Steve Martin, National Treasure

Is Steve Martin a national treasure? Let's take a look at the record. For one thing, he is certainly our cleanest actor. It's no accident that the Defense Department picked him to be the first celebrity to visit our troops in Saudi Arabia, as an example, among other things, of cleanliness in the American acting profession. Once there, he was not allowed to actually entertain anyone--for fear of offending our Saudi hosts--and was restricted to a little tense walking around in the sand. But that wasn't Martin's fault. He was asked to go and he went, a quality you look for in your national treasures.

Not only is Martin our cleanest actor, he is also one of our friendliest and most cooperative. The Defense Department asked him not to discuss Barbra Streisand movies in the desert--for fear of really offending our Saudi hosts--and from all reports, he did not discuss any, even though it's common knowledge that one of his favorite things to do is to analyze Yentl. Apart from some spirited give-and-take with a nomad in which he made a single veiled reference to Nuts, Martin went along with the Defense Department's wishes. It wasn't until he got back to the safety of Beverly Hills that he let it all out of his system, pigging out on repeated showings of Up the Sandbox and sounding out the Israelis on the possibility of planing Jackie Mason into Riyadh for a forced concert. Can you blame him? Wouldn't all of us have done the same if we'd had the clout?

Steve Martin is also one of our handsomest actors, bearing an eerie resemblance to Evander Holyfield, something that neither luminary has chosen to exploit. Martin doesn't fling his good looks in your face, like that Harmon guy a few years ago. He's sneaky about it. He dares you to find him handsome. You say, All right, I'll give it a shot. You start with the great chin, work your way up, and then, all of a sudden, you say, Wait a minute, this fucker is really handsome. On top of everything else. And thanks for daring me to discover this. If he could just sit still and not feel a need to do something goofy every two minutes, he could go the full handsome route. Maybe even pick up some change as a male model if he wanted to take a break from his film commitments.

Which brings us to the question of Martin's acting. Reams have been written on the subject and the last thing we need is another ream. So can we just say this much--and leave it at that? The man is an actor. He can act, he has acted and he'll act again. He's probably off somewhere acting as we speak. What exactly do people think he's doing up there, crossword puzzles? That quick thing that he does in Planes, Trains, etc. where he sees that John Candy is more than a slob and is a human being with hopes and fears, etc. What was that, spit? That was acting. The only reason the question ever comes up is that he doesn't say, "Look at me, guys, I'm acting. Want to see a little thespian stuff? Check this out."

In other words, Martin doesn't act act, and there is no reason to drag John Malkovich into this discussion. Martin does what he does, and Malkovich does that thing that he does. Isn't there plenty of room for Malkovich and Martin in an industry that's supposed to be expanding globally? It's not as if they were competing for the same roles. People aren't saying, We can't get Martin, we'll get Malkovich, he'll work for 40 cents. Nor is it written that they ever have to be seen on the screen together. It isn't as if there were some movement afoot at Carolco to team them up in some weird kind of Louis Quinze buddy movie. Although Martin would probably think it was just goofy enough to work. It's hard to predict what Malkovich would think.

Does Martin wink at his material while he's acting? Reams have been written about this, too, though not as many reams. It's an absurd theory, but before we put it to rest, let's just say, for argument's sake, that he did a little winking and acting at the same time--at some early point, when he was trying to get his career under way. In Vancouver. Someplace like that. Edmonton. So let's just say that. What is it supposed to be, easy all of a sudden? Try it sometime, winking and acting at the same time. Who else in the industry can do it, Kiefer Sutherland? One person can, that's for sure. That same little legend in the making who turned in a little classic performance doing two things at once in a little award winner and top grosser called All of Me. So can we just close the case on the winking thing?

Martin takes chances, just the way we do as a nation, in the Persian Gulf, for example. What if he had been wrong about Roxanne, and there were no market for a picture like that? What if they weren't willing to sit and watch a guy with that kind of nose for two hours, no matter how much they longed for escapist fare? What if it was a mistake? Where would Martin be? Forget Martin, where would Columbia be, with the millions committed in prints and advertising and he's running around with a nose that nobody wants to look at? A nose they could stand for maybe ten minutes tops and they're out of there?

But Martin said, Fuck it. I want to wear the nose. It's something I've always wanted to do. Jose Ferrer did it, Depardieu's got a nose script, I'm going with the nose. If they come, they come. If not, I'll find something else to do. The exact attitude we took in the Persian Gulf.

And did they ever come. And was he ever right. They came, they watched the nose, they didn't freak, they had their hearts broken, they saw some sexy stuff, Columbia got its money out and the rest? The rest, for all we know, could be Roxanne Two: The Married Years. Martin was right, just as we may turn out to be right in the Gulf. We'll find out soon enough. But that's not the point. The point is that Martin tried something, just as we did as a nation. He didn't sit around and let events take their natural course, like Eisenhower.

