous and trust that the editor will have your back in case there’s something that just doesn’t work. [Laughs] 

You’re not the only one in the scene either: Ethan and I, we’re relying on each other. If I miss a moment, they’ll be on him. And if he misses one, they’ll be on me. Let’s just do this and go with the excitement of it. 

Actors talk about the importance of empathy in their work. I’ve seen you mention that in interviews. “Empathy” is such an amorphous concept: Did it develop in you when you were young?

I have never really been asked that. I didn’t know what to call it when I was little, but I did feel things very intently — and I didn’t like it. I pretended it wasn’t there, but it was there. I wasn’t the tough guy — I was the kind of person who felt things but tried not to reveal that I felt them. But as you get older, you become more comfortable with yourself, I guess. And as I became an actor, I said, “No, actually these are valuable qualities.”

I see the same thing in my son. I make a great effort to talk to him about it and say, “These are good things. I know you might feel uncomfortable, or you might be a little vulnerable. But this is a great quality to have.” My wife possesses it as well. It’s one of the things, as an actor, I think you have to have. You have to have empathy for the character. Try to find not only what’s on the page — or, with an historical person, what’s expected — but what are the other ingredients that go into this person? 

You grew up in a small town — I’m wondering if that skittishness around being sensitive developed just because of your environment.

Not so much. I ran with a group of guys, and we were all very eccentric in who we were. It’s demonstrated by where we all ended up. One of my friends is an electrical engineer. One of them is a doctor in Portland. One of them is a rock climber [and] computer programmer. We were all over the place in terms of where we ended up. 

I think there’s something generational about it. I feel like when I was younger — and even more when my dad was younger — that [sensitivity] wasn’t considered a valuable quality to have. Times have changed and are changing, and I think that that’s recognized as a quality that’s worthwhile and is encouraged and not considered a weakness, but something that’s important and special. 

You went to college for business, but quickly realized that was a mistake…

I went to college with not a clue. [Laughs] “I’m just going to go, and I’m going to take whatever courses that you take.” No direction, really. I knew I liked the theater. I’d done some plays in high school, and I think I recognized that I was decent at it — better at it, let’s say, than many, many other things. But I knew that there was going to be a leap that I had to make out of that into a professional job. And I didn’t know what that was going to be. I thought, “Well, maybe something in communications, perhaps. Or public relations.” Really vague ideas about what it was that I should put my focus on.

I remember I took an ancient history class my first year. I think I took a Shakespeare literature class. Just kind of a mishmash of stuff. But I also managed to say, “Well, I’ll take one drama class, kind of hang out. Maybe I’ll feel a little bit more home there.” And, of course, I got into the class and I felt very comfortable. So then it’s like, “Okay, now, do I listen to this or do I ignore it?” I kind of ignored it, but I was curious.

I dropped out of school after my second term, and I worked to make money to go to summer stock in North Carolina. I had a place where I knew someone who had gone. They said, “This is actually a pretty legitimate place.” And I said, “Okay.” I was accepted there on that recommendation, and I went there as an apprentice. It was really fun, like summer camp. But it was an equity theater at the same time — there were legitimate actors walking around and working on plays. It was one of those where you rehearsed the play in the morning, you’re teching one in the afternoon and you were putting on a different one at night. 

I was cast in the [lead] role of Eugene in Look Homeward, Angel. That was my first onstage experience with actors who really knew what they were doing — and a director who knew what he was doing. First of all, I felt at home. Second of all, you get validation — people were saying, “You’re really good in this.” Now, I’m basically just doing whatever the director told me to do — “You want me to walk over here? Okay, I’ll go here. You want me to cry here? Okay, I’ll go do that” — but it gave me the confidence to come back to school the next year and pursue theater.

So, a few years later, you’re cast in Dune, this huge movie. And you’re so young — like 23. Did you feel like, “God, I’ve hit the jackpot”?

