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success of that franchise as a way to direct and star in Braveheart (and Hamlet, it should be added, not to mention directing The Passion of the Christ ). That’s an extreme example, but I think it illustrates what I’m talking about, and what I’ve been chasing all these years. It’s about power, but it’s also about opportunity—using power in pursuit of something more noble. Believe me, I’m not an elitist when it comes to movies. I appreciate a good art-house film— Where the Day Takes You or Cinema Paradiso, for example—but I don’t think there’s anything more impressive from a filmmaking standard than creating brilliant technical work that also succeeds on a visceral, emotional level. That’s why, as a fan, I love E.T. so much, and Lawrence of Arabia . And even Back to the Future , one of the most thrilling experiences I’ve ever had in a theater. It’s why, as an actor, I’m so proud of The Lord of the Rings, and why I understood it was a gamble worth taking.
    I grew up wanting to make movies, not just perform in them. Even when I was a kid, it seemed as though I always had a camera in my hand. I remember doing chores around the house so that I’d have enough money to buy film at Bel-Air Camera. Then I’d shoot it and need to get it developed, so I’d say to my parents, “Can I take out the trash? Can I get a paper route?” Anything to get enough money to feed my hobby, which was quickly becoming a habit. My parents were not rich, by the way. (When I refer to my parents, I’m talking about Patty Duke and John Astin. John is actually my adoptive legal father. My biological father is a lovely man named Michael Tell, who was briefly married to my mom in the early 1970s. John adopted me when I was very young and raised me as his own, and I love him dearly; he is, and always has been, my dad.)
    My parents’ finances are their business, but suffice it to say there was never any huge money laying around, no Hollywood playground. I put myself through private high school with money I made as a child actor. My mother, don’t forget, was a classic example of why the famous Jackie Coogan Law protecting child actors became necessary: unscrupulous managers absconded with much of her childhood earnings. To this day she’s still not the best with finances. While my parents didn’t give my siblings or me a big trust fund, they did something even more important. They raised me with a core set of values. My mom wanted us to be strong, proud individuals. My dad hammered home the importance of a traditional education.
    When it came to my aspirations as a filmmaker, my parents were nothing but supportive and they offered practical advice. After I moved out of the house, twice I ran out of cash. My mom loaned me some money, and I promptly paid her back. And of course, it was nice to have an Academy Award–winning actress—my mother—to put in my films. In fact, both of my parents allowed me on one occasion to dress them up in rather eccentric costumes for my film The Enchanted Dreamer, which I shot on Super 8. I must have been twelve or thirteen years old, and my father balked a little, saying something like, “You know, Sean, I am a professional actor.” But without too much fuss they consented, and their performances were, shall we say, more than adequate.
    When I applied to the graduate school of theater, film, and television at UCLA (I was rejected, a fact that left me nearly brokenhearted), I wrote a passionate essay about my love for film. I talked about what it was like when my father would project 16-millimeter footage for us. Images of his work as an actor and director. As a kid I saw almost no difference between what he was doing and what I was attempting to do. Yes, he was John Astin—Gomez Addams!—a classically trained Shakespearean actor and a pop culture icon, but we were both trying to make movies.