How did you get started in acting?
I must have been seven or eight years old when I auditioned for a role in this show they put on at a little fair in my home town. It was something based on Tom Sawyer, and I got the part of one of the kids Tom tricks into white washing his fence. That's the first show I remember being in. There were a few in grade school... Mr. Popper's Penguins was one of them as I recall.

I guess things kind of clicked for me when we went to see the Flying Karamozov Brothers do A Comedy of Errors. I think I was around 12 at the time. I had this idea that Shakespeare was really boring and stupid... people jumping around in tights and talking funny and pretending to sword fight. But this show absolutely blew my mind. I don' t know if they're still around, but the Karamozov Brothers were absolutely amazing. They are some of the most incredible jugglers I've ever seen, and they took their juggling routines and applied them to this Shakespeare comedy and it was the funniest, bawdiest, most hilarious thing I'd ever seen. I walked out of that theater in shock. It was unlike anything I'd ever experienced, just... the joy of live theater.

Were your parents into acting?
Oh, no... not at all. I think that's the last thing they wanted me to do. I think they just wanted me to have a well-rounded experience. I just sort of gravitated towards theater. It's where I had the most fun. The girls were really good looking. I think in high school it was mostly about the girls. Actually, we had the option of taking dance instead of gym and we got a lot of crap because it was "gay" or something but I'm there... it's like, three guys and a room full of really cute girls in leotards... and I'm thinking, "Okay... you go wrestle that sweaty guy. Have fun. I'm going to hang out in the dance studio."

So you always knew you wanted to be an actor?
I guess. I just never really considered anything else.

Your role in Poltergeist III... how did that come about?
I was doing a show at the time, and this [Chicago] agent, Shirley Hamilton, she called me in for some audition and it was very exciting, you know... I got to leave school early for a day, it was all very cool.

Now, to put this into some perspective... I had absolutely NO IDEA what it meant to be a professional actor. I had never gone on professional auditions, I didn't have head shots, I didn't know what a resume was supposed to look like. Really, absolutely clueless. My folks were not in showbiz, we didn't really know people in showbiz... it just wasn't our thing at all.

So, I went down for this audition and I got a call back. And I didn't get that job, but I did get a couple more auditions. The kind of things where you go down and there's like, 300 people in line and they move you like cattle through this room. And I didn't get those jobs either. But I did get another call back for something and I guess this agent was pretty excited about the feedback so I figured I had the part, right? Well, on the day of the call back, the agent said she'd gotten me another audition for Poltergeist III, which was shooting in Chicago and was looking for some local talent. And honestly... I swear to god... the only reason I went to that audition was because it allowed me to skip more school.

What happened during the process?
Well, let's see. As I recall, the first audition was just a reading with the casting directors, Jane Alderman and Shelley Andreas. They were great. They must have thought I was the biggest yahoo... I showed up with my senior portrait stapled to one of those old dot-matrix print outs, you know, the kind where you would tear the holes off the paper? That's like, seriously old school.

Anyway, so Shirley Hamilton, my agent, called me I guess later that day and said I got a call back. So I went back the next day and did another audition. I got another call, but this time it was different. The agent sounded really excited and said they really liked me, they wanted me to read with Lara Flynn Boyle, see how we worked together.

So I read with Lara for the director, Gary Sherman. I didn't know who either of them were. That probably helped. But it obviously went well because I got the part. Suddenly I was in this movie. It was like, one day I was in algebra class and the next day I was in a movie and I had to join a union and sign contracts. They flew me first class to New York to work with the special effects guys. It was all too weird. A limo picked me up... honestly, I was seriously freaking out. It's like... suddenly one day what you've been dreaming of comes true and you think, "My god... I've made it. I actually AM as great as I thought I was. And I never had to struggle like they said I would." So much for that theory.

What happened?
Well... I was just sort of caught up in this wave of... I don't know. I mean, I'd never ever ever been on a movie set before. And suddenly I've got a trailer and my own chair and I'm chatting with Heather O'Rourke and Tom Skerrit and Zelda Rubenstein and there's like... people doing my hair and my make up, snapping my photo and telling me I'm going to be the next, whatever... the next teen star. I had a STAND IN, for chrissakes! It was just too weird. It's like getting your learner's permit and being handed the keys to a Ferrari. I totally was not ready for it.

I mean, I did the work just fine. That wasn't the problem. I just wasn't prepared for everything else that goes with it. The opportunity was sort of wasted on me. And it really messed with my head. I mean, here's the sort of thing that happened: I was hoping to go to Boston University to study theater. I'm not sure why, it just seemed like a good place to go. And I had already gotten into USC, which honestly... the only reason I applied to USC was because my sister had been dying to go there. I didn't know anything about USC. But I applied there because I guess you had to apply to several schools to make sure your bases were covered.

