Welcome to Random Roles, wherein we talk to actors about the characters who defined their careers. The catch: They don’t know beforehand what roles we’ll ask them to talk about.
The actor: Silas Weir Mitchell first stepped in front of the camera in the late 1990s, popping up in small film roles and one-off TV series appearances for several years before finally earning the plum role of Charles “Haywire” Patoshik on FOX’s Prison Break. Although he appeared in a recurring role rather than a series regular, Mitchell’s work on the series made enough of an impression that he began pulling higher-profile roles, ultimately leading him to his current gig: playing a Wieder Blutbad—a wolf creature, basically—named Monroe on NBC’s Grimm.
Silas Weir Mitchell: It is definitely the most creatively invested I’ve ever been in a role, because I’ve been in from the beginning. I’ve now done 60-something episodes, so it’s by far the deepest I’ve gone into one character, and it’s the character I know the best and therefore have the most sway as far as the language. I know him better than anybody else, and it’s a nice feeling.
The A.V. Club: So you’re in a position where you’re able to say, “Oh, Monroe wouldn’t do that.”
SWM: Sort of. It’s gotten to the point where I’m able to say, “This doesn’t feel right,” or, “Maybe this would work.” It’s a very collaborative environment, so it’s not like it’s that big a deal that I’m able to do that. We’re all able to do that. I’ve just never done 60 or 70 episodes of the same character where, if something doesn’t feel right, you know it. If you’re only on a show for two episodes, there’s a lot of reasons why it wouldn’t make sense to say, “I don’t think he would do this.”
AVC: How did you find your way onto the series in the first place? Was it a standard audition, or had you worked with someone on the show before and they asked for you specifically?
SWM: It was kind of both. I had worked with Jim Kouf, who’s one of the creators, on a movie that he had written and directed [2009’s A Fork In the Road], and I think he thought of me while he was working on this project. But I still had to go in and read for it.
AVC: When you first got the script, how easy was it for you to latch onto the character? Did they end up having to fit it to you more specifically once you got the part?
SWM: Again, it was a little bit of both. [Laughs.] I think it was a good fit to begin with, because I understood Jim’s sense of humor from having worked with him, but also just from having an affinity with him on a personal basis. When I read it, I understood where he was coming from and where the character was coming from, but once we started shooting, the writers began to write to the actors. I think with Jim knowing me, there was a more rapid harmony than there usually is. I feel like I was in the neighborhood rather quickly with Monroe, because I knew Jim, because I understood his sensibilities.
AVC: As Nick Burkhardt, David Giuntoli is definitely playing the protagonist of the series, but Monroe seems intentionally designed to give you the opportunity to steal scenes from him.
SWM: And let’s be honest: It’s the more fun role. [Laughs.] It’s more fun being the comic relief than the straight man. There’s great skill in being the straight man as well, mind you. Jason Bateman, for example, has taken the straight man to another level, because he’s a hilarious straight man. There’s a comic side to the straight man, too, just as there’s the straight side of the comic relief. But it’s delightful to get to play the harmony, if you know what I mean. As opposed to playing the melody. You’re allowed to dance over here, as opposed to walking the line.
AVC: Has there been a favorite moment on the show where you enjoyed the opportunity to see Monroe’s more serious side?
SWM: Oh, definitely. There was an episode where my old flame came back to town—that was in the first season—that was serious. Her brother died, and he was an old friend of mine. What’s fun on this show is where they invert the paradigm or the underlying theme of these fairytales, like having the three little pigs going back after the big bad wolf. So there’s kind of a pig/wolf feud. [Laughs.] And there was an episode recently where the Bauerschwein, which are the pig folk, are murdering the Blutbad, and that was serious, because friends of Monroe’s are being killed in this horrible way, and he wants to find out who did it. So they definitely allow for bass notes.
AVC: Is there any aspect of Monroe that you haven’t seen yet that you’re hoping they explore?
SWM: Monroe’s had it relatively easy so far. The only things that have challenged him have been largely circumstantial personal-growth issues, like living in the world—as opposed to just being a hermit—and learning to trust people. But that trust hasn’t yet been betrayed, and I think that’s an interesting story idea, to see what would happen if Monroe got fucked with by a friend and how he’d react to that, because when someone’s drawn out into the world… I feel like Monroe is saying to Nick, “All right, I’m going to trust you on this,” and now he’s got this girl, they’re getting married, and all this new stuff. I think it’d be interesting to play with the shadowy side of that trust.
