The first thing you notice is his walk.
Sitting on the outdoor patio at the Starbucks in Woodland Hills, I absent-mindedly search the Internet on my iPhone. I’m not looking for anything in particular—just something to pass the time.
Then I see him, walking toward me, with that John Wayne walk. It’s imposing. He shakes my hand, squeezing maybe a bit too hard. His hands are meaty and rough…the kind of hands that have been in a fight.
 |
This was my first time sitting down with Ben Maccabee without “adult supervision.” We had previously met a couple times in the office, with me playing Assistant to Guy Kochlani’s Boss. Ben was always incredibly kind and friendly, but given the roles he chooses and his overall demeanor, I was a bit nervous. What if it was all a charade? What if, deep down, he’s some kind of monster waiting for the perfect moment to strike?
I was wrong, of course.
And if I wasn’t, I probably wouldn’t be able to write this, since my hands would be broken in several places.
A Walk to Remember
I never really think about walking. It’s just…natural. I’m fortunate enough to be able to do it every day. Ben Maccabee doesn’t think like that. For Ben, his walk is as much a part of his acting as reading lines.
“I walk a certain way.” Ben crosses his legs, and for the first time I notice his bulky cowboy boots. They’re the same kind of boots Eastwood or McQueen would wear. “When a person walks, you can read them. The way a guy walks, you know exactly who he is. You can tell everything about a person by the way they walk, and the way they stare at you.”
My curiosity gets the better of me, and I decide to put this idea to the test. What can he tell about me from the way I walk? Am I a Harrison Ford or a Peter Lorre?
“So what do you say about my walk?”
“I call you a Cruise, man.”
“Cruise? Like a cruise ship? Or someone that just strolls around?”
“I call you a Tom Cruise.”
“Tom Cruise, huh? An international superstar? I’ll take it.”
“Listen man, Tom Cruise in my book—the number one actor in Hollywood. Nobody even comes close. That guy is a fucking genius. When Tom Cruise looks at you…when Tom Cruise tells you he’s fucking upset…he’s fucking upset.”
Soldier of Fortune
Ben, like every Israeli, was drafted into the military at the age of 18. The typical clichéd story goes something like this: boy goes into the army, comes out a man, and decides to pursue a career in film as a badass. But Ben’s different in that way.
“Acting is what shaped me as a soldier,” he told me, slowly sipping his coffee, the steam slightly fogging the lenses of his Persol sunglasses. “All I remembered was John Wayne in The Green Berets. I remembered McQueen. I remembered Charles Bronson, Lee Marvin…these guys are men’s men.”
The theme of “being a man” is important to Ben, and prevalent in almost all of his work. Real men are of action and consequence. They know when to pull the trigger and always, always, get the girl. But the age of the Hard-Boiled Man seems to have past. “Today you have a lot of males, and very few men. When I talk to a guy, I want to know if he’s a man or a male. Manhood is a very important thing in my book. You’ve gotta be a man. You carry this stick between your legs and…look, you talk the talk of a rooster, you better be able to walk the walk of a rooster.”
A slight laugh escapes my mouth. There’s something funny about “real men” being compared to poultry. Ben isn’t as amused, but I notice the corner of his lip curl up. Is it a polite smirk or is he thinking I’m a male, not a man? He’s tough to read behind the sunglasses.
Just to be sure, I ask him to offer a bit more clarity. Ben leans in, elbows on the table, and smiles. “Don’t talk what you’re not. Don’t play a hero when you’re not. The less talking the better, in my opinion. Observe and do. Give, don’t take. These are very important things that I live by. I’m a giver, not a taker. I don’t like taking. I don’t like bragging.”
For the first time since he sat down, Ben takes his sunglasses off and put them on the table. He stares at me. “Even talking to you now…I do it because, you know what? Say something about it. Let people hear it. Maybe someone will be influenced by it. Maybe someone will say, ‘You know what? It’s true. There aren’t a lot of men walking these days, but a lot males.’ When I went to the army, I already walked in as fuckin’ Rambo.”
That’s when I realize that Ben hasn’t blinked once.
Heart of the Blood Ring
It’s clear Ben doesn’t do bullshit. He makes you play your cards face-up. And he’s definitely not an ass-kisser, so it kind of makes me wonder: how did this guy make it in Hollywood?
“I stepped out of Estelle Harman Actors Workshop and landed my first leading role.”
Not too shabby.
“It was an action flick called Enter the Blood Ring, which I actually wrote the treatment for. I was knocking on [producer Bob Kronovet’s] door forever. I ended up basically ambushing him in the stairwell…it scared the shit out of him. So finally he let me into his office, and said ‘What’s up, kiddo? Talk to me, boychik.’”