Anyway, I was accepted to BU and I wanted to go visit, so I cleared it with the producer [of PG III] first because we were shooting. And he said, "I thought you got into USC." And I said I had, but I wanted to check out Boston. And he said, "Boston?! There's no film in Boston. Don't you want to make movies? Go to LA!"

And that's how I chose my college, based on some off-handed comments from a guy who probably just wanted to make sure I didn't leave town that weekend. The major formative experience, my supposed transitional phase into adulthood was decided based on a three mintue conversation in some trailer on the set of Poltergeist III.

So how did things go in LA?
Oh, the fun was just beginning. So here's this dorky midwestern kid suddenly living in a hotel in Beverly Hills... I went out a couple weeks before school to meet with agents and people. And I was just petrified. I had no idea what I was doing. I was the kind of cannon fodder actor who puts "Walks and chews gum at same time" under "Special Skills" on my resume. Like, yeah... that's cute. Ha ha. I just didn't get it.

Based on a recommendation from Jane Alderman in Chicago, I had meetings with a lot of big LA agents. Again, I didn't realize how rare that was. I just assumed that's what happens... you go to LA and meet with big agents, right? And finally I decided on one, who actually, I've forgotten his name. I think I blocked it out. Anyway, so he's doing what he can to get me into places around town and I'm doing bone head things like cancelling auditions for movies if I didn't like the script, telling casting directors I was too busy to come out and meet... all the while I'm sitting in my hotel room or wandering aimlessly around Beverly Hills. I swear, one minute I was doing some play in high school, the next minute I'm sitting in a hotel in Beverly Hills. It was surreal.

So, finally school started and so I had some sort of structure to deal with. But I went in there, still basically believing that I was going to be a star, I wasn't going to finish school... it was just a matter of getting in another movie and everyone would see what a huge talent I was... blah blah blah. And the twisted thing was... I got an audition for Dead Poets Society and they kept calling me back and calling me back and calling me back... I had read the script and absolutely LOVED it. I wanted that job so bad. And they kept calling me back, so I figured that was it... this was going to happen. But, as so often happens in Hollywood... it did NOT, in fact, happen, and by that point, I think my agent was really getting over my whole messed-up actor routine.

So... jeez, this story starts to really go down hill from here. So, it was shortly after this period that I got a call saying that Heather O'Rourke [the young star of the Poltergeist series] had died. And that was like, "Whoa...". It was just this insanely bizarre thing. I had written to her like four days earlier and then I get this call saying she's gone. And I went to the funeral in Hollywood and there's all these stars and Zelda, who was kind enough to kind of take me under her wing and protect me, she's there and we're moving through the receiving line and Heather's mom, she sees me and she kind of freaks out. Because apparently Heather had received my letter just before she died and... well, I guess I was just a painful symbol of... I don't know. It was really horrible and sad and such a major major bummer. She was a beautiful little girl. So nice, so sweet and kind and totally not what you expect from a child star.

So the funeral is happening, and they're calling the pall bearers and I hear my name. And I'm like, "Wha...?" And I'm freaking out and Zelda's trying to comfort me, when it's really just a tragic event for everyone and I suddenly find myself carrying a casket opposite Henry Winkler, who was also called as a pall bearer. I don't mean to, like.. I mean, this was totally not about me. But it's all a part of my Los Angeles experience. And to that point it had been this grand crushing disappointment... and here I was carrying a casket with The Fonz. It was just too too weird.

I think it all was sort of like a perfect storm for me. All this happened, and I wasn't getting any more jobs, which really wasn't that big a deal now that I have some perspective on things. But when you get a lead role in an MGM movie on your fifth audition with no headshots, that tends to skew your perspective a bit. And it wasn't even over yet.

Kipley being hung from a tree for a scene in "Much Ado"

So there's all this stuff happening with the movie... everyone's wondering is it going to come out, is it not going to come out... and apparently MGM decided they were going to release the movie, but they wanted some changes to the ending. I guess everyone who had worked on it was like, "Forget the movie... who cares?" But MGM wanted to release it so they shot a different ending and like... I don' t know what was going on with it. I wasn't "in the loop" at all by then

But so I'm still kind of working with my agent and he's planning to push me hard while the movie is out because we're pretty sure this isn't going to be the, you know... the sleeper hit of the summer or anything. But the funny thing is, the writers guild went on strike. And they're striking and striking and striking and pretty much all production was shut down and we're getting closer to the release date, but there's absolutely NOTHING to audition for. Hollywood was at a dead stop. So, my agent tells me basically just go home for the summer because there's nothing really for me to do in LA. I think he'd just had at it with me at that point.