Silk Stalkings (1995)—“Peter Raymond Wicker”
SWM: Oh, boy, here we go. [Laughs.] Wow. Yeah, I think Silk Stalkings was my first paying TV gig. I was some kind of peeping tom or something?
AVC: That sounds about right for that series, although I won’t pretend I’ve seen the episode.
SWM: All I remember is that I had to dance around in my underpants at one point. There’s a first time and a last time for everything.
AVC: That seems like a moment where, because you know there’s a paycheck in it for you, you just go, “Eh, it’s a living.”
SWM: Yeah, but it wasn’t a living yet. It was more, “Wow, I got a job!” [Laughs.] And then it was, “Oh, this is what I have to do? Well, all right, if this is what this job is about, then I guess it’s better to get it out of the way early.” I just sort of ripped the Band-Aid off.
The Shield (2008)—”Father Morton”
SWM: The Shield! I’ll tell you what happened on The Shield. We shot that at Prospect Studios, which is, like, three blocks from my house in L.A., and we’re driving in one of those Econoline vans back to the set from lunch. We’re coming out of the gates, and we’re in this residential neighborhood where the studio is—I think they shoot Grey’s Anatomy there—and there are these little white Toyota cars with kids in them driving, like, insanely fast, blowing through stoplights. We’re like, “What the fuck is going on here?”
[Michael] Chiklis is in the car, along with a couple of other actors, and we’re all just wondering what’s going on. There’s a Catholic school nearby, and school’s out, because we see that there are these kids walking around with their blue pants and their white button-up shirts untucked. We keep driving, and then we see another white car coming from the other direction, and it just zooms past us. We’re like, “Okay, something’s going on here.”
We see a pack of three or four kids run across the street in front of us, heading back toward the studio, and… there’s some kind of gang shit going on! At one point, Chiklis is like, “I’ve got my gun. I’ll go out there and scare the shit out of them. I’ll tell them what’s what!” And we’re all like, “Dude, no!” Because one of these kids was holding something as he walked across the street, and we couldn’t see if it was a knife or a gun, but we were, like, “No, Michael, please, you’re not doing that. Don’t do that.” But he was in full fucking Vic Mackey mode.
After he said this, the van driver’s kind of stuck in the middle between these two cars, and one of the cars facing us drives on our side of the street in a threatening way—at high speed, right up to us—and then pitches left and passes us. And there were people in the van, including me, bracing themselves for impact. The guy next to me got on his hands and knees, thinking that we were going ram into this little Toyota. It was a freak show! And Chiklis was in, like, full character mode. He’s like, “I’m gonna go solve this. I’m gonna go fucking whip these kids into shape. I’m gonna go bad-cop these fucking kids.” It was amazing and rather weird. I think at one point he… he didn’t actually jump out, but he screamed out the window, “What the fuck are you doing? Hey! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He was trying to control the situation. It was really art imitating life, imitating art, which was just crazy.
Desert Heat (1999)—“Jesse Hogan”
SWM: Oh, my God. Desert Heat was a movie that had about seven titles, and I always like to say… Confucius had a saying that “the child of many names is much loved,” but I like to say, “The more names a movie has, the better it is.” Right? Wrong. [Laughs.] That thing was Desert Heat, Coyote Moon, Inferno… Every producer that tried to wrest it from the last producer tried to name it a different thing to get away with it, but the quality of a movie declines every time it’s renamed, and that movie had about four or five names. John Avildsen, who directed Rocky, directed it, which was a shame, because he was a nice guy and obviously a good director. But that movie was a total bust. Although, I did meet Jaime Pressly on that, and she was a doll. Then when I played Donny Jones down the road, we had that common.
AVC: Before using that as a stepping-stone to My Name Is Earl, who else did you actually work with on Desert Heat? Because there are a lot of relatively notable names in that cast.
SWM: Yeah, it was great, because I got to work with Pat Morita. I got to hurl a hideous racial slur at him, which was really weird. For someone who grew up watching Happy Days, calling Arnold something horrible was not cool. [Laughs.] Vincent Schiavelli, it was very cool to meet him, but he wasn’t having it on that movie. He was like, “This is ridiculous. Why did I agree to this?” It was one of those movies where you knew while you were making it that you were making a mess.
