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FROM ROUGH SEAS TO SMOOTH SAILING |
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One day Rob Lowe's a Brat Packer, best known for his good looks and his scandals. Next thing you know, he has a wife, kids and a starring role on The West Wing, one of TV's most successful new shows. How'd that happen?
Lowe's own bad-boy days are way, way behind him. The new Lowe picks up nothing more than his car keys after shooting his scenes and goes home. Rob Lowe is 35 now, married with kids. A family guy who, between takes, still manages to drop off his kids at school. Aside from the coincidences with his real-life foray into seedy sex against a political backdrop - and it was a coincidence, says series producer Aaron Sorkin, who wrote the script a year before Lowe showed up to audition - there appears to be little overlap betweenthe Rob Lowe of 1988 and the Rob Lowe of today. His rush to get home - an hour-and-a-half commute, from the Burbank set to Santa Barbara - has gotten him in some hot water. "I find I have three speeding tickets in six weeks. I thought in the beginning I would only be home on the weekends. But I've been able to get home almost every night." His emphasis on family seems to serve as an antidote to his playboy past, when he dated such varied women as Natassja Kinski, Fawn Hall and Princess Stephanie of Monaco. Today, Lowe's trailer on the set is filled with a good two dozen photos of his sons, Matthew, 6, and John, 4, along with samples of their artwork. It's a museum of parenthood. (He hasn't totally lost his vanity: Lowe's view of fatherhood includes "six-pack abs.") "In my life today," explains Lowe, "I want to stay on message. And that is family, work. I try to be the best actor I can be, and I go home and try to be a good dad." For years, Lowe traded on his good looks in a string of lightweight roles that made few demands of his acting abilities. Older, wiser, with time spent on the other side of the camera as a producer, writer and director, Lowe is a sharper actor, as Sorkin can attest: "Thirty seconds into his audition, he had it sewn up. He knocked our socks off." Reviews of his portrayal of the smart and volatile Sam are encouraging. But even a fresh start carries unwanted residue of his past. Part of staying on message, as anyone in the real West Wing can tell you, is steering the media away from unsavory topics. Lowe gets downright itchy when reminded of his personal and professional missteps. Remember his bizarre serenade to a faux Snow White on the 1989 Academy Awards show? Lowe, at least, doesn't want to hear it anymore. And Sam is not a lightweight role, he says. His new life keeps his eyes off his past and on his kids. "The greatest thing that can happen to an actor is to have kids, because it takes you out of yourself," says Lowe. And so we talk about Rob Lowe, family man. Lowe met his wife, makeup artist Sheryl Berkoff, on a blind date in 1983. A blind date with Rob Lowe? "OK, half blind. We met on a visually impaired date." The two went out a few times and, as neither one "was particularly interested in having an ongoing relationship," that was as far as it went. Berkoff went on to date Emilio Estevez; Lowe dated, well, anyone he wanted. In 1990, the pair met again, on the set of Bad Influence. She was his makeup artist. Within a year, they were a couple. It was a relationship built on mutual admiration. "I admired her work ethic," says Lowe. "I admired the way she looks at life." What did Berkoff admire? "I'm really good at taking shirts on and off without marring my makeup," deadpans Lowe. He frowns at the imagined legacy to his children: " 'What I remember most about my father was that he was so good at putting on a T-shirt over his makeup.' " Lowe married at 28. "Most men I know," he says, "are not anywhere near ready at that age. I've just always had a little more life experience than my chronological age." And fewer wrinkles. Lowe does not appear to have aged at all in the past 15 years, a fact he puts down to his family's mutant "Dick Clark gene." Lowe recalls being somewhat unnerved by the prospect of wedded bliss. He tells a story about a visit to a therapist who listened to him fretting over what a big step it was. "He said to me, 'Could you describe to me how big the step is? Is it two inches? Five feet?' He showed me that it was only as big as I made it. I was overthinking it. Most good things in this world you can think your way right out of." Working in an industry that thrives on dirt also requires a sense of humor. On the West Wing set, Lowe exchanges chitchat with a crew acutely aware that his companion is a journalist. "Hey, Rob, why are you acting so nice today?" says co-star Brad Whitford, who plays Deputy Chief of Staff Josh Lyman. Episode director Mark Buckland chimes in. "Hey, Rob, thanks for the car," he says, implying that the actor bribed him to say nice things. "Mine's gray with black leather," says a gaffer, picking up on the ruse. "What'd you get?" Buckland leans over. "He is such a nice guy." The scene they're about to shoot is a tense meeting in the chief of staff's office, prompted by the president's having ordered an unexpected military strike. Lowe has one line: "It's happening." He paces back and forth, trying every possible take on the words: "It's happening. It's happening? It's happening." He's only half joking. Lowe is hard on himself. He wants to accomplish more than being a pretty face. He regrets not having gone to college. (Francis Ford Coppola recruited him for The Outsiders just as he was set to go.) He wishes he were more computer savvy. He wishes he meditated. He wishes he could read a book a week. Above all, he wishes he could give more time to his kids, his wife, his friends. The only thing missing: wistful sighs about his glorious bachelor days. Take a look at what's on his bedside table these days. No video cameras here. Instead, there sits a copy of The Art of Happiness: A Handbook for Living, by the Dalai Lama. | ||
