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Rose McGowen
Interview - Bikini Magazine

Silverlake, CA. Dusk. Buses whiz by, helicopters shine spotlights at fleeing jaywalkers; the noise of early rush hour traffic is deafening. I am sitting at a blue table outside talking it all in, when I'm joined by Rose McGowan, a raven-haired uber-ingenue with plucked eyebrows and brimstone who orders a Diet Coke.
Rose burst onto the popcorn and raisonette scene with the unapologetically graphic Doom Generation dishing ginsu personality from a pint-sized takeout container. And here she sits. I'm hacking and she's slumming. We make the best of it. Rose stands out in stark contrast to the blue of the table...almost too striking for the murky milieu of east Sunset Boulevard, though she lives mere blocks away. I stick the tape deck in her face.

Bikini: Are you a part of the "emerging Silverlake scene?"
Rose McGowan: I emerge from my house...doesn't mean I'm in a scene. (Glares at tapedeck.)
That makes me nervous. It's in my face.

Bikini: Just pretend it's not there.
RM: Fuck off. That's what they all say.
An Image Is Worth A Thousand Words A jambalaya of Joan Crawford, Mae West, and Archie's tormenting Veronica. Rose has a hilarious sense of disgust regarding the swarming rat race in which she's unfortunately at large. She refuses to tolerate stupidity. I ask as many stupid questions as possible.

Bikini: So, Rose, how did you get your start?
RM: Fuck off.
Bikini: Good answer.
John Wayne with a razor wit, painted lips, and a 36C. Rose's cracker jack humor holds the crunchy nuggets and the prize. The girl-next-door your mom warned you about while secretly envying.

RM: Okay, what's the angle here?
Bikini: You, Rose. Who are you?
RM: Who am I? Fuck off.

Rose sips Diet Coke through trademark hell and lips.

RM: Don't put cuss words...trying to clean up my image, see? Fuck 'Em If They Can't Take A Joke.

Since her controversial debut, Rose has stormed the ramparts of Hollywood, pillaging roles in productions which include Wes Craven's Scream, Lewis & Clark & George, and Gregg Araki's new film Nowhere. With a peck of projects in her bustier, Rose is now embarking to Colorado for yet another celluloid adventure, Phantoms, a paranormal thriller with dapper U.K. front man, Peter O'Toole. Our duel takes place on the eve of her departure.

Bikini: What's the name of the movie you're doing in Colorado?
RM: Phantoms.
Bikini: With Peter O'Toole? RM: Yup. I've been so crazy all day...I'm sure I'm just gonna get in front of Peter O'Toole and just not be able to speak....
Bikini: What's your character like?
RM: Who cares?
Bikini: Do you get typecast from Doom Generation?
RM: I'm not the slut I'm sometimes made out to be by the evil press. Though I'm sure I have an ex-boyfriend who would disagree. I've been called Cruella....
Bikini: Who called you Cruella?
RM: Ex-boyfriend. Well, he called me that when we were going out. Who knows what he calls me now....

Rose takes a hit off her beverage and reflects.

RM: I've been called Satina....
Bikini: What's that? Slutina?
RM: What is it with you evil press people and the word slut?
Bikini: Sounded like Slutina.
RM: No it was Satina. Satina is a lot better than Slutina.
Bikini: My mistake. Important distinction....
RM: I'm trying to clean up my reputation. For the love of God, help me out here (laughs). I don't think I have one. Do I?
Bikini: I don't know.
RM:The Silverlake streetlights sputter on and the boulevard becomes strangely quiet, as if the busses went to a Speed reunion and the helicopters found Vietnam movies to audition for.
Cult We Put The Past Behind Us?

Rose, until age nine, was brought up outside of Florence, Italy, where she lived on one of those hippy communities of legend. Her parents were members of the Children of God cult, or "socia club," of which River Phoenix was also a member. Pandora's persona hewn from a stranger-than fiction upbringing...