AVC: And yet my suspicion is that Danny Trejo–who is also in the film–probably still said, “I don’t care if it’s a mess, man. It’s still a gig!”
SWM: Danny’s awesome, man. I’ve worked with him more than once—we worked together again on The Good Guys—and I love that guy. He’s a sweetheart. The inner soul and the outer package are more different with him than in any human being I think I’ve ever met, because he looks like he’d fucking slit your throat, but he’s the sweetest guy you’d ever want to meet. He’s funny, he’s kind, and he’s got so many stories, because he’s worked with everybody from God on down. [Laughs.] Danny’s great.
My Name Is Earl (2005-2008)—“Donny Jones”
SWM: Donny Jones with the crazy eyes. [Laughs.] That was a great set to be on. I met Mark Buckland on that, who later directed the pilot of Grimm. Like I said, I sort of reconnected with Jaime Pressly. It was a noticeably fun set. Jason [Lee] was really funny. Jason and I are the exact same age, I think, which is interesting, because the cultural references are so specific. I’m not positive, but I feel like we were literally born within months of each other, because we could remember specific commercials. He and Ethan [Suplee] were just having a good time together, and it showed. I loved that.
I also think Greg Garcia is a fucking genius. He has a way of writing stuff that is so out there and sort of off-color and kind of horrible, yet it still has this beautiful beating heart underneath it. I don’t know how he does it, but that’s why Raising Hope is so great, too. It’s so off-color and sort of creepy and outré and all that stuff, but then it winds up being written from a place of love. He’s got a real skill with that kind of tone.
AVC: You had the advantage of being a recurring character on there. Donny appeared half a dozen times.
SWM: You know, I don’t think it was that many times. I feel like IMDB has managed to overstate that. I do think I did four, though. But however many I did, it was delightful. I definitely remember the audition for that show. I was late, and I ran in and was breathless and blurted the scene out. It worked, I think, because I was sort of manic in reality. It was one of those things where I was like, “Oh, they’re laughing! Thank God!”
The Patriot (1998)— “Pogue”
SWM: Well, that was my first sort of “big movie.” [Laughs.] I was like, “Hey, I booked a [Steven] Seagal movie! I’m going to work in Montana, and I’m going be there for 12 weeks, man!” I felt the same way about the [Jean-Claude] Van Damme picture [Desert Heat]: “I’m in a big movie with a big movie star!” And it did nothing. It was the first movie Seagal produced on his own, without Jules Nasso, who was his producing partner. They had a falling-out of some kind—some business thing went awry.
I had a great time making it, though. I remember my girlfriend came out and visited me, and we were staying in this cabin. It was this beautiful, tiny little town. The first thing I saw when I walked into a bar on my first night there was a big sign in hunter orange with black letters that said, “Stop Californicating Montana!” I felt pretty welcome. [Laughs.] But after 12 weeks, everybody knew everybody, and it was a fun movie. That was directed by Dean Semler, who I think had been mostly a D.P. up until then, but he was great. And Gailard Sartain was on that film, who is just one of the funniest men on earth. I love that guy. Really, he can just look at you and you’ll laugh. He did a couple of voices for The Simpsons, I think. But that was fun just on the basis of getting my feet on the ground. “Okay, I’m living away and I’m doing this movie and… it’s real. This career thing is real.”
AVC: Do have any stories of working with L.Q. Jones?
SWM: L.Q.! Well, we didn’t really have that many scenes together, but it was a case where you knew you were around a legendary film guy, because he’d done so many films, and… he’s just L.Q., you know? We didn’t sit around the fire trading stories, but he was a lovely guy.
Prison Break (2005-2007)—“Charles ‘Haywire’ Patoshik”
SWM: Well, Haywire was sort of the great leap forward, in a way, because I had auditioned for T-Bag, and then I left L.A., going east to see my family. I had actually gone in twice, I think, because I was called back. Everybody who needed to see me had seen me, so I headed to New England from Los Angeles, and I had only been there for a few hours when the phone rings, and my manager says, “They want to see you for a different role. It’s a one- or two-episode arc playing a crazy cellmate of the lead character.” I was, like, “You’ve got to be kidding me. No, I’m not coming back. They just saw me, they don’t need to see me again. I’m 3,000 miles away! I’m sorry, but I’m not coming back.”
