112 MARCH 2020be stylish or anything like that, but right now is a
good time to speak up. And if I had something to
speak up about, I would totally do it. But no, I never
saw anything; he never did anything.
“Here’s a good Michael Jackson story that doesn’t
involve Michael Jackson at all: I ran into James Franco
on a plane. I’d bumped into him two or three times
over the years. I give him a little nod as we’re put-
ting our bags overhead. Hey, how you doing? Good,
how ya doing? And it was right after the Leaving
Neverland documentary came out, and he goes,
‘So, that documentary!’ And that was all he said.
I was like, ‘Uh-huh.’ Silence. So then he goes, ‘So
what do you think?’ And I turned to him and I go,
‘Do you wanna talk about your dead friend?’ And
he sheepishly went, ‘No, I don’t.’ So I said, ‘Cool,
man, it was nice to see you.’ ”
Mack is godfather to Michael’s daughter, Paris,
and they remain close. The next thing he tells me
is that he has passed along to her his quirky habit
of stealing spoons—from restaurants, from cafés,
from airplanes. “It’s harmless,” he says. “It’s a harm-
less thing. It’s not like you’re ruining something,
like stealing a chess piece, where the board would
be incomplete.”
He and Paris give each other spoons. They have
matching spoon tattoos on their inner forearms—
Mack’s only tattoo, one of many for Paris. When
she was starting to put herself out into the world
in a public way, he gave her some godfatherly ad-
vice, vis-à-vis the spoons: “Don’t forget to be silly,
don’t forget to take something away from this whole
experience, and don’t forget to stick something
up your sleeve.”
MACAULAY CULKIN HAS DECIDED TO STAY JUST
famous enough that he has options. He can make
a movie once in a while if he wants to, and he can
have a podcast.
“It’s nice to see Mack out there doing stuff, and
not getting caught by paparazzi looking hungover
one particular day,” says his friend Har Mar Super-
star, a performer who toured alongside the Pizza
Underground. “We all have rough moments, but he
was under a microscope. People love to see a child
star fail for some reason. But now people know he’s
alive and has opinions and has a good heart and isn’t
some dark character that people want to create.”
Brenda hopes that Mack will get back into his
profession for real. “I truly believe that he is the ac-
tor he is now because of all the things he had to go
through,” she says. “He has gone through so much
tragedy; he’s had so many ups, so many downs; he’s
seen the ugly side of this industry; he’s also seen the
amazing side of this industry. So he can pinpoint ex-
actly what he doesn’t want and what he doesn’t like
about it. But yeah, I hope, I hope, I hope.”
Toward the end of Changeland, there’s an extended
scene of Mack’s character in a boxing match. He has
almost no lines, and yet he makes your heart break
for this guy, this American lost in Thailand, losing a
tourist-trap fight. Green, the director, says, “It was
Mack going through that choreography dozens of
times. Full speed, taking hits, throwing hits—there
was no real way to fake it. He wouldn’t take a photo
double. He’s like, Nah, man. You gotta see my face;
otherwise, it’s not gonna work.”
He auditioned for Once Upon a Time... in Holly-
wood, the Quentin Tarantino movie from last year.
The audition did not go well. Actually: “It was a di-
saster. I wouldn’t have hired me. I’m terrible at au-
ditioning anyway, and this was my first audition in
like eight years.”
Mack published a book when he was twenty-
five, and in it he writes pretty clearly about why
he soured on acting in the first place. The book is
a trip. On the cover it says it’s “A Novel,” but those
words are crossed out and the word “Not” is writ-
ten. It’s called Junior. He told me it’s basically about
him. The first chapter is about a monkey boy in the
circus, which is essentially Mack being a child star.
I ask him about a line in the book that points out
the difference between having fun and being happy.
“Believe me, I would know,” he says. “I’ve had
a lot of fun without being happy. And I’ve been
happy without necessarily having fun. But also:
You can have it all. Just don’t confuse the two. Be-
cause it’s easy to! A lot of times, when you’re hav-
ing fun you’re rolling on MDMA or something.”
