ROANOKE TIMES
Copyright (c) 1997, Roanoke Times
DATE: Wednesday, April 16, 1997 TAG: 9704160015
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: SIOBHAN MCDONOUGH ASSOCIATED PRESS NEW YORK
Spalding Gray would like to have the following engraved on his tombstone when he dies:
``An American Original: Troubled, Inner-Directed and Cannot Type.''
The actor, raconteur and writer is particular about words, especially the ones that relate to him.
``Everyone's neurotic, really,'' he says, dismissing his critics' affinity for using ``neurotic'' when describing him.
``I'm an artist. I am very out-of-control in my life and precise in my work,'' says the 55-year-old who is most recognized for his swath of silver hair, plaid flannel shirts and belly achingly funny chatter.
That out-of-control nature has given Gray the momentum to create 15 monologues, publish a few books and earn him film credits including ``Swimming to Cambodia,'' ``The Paper'' and ``The Killing Fields.'' His latest movies are ``Gray's Anatomy,'' based on his book, and ``Drunks,'' a film centered on an AA meeting in which Gray delivers a bit about why he isn't really an alcoholic.
Making movies is important to Gray, but performing live and skiing give him the most satisfaction.
``Skiing is paradise in my head. It pushes thoughts out of it. There's no room to think,'' he says.
His sentiments on skiing are summed up in ``It's a Slippery Slope'' - Gray's latest excuse for talking about himself. This one, which he calls his ``watershed'' monologue, offers a more personal account of his life.
During a performance earlier this year of ``It's a Slippery Slope'' at Manhattan's Lincoln Center, the aging artist recalled events of a midlife crisis that began around his 52nd birthday. In it, he tells of a search for his positive inner voice, gives comparisons of East and West Coast ski trips and tells of his adjustment to fatherhood.
``This monologue is like life: it dips and soars,'' he says. ``It mirrors life in the real world.''
But the oft-described ``egocentric'' who in the past has candidly shared with his audiences episodes of his therapy sessions, his appreciation for alcohol and numerous neuroses, seems more settled after a midlife crisis. Fatherhood and skiing have enhanced his life.
``It's the first time I've ever owned, lived in a
house in community,'' Gray says from his Sag Harbor, Long Island, home. He also owns an apartment in Manhattan's Soho neighborhood.
Reeling off winter plans with his family - including taking bike rides and skiing out West - Gray offers a bit of insight about himself: ``I'm filled with contradictions. I'm a classic Gemini. I always wanted two women - and that's what I'm doing: I'm living with Kathie and Marissa; I have two houses, live in two towns. It's balanced. The two places suit the two extreme sides of myself.''
But there's still plenty of traces of the old Gray there.
``I still love to drink. I make my Bloody Mary at 6 o'clock,'' he says.
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Each morning after an early stint of yoga while listening to National Public Radio - a routine he's rarely missed in the last 30 years - he sits at his dining room table sipping coffee, scouring The New York Times and reading books.
In the afternoon he'll ride his bike alone or with his son, Forrest, who has become ``my new eyes.''
``He replaces a need for drugs. I take a ride with him downtown [Sag Harbor]. I move at a different speed with him. I see the town through his eyes,'' says Gray, whose girlfriend, Kathie, is expecting their second child next month.
``I don't plan anything. I only plan ski trips,'' he says.
He said he cried when he saw ``Secrets & Lies.''
``It's the best film to-date showing the contemporary, modern family. They reminded me of the accidental family. I am in it. I never expected this configuration; never dreamed I'd be with them,'' he says of Forrest, Kathie and her daughter, Marissa.
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``Today I have no energy; I'm very laconic; I'm moping around a lot,'' Gray says one soggy afternoon from his home in the Hamptons. ``I'm low-key, grumpy, kneading my face; I'm easily annoyed.''
Peppering discussions about his work with spontaneous renderings of his life as creator, father, boyfriend and skier, Gray's passion for performing live is pronounced.
``When I'm doing my monologue, I'm in my element. I am most me when I'm on stage,'' he says. ``I'm getting closer to enjoying life. I tell my edited life story with ... more energy than the way I live my life.''
While many think that Gray would be a gregarious, extrovert, full of entertaining stories, he has different ideas about his persona.
``People want to have me to dinner,'' he says. ``I'm not Mr. Quick. I'm not a great social satirist. I need time to absorb life.
``I spend a lot of time mulling, cogitating,'' he says, adding that most of his ideas come to him when he's out running errands, riding his bike or doing something else besides sitting at home with his notebooks.
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In ``It's a Slippery Slope,'' Gray tells the story of his midlife crisis and his learning how to ski.
The themes of life, death and love revolve around his efforts at mastering the right and left ski plow and overcoming a deep depression associated with his turning 52 - the age his mother was when she took her life.
Although he observes his mother's unhappiness and suicide in this latest work, he mostly focuses on the relationship between father and son - he as the father, as well as the son.
``You usually hear a lot of shrieking women in the audience; now you hear more men laugh,'' he says.
Most of the story takes place on the sun-drenched slopes of Aspen, Colo., and the icy, wet ones of the East. Some reminiscing takes him back to boarding school and college days in New England as well as life in New York City, where he has lived since 1967.
In 90 minutes, he takes the audience on an emotional roller coaster. While downers are nothing new to Gray, this midlife syndrome is marked with some especially tumultuous times.
In his classic precision, he recounts a period riddled with a marriage breakup, near break-down and plenty of spills on the snow. His choice of words carries the exact feeling and meaning he wants it to.
Added to the dramatic parts of his oral composition, Gray offers colorful portrayals of West and East Coast sensibilities. He gives humorous accounts of skiing along with tan-faced, beautiful people on the celebrity-studded slopes of Aspen as well as skiing in the rain with trash bag-cloaked New Englanders in Vermont.
Whether out West or in the East, Gray is enjoying success on the slopes and on stage.
``My Dad couldn't understand how much money I made. He couldn't understand that I made more than him and that I made it talking about my stupid life,'' he says.
LENGTH: Long : 132 lines ILLUSTRATION: PHOTO: ASSOCIATED PRESS. Gifted writer and talker Spalding Grayby CNBsays performing live and skiing give him the most satisfaction.
``Skiing is paradise in my head. It pushes thoughts out of it.
There's no room to think.'' color.