On The Fast Track

Nobody becomes a star by mistake. Even in the brash world of independent film, where young actors seem to erupt on the scene from out of nowhere, parlaying a fleeting festival flash into a career requires the same calculated focus as a political campaign. It's a strategically planned, media-conscious, and fully staffed process. And if the symbiosis between the studios and independents has grown stronger, so has the number of actors employing personal publicists.

Fifty years ago, being a young rising star meant that the studio dictated everything from the shape of your eyebrows to your Saturday night date. Girls-next-door, tough guys, bombshells, and good boys were delivered to the public in clearly labeled packages. Now it's the personal publicist who, along with managers and agents, chisel and polish their clients' media image for the long haul.
One of the hottest publicists around for young actors is Amanda Silverman. She's carving out space for emerging, offbeat talent at the titan publicity firm PMK that represents the likes of Woody Allen and Mariah Carey. Two of her clients, Zooey Deschanel and Mark Webber, have recently nabbed parts that have transformed them from one in the crowd of unfamiliar faces at sundance into rocognizable indie icons, following the trajectory of crossover stars like Parker Posey and Kevin Spacey.
Webber's busy release schedule began a few months ago with Todd Solondz's Storytelling and HBO's The Laramie Project. This month, Woody Allen's Hollywood Ending will introduce him to an even broader audience. Deschanel, who's best known as the stewardess sister in Almost Famous, kicked off her round of new films with Manic, The Good Girl (also starring Jennifer Aniston), and a handful of others. Both Deschanel and Webber have all the ingredients to make them media candy: looks, brains, easily condensed back stories - and, oh yeah, talent.
Deschanel and her actress sister, Emily, grew up in Hollywood. Her father, Caleb Deschanel, is a four-time Academy Award-nominated cinematographer (The Patriot, The Right Stuff) and her mother is actress Mary Jo Deschanel (The Right Stuff, Twin Peaks). This pedigree has earned Deschanel the label "Hollywood Royalty" in almost every story written about her. The truth is she's more of an industry baby. "Sure, I hung out on sets when I was a kid, but I was hanging out with a camera crew," says Deschanel.
But what the media runs about Webber is real: He spent parts of his childhood living on the streets of Philadelphia with his mother, Cheri Honkala, who has since become an outspoken activist for the hopeless. He son also gabs every opportunity he can to champion the cause in the media, talking to everybody from NPR to GQ. "I really want to help end poverty and homelessness," Webber says. "There's been a media blackout in this country about the homeless, and part of my job is to raise awareness. I learned at an early age how powerful the media is.
From most people these statements might come off as sentimental celebrity drivel, but Webber brings the same stark honesty to his media appearances that he does to his acting. Talking to the laid-back actor is like taking a power yoga class: It's both energizing and deeply calming. "There's this natural sympathetic quality that makes him accessible," Storytelling director Todd Solondz says. "He resists the pull of cliches."
But having a tagline that ends up in every article, especially one like "the homeless guy," can quickly lead to typecasting, which every actor and his or her publicist tried to avoid these days. Without careful handling, that label could have been slapped on Webber's wrist for life. "I think there was a window of time when I could have been pegged as that, but that's past," says Webber. "And even if it had happened, I don't think that would have been bad because it's the truth."
Part of Silverman's job as publicist is to make sure a casting agent never says, "Hey, get me that homeless kid." A slick photo of Webber wearing Prada in the March issue of GQ was just what she was after. "Usually he has a little bit of a grunge thing, and I think that could pigeonhole him a bit," Silverman says. "In GQ he looks sophisticated and smart, which is new for him." The same month, Webber appeared in Interview, and later this year he'll be in Paper magazine's "Beautiful People" issue.
"There's a conscious difference between the way an actor appears on screen, where they want to be taken seriously, and on the cover of a magazine, where they need to be glamorous," observes Anne Thompson, West Coast editor of Premiere and juror for the 2002 Sundance Film Festival. So while Webber was showing his upscale side in GQ, Deschanel was revealing even more on Paper's cover, looking all grown up in a Bettie Page bikini. Until recently, Deschanel's public image was that of a perky party girl, rather than a sexy, smart leading lady.
Deschanel and Silverman shy away from the It Girl image because it's momentary. Although she has the requisite good looks and personality, Deschanel is too bright both on and off screen to chase disappearing glitter. "The problem [with the idea of the It Girl] is every month there's a new one. Then there's the It Girl and the old It Girl and the It Girl before that," Deschanel says. "It's lost its meaning. It's become this term for anyone who goes to a lot of parties."
But Deschanel does love parties and she's got a quirky sense of style and engaging honesty. "She's really a combination of classic charm and modern ambiguity," says Miguel Arteta, director of The Good Girl.
It's no coincidence that Deschanel and Webber are ending up in the same magazines. These actors aren't grabbing the eyes of editors of edgy, just-in-front-of-the-pop-curve publications simply because they're talented; they're getting featured because Silverman is out there pitching them. "I keep telling her she needs to get some new clients because we've used all the ones she has," says Paper's senior associate editor , Mickey Boardman, with a laugh. "We wouldn't put somebody on the cover just because of Amanda, but the fact that she represents them reassures me, because she has great taste and I know it's going to be a pleasure to work with her."
Deschanel's film, Manic, which was originally scheduled for a December 2001 release, was pushed back until this spring. While the article in Paper was postponed to coincide with the film, a number of other peices did run at a time when the actress didn't have a movie in theaters. "It makes me look like one of those people who does press for nothing. If people recognize me, it's more from magazines than movies," Deschanel says with an almost audible rolling of the eyes. "I don't like those people who are famous for nothing." Indeed, all the ink this fall only exacerbated a reputation Deschanel already had for being more of a celebrity than a serious actor. "She got a lot of press before she even started working a lot," Silverman explains. (Deschanel's first film was Mumford in 1999.) "And we didn't want to overexpose her. There's always a potential for that feeling of, 'We've heard too much about her.'"
Silverman's challenge with Deschanel isn't just getting her press; it's getting her the right press. "It's important to pay attention to the funkier, off-beat magazines, and it's important to do the mainstream world. "You have to do both," Silverman says. And as independent film dives into the main stream, so do the actors. Ten years ago, the golden grail of indie coverage was The Village Voice. Now magazines like Vanity Fair and Entertainment Weekly not only cover small films, but also put in appearances at major festivals. Thompson says, "One of the great entryways to the independent film world is Sundance and Cannes."
The current frenzy around indie stars explains why actors like Webber now end up in GQ as well as in less mainstream publications like Interview and Paper. But while Webber may be worthy of an entire article in Interview, in GQ he's a pretty face and a few key details, most notably the fact that he was homeless. "I don't like seeing that, because it's just a few lines: 'He grew up homeless. He's got these cool movies. Check it out.'" a frustrated Silverman says. "But I can't really be mad. You can't overexpose this cause."
If everything goes according to the plans mapped out by Silverman and the rest of Deschanel and Webber's respective teams, by the end of the year these actors' names and faces will be recognizable to a large audience. "There's a window when the heavens align and an actor has two or three interesting projects all opening within six or eight weeks of each other," says Jeremy Walker, the veteran publicist in charge of the release campaigns for such films as Monster's Ball and American Psycho. "As a publicist, you have to respond to that because that's the key to your client's future.