He laughs a little at this. “It doesn’t mean you’re
happy. It just means you’re altered.” He laughs
a little harder at this. “One of my favorite jokes:
I’ve been accused of having a drug problem, but
nothing could be further from the truth. Drugs
are the easiest thing I’ve ever done in my life.” He
cracks up at this.
But, really, how bad did it get with drugs?
“Um? Listen,” he says, “I played with some fire,
I guess is the best way to put it. At the same time,
I’ve never been to rehab or anything like that. I’ve
never had to clean out that way. There were certain
times when I had to catch myself, once or twice.
You’re having too good a time, Mack. I mean, I’ve
had friends who ask me, ‘How do I get clean?’ And
I go, I’m the last person you should ask, because
I’m gonna give you the worst advice, which is: Just
stop. Just stop! And that’s not the way it works. But
I never went so far down that road where I needed
outside help. I wouldn’t be the person I am today
if I hadn’t had drugs in my life at some point or an-
other. I had some illuminating experiences—but
also it’s fuckin’ stupid, too, you know? So besides
the occasional muscle relaxer, no, I don’t do drugs
recreationally. I still kinda drink like a fish. I drink
and I smoke. But I don’t touch the things. I do love
them. They’re like old friends. But sometimes you
outgrow your friends.”
And here he pauses for a moment. That’s all he’s
got to say about that. His thoughts return to hishome, which is filled with all kinds of things he
never had much of. Cats. Space. A yard. Food in
the fridge. Routine. Comfort.
“You know what I’m going to do after this? I’m
gonna take care of my back—I’m gonna take a hot
bath. I have a video queued up: the history of Cas-
tlevania, the Nintendo game. It’s fifty-five minutes
long, and that’s the perfect bathtime amount of
time. I’m gonna stretch my back out, kiss my ani-
mals, and go to sleep with my lady. I’m a man of re-
ally simple pleasures.”THE LAST SETUP OF THE SHOOT WAS ON THE ROOF
of the former industrial building. The fire marshal
came in and gave us all a speech about being care-
ful up there, and Mack stood listening, dutifully,
looking studious almost, arms folded. He thanked
Inspector Matthews politely.
He stood on the roof. This was work for Mack,
don’t forget. And the fucking clothing guy kept
primping and poking and puffing him. Hell of a
guy, very sweet guy, but Jay-zus! Mack hasn’t moved
a muscle, and the guy’s right back in there, flicking
his lapels, straightening his cuffs.
Sweet guy, but. Driving Mack nuts.
After they get the shot, Mack climbs back down
the stairs to the main floor. At this point he is wear-
ing another ridiculous costume: an expensive tank
top, black suit pants, and white shoes reminiscent of
those worn by the Lollipop Guild. (They’re cool, it
must be said.) His publicist is walking next to him—
they are a team, striding through the former indus-
trial building. The shoot is done.
“Okay?” she asks.
“Yes!” Mack says. “Okay. I’ve decided I’m gonna
do the photo shoot!”
So I have to ask him: Why? I mean, it’s great
to see him working, even to see him doing the
professional-celebrity thing. But it’s so unweird
that, after all this time, it’s kind of weird. It’s not
like he has a movie coming out anytime soon. And
he ain’t exactly hitting the media circuit for Bunny
Ears. Mack isn’t really doing anything more than
he’s been doing for a while now: keeping the ani-
mals alive and keeping his lady fed and, God will-
ing, bringing a child into the world.
So why bother?
He doesn’t hesitate.
“No matter how much I act like a curmudgeonly
old man, it’s still fun to get back in the saddle once
in a while and play around. The stars aligned, and
actually I thought it could be super fun. It’s cool.
It’s classy. Nobody had to twist my arm, put it that
way. It was a good time, the pictures look great, it
made my lady happy.... It’s fun. But no, I’m not
promoting anything. I’m not even promoting my-
self. It’s just another little adventure.”
Later that night, when he got home from the
shoot, he showed Brenda a couple of the photos
from the day that he’d saved on his phone.
She loved them.SNOWFLAKE
(continued from page 66)