Not really. It was a mind-blowing experience, although, I got to say, I don’t think I was necessarily completely aware. I had been in training for three years and worked a little bit when I got out of school in 1982. Then I was cast in [Dune], which is a completely different direction from what I was intending, which is to go to New York and begin work in repertory theater and being cast from New York. 

I’d never been in front of a camera — we didn’t have any TV work or film work in my school; it was all stage-based. But I got the job and really liked David [Lynch], and I loved the role. I knew the books back and forth. It just felt like, “Yeah, this is the next step” in my funny 23-year-old mind. “I’ll finish this and then see what’s next.” David actually had given me [the script for] Blue Velvet while we were filming Dune, and the idea was that we’d finish Dune and then we go make Blue Velvet. And we did that… but it took a much longer time between the end of Dune and the beginning of Blue Velvet than either of us thought. [Laughs] 

I think, in hindsight, I was helped and also hurt by a couple of things. Contractually, I couldn’t do a film or television show until Dune was released. I finished Dune in September or October of 1983, and it didn’t come out until December of 1984. That’s a pretty large chunk of time to be at loose ends. And I filled it — I did a play and I traveled through Europe and had those kind of experiences. But I didn’t have anything coming out, so I wasn’t cast. It wasn’t like, “Oh, he’s the guy in Dune. We should get him for our [project] because Dune might be really, really successful.” None of that happened. I wasn’t able to back up that role with anything [else]. You want to hedge a little bit, right? You want to get two or three or four [films done] in case one of them doesn’t work. Everyone anticipated that Dune would work, but I couldn’t [think that way]. And beyond that, I was signed for five Dune pictures, because there were five Dune books. And three non-Dune pictures.

Oh, god.

Yeah, with the De Laurentiis Company, I had eight movies that I owed. I mean, they owned me. In some ways, the fact that Dune wasn’t a success freed me up from all of that.

When Dune flopped, you were just starting out. How personally did you take that failure?

Not that personally. I was surprised because what happens is people keep telling you, “It’s going to be great! It’s going to be great! You’re going to be the biggest thing!” And I’m pretty level-headed — I’m like, “Yeah, yeah, whatever” — but it starts to creep into your thinking. There was that expectation [with Dune], and when it didn’t happen, I was actually kind of proud of myself, because I could say, “Well, let’s go do the next thing. Let’s figure it out.” I came to Los Angeles, and I said, “I got to start auditioning.” I really had a strange resilience of just-not-knowing. [Laughs] I just wasn’t smart enough to know how things worked. I said, “I’m good, I’m good. We’ll find something else.” It took a while, but ultimately it did work out. You just have that confidence that comes with “you just don’t know anything else.”

Lots of professions are affected by the pandemic, but most of us have learned to adjust. Acting strikes me as a job that’s pretty hard to do during a lockdown. How are you coping?

Well, I’ve shifted my focus. I have a wine project that I’ve been doing now — it’s become a small business, actually, since 2005. I’ve been working really hard on developing and expanding the brand and trying to attract investors. I’ve put my business hat on, in a funny way, to work on that — which I’m enjoying a lot. 

I’m not the kind of person that only feels alive when I’m acting in front of the camera or on stage. There are many actors that are like that, and I feel for them, because this [pandemic] must be incredibly difficult. I’ve got other things that I want to do — a life and different interests and that kind of thing. So I just shifted over to those. 

But I do miss the creative process. I miss working with a team. I miss creating a character. I miss getting excited about being in front of the camera. And I don’t know when that’s going to happen next. Hollywood is still kind of moving, but it basically feels like they’re just rolling over in bed and then they roll back the other way. No one is able to wake up yet. They haven’t figured out a way to keep everyone safe in front of the camera and have the insurance companies say, “Okay, we’ll cover you.” Until they figure out a way to make everything work safely, it’s just not going to happen.

I’m a real dummy when it comes to wine. I feel intimidated by the whole process of choosing a wine. What would you suggest? 