And so I go back to Winnetka for the summer and the movie has the big premiere party, which was really just a very sad reminder of the fact that Heather was gone, and I finally see the new ending. Which, I mean, I guess it's perfect. During the course of the movie, my character gets sucked to "the other side" or whatever and I have this evil twin running around Chicago. And in the original ending, we're all saved and blah blah blah. But they went back and reshot the ending without my character. So there's everyone... all the other characters... except me! And the credits roll and the lights come up and I'm sitting there sort of scratching my head and I hear behind me, "What happened to that dude?"

And what happened to you?
That's what I was wondering. I saw the producer later and asked him. He said, "We're leaving you out there for Poltergeist IV." Which I guess brought me full circle because by this time I'd seen so much crap and was so jaded that I was like, "Uh, yeah... right." A cynic was born.

So my big movie was playing on screens all over the country and I was a host at Bennigan's. It was really a banner year for me.

And so you did actually finish school.
Yeah, I finished school. But I was really insanely, toxically bitter at that point. I gained like, 80 pounds and got into this dumb quasi hippy thing. I didn't know what the heck I was doing.

And do you feel you got a good education?
I did a lot of shows. A LOT of shows. And that was great. It was really, really a great experience in that respect. I did some of the big productions like Nicholas Nickelby, which was an incredible experience, but I also did a lot of tiny little shows in crappy, condemned buildings. And that stuff is really really important, I think. It may seem terrible at the time, but that's where you get your training... when the audience is sitting two feet away from you.

So, yeah... official answer is yes. I feel I got a good education at USC. I worked with some great teachers there, people who definitely have had an impact on my life and my work. To get a little cosmic, it's like... if you trust in god or the universe or nature, then I learned what I needed to learn there.

Kipley & Jefferson Arca in a scene from "Much Ado"

You went to Amsterdam after college?
Not right after. I finished up and moved back to Chicago for a while. One day my ceiling collapsed on me and I took that as a sign that it was time to leave LA. Subtle sign. So I was back in Chicago, I was doing some auditions here and there, not really pursuing it with too much fervor. I cut my hair, lost weight. Sort of got myself looking like I did when I started. I was just kind of wandering around wondering what the heck to do next. The whole LA thing didn't work out. I knew I loved acting, but I guess I was afraid of it, too. My first go 'round wasn't exactly a thrill ride.

So I was delivering pizzas, I did a show on the north side, a really lousy show where I was playing some crusty 80 year-old bartender. Yeah, that was the part for me. I was embarrassed. I think my parents were very frustrated that I wasn't doing more to advance my career they'd just paid so much to train me for. They've always been very supportive, but I think the trouble has been my inabillity to decide on what I really want to do. Like, I love acting... I love the process and I love performing definitely. But I really really hate all the crap that goes along with it, you know?

Like what?
I hate having to pretend that I'm really excited about a bad script. I hate having to pretend that I'm really excited about some product. You're in a room and they're like, "Okay, you're just walking down the street and this mailbox starts talking to you about jock itch! Isn't that crazy?! And... go!" And you're supposed to like, be happy and pretend you're chit chatting with an invisible mailbox being played by a bored casting assistant. That stuff kind of sucks.

Tell me about Amsterdam. What led you there?
Um, one day sort of out of the blue my friend Jefferson Arca from USC called me. He had moved up to Northern California after college and hooked up with these guys who were doing shows and had this big European guerilla theater adventure planned. And so Jeff called me and asked if I wanted to go. At the time I was delivering pizzas and not doing much else so I, in a burst of 22 year-old bravado, packed up my stuff and headed to Europe with Jeff and a group of strangers.

So we had to figure out some kind of plan, so we just said, "Okay, let's do a play." So we started rehearsing this play I had brought with me, Bobby Gould in Hell by Mamet. And so we're rehearsing this play and calling around town, trying to find some place to perform it and we came across this little theater where there just happened to be this American woman in charge. And she says, "Do you guys do comedy? We just started a comedy night."

And we're like, "SUUUUUUUURE! Of COURSE we do comedy! Are you kidding?! Comedy is our thing!"

So we put together a couple little sketches and it went really well. And they asked us back. So we did another ten minutes, and another, and another. And you get out there in the scene, people start seeing you, you do gigs here and there... eventually we were invited to join this sort of improvised, I don' t know... this weird sort of show that would happen once a week at this old turkish bath house that had been converted into a theater. The show was called A Day in the Life of Stanislav Pecorino and it was run by this guy... this totally insane British guy. Nuts. This guy was a kook. But he was all excited to have this group of Americans to play with and we did the show a few times.