Then they offered it to me, and it turned into this 13- or 14-episode character who stayed for two seasons, or three, if you count the one episode where I turned up after I died. [Laughs.] It just goes to show you the power of saying “no.” The power of “no” is real. It changed my life, because after I did that, I did Donny Jones, and suddenly there was this weird kind of harmony between the two crazy convict characters that Silas Weir Mitchell was playing, and people were like, “What’s that about?” That synergy or whatever between those two roles, I think, was really what poked my nose into the cultural framework.
AVC: Setting aside that one-off appearance in season three, when Mahone hallucinated Haywire, how did you feel about your character’s final exit?
SWM: I thought it was a great way to go. Working with [William] Fichtner was awesome. I think it was a brilliant sendoff, I really do. People were attached to Haywire. They really felt for him. There was this man-child thing going on, and people were invested in Haywire’s journey, so I think the way I went was well written, and well staged. We were way the fuck up there. We were on the top of a grain silo, and the cameras were in cherry pickers on either side of us. Fichtner’s afraid of heights, so that kind of lent an intense thing to what he was doing. I was just going for it. I was like, “Fuck it, man, I’m just going to pull out all the stops!” I just went for it, and I think it really played, because the whole idea of trying to escape the maze, and the fact that he was talking me down. It made a lot of sense internally, as far as the logic of the character: Jumping off this thing was going to be liberating for me! [Laughs.]
After I had filmed that, I had a film that I had executive-produced, a documentary, that was in a film festival in Amsterdam. And it’s a long journey there, because you fly from L.A. to New York and then you fly—actually, we might’ve gone from L.A. to Paris, and then from Paris to Amsterdam—anyway, we get to the hotel, we get our room, we’re going upstairs in the elevator, and the bellman looks at me and goes, “So you made it.” I was like, “Yeah, man, it was a crazy trip. I mean, I think it was, like, 17 hours or something.” And he goes, “No, but… you made it!” I was about to go, “What do you mean I made it?” And then I was like, “Oh, my God… Yeah, I made it! I made it to Holland! Yep, I made it!” He was quoting the show! It was a beautiful moment, because I realized the reason he was looking at me with this sort of sweet, twinkly grin was because he was referencing Haywire’s journey. That was sweet.
Cat Dancers (2008)—executive producer
AVC: You didn’t mention the title of the documentary, but I know it’s Cat Dancers, because I’ve seen it, and was wondering how you got involved with it in the first place.
SWM: You’ve seen it? Wow! That’s great!
AVC: Yeah, it’s one of those documentaries where all you can do is stare as it unfolds.
SWM: I think that’s a viable response to these people. [Laughs.] You just sit there, agape. It was sort of a slightly tangled web as far as how I got involved in the documentary. Basically, the guy who directed it, Harris Fishman, I went to college with him, and we’ve worked on a lot of projects together, both in theater and elsewhere. His brother was the link to these people. Harris met Ron [Holiday] through his brother, and the story just sort of emerged.
Harris is a very good people person, which is what makes him a brilliant documentarian. He’s working on a bunch of other projects now, and hopefully several of those will take flight, because he really is a sensitive person who’s a good interviewer. But he’s also very creative and doesn’t want to do standard talking-head documentaries. That’s not his interest. His interest is in the human experience. He likes to find a topic that has tentacles, that has ambiguity, and he likes to explore the ambiguity. I think that’s why Cat Dancers worked, in addition to the subject being an obsessive self-documenter. So we had thousands of hours of time-capsule type footage.
AVC: I’m sure that goes a long way to building a documentary.
SWM: Oh, yeah. But you also have to use it in the right way. Harris did that. It took him years to finish, though, because when you’re doing a documentary, the story’s always unfolding. You have to pick the moment like a painter. You have to know when to stop. We had to know when to stop making that movie, which was tough, because this guy was a fascinating figure.
Private Parts (1997)—“Patient”
SWM: Oh, yeah, that’s a small one. That was my first real film, basically, because I hadn’t even moved to L.A. at that point. But that was cool. It was cool to be in a room with Howard [Stern]. It was just cool to be on a movie set, period. I just wanted to be on a movie set, but I got a line there. Jesus, how long ago was that?
AVC: It came out in 1997.
SWM: So that’s, what, 17 years ago? Jesus Christ. I can’t even believe I can say that! [Laughs.] But, yeah, that took one day, and we shot it in a real hospital. Before that, I had shot a really small part in another movie that a friend of mine had written and directed, one that Mary McCormack was in, but it never saw the light of day, which is a terrible shame. But Private Parts? That was basically just, “Get me on a movie set!”
