Grateful American: A Journey from Self to Service(45)
About three weeks after the movie’s release, I was back in America and took my family up to a waterpark in Big Bear for vacation. As we splashed around in the pool, a bunch of older kids splashed near us. Suddenly one yelled, “Hey! Lieutenant Dan!” The kids had seen the movie and swarmed me, asking questions and wanting autographs. I wasn’t used to being recognized, but from then on, it seemed like anywhere I went—from grocery stores to restaurants to waiting in line at Starbucks—people called out, “Lieutenant Dan!” I started to sense that something big had transpired in my career. People didn’t know my real name yet, but I’d crossed a line from “actor” to “recognized actor.” That would require adjustment.
One day I came out of our house in Pasadena to get the newspaper. A speed bump lay in front of our house with a sign that read “bump.” Somebody had painted the b into a g so it now read “gump.” That felt a little strange—the idea that strangers knew who I was and where I lived.
One day a policeman knocked on our front door. “Mr. Sinise,” he said when I answered. “We’ve had some breakins in the neighborhood lately. I’m just checking to see if you’ve had any problems.” When I said everything was fine, he pulled from behind his back a screenplay he’d written, held it out, and added, “Um, I was wondering if you could read this. I think it would make a great movie.” I tell ya, when the police are bringing scripts to your front door, it’s time to move. Moira and I soon found a house to rent in Malibu.
When Forrest Gump crossed the $100 million mark, Paramount sent gifts to the cast and producers, an Apple computer each—a nod to the scene where Forrest invests in “some kind of fruit company.” When the movie crossed the $200 million mark, Paramount sent another gift. I’ve forgotten what it was now. When it crossed the $300 million mark, Bob Zemeckis called and said Steven Spielberg wanted to take Moira, me, Tom, and Tom’s wife, Rita Wilson, out to dinner to celebrate. I wasn’t typically palling around with high-powered Hollywood rollers, so it felt good to be included. A couple of days later, Paramount sent another gift—a giant replica of the park bench featured in the film. The base was made from concrete, and it must have weighed 450 pounds. Luckily, my front porch was strong enough to accommodate it.
Forrest Gump garnered a long list of awards, including thirteen Academy Award nominations and six wins, including a win for Best Picture. I received an Oscar nomination for Best Supporting Actor.
The film won three Golden Globes, three People’s Choice Awards, and three wins from the National Board of Review of Motion Pictures, including one for me for Best Supporting Actor. It received one win at the Screen Actors Guild Awards and three nominations, including another one for me.
The film also received a Writers Guild of America Award, and two Saturn Awards. And that’s only scratching the surface. Today, the film is preserved by the Library of Congress in the United States National Film Registry for being deemed “culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant.” Any number of phrases and quotes from the movie have found their way into today’s cultural lexicon, from “Life’s like a box of chocolates. You never know what you’re gonna get” to “Run, Forrest, run!”
Personally, Forrest Gump proved to be more than just a big award winner. The next few years became an incredibly energizing and fruitful period in my career, thanks in big part to Forrest Gump—although not solely. In 1994, The Stand ended up as the highest-rated miniseries on TV. It came out two months before Forrest Gump came out, and then Forrest Gump was the top movie of the year—and I’d had prominent roles in both, so my agents were now calling me with more and more film possibilities. Significantly, the role of Lieutenant Dan introduced me to the Disabled American Veterans organization, and I began volunteering and doing public service announcements for them, along with volunteering for a few other military charities from time to time. Little did I know how Lieutenant Dan would resonate with our veteran community, but in the 1990s, my volunteer work was still scattered. Mostly, I focused on my acting career—and it was running strong.
Right after Forrest Gump wrapped, Ron Howard was set to shoot a movie titled Apollo 13 about the historic 1970 explosion on the NASA spacecraft headed for the moon and the subsequent mission to get the astronauts safely home. I read the script and loved it. Tom Hanks was set to play Commander James Lovell, and I was called in to audition for whichever of the other three astronaut roles I wanted.
The role that appealed to me most was of astronaut Ken Mattingly. Ken was initially supposed to be in the spacecraft, but a week before launch, one of the backup pilots contracted the measles from one of his kids. Ken hadn’t had the vaccination, so they didn’t want him in space with the possibility of contracting the disease, and he was replaced by astronaut Jack Swigert, ultimately played by Kevin Bacon. In real life, Ken became a big part of the rescue mission in the control room, trying to figure out how to get the guys back from space, and I liked that twist. Usually I’d need to get a callback from an audition, but Tom had vouched for me, and when Ron came to the premier of Forrest Gump, he met me in the lobby and said, “Really great job. I’m glad I cast you.” And just like that, I was set to be in Apollo 13.
To prep for the movie, Ron, Tom, Kevin, Bill Paxton (who played astronaut Fred Haise), and I went to space camp in Huntsville, Alabama. We spent time with astronauts Jim Lovell and Dave Scott (commander of a later space mission to the moon) to absorb the story of the doomed flight. Then we went to NASA’s mission control center in Houston and flew on the Boeing KC-135 Stratotanker training plane to simulate zero-gravity conditions. The plane flies up to forty-five thousand feet, then quickly drops for twenty-five seconds before leveling off and climbing again. For those twenty-five seconds, everything floats inside the aircraft.