Kipley as Delmar in "Forever For Now"

That seems to be a running theme with the interviews here... that one just has to get out there and "do it". Do you agree?
Totally. You either do it or you don't. If you keep finding reasons why you can't do it, that should tell you something.

Was Boston your next stop?
Yeah. Pretty funny... see, I actually did end up in Boston! It was fate. Yeah, Boston was a good place to kind of get back into the swing of things. It was a smaller pond. I was waiting tables and going to auditions and people were very accessible there. It's not like here in New York where there's a gazillion actors and they're all the best of the best and 200 of the best have just auditioned before you. People were a bit more laid back there.

So I actually was doing little jobs here and there, comercials, extra work gigs. You can see part of my forehead in a scene in Good Will Hunting. I was actually Casey Affleck's stand-in for a day or two. Is that irony? Or just sad. My first job I had a stand-in, ten years later I WAS a stand-in. But it was good. I felt like I was doing the things I should have done from the beginning of my career, and for the first time I was able to get back into it. And oddly... at that moment my juggling skills came back into play.

I was auditioning for this show that was like, a teen-crisis... I don't know, some sort of public service type show. And this woman saw that I had juggling on my resume. Well, she didn't want me for the teen-crisis show, but she did need someone to play Johnny Junkfood in this nutrition show that toured around the North East. It was one of those shows where, you know... it's you and your partner and a van and we'd drive out to some school and set up the show and perform it once or twice then pack up the show, maybe drive to another school, unpack the show, set it up, perform it, pack it... it went on like this

The "cafetorium circuit"?
Yeah, exactly! Is that a rite of passage for actors? It should be. No, again... it was great to have the opportunity to get on stage every day, day after day and do this show. I mean, of course you have those moments where things are going wrong and you've just launched a plastic banana back behind the scenery... the music cues are all wrong, some kid vomits in the back of the room, but... I don't know. I guess in those moments I've developed a sense of humor about it. I mean, it's just a show. It's not like lives are at stake or anything. I find some of my best moments on stage have come when I simply acknowledge what's happening. I think an audience appreciates that, and it was my experience in Amsterdam that taught me how to go with the flow a little better.

Was Boston where you started learning about film production?
Yeah, I was very lucky in that we lived very near the mother of all public access stations, CCTV in Cambridge. It was smack dab in the middle of MIT and Harvard and it was sort of the PBS of public access. I met a lot of very cool people there, was involved with a lot of cool shows. I started learning editing, camera work, studio lighting, location sound... all these challenges that you have to face when you're making movies. It's good to learn that stuff.

Why? Can't actors just focus on their craft?
When I'm directing a show or a movie, I much prefer to work with actors who have some experience working on the crew. First of all, there's an empathy there... everyone understands what everyone else is struggling with. You know what the gaffer's going through, you know what the sound guy's dealing with. If you've ever had to cut together a scene where the actors never did the same action twice, you're going to make damn sure you pay attention to what line you set your drink down on. Things like that.

It's that kind of stuff, but it's also just knowing your art. Knowing your business. Knowing the craft and what goes into it. The fact is, the more you know about the process, the better the final product will be. The process will be better, you'll be able to support your teammates better, you'll be able to ask the right questions... I think it makes you a more desirable person to work with.

Why did you decide to start making movies?
Well, we had been in New York for a while and I was doing little shows here and there, but nothing too exciting. I was thinking more about filmmaking and I auditioned and got into a week-long film and television program up in Rockport, Maine. So I get up there, and the acting teacher, Michael Denney, was this dude from Los Angeles kind of like myself... he'd done shows and started groups and we just kind of hit it off. I found that I was really in my element up there because the program was really more for the production people... the actors were kind of an after thought. And so there were all these production people with no clue how to deal with actors, but because of my production experience, I was able to bridge that gap and help a lot of people out. I got to meet and work with a bunch of people. And some of these people, the teachers... I mean, they're Oscar-winning cinematographers and stuff.

So I'd be sitting there at lunch with some Oscar winner and I just started asking questions about this and that... I was interested in the new digital technologies, video and editing, that stuff. And I kept asking people whether I should go to film school or not. Because I was thinking, maybe I want to make films. And the overwhelming majority of people said, "Don't go to film school, just buy yourself a digital video camera and make your own movie."