In some ways, I think it’s more fun for people who know about wine to talk to someone who doesn’t know anything about wine. You can say, “Oh gosh, it’s great! Let me just tell you a couple of things and [offer] a couple of directions.” 

But first and foremost, the only way you’re going to learn about wine is to drink it. Do what I do: I go to a restaurant and I look at the list. I’m like, “Okay, I see all these things. Some I know, some I don’t know.” I’ll ask the somm, “Hey, listen, I’m new, and I love these kinds of flavors. Here’s my price range. Is there something that you can recommend to me? Something that’s drinking really well right now that I might enjoy?” Nine times out of 10, you’ll hear, “Oh, yeah, great, great, great — let me recommend a couple things to you. I’ll describe them to you, I’ll give you some adjectives.” You may like it, you may not like it, but now you’re like, “Okay, I know what that wine is.” 

Really, that’s the only way to do it: Start slowly, and steadily figure out what you like.

From reading past interviews, though, I sense that the winery also helped connect you to your dad since going to wineries as a boy was an activity you shared.

One of my rationales [for starting Pursued by Bear] was to spend more time at home. “I’m interested in wine, I’d like to learn more about actually making wine, and Washington has been coming along [as a wine region]” — but I was also looking for a way to get home more frequently to see my dad. He was alive at the time, and I hadn’t been home that much, so I was like, “We need to spend more time together,” because he was getting older. 

Also, it’s just a simple fact that we were better communicators when we were doing something. I don’t know, I think there’s a common thing about that with sons and fathers. We’re not necessarily going to pour a cup of coffee and sit down at the table and say, “Well, tell me about how things are going.” That’s just not our relationship. Our relationship was you go out to the golf course and you’re playing, and then conversation comes up as you’re walking along. [The winery] was a way to encourage that and spend time and enjoy each other’s company doing something. That’s what it was. 

I started [out] knowing nothing about making wine, and over the course of time, I figured it out. I got terrific mentors along the way and great winemakers. People were more than happy to share. I just learned by doing it and was able to include my dad on that journey while he was alive. He passed in 2011. We had six years. Part of the bear imagery is just him — he was a big, big fella and kind of bear-like. He was an inspiration for that.

You yourself became a dad in your late 40s. Was it something you’d always wanted?

You know what, it wasn’t a real driving need, to be honest. I have nieces and nephews, and that was really fun. I think much of it is just finding the right person. When I met my wife, Desiree, in 1999, it was a thing where, suddenly, I was like, “Oh, I feel really this is the right person.” And part of that, you’re sort of going, “Well, do we have children? We’re getting older.” She was a little older, as well. And she was definitely “Yes” about kids. And I was like, “Yeah, I think I would like to have children with you.” 

We started [trying to have kids], Callum came along, and immediately the moment that he was born — even before that, just the whole process — was really fun and interesting and exciting. The moment that you actually have this little person in your arms, you go, “Oh, my gosh, this is why we’re here.” It was like my third eye opened. [Laughs] I often say, “There was a chamber in my heart that I didn’t know was there. And it suddenly opened.” And I was like, “Well, this is a whole other kind of love and an experience.” As a human, I understand now why we do this. This is part of the process, you know? And it became really clear to me just having him there in my hands.

So how did becoming a dad affect your acting?

I think a lot — specifically just in terms of father roles. For Law & Order: SVU, I had a guest role pre-son and a guest role post-son. In both of those cases, I played a father whose son was tragically killed. With the first one, it was fine — there were definite emotions and feelings — but the second one, as an actor you’re personalizing. It’s part of the work that you do. And there was a depth of emotion and real loss — not something that I want to deal with every day, certainly. But within the toolbox of what an actor does, it’s there, and that was profound. My heart had been moved in a different way. But, I mean, as an actor, life should have an impact on you. As we get older, many, many things come — this is a fabric that we work from.

