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Jon Heder: Saint Misbehavin'
As Heder moves on from Napoleon Dynamite with more than five projects in the pipeline, he's aiming to put family values back in the movies. And a little ham, too. By BROOKE HAUSER April 2006 issue The first thing people want to know about Jon Heder is whether or not he's as crusty as Napoleon Dynamite. Is he, for instance, the kind of person who would really take a tater tot out of his pocket and start eating it? Probably not. However, even with his '70s shag, flip-flops, and a light coat of foundation left over from a day's work on the set, Heder, 28, is decidedly Napoleonic. There is no mistaking the closely set eyes, Dentyne-size teeth, and tendency to mouth-breathe. Within minutes of chomping into a chicken parmesan sandwich at Jerry's Famous Deli in Encino, Heder is spotted, like a moose in the wilderness, by the entire waitstaff. "I'm sorry to interrupt you," says the Latino host working the graveyard shift, "but I need to ask you for two autographs, for my sister and brother." Heder dutifully signs and resumes eating. "I still get caught by surprise, like, 'Why do they recognize me?' " he says. "I feel like I look so different, but I remember thinking, 'If this movie becomes big, I will always be that guy.' " It's safe to say that Napoleon fever has blossomed into an epidemic. It is the cult movie of the MySpace generation, as beloved by frat boys as it is by junior-high hipsters with buttons on their backpacks that read "Sincerity is the New Irony." Since its premiere at the 2004 Sundance Film Festival and release that summer (it grossed $45 million, more than one hundred times its budget, and the DVD has sold more than six million copies), the movie has inspired everything from Halloween costumes and a line of "Vote for Pedro" T-shirts sold at Wal-Mart to action figures and a talking pen. ("Freakin' idiot!" and "You guys are retarded!" are featured catchphrases.) Last year, the Idaho state legislature even passed a resolution commending the filmmakers for helping boost tourism and economic growth in the tiny town of Preston, where the movie was shot. Among its findings: "The Preston High School administration and staff, particularly the cafeteria staff, have enjoyed notoriety and worldwide attention." Heder, meanwhile, has experienced enough notoriety and attention for a lifetime, though he doesn't always enjoy it. "I love it when people tell me to quote something," he says sarcastically, scarfing down some extra-greasy onion rings. "They'll go, 'Say "Flippin' idiot." ' I'm like [in his regular voice], 'Flippin' idiot.' 'No, DO IT!' And I'm like, 'Whoa, you are not going to tell me what to do. You will take what I give you, and you will enjoy it.' " He says he sympathizes with parents and teachers who have to listen to their kids endlessly mimic lines from the movie: "I read about it. Like, 'You know what? It was great, but shut up already. Enough with the ligers and the goshes and the dangs and the flippin' sweets.' And I totally understand." Clearly, the actor who stole scenes as a spiritual guru in last year's Just Like Heaven is ready to move on—just not too far. In this month's comedy The Benchwarmers, he, David Spade, and Rob Schneider start a baseball team to compete against Little League squads. (It was producer Adam Sandler's idea to cast Heder as an outfielder who'd rather be at home eating mac-and-cheese with mom.) This summer, he voices a character in Robert Zemeckis's animated Monster House. And in fall's School for Scoundrels, he'll play a milquetoast meter-reader who enrolls in a confidence-building course, taught by a total shmuck (Billy Bob Thornton), to win the girl of his dreams. (Also in development: roles opposite Will Ferrell, in the ice-skating comedy Blades of Glory, and Diane Keaton, in Mama's Boy.) It seems everyone wants to bottle up some Eau de Heder. For a guy who's only starred in one movie, he has cast quite a spell on studio executives. Heder, his identical twin, Dan, and their older brother, Doug—all of whom studied film at Brigham Young University (the twins both graduated with degrees in computer animation)—recently signed a first-look deal with Universal to develop star vehicles for Jon as well as animation projects. As for the name of their production company, Greasy Entertainment, it grew out of the family lexicon, and it seems to bear no relation to the dictionary definition of "greasy." "Who's greasy?" Heder asks. "My brothers are greasy. People who duct-tape fenders that fall off their car back on—that's greasy." He then applies the grease-o-meter to Napoleon's world: "Kip is greasy. Rico is greasy and creamy. I'm giving too much—this is our language that I do not utter in the presence of mere mortals." The family's colorful vernacular is one by-product of its Mormon beliefs-no cussing allowed. Heder almost turned down Scoundrels due to some "R-rated" language in the original script. To his surprise, Weinstein Company cohead Bob Weinstein and writer-director Todd Phillips (Old School) came back with a cleaner draft. "Quentin Tarantino can't say, 'Listen, you bad guy, you.' They've got to use the MF word," Weinstein says. "But Jon pointed out to us that [our] movie has a PG-13 feel. He said the language was in conflict with the characters: They're using those words, and that's not who they are." (As for the Bad Santa himself, "I think it's kind of refreshing to see somebody who has values in the movie business," says Thornton. "But at the same time, he's a really loose kid. It's not like he's some uptight religious guy.") Despite being on Hollywood's hot list, Heder intends to stay true to who he is; after all, that's what has made him famous in the first place. One of six children raised by a physician father and stay-at-home mother in Salem, Oregon, he was given a nickname early on: Peaceful Paul. "Jon was definitely the 'white personality' of the group," says his brother Doug. "Anything to avoid a confrontation, anything to avoid a fight." The first time the family saw Napoleon Dynamite, it was obvious to them that Jon had created a composite character largely based on his younger brothers, Adam and Matthew, who shared certain traits with writer-director Jared Hess's own siblings. "That's how I got the voice: 'Ooh, that's so retarded!' " Heder says, sucking in his breath and accidentally exhaling some spittle. "They'd get so upset at the lamest, tiniest things, but that's what was important to them. There's something so funny about their vulnerability and the defensive walls that these kids create." In other ways, Napoleon was just an exaggerated version of himself. It's not hard to make the connection between the character and the gawky kid who used to make cheesy home movies in place of book reports. "The twins shot this video on White Fang," Doug recalls. "Our mom had just gotten this pet husky, and they used that as the wolf. They put the dog on a sled and did this whole production." He laughs. "When we were really young, we wrote and published our own books. We loved Aesop's Fables, so we created a whole line of morality tales; they were all about some animal endowed with some kind of human quality, and he had to learn some life lesson." Heder learned some of his biggest life lessons while serving as a missionary in Japan. A Mormon rite of passage, missions are generally undertaken by 19-year-old men who proselytize, often in a foreign country, for two years. ("There were about ten or eleven people that I taught who ended up joining the church," he says. "It's a lot for Japan.") Having grown up in a relatively sheltered environment, he found living abroad and meeting characters from all walks of life liberating. "It really helped me to grow," he says. "You're learning to talk to people, to teach. You're living with a companion, so it prepares you for marriage in a lot of ways. If you haven't been taught by your mom, you learn how to wash your dishes, clean your clothes, cook for yourself—to be self-sufficient." His deep faith and purposeful way of being lend Heder a personal confidence that is very much at odds with his public image. Broad-shouldered when he isn't slumping and almost handsome, he is Goofus and Gallant rolled into one. People sometimes ask the actor, who now lives in Los Angeles with his wife, Kirsten, how he deals with the temptations that accompany overnight success. He insists it's easy to walk past the decoys of sex, drugs, and alcohol when that's what you've done your entire life. "A lot of people think Mormons are strange or something, but we set ourselves standards and guidelines, and by doing that you feel more free," he says. "It's when we make mistakes that we feel helpless." In the past couple of years, Heder's beliefs have been tested and tried—and through it all, they've held up like Kevlar. He was nearly broken one time, but through no weakness of his own: He got Punk'd. Hess, who is also Mormon, describes a prank where Jon's also-married twin brought the actor to a Hollywood brothel: "Some hoochie mama types came out and got Jon's brother to go off in a room with them somewhere, and Jon was like, 'What the heck is Dan doing? We got to get out of here!' " By the time the LAPD vice squad showed up, "Jon was, like, shaking. He was almost crying," Hess says. "It was painfully funny. He's just a good guy." To Heder, piety and a great sense of humor aren't mutually exclusive: In his world, one inspires the other, and so far that funky brew has worked its magic. Benchwarmers director Dennis Dugan recalls asking Sandler, Spade, Schneider, and Heder to write get-well wishes on a giant card he had made for his teenage son, who was sick in the hospital: "I got a Sharpie and said, 'There are no rules. The only rule is you have to be as filthy as possible.' " Peaceful Paul passed no judgment as he skimmed over the other actors' references to diarrhea and sweaty balls. His own message read: "Just listen to your heart. That's what I do. And eat some ham. Gosh." © 2006 Hachette Filipacchi Media U.S., Inc. Reprinted with permission. premiere.com » |