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Authors: Barry Livingston

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CHAPTER 48
 
A
My Three Sons
Movie?
 
There is one question that fans ask most frequently: “Will there ever be a movie based on
My Three Sons?
” I don’t think so, not with the remaining original cast members, anyway. Too many key people have passed on. There’s always the possibility that it might get an “update,” remade as a feature film. The show is certainly a brand name, something that studios are fixated on these days.
An updated version of
MTS
almost got made in 2002 when Michael Douglas was interested in producing it. I first learned about the project by reading an article in the
Dailey Variety
. It said that Douglas was developing a script and that he planned to star in the film playing Steve Douglas, the MacMurray role. Not a bad idea.
Michael Douglas was skilled in comedy and drama, just like MacMurray was. In fact, I saw a few more interesting parallels. Both actors had become huge film stars playing romantic cads in steamy potboilers (MacMurray in
Double Indemnity
and
The Apartment
and Douglas in
Basic Instinct
and
Fatal Attraction
). Both men were in their forties when they starred in their respective classic films. When MacMurray hit his fifties, and his days as a romantic lead were waning, he opted to play Steve Douglas, the eternally wholesome father. My guess is that Douglas, also now in his fifties, was at a similar crossroads regarding age and screen opportunities.
MTS
would have been a perfect vehicle for Douglas to find a new career niche. It’s all speculation on my part.
About a year after I read the article, I finally found out what happened with the project while guest-starring on the series,
Will & Grace
. Michael Douglas was also in the episode (playing a gay detective and nominated for an Emmy), so I got it straight from the source.
All through the
Will & Grace
rehearsals, I waited for the right opportunity to quiz Michael about his version of
MTS
. I was a bit hesitant, though. I wasn’t even sure if he knew that I was an original cast member. He gave no indication that he remembered me from the series. I wasn’t even sure if he knew that we’d met twenty-five years earlier on his TV show,
The Streets of San Francisco
.
A quiet moment finally presented itself. I sat next to him and said, “Hey, Michael, I heard you were planning to do
My Three Sons
as a movie. You knew that I was on that series, right?”
He quickly replied, “Sure, sure I knew that!”
I wasn’t so sure that was the truth. It seemed kind of strange for him to not mention it, particularly since I was somebody intimately connected with the show. Maybe he thought I might ask for a job. In any case, I posed the next obvious question. “So, are you going to do it?”
“Well ... probably not.” He sighed. “We’re still trying to get the script right.”
“What do you mean?” I said.
“It’s been hard finding the right tone. We want to be true to the show’s original feeling, which was pretty “La-la-land in Pleasantville,” because we don’t want to put off the old fans. Then, again, younger audiences today expect kids to have realistic problems, and those are pretty rough: drugs, pregnancies, school violence. The writers haven’t found a way to bring those two worlds together yet. It looks like it’s not going to happen.”
Damn. I probably would have hit him up for a job, too.
All in all, though, Douglas’s comments were savvy as hell. I think he made the right choice about not updating
My Three Sons
and letting it remain a warm, fuzzy TV memory.
CHAPTER 49
 
Embracing Ernie
 
As I grew older, I began to accept, even love, Ernie. I had amassed a good body of work post-
MTS,
and that put the little bugger in perspective: Ernie was just a role I had played, not the
only
role I had played. In my mind, I was the child actor who escaped the dubious has-been label. Of course, that’s not how the producers of
Dickie Roberts, Former Child Star
saw me. They were rounding up the usual suspects (Jerry Mathers, Ron Pallilo, Todd Bridges, Gary Coleman, Willie Aames, etc.) to be in the film and poke fun at our pasts. I was also asked to participate and balked at the offer.
The theme of that movie focused on Dickie Roberts, a fictitious child star, who is now an adult has-been. The media loves to promote that myth, even if it’s a big stretch of the truth. Ex–child stars implode in public once in a while, but it’s far from the norm. The vast majority of professional kid actors go on to lead normal adult lives. It does make for juicy sound bites on
TMZ
, though, when someone hits the wall.
I had to think long and hard about associating myself with the film, even though it was only a cameo at the end. Thoughts swirled in my head:
I’ve done some great work lately, in most of the best shows on TV. Do I really want to be part of a film that’s going to make fun of who I am? Aren’t I trying to escape the past and not reinforce the old image?
Then, another voice in my head spoke up:
Who am I kidding? No matter how many Oscars may be in my future, Ernie Douglas will be etched somewhere on my tombstone. If you can’t fight them, join them.
Filming took place at Paramount Studios, one of my favorite playgrounds as a kid. I was part of a chorus of child actors singing at the end of the movie. The saving grace was the song we sang,
Child Stars on Your Television
. It was a witty lament about the pain of being haunted by our famous alter egos. My solo verse went like this: “Don’t ever say: Didn’t you
use to be
? Or I’ll put your head through a vintage TV!” I could relate.
After the film came out, I continued working in hit shows like
The Drew Carey Show, Crossing Jordan,
and
Strong Medicine
(another recurring role as a doctor). It didn’t hamper my new image one bit. In fact, had I not done
Dickie Roberts,
I would never have connected with Adam Sandler, the film’s producer. A chance meeting with him eventually led to a choice role in one of his future films.
I was on the Sony Pictures lot doing an episode of
The Guardian
and decided to kill a little free time by walking over to the Happy Madison offices (Sandler’s company). As always, I was in search of past employers and future work. Unfortunately, the place was deserted; everybody had gone to lunch, so I left. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
I walked back outside just as a golf cart skidded to a stop in front of the offices, and Sandler hopped out of the driver’s seat. He was in gym clothes and dripping with sweat, like he’d just come from a workout. For those of you who haven’t been keeping track, Sandler has had more hit films than any other star in Hollywood over the past twenty years. He not only makes his own successful films, his company produces hits for other stars, too. The man is an industry titan and one of the most well-loved people in a town full of scoundrels.
He was hurrying to his offices as our eyes met. I said, “Hi, Adam. I was in
Dickie Roberts,
the film you produced. You might remember me. I used to play Ernie Douglas on ...”
“My Three Sons!”
Sandler blurted out. “That was one of my favorite shows! Every night it was on, our whole family would gather in the living room and watch the show together!”
Sandler went on to recite the plots of his favorite episodes and saying how cool it was to meet me. It was pretty goddamn cool to meet him, too. What a genuinely nice guy.
Before parting ways, I thought I’d throw out a pitch for a job. I said, “I really appreciate being in
Dickie Roberts,
but I’d like to be in one of your films.”
“Sure! Sure! I’ll put you in one of my films, no problem!” Sandler replied.
Over the next four years, I auditioned for every Sandler movie that he was about to make. It wasn’t my agent getting me through the door, either. It was Sandler telling his casting director to bring me in. He was holding true to his word.
I didn’t book any of those jobs, probably because I wasn’t the right type for the role. Regardless, I was blown away that such an industry mogul, a man with a thousand details a day to attend to, would remember our short conversation. What a guy. He eventually kept his promise.
CHAPTER 50
 