RM: (singing Dolly Parton and Kenny Roger's duet.): "Cause we rely on each other, uh huh..." That was one of the first American songs I ever heard. Kind of sad.
Bikini: Italy. Growing up. Discuss....
RM: (mocking) "Tell us about your cult, Rose." Actually it was not mine, thank you very much.
Bikini: Did you sacrifice people?
RM: Sheep. Only sheep.
Bikini: That's a letdown.
RM: Although, there was a monkey that used to chase me and my brother around who mysteriously disappeared. You never know...
Bikini: You really don't.
RM: I do know my sister was fed sheep's brain all the time.
Bikini: That could just be an Italian thing....
RM: I started school in Italy when I was three. But they actually taught me how to officially tie my shoes here [in America] because, even up until I was nine, I still had to do the one loop on one side and the other loop on the other, instead of that little fancy diddlybob. That's why I love my Velcro shoes. That's my stupid little saying. I could read when I was three and I tied my shoes when I was six...pretty much sums it up. So, the fact that I couldn't tie my shoes 'til I was six, and then not really tie them until I was nine, pretty much clues everyone into...as if they care...wich I doubt they do...into pretty much my personality makeup, so to speak. I'm a little backwards and strange. I fall into everything. Pretty strange life.
Bikini: Say something in Italian.
RM: Hasta de merde.
Bikini: What's that mean?
RM: Head of shit.
Bikini: I'll remember that.
RM: I actually don't speak Italian, but I've woke up in the middle of the night yelling Italian things. I call my mom and she tells me what I said.
Bikini: Is your mother Italian?
RM: No, French.
Bikini: So your dad's Italian.
RM: Nope, Irish.
Bikini: So you were in Italy because the cult was there?
RM: That is correct, sir.

A woman with Manson eyes walks by staring right at Rose singing "Jesus, Jesus, Jesus...."

Bikini: Interesting.

RM: Anonymously delivered to my doorstep. I think they just do things to, you know, say they still know where I am.

Map Of The Stars
Rose was struck by showbiz lightning twice before she gave in full to the call of Tinseltown. Once, for a film that was never released, she was "discovered" while wooing patrons into a matinee of Who Framed Roger Rabbit.

RM: The people at the movie theater made me stand outside the door. I would lure male customers into going to see a matinee. It worked. It was kind of a re-release place where you'd pay $2 and the movie had already been out for over a year. I got fired for two things. One - breaking cookies. You could eat them if they were damaged, so they caught me breaking 20 cookies against the wall. Two - I was just supposed to go up and down the aisle with my little flashlight...and of course where Jessica Rabbit comes out and sings her song, I would stick the flashlight under my face and sing along with her really loud and the run out. Eventually they found out it was me and I was axed. It was cruel. It was a good job though.
Bikini: And you're not gonna tell me what the title of your first movies was?
RM: No, it doesn't exist because stupid Vestron Pictures went out of business thank you very much.

Rose was again discovered four years later by Doom Generation writer/director, Gregg Araki, in an L.A. gym.
Bikini: So what were you doing when you met Gregg Araki?
RM: I was refusing to go into a gym.
Bikini: The rest is history.