Steve Martin dresses beautifully and is never involved in public spats. No matter how much the Enquirer pays the waiters at Spago, it hasn't been able to come up with anything on the man. There's nothing to come up with. Even if Martin wanted them to come up with something, he'd be out of luck. He couldn't fight his way into the Enquirer. The most a waiter will say about him is that he came in, he ate a nice dinner, he didn't berate anyone--and he left. I don't care how much you pay me, that's all I've got. What do you want me to say, that he knocked over a salt shaker? Fine, you got it:

"Steve Martin knocks over Salt Shaker at Spago,"

"Friends Hint It's not the First Time."

Martin doesn't age. If you look at him in The Jerk and you look at him now, you'll see that the most he has aged is a couple of weeks. In that way, too, he's a lot like our nation, which doesn't age, either, at least in its principles, holding firm to its democratic ideals while every kind of strange type from God knows where comes swarming into our cities, fanning out into our once-quiet suburbs.... Is there really a need to go on? In spite of everything, we've stood firm and remained a young pup of a nation, ready and eager to be peaceful, go to war, whatever. Is that the Steve Martin story in a nutshell or what?

In many ways, Martin physically resembles America, with that empty, trusting thing that he does. And there are Steve Martin look-alikes everywhere, particularly on buses. There's practically a special seat reserved for the Martin type on every bus, a big trusting guy with an open collar and a scrubbed neck who can hardly wait to get to town and get fleeced. Lot of sales representatives look like Steve Martin, particularly ones who've lost their jobs but are gamely sending out résumés and would prefer not to go into service industries. And for every individual who looks like Martin, there's another who thinks he looks like Martin. Big, hairy agents, for example, white guys with big black Afros think they look like him. You'll approach one at a party, and he'll wave you off, saying, "I know, I know ... I look like Steve Martin...." On the other hand, very few Orientals look like Martin, though there are many Chinese waiters who resemble the late Ed Sullivan.

Finally, there's the strong sense of humanity. All the great ones have it, in literature, in painting, even in carpentry. Martin's got it, not only on screen but in his workaday life. I saw it personally, at a restaurant, where he displayed humanity to the people at the next table, the waiters, the salad chef, everybody. He even brought out the humanity in his dinner partner, Charles Grodin, which has always been there but, as the people close to Grodin will testify, tends to be a little on the dormant side.

Once again, the entire point of this analysis would be lost if it were taken as a backhanded slap at John Malkovich. Or even at Judd Hirsch, for that matter, and all that he stands for. If we wanted to go after Malkovich or Hirsch, we would do it directly. We're not afraid of Malkovich and we're certainly not afraid of Hirsch. Both of them have pockets of support and a case can certainly be made for either of them, if not quite as a national treasure, then at least as a local or, perhaps, industry treasure. But we're not talking about Hirsch and Malkovich. We're talking about The Goofy One. Because isn't it Martin who has the style we want to project in the difficult Nineties? The side of us we'd like to present to our friends and allies around the world, with the possible exception of Israel? That of a clean-cut nation that doesn't throw its looks in your face, takes chances and bears an eerie resemblance to Evander Holyfield?

There are those who'll say, Hey, guys, what's the rush? The man has barely gotten out of the gate. If you're talking Gene Hackman, Jason Robards, you step on the gas a little. But Martin? He hasn't done Lear, he hasn't done Beethoven. He did a little Beckett, a little indirect Rostand, but, again, why the rush to acting sainthood? Well, the answer to that is that, first of all, do we really need to see him do Lear? Don't we know what kind of wacky Lear he'll come up with? With John Candy as Goneril? Aren't we howling already? And besides, maybe there is a rush. What if--in the interest of adding authenticity to a shaky comedy moment--Martin got carried away and just hurled himself into an active chimney? Where would he be then? Never mind Martin, where would we be? Here's where we'd be: in the position of never having told the man he was a national treasure. So let's get it on right (concluded on page 150)Steve Martin(continued from page 130) now. You are one, fella. Get used to it and go with it.

For that small group of naysayers--and, let's face it, what else would they do with their time?--here are ten more particularized reasons why His Looniness is an N.T.

1. Everything he did in The Jerk.

2. Everything he did in Dead Men Don't Wear Plaid.

3. Everything he did in The Man with Two Brains.

4. His quiet support for young comedians, any one of whom may challenge him for a role at some future date.

5. Everything he did courageously in Pennies from Heaven.

6. His refusal to compete with Stallone for the rights to the Beethoven story and his insouciant attitude about the project. ("He wants it, fine. Let him have it. Let's see what he does with it. [Pause] I'll do Liszt and kill his ass.")

7. Everything he did in Planes, Trains, etc., but especially his reaction to waking up and finding John Candy kissing his ear.

8. His rock-dentist cameo in Little Shop of Horrors, the very mention of which makes you want to check out the cassette and watch it again.

9. Everything he did in The Lonely Guy, Parenthood, All of Me, My Blue Heaven and Three Amigos.

10. His feelings about Sununu.