Ben pitched the film, about a single father fighting in underground martial arts tournaments to raise money for his sickly son, to Kronovet. He ate it up. “‘What do you call it?’ Bobby asked me. I said, ‘Lethal Heart.’ ‘What kinda bullshit name is that? No, we’re gonna call it Blood Ring.’ I said, ‘You can call it Palookaville, I don’t care what you call it.’ He asked me what I want, and I said, ‘You give me the staring role in this film, and I’ll give you the rights for the story.’ That’s exactly what I did. ‘You got some balls on you, kid.’ I said, ‘It’s all I’ve got…I’m losing my hair a little bit.’ He was cracking up.
“After I left his office, I was shattered: I just gave him my story! What a fucking idiot. Now what did I have? Nothing. A one-way ticket to Palookaville. Two days later I got a phone call from the same girl from the office who kicked me out all the time. ‘Hey Benny! It’s Nicole. Bobby wants to talk to you. Hold on.’ She puts Bobby on the phone. ‘Boychik!’ ‘Hey Bobby, how’s it going?’ ‘We’re doing your movie.’ Just like that, man.”
Lethal Weapon
I’ve been told that the toughest part of creating art is finding the inner strength to overcome whatever resistance might stand in the way. The problem with that theory is that it only brings the pencil to the paper. Inspiration is required to create anything worth a damn.
Finding that muse is always my biggest hurdle. I need something incredible, something truly inspiring. Ben isn’t too different; he needs something big, powerful, and with real energy and consequence to light his fire. Right now, it’s Mel Gibson’s recently announced Judah Maccabee feature film.
“I think the world of him.” Kind of surprising coming from a Jew, especially considering Mr. Gibson’s recent drunken statements. “I think he’s an amazing filmmaker and a misunderstood personality who maybe drank too much. Gibson is a fucking genius. Gibson is the kind of guy I want to work with. His filmmaking, man, let me tell you…Braveheart, Apocalypto. These are stories about greed, power, treating the peasants like shit.”
These themes are prevalent in most of Gibson’s directorial works, and mesh perfectly with the historical story of Hanukah, in which the Maccabee family revolted against the ruling upper Hellenistic class, triggering a civil war. “God willing, I’ll get the lead. We’re practically the same person: real men, same physicality, same cultural mindset…plus, let me remind you, I’m already a Maccabee,” he laughs. “I know I’ll face some obstacles. It’s not going to be all, ‘Wow, what a hero Judah was.’ He’s going to show how vicious the Jews were to each other. He’s going to show that the Maccabees were straight shooters, they were powerful…they were a threat.”
Ben’s respect for Gibson stems from one place: manhood. “I don’t like phony. Gibson is a real man.”
Back to the Future
Ben came to the US to become a movie star. Bright lights, his name on the marquee, a star on the Walk of Fame…he wanted it all. But time changes us. The aspirations of the young are not the same as the old. 2001 Ben Maccabee was probably a much different person than 2011 Ben Maccabee…because now it’s not about his stardom. Now it’s not only about him.
“I don’t look at stardom now as I did when I was younger. Looking at it now…stardom can give me the tools for unselfishness. Stardom can give me the tools to give back to this beautiful place. Because I still believe in America. I still believe it’s a great place. It just got diverted a little bit. But it’s an unbelievable country. We just need to remind our government of that. We need to remind them that America is still us.”
There’s genuine honesty in Ben’s voice, and there’s more than just political meaning behind his words. His career has been one of ups and downs, and…when he mentions that things got “diverted”…it’s almost like he’s talking about himself. That despite everything, there’s still greatness and beauty in him. Deep down, he’s still who he is. He talks the talk and walks the walk. He’s reminding himself of how great he can still be.
There’s one more question I have for him, and it’s the one I’ve been most nervous about asking. I absorb what Ben told me: if I’m going to talk the talk, then I’ve got to walk the walk. None of this beating-around-the-bush nonsense.
So I dive in: “How do you want to be remembered?”
Ben pauses and takes a sip from his coffee that lasts a bit too long. That smirk cuts across his face again, and he puts his sunglasses back on. “I want to be remembered as a fine actor that did a fine job.” Nothing flowery, nothing pretentious. Ben Maccabee as he is, take it or leave it.
And that’s the sign of a real man.
Ben Maccabee recently completed work on the feature film Trophy, starring Michael Madsen, Eric Roberts, Robert Miano, and Michael Masini. He just booked a currently untitled feature starring Ray Liotta, Harvey Keitel and Christian Slater.
By Alex Tafet