More Top Secret Projects
 
My next job audition was for a secret project, a Disney animated short film that was going to be released in movie theaters. I was told that all information about the movie was classified but top people at the studio were involved. My interest was piqued.
I went to the audition and waited in a big room with all the other balding, academic types. A casting assistant finally led me into the office to read for the film’s director, Forest Whitaker. There are a few modern actors whose work I really admire: Jack Nicholson, Meryl Streep, Johnny Depp, Robert Duvall, and Forest Whitaker. He is the type of actor I aspire to be: versatile, passionate, and committed to his craft.
Whitaker divulged that Disney hired him to make a live-action introduction to an animated short film,
The Legend of John Henry
. The animated part of the project was already completed. He described it as a “labor of love” by a group of prominent studio artists headed by Roy Disney.
I read for the part of a teacher lecturing his class about John Henry, the mythological black railroad worker who could tunnel faster than a machine. After I got the role, I learned why the project was swirling in secrecy and controversy.
Apparently, some executives at Disney got cold feet about releasing a film about an African American legend because a predominately Caucasian production team produced it. They feared a critical backlash in the black community, no matter how “Oscar worthy” the animation was. The movie had become a stealth project, a labor of love but too risky to release or show anyone.
The executives hired Forest Whitaker to salvage the film, hoping his participation, no matter how incidental to the animated section, would deflect any criticism. Disney is very, very cautious with their brand name and will go to great lengths to avoid controversy.
Whitaker shot a beautiful introduction where my teacher character scoffs at the notion that man, no matter what his color or strength, could beat a machine.
The nervous executives saw the finished project and still feared a high-profile slap in the face.
The Legend of John Henry,
the supposedly Oscar-worthy short film, went straight to video, minus my scene, too. I was pretty disappointed. I do feel that things happen for a reason, though, because something unexpected and wonderful came out of this job about a year later.
I was having dinner with good friend Bob Hummer and his wife, Dawn, on a Friday night, and my cell phone rang. It was my agent calling.
“You just got hired on a major studio film. It’s called
First Daughter.
Congratulations!” he said.
“Huh? ... What?” I stammered.

First Daughter,
it’s a Fox film starring Katie Holmes and Michael Keaton. You’re on it for four weeks!” he replied.
“You’re kidding?” I gasped. This job came totally out of the blue, no first audition, no callbacks, nothing. “Who’s the director?”
“Forest Whitaker,” he said.
Snap!
I started work the very next Monday playing the press secretary to Keaton’s president. Forest is one of America’s best actors and a helluva director, too.
Following my work on
First Daughter,
my commercial agent sent me on another top-secret audition. This was becoming an intriguing habit. I was to meet with a casting director, Laray Mayfield, for a Heineken beer spot. Nothing more could be revealed.
I went on the interview in the afternoon and booked the job that evening. No callback, again! That was highly unusual. Commercials
always
have callbacks. Actors must be paraded before a committee of advertising people so they can determine if you are the right person to sell their toilet paper. It’s akin to brain surgery.
I couldn’t believe my luck when my agent said that my commercial was going to air during the Super Bowl. They are the crème de la crème of advertising. Not only that, the spot was going to be directed by David Fincher! Fincher was at the helm of some of my favorite films:
Fight Club, Panic Room
, and
Seven.
Advertising agencies spare no expense for their Super Bowl spots. Bragging rights are at stake.
I reported to work in downtown Los Angeles about a week later, excited to meet Fincher and play my part in the hush-hush commercial. I was told only one thing about my role: I was going to play a doorman at an exclusive condo and work with another actor. After donning my wardrobe, a company van ferried me to the set where I met the other actor: Brad Pitt. Brad Pitt?! Wow, this job really took an unexpectedly cool turn.
I was just a supporting player in the commercial whose story had Brad Pitt, mega–movie star, eluding fans and paparazzi as he hunts for a cold Heineken.
We were introduced, and Pitt said, “Hey, man, I should say
Hi, Barry
when I see you. You’re my doorman, right? We probably talk from time to time, don’t you think?”
Pitt’s simple suggestion spoke volumes about his generosity as an actor. He put me on an equal footing as a collaborator, making the scene more believable. Trust me, I’ve worked with plenty of stars who don’t give supporting players squat. They take the bucks and run, particularly in a commercial. Brad Pitt is worth a million in my book. In fact, I heard he made a few million for that commercial. They pay you what you are worth in Hollywood.

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