And was it that easy?
Making these movies has been the most difficult thing I've ever done in my entire life. I really didn't know what I was doing when we started. But you know, I got this bug up my butt that I had to make a movie. So, I talked to a few people at the Workshops in Maine, and a few people in Amsterdam, a couple friends here in New York. I wrote a script called Til Death, which was really created based around a house that my parents own in Michigan. They were kind enough to offer it up as a location, which would also be where the actors and crew slept. That was obviously a crucial element.

So I wrote this script and everyone sort of managed to get themselves to the location and it was really pretty much a disaster from the start. Well, not a disaster. It just... I mean, we were all fighting a lot and when you're shooting like 15 hours a day and living in the house with the same people, it tends to get a bit hairy. But we managed to get it shot somehow.

What happened to that one?
Well, see, this was the first of a long series of painful lessons that eventually taught me that I had to learn how to do everything myself if I ever wanted to finish a movie. The director of that one took the tapes with him to edit. He lived in Amsterdam, too. So he takes all the tapes and disappears to Amsterdam, promising to edit the movie over the next six months. Well, six months pass, I hadn't seen anything. Nine months, still nothing. Finally, he admits that absolutely nothing has been done on the movie. He hadn't even looked at the footage, let alone begun to edit. So he sends the tapes back to me. Unfortunately that was not nearly the last, nor the least disappointing post-production experience we've had.

Suffice it to say, if you are paying for movies out of your own pocket, you are more likely to actually finish the movie if you are doing the post-production yourself. Because it's an enormous amount of work and nobody wants to do it for free. People will tell you they'll do it for free. Actors will work for free. But editing a feature is such a massive job that you either have to pay someone or do it yourself. I will never again depend on anyone who says they'll edit my feature for free.

So how does this happen? You make it sound like you just call some friends and you rush out and make a movie. Can you talk about the process?
The original idea was that we'd form this production group and people would take turns leading the way. Like, I'd write a script and lead the pre-production, the group would come together and we'd shoot the movie, then the "post-production team" would take it and start cutting together the movie. While that was being cut, someone else would be writing a script and doing pre-production on the next one, we'd all come together and shoot it, and it was supposed to be this sort of movie factory cranking out movies. In theory, a good idea. But in practice, it just doesn't work. The thing sort of falls apart with the post-production, as we discovered.

But in essence, it is kind of like that. We sit around and someone says, "Hey, wouldn't it be cool to make a movie?" And everyone goes, "Yeah, that would be cool!" And then someone goes out and writes a script, which is generally based around a free location, or resources we know we can use. Like with Til Death, I knew I had a house on a lake in Michigan. I knew I wanted to work with these six actors. So I wrote a story involving six characters that takes place in a house on a lake in Michigan

Then we got the equipment and the crew together. Initially, I bought a used Sony VX-1000 and a decent microphone... you know, the very basics. Regular lights, nothing fancy... you read articles and experiment and make mistakes. That first one was rough but we learned a lot from our mistakes. And so you try again, and you try again, and each time you get better. And people drop out along the way and you fight over stupid things and you hate each other but when the smoke clears and you have the final movie and you're all sitting there in this dark theater and you hear strangers laughing at your jokes... for me, it's all worth it. That's an incredibly great feeling.

Is it hard to direct yourself?
Sometimes. But that's where it helps that my friends are so involved, you know? If I write something that sounds dumb, I can trust my friends to help work it out. If I can't tell whether my close up was good or not, my close friends are going to say, "Do it again." And I can trust that.

And will you make more movies?
I'd like to make a horror movie, but right now we're still trying to finish up the last two movies. There are two more just about done, and when those are done we'll have to evaluate if anyone can do this again. Or if people even want to work together again. It does take a lot out of you. It takes a toll financially and emotionally. It takes a toll on relationships.

I'll say this: Go make your own movie. Keep it small, and know that it's going to take longer than you expect and cost more than you planned. It is very difficult, but it's a great experience. Oh, and don't promise people that your movie's going to hit the festival scene, get sold, and make everyone rich. If you're going to do that, pay everyone in lottery tickets because they've got about the same chance of seeing any money. Maybe better.

Do it for no other reason than because you love it and you want the experience. If you set out to make a film for any other reason, it will come back and chomp you hard in the ass. Don't make a movie because you want to impress a girl or because you think it will make you rich and famous. The girl will end up hating you and you'll deplete your savings in the process. The only thing that will drive you through the insane challenge of making a movie is an unwavering compulsion to finish the movie.

But definitely go make a movie. I'm dizzy with optimism about the future of digital production. Right now you can go out and shoot something, edit it on your computer, and post it on a website. It's like your own television station that anyone, anywhere can watch. That's a very cool thing and I would love for actors to be a part of that. That for me is the future.

-S.G.

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