New
York Times
December
26, 2004
By
Hugh Hart
AGING
gracefully in public is a tricky proposition for most
performers,
but two 40-something rockers plan to shift gears,
midcareer,
by ringing in the new year with their own TV shows. On a
recent
afternoon in Los Angeles, the singer Vince Neil, 43, rehearsed
with
Motley Crue in preparation for the band's forthcoming reunion
tour. He's
been surgically ''refreshed'' courtesy of ''Remaking,'' a
new
reality-based series from VH1 that has its premiere on Saturday
at 9 p.m.
A few
blocks away, the former punk-band front man Henry Rollins, 43,
sat in his
Hollywood Boulevard headquarters surrounded by half-empty
cups of
coffee and a 10,000-CD collection to talk about his new role
as
resident movie critic on ''Henry's Film Corner,'' shown the first
Saturday
of each month on the Independent Film Channel.
''I've
done a lot of rock 'n' roll,'' said Mr. Rollins, who joined
the
hard-core punk group Black Flag in 1981 and later led Rollins
Band.
''But I've also written 14 books. I do 90 to 100 speaking dates
all over
the world every year. I have a radio show. I've acted in 20
films. I'm
not really an actor, but I've learned how to hold my own.
So if I
can talk about films I'm enthusiastic about and directors
that I'm
really geeked on, then why not do it? This is not about Rock
'n' Roll
Boy reinventing himself. This is: 'Fan Boy gets a show.'''
In this
Saturday's ''Corner'' - the second of the series - Mr.
Rollins
and Daryl Hannah will discuss Kevin Bacon's gritty new
film,''The
Woodsman.'' Ordinary people get to weigh in as well. A
high
school economics teacher will offer his take on the new
''William
Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice'' movie and a group of
boxers,
all women, will critique the 2000 movie ''Girlfight.'' In the
Dec. 4
premiere episode, firefighters reviewed ''Ladder 49.''
Besides
serving as genial host, the fiercely opinionated Mr. Rollins
displays
his prowess as a free-associating wordsmith in a couple of
unscripted
rants called ''Teeing Off'' and ''Rollins' Revenge.''
''I'm just
winging it,'' he said. ''We do
four takes and whichever
one gets
the biggest laugh and the loudest claps from the crew behind
the
camera, that's the one we use.''
Mr. Rollins
downplayed his qualifications as an official, bona fide
reviewer.
''I don't want to be a film critic,'' he said. ''I'm not a
Siskel-Roeper
kind of guy.'' He credited his informal film education
to a
succession of cinema-loving roommates and musicians. ''My
roommate
Maya had me watch 'Yawl,' this film from Turkey: mind blown.
The guitar
player in my band hipped me to Kurosawa. 'Here's ''Seven
Samurai''
- Shut up and watch.' I became a
huge fan of Kurosawa,
Fassbinder,
Wim Wenders, Coppola. We ended up digesting tons of
movies,
which makes me no expert, but it sure makes me love a good
film.''
Mr.
Rollins isn't the only rocker who has used music as a springboard
to other
creative ventures. Michael Stipe produces films when he's
not
singing with R.E.M.; the former teen idol Shaun Cassidy produces
television
dramas. Kinky Friedman, ex-country singer, writes crime
novels.
The pop rocker Greg Kihn deejays for a San Jose radio
station.
Charlotte Caffey, former guitarist for the Go Go's, is
working on
a stage musical about the porn star Linda Lovelace. The
70's folk
diva Joni Mitchell paints. Puffy Combs designs clothes.
Rupert
Holmes survived ''The Piña Colada Song'' to write novels and
plays,
including the music, book and lyrics to ''The Mystery of Edwin
Drood.''
In recent
months, TV has become an especially hospitable environment
for
moonlighting musicians. The Sugar
Ray singer Mark McGrath is the
co-host of
the syndicated entertainment news show ''Extra"; the
singer-songwriter
Lisa Loeb has a cooking show with Dweezil Zappa on
the Food
Network; and Mr. Neil's Motley Crue bandmate Tommy Lee will
attend
college in Lincoln, Neb., for his
own reality series on NBC
next
summer.
Mr. Neil,
on the other hand, will star in his own physical
transformation
on Saturday. ''Remaking,'' he said, reminded him that
survival
in the image-conscious pop music world often hinges on a
well-timed
makeover. For those who hesitate, there's VH1. The network
is working
on future ''Remaking'' interventions for Vanilla Ice and
the
R&B belter Taylor Dayne.
''You have
to keep changing,'' Mr. Neil said.
''If you look at
Motley, we
looked different on every single album. 'Shout the Devil'
was
leather and devil costumes. Then we were the glam boys in pink
and white
and frills. On the next album, 'Girls, Girls, Girls,' we're
bikers. So
me and the other guys, we always kept changing.''
Mr. Neil
admitted he'd grown a little complacent, and chubby, in
recent
years. ''I was about 15 pounds more than I wanted to be. I'd
watch
these shows with people who are a bit overweight and I'd think,
'God, I
wish something like that would happen to me, to light a fire
under my
butt and get me into the gym.'''
That's
precisely what happened last February, Mr. Neil recalled.
''I'm in
South Beach, where everybody looks really good, sitting by
the pool
with a cocktail when I get this phone call from VH1 and my
managers.''
They
explained the concept and Mr. Neil signed on for a 90-day
transformation. As cameras rolled, he changed his
hair color from
blond to
brown, sang his first power ballad, stopped drinking vodka,
gave up
junk food, lost 30 pounds and spent at least eight hours
under the
knife. ''They did a lot of things,'' Mr. Neil said. ''Brow
lift,
upper-lower eyes, partial face-lift, cheek implants, nose job,
jaw line
sculpturing. A lot of people think once you get that kind of
surgery
you turn out looking like Ethel Merman, and it's not like
that. You
look refreshed, like every night you've had a great night's
sleep.''
Getting
plenty of shut-eye would have ranked as a fairly low priority
back in
the 80's, when Mr. Neil and his Motley Crue bandmates
excelled
in the sport of extreme partying. But Mr. Neil said he was
ready to
embrace the regimen advised by his
team of consultants -
with one
exception, when he just said no to the Life Coach. ''When I
got to
this leadership seminar,'' he recounted, ''they were like
drill
sergeants, screaming at each other, and they want you to scream
back at
them. I got hoarse the first night.
I was still on tour at
the
time. I couldn't see myself
screaming for the next few days, so
I was
like, 'I can't deal with this. I've got shows to do.''' n