Are there benefits to being an “older” dad? I can imagine there are downsides.

Sometimes my knees aren’t the best. But the upside is I realize I have to continue to go to the gym to keep up with my son — he’s 12 now, and athletics are starting to come more in the picture. I think he’s probably inspiring me. 

I’m a pretty patient person, for the most part. My wife is the same way. Parenting is such an interesting thing. We’ve always let Callum determine the level of our involvement — particularly if he’s not behaving. I grew up one of three boys — there were spankings, and that’s how it went. These days, I think we tend to parent with humor or maybe suggesting to him that he might want to consider another way. I think with some kids that works, and with other kids it wouldn’t work. But he’s quite a sensitive boy, and he gets it. He’s really smart — we let him figure it out. 

I don’t know if I would necessarily have had that approach if I was a younger father. I think, with age, you’re trying to be a little wiser — you’ve had more experiences, and you realize that not everything is a big deal. Now, granted, [my wife and I are] two against one — as opposed to [my childhood], where there were three boys all close in age. I get that sometimes that can lead to some frustration. But we tend to lead with humor and kindness in his case.

With Twin Peaks: The Return, one of the big surprises was how well you played Mr. C, this sociopath who’s very different than you — or anything you’d ever done before. Were you accessing parts of yourself that we don’t normally see?

You’re definitely accessing. In each person, there are elements that none of us show to the world. This guy in particular was built in a certain way that there was just no empathy at all — a kind of shark-like thought process. 

Once I settled into the guy — into the character in my body — it was a place that I lived that I just believed in. That’s who I was and what I was. Oftentimes when I’m working, I can sort of take off the character [when we break for lunch]. But this guy, he was always with me — not a hundred percent, but I carried at least 50 percent of him. I would be quite happy when I was finished for the day to be able to take off the clothes and leave them in the trailer. 

Lynch believed that you could play that character, even though he was so different than you. You’ve talked about the fact that, from the very beginning of your partnership, he’s just believed in you. 

He saw something in that first meeting that we had at Universal Studios, on the backlot, a little tiny bungalow. I feel like at that moment, he just said, “Here’s a guy that I want to work with.” I mean, I think he had to figure out whether I could act or not. [Laughs] But it’s one of the things about David that I think is really exceptional: He really follows his instinct when it comes to people who he works with. I think he cares less about what the last thing [actors] did was or what their impact on the box office for his film might be — all worries that are probably more associated with a producer. He just cares, really, about whether or not they’re going to work in the world of his film. All I can say is I think he felt like I was going to fit the bill.

Plus, he’s incredibly loyal, as witnessed by the fact that he came back to me after Dune wasn’t that successful — he wanted to work with me again on Blue Velvet, which he, obviously, didn’t have to do. He helped bring me “back” — to be honest, I didn’t know I was “gone,” but in hindsight, knowing what I know now about the world of Hollywood, I was like, “Yeah, you were pretty much gone.” He helped give me another chance, give me another shot.

When journalists talk to you or other actors who have worked with Lynch, it feels like they’re partly just really curious in hearing what makes Lynch tick. Because you two have been friends for so long — and he’s so private — do you ever feel protective of him and not want to talk about your friendship?

I talk about the relationship and just the fun we have, and the joy. I see him as my friend. I see him as an extraordinary artist who’s very true to his vision and true to himself. I’ve got a tremendous amount of admiration for him, of course. I don’t really feel like I’m in a position to try to interpret this or interpret that. I also know that it’s something that he just doesn’t want to do. People have asked him so many times about his films and his paintings: “What do they mean? What do they mean?” And he’s like, “You’re on your own there.”

I imagine that’s the same for you working with him. You two don’t have a lot of “What does this represent?” conversations.