RM: I left right after doing that and actually went to beauty school for a bit.
Survival Tips For Aspiring Actors
A very strange man with reddish yellow hair and a three-piece suit open to the navel runs by airing his chest hair and singing the theme from Born Free. Rose can leave the Children of God, but people have their own little cults on this piece of concrete. (This man is my own personal spiritual leader. I keep this to myself.)
Bikini: What did you do after the first movie, before being discovered by Araki?
RM: I held my breath, tried to hang out on as many street corners as possible. (laughs) I did a lot of strange things. Slept under houses...I was always a very paranoid child and I always thought my parents were after my money, so I thought it would be best to like, divorce the possibility of them coming after my bank account. This gets into a lot of personal things...I did a lot of acid. I thought it was not conducive to hanging out with my parents. It wasn't very fun. Sleeping under freezing cold houses, up to your ears in water, 'cause it was Oregon.
Bikini: Oregon? How did we get to Oregon?
RM: I lived there, unfortunately. I hate Oregon. Actually, I hate the Northwest. I mean, I know it's a generalization, but I don't give a shit.
Bikini: Too wet?
RM: It's the people primarily. Another huge generalization here. I just had really bad experiences. I kind of looked like my character in Doom Generation, except I had shot spiky hair, jet black. Really red lipstick. Black clothes, blah, blah, blah. And of course my pointy black John Fleuvong shoes. And like, people tried to run me off the road, throwing things at me from their cars, screaming at me everywhere...a hellish existence. It was very much an Edward Scissorhands neighborhood. Like, pink and pistachio houses, everyone mowing the lawn on Saturdays. I wasn't trying to antagonize people, but they singled out self expression and squashed it like a bug. I was the bug.
Bikini: What else did you do between street corner discoveries?
RM: I danced in a lot of gay nightclubs. Not for money, they wouldn't pay me...thank you very much...just for somewhere to stay the night. I mean, you could stay up all night...and it was pretty much not a sexually threatening place. I could be there and not get harassed, which was good because I drew a lot of negative attention.

Blue Waves And Osteoporosis
After the shooting of Doom Generation, Rose labored at ther aunt's successful Seattle beauty salon in the hope of financing her higher education. The powers that be seemed not to have an oh so valuable college degree in mind for our Rosey, however. The call of Hollywood can undo any perm.

RM: I went to beauty school right after Doom Generation wrapped. I had my little thing all planned out.
Bikini: What beauty school?
RM: One with a lot of fat ladies. And old ladies, who I hated. Beasts from hell. They come in with three hairs and wanted
Elizabeth Taylor big old fuzz hairdos. Two days before Sundance, I had to give a perm to this 90-year old woman, who had really bad osteoporosis, her head was facing my knees, and she couldn't really speak...nasty. She had this woman, her helper, who screamed at me the entire time. And, of course, all old ladies want the tighest perm possible, really tiny tiny curls which are really hard to do and, obviously, I'm aesthetically against permanent waves. Anyway, this started at nine o'clock in the morning and went until seven at night, part of her hair would take and part wouldn't...so finally I gave up. It had taken hours, the place was a mess, I got a quarter as a tip. I was being flown down to Utah to do press for the film and stuff, and my plan had been to fly right back to work at the salon after the festival. I left and I never went back. That was when I decided to go to L.A.

Barbara Walters, Look Out!
We sit and sip carbonated drinks and watch the day wane. Rose is beautiful, mysterious, and in demand. What force drives the green fuse through the rose? (to bastardize Dylan Thomas badly) I accuse her of being evasive for not breaking down into tears over her childhood. Rose doesn't flinch.

RM: I enjoy my walls. I make use of them daily.

Aware of the danger of this subject, Rose begins to walk a fine line between riddler and confessor.

RM: What's that stupid actor line? "My publicist said you couldn't ask me questions like that."
Bikini: Oh, right...no personal questions.
RM: Yes. So why the fuck would you be sitting there being interviewed? What, are you supposed to talk about? The current prices at Kmart? That's not personal.
Bikini: If you were a tree, what kind of tree, would you be?
RM: This is where I start crying, right Barbara?
Bikini: Give it to me in your best Katherine Hepburn. And don't say, "A fucking dead tree from hell."
RM: Um...I would be a...weeping willow.
Bikini: Weeping willow...that is so revealing.
RM: Fuck off.

Wanted: Spiritual Advisors
We pause to encounter a drunk, who, drooling and stumbling, leers at Rose with such a lurid stare that I feel sexually violated. Rose shrugs it off as the guy slithers away.

