Grateful American: A Journey from Self to Service(39)

Sure enough, the movie opened October 2, 1992, in America and saw a small release, just 398 theaters total. I did a lot of press in the States, and then another promotional tour overseas where I went to Paris and London and other European cities where it was shown, but it never really took off, although the movie received excellent reviews wherever it went. The studio had made a marketing decision prior to the movie’s release. Whereas I thought we should have full-page ads for five weeks, they took out only one full-page ad on opening day. After that, nothing. To be sure, the studio executives were gracious. One of the main execs at MGM at the time (and daughter of the great filmmaker Sydney Pollack), Rebecca Pollack, was particularly kind toward the film. The execs considered it an artistic success, but I think they suspected the movie wasn’t going to make much money, so they weren’t going to spend much to market it. Columbia’s A River Runs Through It, starring Brad Pitt and directed by Robert Redford, came out seven days after Of Mice and Men, and although the stories were different, the heartland tone was similar. Both were considered rural movies with beautiful scenery, and conventional wisdom said both movies would fight for the same audience dollar. I thought our reviews were just as good as the reviews for A River Runs Through It, and I mentioned this to the studio executives, but a marketing decision had been made. A River Runs Through It went on to win an Oscar and earn $43 million. Of Mice and Men received a ten-minute standing ovation at Cannes but grossed just over $5 million.

I don’t hold this against anybody. MGM was never “against” the movie. For MGM, it made sense to get a good artistic creation in the pipeline, but they knew Steinbeck’s Of Mice and Men wasn’t going to be a blockbuster and make a bundle. Still, they were happy with the strong performances and exemplary reviews, and in the end, I’ve always been so grateful that they allowed me to make the movie that I wanted to make.

The story of Of Mice and Men is universal. George and Lennie are two lonely souls who befriend each other in a harsh world. They have a dream of someday owning their own place to call home. We all want companionship. We all have a dream. We all deal with loneliness. These are timeless themes that move people; that’s what I wanted to be a part of. We succeeded in delivering that message.

And I am happy to say that while it took a little time for us to reconnect, two of the first people I wanted to show the film to were my buddies Terry and Jeff. After exchanging messages that discussed our feelings about my making the film, I screened it for both of them, and they were supportive and proud. Any hurt feelings were set aside, and getting their thumbs-up was a great boost for me. I love these guys like brothers. But sometimes choices are made that send us in different directions. And I had decided to do that. Our work together has always been the greatest gift to me creatively. And our friendship, even more.

The film has proved to have great staying power. Today, more than twenty-five years later, more people have seen our production of Of Mice and Men on DVD in high schools around the country than ever saw it in theaters. I still get letters from high school students thanking me for making the film. They’ve studied it in school, where Steinbeck’s great novel is still taught. Of Mice and Men is still a powerful and moving story and a film I’m proud of.

I considered it a personal success too. On my first movie, I had made decisions tentatively, but with Of Mice and Men, it was the opposite. I felt very confident and knew exactly what I wanted to see on the screen. I’d succeeded in one of my main objectives—to act in a larger role in a movie that I also produced and directed. I’d followed my dreams, intuition, and heart, and worked hard to make my dreams a reality. It was a tremendous artistic challenge, and I’ll always be thankful for what I learned and for the self-confidence I gained spending that year in Steinbeck country.



Six weeks before the opening of Of Mice and Men, our third child was due. Sophie had been born naturally, but Moira wanted epidurals after that. Mac came so quickly the epidural didn’t work. For the third child, the anesthesiologist was in the middle of putting the epidural in Moira’s back, when Baby announced that now was the time—and Baby would not wait.

And there she was. Ella Jane Sinise. Beautiful.

Born August 20, 1992, Ella was our smallest baby, and two weeks after her birth, we sat at an appointment with our pediatrician. She listened to Ella’s little heart and said, “I want you to go see a cardiologist right away. There’s something odd in Ella’s heartbeat.” I tell you, when a pediatrician says that, your life clouds with fear.

We took Ella to the cardiologist, who ran all kinds of tests. We learned she’d been born with three holes in her heart, which frightened us greatly, but the cardiologist said sometimes these holes close on their own, so he wanted to wait awhile—a few years, in fact—before deciding whether any surgeries would be required. We lived on pins and needles the next several years.

At five, Ella was small for her age. She didn’t seem to be growing as fast as our other children had. We then learned that two of the holes in Ella’s heart had closed on their own, but the third was too big and surgery was needed.

We called everybody we knew. All the doctors. All the friends. Everybody who’d ever experienced anything like this. My agent even put me in touch with Sylvester Stallone, whose daughter had needed heart surgery when she was young. Sly said his daughter was doing very well, and he described the procedure for me. Ella’s condition wasn’t as complicated as his daughter’s, and that gave us some peace of mind. Still, our concerns continued. Dr. Alfredo Trento, the very gifted head of cardio-thoracic surgery at Cedars-Sinai, agreed to do the procedure.