Anthony LaPaglia memoir offers a candid look at the actor’s career, from near-miss roles to life on network television, along with sharp views on theatre, Australia’s film industry, and U.S. politics.
You were nearly Tony Soprano. Is there a role you truly wanted but did not land?
LaPaglia says he does not dwell on losses. He gives himself at most a few hours to move on, describing the process as pragmatic and necessary for mental health. Casting, he notes, often comes down to logistics or an image a director holds, not personal shortcomings. He adds that productions sometimes audition actors while an offer is already out to someone else, which he calls a waste of time.
Cast your dream project with three past collaborators and one newcomer.
He names Allison Janney, Kerry Armstrong, and Alison Whyte, then adds a fresh face after seeing Moneyball, praising Brad Pitt’s performance as phenomenal and the film as a great piece of work.
Performing opposite Janney in A View from the Bridge on Broadway sounded transformative.
He calls it exactly that, crediting Arthur Miller’s plays for centering women as the glue that makes them work. He says his performances rely on extraordinary leading women, citing Janney and Whyte, and that without them there is no play.
Your time on Without a Trace reflects a bygone era of 24 to 26-episode network seasons. Would you do it again?
He would approach a similar job differently now, skipping hands-on quality control and simply fixing lines that do not work for him. Writing an episode reshaped his view of writers, he says, after learning how hard it is to structure stories around commercial breaks. The pace, he recalls, was counterproductive. He would act while simultaneously debating changes for upcoming scripts, leaving him on autopilot. He later concluded the show would have succeeded without his extra involvement.
Which role has been most personally fulfilling, and why?
He points to Lantana. From the first read he loved Andrew Bovell’s lean, suspenseful script and says almost nothing required changing. Researching a Sydney police detective was rich, sometimes hilarious and sometimes heartbreaking. He recalls being paired with two Sydney detectives who were under investigation and were eventually found guilty, and remembers being struck by their notoriety around Leichhardt.
Your descriptions of Adelaide are striking. Have your feelings changed?
A little, he says, but not drastically. He notes he left Adelaide long ago. On a recent visit for Death of a Salesman he found the audiences remarkable, raucous, and quick to laugh, which he links to the city’s dark streak.
If a biopic of your life were made, who would play you?
“Channing Tatum,” he jokes.
You have aged into Willy Loman. What roles loom as you grow older?
He says he is a gun for hire rather than a wishlist maker. He is open to writers crafting roles for a 67-year-old, but he avoids self-generating projects after losing money investing in his own work. He says even first-dollar repayment contracts can be undermined by cooked books, which he says he has encountered more than once, mostly on Australian films.
Is financing tougher in Australia?
He quips that they are better at cooking the books.
Best piece of advice you have received?
He cites Spencer Tracy: “Know your lines and don’t hit the furniture.”
Most memorable fan interaction?
Early in his career on Sixth Avenue in New York, a man yelled across the street that he hated LaPaglia and every movie he was in. LaPaglia replied, “Good for you. You have taste.” Both laughed and kept walking. He says he liked New York’s unfiltered quality back then. Though his daughter lives there and he once thought he would return, he prefers California’s climate.
Where do you see yourself living next?
He says he may move to Mexico, mostly to ride out Donald Trump’s political influence. He predicts civil unrest and prefers not to be present for it. He calls Trump old and believes that when he is gone the party built around him will fracture. He describes Trump as having no filter and no loyalty, and dismisses the idea of a political future for Trump’s son.
Do you have a nemesis? Is it John Landis?
He says such conflicts matter less as he ages. He does not consider Landis a nemesis but says he never understood him, recalling that shouting on set was counterproductive. He notes others praise Landis, and allows that time has passed. He jokes he will not forget the experience and is waiting for a lawsuit.
Anthony LaPaglia memoir highlights
LaPaglia’s reflections range from missed roles and marathon TV schedules to stage partnerships and the economics of filmmaking. The actor ties his professional philosophy to pragmatism and collaboration, while offering unvarnished commentary on politics and place.