Burn Notice (2008-2009)—“Seymour”
SWM: [Sighs.] That was a character that I thought was going to get more play on that show, because everybody was, like, “Oh, my God, this is such a great character!” Of course, he’s an arms dealer, so, you know, I could do any number of episodes. They could’ve used me in any way. I thought it was going to be another Haywire deal, where it ended up going for a dozen episodes or whatever, but somehow a fly landed in the ointment. I have my suspicions as to what may have happened, but it’s total conjecture, so I don’t even want to say what they are. The only thing that was troubling about that show was working in that heat and that humidity. Gabrielle [Anwar] was just lovely. She was a really sweet person, lovely to work with.
Vengeance Unlimited (1998)—“Capt. Jesse Fisher”
SWM: A friend of mine used to call that Slapped By An Angel. [Laughs.] With Michael Madsen. He’s an interesting character.
I met someone who I’m still friends with, Dayton Callie, who sort of made his name—among other places—on Deadwood, playing Charlie Utter. He’s a sweet guy and funny as hell. But the thing I remember about that show was that there was this beautiful girl, and I forget if she was playing a stripper or a hooker or what, but she was gorgeous, with just perfect skin. And there was this kind of stunt-y thing that had to happen, and it was a little slapdash. She had to turn around and run toward the door, and someone was supposed to get out of the way, but whoever was supposed to get out of the way didn’t get out of the way, and this poor, beautiful girl just whacks her head against, I think it was against the other girl’s head. I can’t remember for sure. But she got a huge cut on her forehead, and she was, like, one of these people for whom it was kind of all about her skin and her face, because that was really part of her career. I felt really bad for her. Anyway, that kind of shut things down for the day.
Flags Of Our Fathers (2006)—“Lab Tech”
SWM: Okay, that was supposed to be uncredited, and IMDB can go fuck itself.
AVC: Um… all right.
SWM: Please quote me. Please quote me! [Laughs.] I have tried to get that thing off of IMDB for the better part of my adult life, it feels like. I did that for one reason and one reason alone, and it was to be on set with Clint Eastwood.
AVC: Sure. Why wouldn’t you do it for that?
SWM: It was meant to be uncredited, and somebody fucked up the contract somewhere. IMDB refuses to take it down because it was, like, in the contract or… well, whatever. It’s up, it’s there forever, apparently, which is why they can stick it where the sun don’t shine.
AVC: But surely it’s not an embarrassment to say that you were in a Clint Eastwood movie.
SWM: It’s just that it was literally one line, and the character doesn’t even have a name, and it was really too late in my career to be doing something like that. It was literally just to meet Clint and to be on a set of his to see how it went. I did it as a lark. I was on set for maybe two hours. I just wanted to see how he ran his ship, because I’d heard all these stories about how quiet it was, and how he got the same people, and everyone’s roles are prescribed and they know exactly what they’re doing, that he doesn’t say “action,” he just says [Doing a Clint Eastwood impression.] “Whenever you’re ready.” I wanted to witness this. I didn’t want to be credited because, you know, at a certain point in your career you’re like, “I’m doing this for other reasons than the credit. I’m doing it for other reasons than the role.” I just wanted to meet this guy. So that’s why I’m annoyed that it’s out there.
Caroline In The City (1997)— “Louis”
SWM: Caroline In The City, that’s when I realized that writing has become guys in pink Izods and tasseled loafers running up to you backstage and saying, “Say this word instead of that word!” I was like, “Oh, so that’s what writing is!” I also realized that being on a sitcom is everybody laughing at their own jokes. Like, the writers, when you do read-through, everybody is laughing at their own stuff, and you’re kind of sitting there wondering, “Was that really that funny? I don’t know that that was that funny, but, okay, you wrote it, you should know!”
Halloween II (2009)—“Chett Johns”
SWM: Oh, that was fun. I was working with Rob Zombie. That was another one where I was like, “Ah, I haven’t worked in a while, so fuck it, I’ll work with Rob Zombie. That sounds fun.” He’s a very cool guy, a good director. And Malcolm McDowell was in it, also. I get fan mail about that! I mean, I’m on screen for, you know, you blink and you miss me… and I still get fan mail about it! So I think there’s a real following there that Rob Zombie’s films have.