RM: Basically, my life as a young woman is to be sexually harassed as much as possible. (looking down) Oh, and I wear push-up bras to invite it.
Bikini: Of course.
RM: Although actually I don't need a push-up bra. When I go to concerts, or when I go to a bar...pretty much that would be my own personal Tailhook convention.
Bikini: A lot of butt-pattage?

RM: Oh, it's more extreme than that. I had to kick somebody in the head last concert I went to. I was on somebody's shoulders so I was at their height level, granted but....
I ponder our recent sighting of my belly button airing, three-piece suit-sporting spiritual adviser, and one of the profoundly puzzling questions he aske me recently under a rented aluminum olive tree.
Bikini: Do you know what you want out of life?
RM: No. (laughs) Do you?
Bikini: No.
RM: Fuck off then.
Bikini: (crushed) This isn't about me.
RM: I hate it when people ask if you have goals, like, "No, I'd like my life to remain shitty."
Bikini: Is your life shitty?
RM: No, I'm just saying, "No, I'd like to live in a hovel and produce nothing, and have no friends."
Bikini: So you want to be famous and have lots of money?
RM: No. I don't think about that at all. I don't think aobut it in the negative. I just don't think about it in the positive. I just don't think about it.
Bikini: You don't think about the future?
RM: No. I'd go crazy. I've been crazy a number of times. But anywise, we won't go there. Let's say I've been locked up...I've had the padded walls.
Cult of the Papier Mache Cock Ring

The hour has ticked away and there are no answers, only the illusion of a smattering of clues. I let Rose know she's almost off the hook. A sigh of relief.

RM: I'm so braindead right now, jet lagged, thrashed....
Bikini: You just got back from New York?
RM: Yes, having a fine old time. Actually, I stayed with my friends who are really wild. So the present I got them, a thank you for their hospitality, was...I found this life-sized Ken doll, I guess, on it's own S&M table. Gagged with a ball in its mouth and, like chained everywhere. It was pretty hot.
Bikini: Fully functioning?
RM: I didn't look under his panties. I figured he was gay. I'm sure he wouldn't have appreciated it. Although there was a Barbie, maybe I should've looked at her. I've got lumps, spider bites from New York.
Bikini: How'd you get spider bites?
RM: I was sleeping in this really strange room, like this guest bedroom, and they have all these papier-mache gargoyles hanging from the ceiling and in the corners. I was talking on the phone and I looked up and they all had huge dicks hanging off, with like papier-mache cock rings. I thought it was a nice decorative touch.
Bikini: And the spider bites...?
RM: Somehow that contributed, I don't know.
Bikini:Were you...comfortable in that room?
RM: Comfortable? Well, with about 40 penises pointed at your head, I don't know how comfortable that can be. I don't know, it was calm, you know, calming, that they were just paper, couldn't like slap me or anything...that sounds horrible.
(Rose knocks over her Diet Coke.)
Bikini: I'll get it.
RM: I know you'll put that in the Bikini article.
Bikini: Yeah, I will. But I'll pay for the next round.
RM: I'm sure, that's why you have that control.
Bikini: What a lot of control I have.
RM: Yes, you can sit and meditate on clever things. I can just be horrified when the whole thing comes out.
Bikini: You only have what you get on this tape.
RM: So you're gonna send me the tape?
Bikini: Of course not.
RM: Well, I'm gonna fax you some answers that I think up, to what I would assume would be questions by you. You can put those in. I'm sure.
Bikini: You could just write the article for me.
RM: "I'm only here really to plumb the depths of my emotions and learn more through the roles I choose," you know...something along the lines of that. So much more apporpriate for an actor interview, you know?

Rose is late. She says good-bye and takes her leave.
I try to pick up the pieces. My spiritual adviser returns with a stray cat and a Filipino cookbook. I turn to him for guidance: "What's it all about?" He strokes his pussy: "40 papier-mache gargoyles with cock rings."

Starchives - Rose McGowen Interview - Bikini Magazine
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