Well, I learned early, when I was doing Dune with him and I was just starting out. I had so many questions, and I bothered him all the time. [Laughs] And he would be patient with me, up to a point. Then he would say, “Okay, that’s it.” [Laughs] He was doing it just to try to be nice to me, but I think really what he was saying was, “Go find [the answers] yourself, and then bring them to me, and we’ll work on it together in front of the camera.” 

You’ve mentioned that when you were playing Trey, Charlotte’s husband, on Sex and the City that a strange thing would happen: Random folks on the street would come up to you and ask about your erectile dysfunction — essentially conflating you with the character’s problem. How difficult was it to have to talk about that over and over again?

[Laughs] I appreciated it for the tone in which it was done. It’s New York, and everybody likes to tease — it’s not based on anything real, I didn’t think. [Laughs] It was a fun point of contact — something that they recognized in me — and so they wanted to share a moment. Basically, what I thought they were saying was, “I watch the show. I think it’s funny. Good for you for taking on this character and making it work.” It was part of the New York experience — I’m hoping that it comes back [after the pandemic].

When Showgirls comes up in interviews, I get the sense that you don’t really love dwelling on that, even though the movie has been reconsidered more favorably in recent years. The sting of how it was received back then has stayed with you?

Early on, I was probably more like, “Oh my god, this was such an embarrassment.” I think I’ve been able to put it into the context of my career as a whole and look back on that and say, “Yeah, that was one that not necessarily worked out in the way that we thought it was going to work out.” I think Paul Verhoeven’s intention was to make something audacious and over-the-top and kind of exploitive — and I think, in some ways, that did happen, but not in the way that I think he intended. 

On the outside looking in, it was a period of time when I was looking for something that was going to be more anti-good guy and not like some of the roles I’d played before. I said, “I want to break out of that.” This was a time in Hollywood when that was encouraged. [Laughs] I don’t know if necessarily it’s encouraged that much anymore — people like you to do the same thing over and over again.

Verhoeven was someone who I admired greatly — both RoboCop and Basic Instinct, his earlier work, just extraordinary. [Screenwriter] Joe Eszterhas was at the top of his game. I thought, “I’m going to sign on for something. It’s a little bit of a gamble, but it’s the world that I need to be in right now — an edgy world.” 

I gotta say, the filming experience was really great. I enjoyed working with Paul and having some really fun times together and some great scenes together. No idea of what was to come. Now, I’m appreciative of the audience that it has. What the audience sees [now] is not maybe the original intention, but why not, you know? Have fun with it. I still feel like, ultimately, it’s just not a good movie. [Laughs]

Well, you talk about taking risks: Showgirls was meant to be a very sexy, NC-17 movie. Those are rare even today. Just those sex scenes must have put you in an incredibly uncomfortable situation.  

Very, very uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable. You just tell yourself you’re an actor and this is what you’re going to do and what you have to do — that’s what you do. Contractually, you have your protection and stuff like that. You just hope that none of the outtakes are going to find their way out of the studio, because it was very revealing — particularly for Elizabeth [Berkley]. There were some moments where I was like, “Okay, here we go…” You’re feeling quite vulnerable when you have to pass the bathrobe over to the costume person who’s helping you and you’re just kind of standing there. [Laughs]

Finally, here’s something a lot of us want to know. You’re 61: How have you managed to look so young for so long?

I chose the right parents. [Laughs]  My mom passed away young — she was a beautiful woman with just a wonderful, sensitive soul. My dad, he was a handsome fellow. My grandparents, too. I think it’s just one of those things that comes in the genes. 

I don’t know — I don’t do anything that’s out of the ordinary. Just trying to exercise, eat well. I drink wine, I drink coffee. I take care of my skin the best you can, but I’m not a hardcore person about it. I just make sure I get some moisturizer on every day. 

But, you know, I’ve got a great family, really. Part of it, too, is just having fun and not taking things too seriously. I think that can also make a difference.

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Tim Grierson

Tim Grierson is a contributing editor at MEL. He writes about film and pop culture for Screen International, Rolling Stone and Vulture.