Some actors just do the work. They don’t care about the red carpets or potential commercial endorsements or campaigning for awards. We’re sure Clifton Collins, Jr. would enjoy all of those things, but he’s clearly not driven by it. And that’s one reason it’s gratifying to see him earn an Independent Spirit Award for his performance as a legendary horse rider in Clint Bentley’s “Jockey.” A film that has somehow landed more under the radar this awards season then it should have.
As Jackson, Collins, Jr. plays a rider who has given his life to the sport. His family is made up of the community around a nondescript racetrack in the American SouthWest. When a young wannabe rider (Moises Arias) arrives on the scene hinting he could be a son he never knew he had, Jackson’s perception of his life and his legacy take a turn. Collins, Jr. says that storyline hit hard. Especially considering his own relationship with his father and horse racing as a child. He notes, “I wasn’t really too excited to open up that can of pain, but painted the stuff that I love to channel through the characters into the camera.”
Collins, Jr. also knew he’d have to transform his already slender body not to appear more accurate on-screen, but to gain the respect of the riders at the racetrack where the film was shot. And an independent production like this meant there was no budget for a high-end nutritionist. He was gonna have to do it on his own and fight stomach pains in the process.
“I went from 160 or 155 to 143,” Collins, Jr. reveals. “And I quickly adapted the diet that they had, at least a loose diet, which was I’d load up early in the morning, 4:30, 5:00 AM. And then I think lunch was more around 10:00 AM. And my dinner was more or less anywhere from 1:00 to 3:00 PM. And dinner would be light, nothing heavy. The carbs were early in the morning and I was hoping that was going to get me through and keep my brain firing so I don’t make a mistake. And then I would nurse a couple almonds here and there throughout the night for the stomach pains. And if I was feeling really squirrely I’d steal a peanut, M&M or something. Maybe two or three, sometimes just one. But if it was one, you make that last a half hour. You take a little nibble, down, little nibble.”
During the course of conversation Collins, Jr. reflects on how his childhood experiences influenced his performance and much, much more.
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The Playlist: How did this project come your way, and what made you want to just jump on board?
Clifton Collins, Jr.: Clint Bentley called me and said he had an idea for a new story that he wanted to pitch to me. And in regards to me coming on board, that was really the trust that was built through our collaboration on our earlier film, [“Transpecos“] which was directed by Greg Kwedar and produced by Clint Bentley. So, they switched positions on this one. The story wasn’t entirely complete. I had loose bullet points and a short screenplay at first that they were developing. But it was just a desire to collaborate with these two artists is really what got me into it. I’ve got a little bit of a dark past with my own father and horse racing and things of that nature. So I wasn’t really too excited to open up that can of pain, but painted the stuff that I love to channel through the characters into the camera. So it’s hypocritical in a way, but I guess I just didn’t want to go to the father load, so to speak, which Clint was also doing and was great. So it was a little piece of all three of our lives mixed into this one. And I was willing to open up that can because I trusted these two with everything and I can’t wait to get down with them again.
I don’t remember seeing anything in your past that you’ve done horse racing. Did I miss that you’ve done this in your life?
No, no, no. Well, the horse racing stuff is more me of me gambling on the horses when I’m nine. Yeah. Those were my dad’s drunken weekends when he’d come to pick me and my sister up. And sometimes it was just me because they were too scared to leave my sister with him.
Oh.
Yeah. He wouldn’t always show up, but on those times that he did, I’d spend the night at his trailer in Inglewood. And then we’d go to the liquor store and he’d pick up the racing form. I was doing word math problems at a young age, which helped for my math later. But you’re taking in the weight and the track conditions and the weather conditions and did they win, place, show. So I learned all the things as a kid so my dad could drink with his friends. So there’s a lot of stuff surrounding that, that’s quite painful, but perfect for a role like this. So, when you get a chance to use those tools, you got to use them.
Absolutely. What sort of challenge was the horse racing aspect of it? You’re a pretty thin guy anyway, but did you feel like you had to transform yourself physically for the role?
Well, first and foremost, I needed the acceptance of my peers, which were the jockeys.
Yeah.
I needed to be embraced and welcomed into their community. So, I was doing everything they were doing, minus flipping. I was never flipping. I did contemplate it and I wanted to do it at least once. And flipping is when you’re trying to make weight at the last minute. There’s usually a toilet at the far end that’s used only for flipping, which is when you regurgitate whatever food out to make that last little bit of weight. There are pills you can take too, that you can buy on Amazon that drop all your water weight as well. But the veterans, they don’t even need their finger. They just lean right over and you vomit up. So, I never did that, but I almost regret it. But it’s bad for your liver. It’s bad for your teeth.
And your stomach and your esophagus, I guess.
Yeah. Look, we’ve all been there drinking, but it’s like before horse racing, and I was like, “Do I have the facility and the capacity to. Can I prep deep enough where I can just get my body to do that?” And that was a challenge. I went from one 160 or 155 to 143. And I quickly adapted the diet that they had, at least a loose diet, which was I’d load up early in the morning, 4:30, 5:00 AM. And then I think lunch was more around 10:00 AM. And my dinner was more or less anywhere from 1:00 to 3:00 PM. And dinner would be light, nothing heavy. The carbs were early in the morning and I was hoping that was going to get me through and keep my brain firing so I don’t make a mistake. And then I would nurse a couple almonds here and there throughout the night for the stomach pains. And if I was feeling really squirrely I’d steal a peanut, M&M or something. Maybe two or three, sometimes just one. But if it was one, you make that last a half hour. You take a little nibble, down, little nibble. That’s so good.