AVC: Between Halloween II and Grimm, you’re basically guaranteed invites to horror conventions for the rest of your life.
SWM: [Laughs.] Certainly for Grimm. I’ve never actually been asked to a convention because of Chett Johns. We’ll see if that happens. But with Grimm, I think I’m pretty set—at least for a while—as far as those conventions go.
24 (2002)—“Eli Stram”
SWM: Oh, yeah. First season of 24. Good gig. I think was in, like, five or six episodes again. Never worked with Kiefer [Sutherland], except on a phone call. But he was cool enough to be on set and do it off-camera, because it was the first season. I don’t think that lasted that long, that he would do that. But I got to meet the beautiful Leslie Hope, and I also got to meet the beautiful Elisha Cuthbert. That’s another example of how Canadian girls rock. Oh, and there’s one unfortunate sound effect on that show that’s related to my character. I’ve never actually heard it, but I’m told that it’s there. So, kids, go rent the first season of 24, and you’ll find the sound effect! [Laughs.]
The Whole Ten Yards (2004)—“Yermo”
SWM: That was really fun. But that was soft in the BG. That’s all you need to say. I read three very good books on that movie. [Laughs.] I read A Confederacy Of Dunces, A Prayer For Owen Meany, and… I forget the other one. But it was soft in the BG.
AVC: It says a lot about a film experience when the only thing that stands out is the books you read while you were working on it.
SWM: Well, I will also say this: Kevin Pollak is a hilarious and very kind man. I really liked him. He’s a good guy.
Rat Race (2001)—“Lloyd”
SWM: I have such a story. This is going to have to be the last one, because it’s just such a story.
I was in the Bangor International Airport for about 14 hours, trying to get from Bangor to Calgary. They eventually had to hire a Lear jet, because for whatever reason—I guess mechanical failure—my flight was canceled. They couldn’t get me on another one, so I missed my flight out of Boston, but then [that] flight out of Boston was canceled because of weather, anyway.
So, basically, it becomes nighttime in the Bangor International Airport, the airport shuts down, and…oh! I actually got onto a plane, because I sweet-talked one of the girls behind the counter. I still remember this girl’s eyes. I was like, “You’ve got to get me on this plane, I’m doing a movie, and it’s day one…” I’m already on the phone with my manager, saying, “I don’t even know if I’m going to be able to get there!” So I get on the plane, we’re on the runway, we’re literally taxiing to the takeoff, and they say, “We have to turn around, there’s a mechanical failure.” Again! This is two mechanical failures in the Bangor airport!
So I’m back in the Bangor airport—that’s when I missed the flight out of Boston—and the dust settles, there’s no more flights, and now I’m supposed to get on a private flight. So I’m walking toward where the private-flight area is, which is across the tarmac, and I decide, “Fuck it, I’m just going to walk on the tarmac, because if I don’t, it’s, like, a mile around.” I’m walking on the tarmac, and I’m smoking a cigarette, and this guy in the Exxon fuel truck drives up to me and says, “Dude, put that fucking cigarette out and get in the truck!” I get into the truck, and I’m driven back to the terminal, where I walk in the back door where the baggage carousel is, and he says, “Start again and walk where you’re supposed to go… and not on the tarmac!” It was just this crazy odyssey.
That was at about twilight. At nightfall, it starts storming. They try to get a Lear jet, but the Lear jet can’t get to where I am because of the weather, so they have to wait another couple of hours for the storm to clear. Finally the plane gets to Bangor, and by now it’s, like, midnight. So I’ve been in this airport for hours, I’ve gotten drunk on White Russians with a sea-urchin fisherman from New Brunswick who had so few teeth in his head, and I’m finally shoved onto this jet, and… I don’t know if you’ve ever been on a Lear jet, but it’s like being on a fucking rocket ship. This thing takes off, I’m pulling G’s, and we had to stop and refuel in Winnipeg, which was good, because I could put my throw-up bag into a garbage can and it didn’t have to be sitting in the seat next to me in, which it had been since I threw up about three seconds after takeoff.
AVC: So after all of that, how was the experience of making the movie?
SWM: When I finally got to the hotel, it was lights out. I ate half of a banana and lay on my side, shivering, before I had to get in the van with Seth Green and Vince Vieluf. I sat there, sweated out the night in 15 minutes, and then I was in a van on the way to the set. Needless to say, it was a rough day.