Two questions then. First, how long were you doing this before production started? And then second, have you ever done anything in this manner for any role in your career before?
I was 175 when I signed on to do “Price of Glory.” And then Benny Urquidez got me down to 150 in six weeks. But on this one, we didn’t have the budget. We didn’t have the trainers. There’s no horse wrangler, no first AD, no trailers, no hair, no makeup, no real light package, or anything like that. So, I slowly started dieting at home in addition to doing my research there. Documentaries, films, commercial noncommercial, but the obscure docs were my favorite, the end of the radar docs. But I knew I couldn’t get to the real dirty, dirty dieting so I got amongst my friends and peers, which would be the jockeys.
Yeah.
Once I’m surrounded and I’m in the environment, I want to belong to the environment. There happens to be a camera making a movie about what we’re doing too, but that’s secondary to me being accepted by the people I’m representing and the character I’m portraying. So it was easier to just get into the diet. Once I was there, it was the same day. Wasn’t like, “I’ll get it to in a week.” No, day one like, “Whatever you’re doing, I’m doing it now. I don’t care what it is, tell me.” So, that’s what I was doing.
What was the biggest thing that you took away from being around these other jockeys that you thought was important for your character?
There’s a lot because the script was constantly evolving and getting polished. And while Greg and Clint might be dealing with somebody or doing a location scout or things of that nature, I was busy collecting intel through the jockeys and hanging out in the jocks room or getting stories from the security detail at the racetrack. It’s not Santa Anita, it’s not Kentucky. It was a very rundown track that had been around for a while, a turf paradise. It’s not Vegas. There’s no music, no hot chicks all around. There’s a couple of girls here and there, nothing crazy. So. anything I’d gather, I’m just like that dog that runs out in the street and brings home stuff. You know what I mean?
Yes.
I’d come in, “I found that out.” There are some cool words and terminology that ended up being in the film that weren’t originally there too. But also, the culture of something as simple as getting injured, as a result of talking to them. So many of them have broken 60, 70, 80, 100 bones. It’s insane. All of them. I didn’t meet a single one that didn’t have a slew of breakages. So, one of the things I found out that led to a very quick rewrite was I talked to somebody who’d won 16 races in a row. He had open bone breakages and all these other things. And then I was telling Clint about this, “Clint, there’s a scene when we talk about me getting hurt and this and that.” None of us get hurt. The only time we’re hurt is when we can’t walk and we can’t ride. Those are the only two times. It doesn’t matter what you break. I can break my skull open, if I’m still alive, I’m going to walk and ride. I’m not hurt. I got a little bit of recovery time. But when I told one of the guys that was a retired racer, “You tell me you broke this and broke that and broke this. But you still tell me you were never hurting.” He goes, “Oh. Yeah. Mister, I was never really hurt. But don’t you worry. You fall off that horse, you break a little something, there’ll somebody right behind you that’ll give you a nice little shot real quick and get me feeling real good, back on that track in no time.” I was like, “Buddy.”
That seems crazy. In your mind, what is the driving force that makes all the jockeys to put themselves through this?
Don’t forget, you’re sitting high on this beautiful 1200 pound animal that just wants to run and race. And it gets used to you and comfortable with you, and you and it, you’re together as one. And there’s this beautiful relationship that most normal people won’t ever have with a horse. And I got a special love for all these animals and I grew very close to so many of them. But it’s that rush. It’s that rush of the race. Sure, you want to win. And there’s a rush of that. But when you do win, then you go to the jockey circle and they’ve got the photographers taking their photos there. But then the next day it’s like an Etch A Sketch. You start from ground zero. Mike Tyson will win the champion title and he’s a champ for the whole year to the next fight. But as a jockey, you might be a champ today, but tomorrow you’re starting from the ground up again. I told a buddy mine, I did a bet on I’m, I’m not going to lie. It was Logan Cormier who plays Leo. So I showed on him. “Dude, you still got a second place.” I’m just trying to give him hope. I believe in him. I still believe in him. And he goes, “Man”, he goes, “Second place is just first place loser.” It hit the bone. It hurt so bad. I wanted to cry, but I held it all inside and just made jokes of it, made light of it with him.
The film reminded me of the line you hear around a lot of sports leagues, “Father Time stops for no one.” You can keep trying to be what you were when you were at your height as a superstar, but you can’t beat it. And that’s clearly one of Jackson’s storylines in this film, is he’s trying to beat it. Did you feel like these jockeys you met, were they aware Father Time was coming or did they just think they can beat it?
They’re very, very aware of that. And I’ve got two friends in the film that did get hurt. Thankfully they can walk. They’ll just never ride again. It’s even hard to talk about. So, one of them said, he goes, “I know we can’t do this forever and I know our body breaks down and stuff,” but he goes, “I love this so much I just wish that we could pick the day.”
“Jockey” opens in New York and Los Angeles on December 29.