The musician and actor discusses his life in film and music, from his work with Frank V. Ross to his current band, Broken Robots
We had just settled into our conversation when Tony Baker suddenly interrupted his own thought. “I think I might have to plug my phone in so it doesn’t die… Sorry ’bout that,” he said as he disappeared from the frame of our video chat. He asked his wife and Broken Robots bandmate, Kat, if she had a charging block handy. Upon his return — with charger in hand — he admitted, “The problem is, before we even started, I was at 23 percent and I was like, ‘maybe I should plug it in before the interview… No, I’m gonna chance it!’ That’s the kind of shit that happens with Tony Baker. That’s just how it is. That’s been a problem with me for 40 years. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
This anecdote might seem inconsequential, but anyone who has seen Baker act in a Frank V. Ross film will recognize that this type of limit-testing truly is “how it is” in both his life and his art. In his collaborations with Ross, which include starring roles in contemporary masterpieces like Quietly on By (2005), Hohokam (2007), and Audrey the Trainwreck (2010), Baker has a way of making every scene he is in bristle with spontaneity.
“He just takes it all in,” says Ross. “Find a line that he’s ever said in a movie where it doesn’t look like he just thought of [it.] It’s insane! He’s my kind of nuts.”
Baker and Ross met in high school and soon became inseparable as friends and collaborators. They first played music together — Baker’s primary passion — before Ross started writing screenplays for films that Baker would star in. Their friendship allowed them to develop a complex cinematic chemistry rooted in a sort of volatile trust in each other. Arriving at the start of the “mumblecore” era, the films and the characters that Ross and Baker brought to the screen stood out among their contemporaries from the first frames of their creative breakthrough, Quietly on By (2005), as we are thrown straight into Aaron Riley’s (Baker) nervous breakdown. Ross’ willingness to explore the most vulnerable moments of his characters’ lives was immediately apparent, and Baker was the ideal collaborator.
Subsequent films like Hohokam and Present Company (2008) follow working people through the daily trials of 9-to-5 living while they work at complex romantic relationships when off the clock. You could say that Baker “loses himself ” in his roles — as he mentions below, on certain occasions he reached black-out states during performances — but that wouldn’t do complete justice to his approach. He internalizes the conflicts of his characters, reflects them upon his own life, and looks for parallels to their eccentricities, virtues, and shortcomings in himself and his friends and family. Baker credits Ross for being an exceptional observer of people, and, as an actor, Baker isn’t afraid to follow even the most unflattering paths of behavior into moments of blistering revelation.
In Audrey the Trainwreck, Baker’s final starring role in a Ross film and perhaps his finest, he plays Ron Hogan, an ATM parts purchaser absorbed in his daily schedule and workaday habits. Baker, who was going through an incredibly difficult time personally while filming, finds the frustration and angst of someone swept up in life’s motions without an idea of how to disrupt the flow or break into something new. Some of Baker’s most impressive scenes involve little more than eating chips alone in a dimly lit kitchen or standing by himself in a crowded bar, as he gives off a seething quiet and uncertainty. But Baker and Ross also find a romance in the small efforts their characters make toward finding something better, even if only breaking out of step with their routines and depressions for a moment.
What follows is a career-spanning discussion of Baker’s life as an actor and musician. In recounting all the movies he made with Ross, Baker details how he developed and worked through each role. He doesn’t hold back from sharing the personal hardships that often accented his performances. His band Broken Robots is currently preparing to release a new album, and Baker gives insight into how his early fascinations with music and recording have been guiding — and life saving — forces. Along with the most recent installment of our Frank V. Ross video interview series on Audrey the Trainwreck also available now, this interview with Baker casts further new light upon the history of some of contemporary American independent cinema’s finest films.
Split Tooth Media: You are first and foremost a musician. When did you start playing music?
Tony Baker: I started playing drums when I was 15. My dad helped me get a drum set and I started beating the crap out of them. I was also fascinated by recording. I started recording myself immediately. I figured out a way to reverse the polarity on headphones to turn them into microphones. I used to hang them from my ceiling to record myself. I played drums for a few years and then I fell in love with guitar and actual songwriting by the time I was 16 or 17.
When did bands come into the picture?
I played in bands pretty quickly. Frank and I had a band in high school called Lacquer. Frank played guitar in it. The funny thing about that is, it was just a little high school band and all that, but we took it very seriously. We went to this vocational school in high school where they let us do audio and video editing instead of going to high school for half the day — which saved my ass because I probably would’ve failed out. We went there and we edited a bunch of weird video and stuff. We were like, ‘we’ll just throw it up on the screen behind us.’ This is 1997 and we ended up winning our high school talent show as juniors for having this elaborate projection behind us while we were playing our songs. Right out of the gates I was super into production and trying to woo people from that aspect.
We haven’t gotten much out of Frank about the band. So what kind of music was it?
Just alternative rock. And it just wasn’t going to work because I was just too much of a control freak. I was way too demanding and I think Frank was starting to go more towards film at that point anyway.
Did you meet Frank through music or were you friends beforehand?
We met in high school. We weren’t fans of each other at all when we were first introduced. We were kind of snotty to each other — or at least I know I was to him. I don’t think he was a big fan of me either. But then freshman or sophomore year his dad passed away. And, for some reason, that just gut-wrenched me. I don’t know why. And it was really kind of out of body. I felt obligated to go right to his house and say, ‘hey, if you need anything, or if you need to talk or do anything, I’m here.’ We weren’t even really friends at that point, but I feel like that meant a lot to him and it was just an immediate connection. We hung out all the time after that for a long time. We were kind of at-the-hip for a while. There was a sense that we found defense mechanisms in each other. We were still very young and trying to figure out the whole life thing, so we had each other’s back. In a lot of ways, we were very cynical people. Cynical youngsters. But that was just sort of what we did in the beginning.
And the music and production work was a major part of that?
We definitely had a lot in common that way, especially once he started going towards the film stuff and his writing. He would write these scripts and we didn’t even really question it, he was just like, ‘I’m gonna write this script and you’re going to be the actor.’ We didn’t know it at the time but we were doing character research. We would watch people and have lots of conversations about how people are and why they do the things they do. We were way more interested in that kind of character development than the extravagance of a lot of crazy angles. That was part of our friendship, talking a lot about movies, what we were going to do next, and how and why we were going to do it. It was great because when he started doing more film and writing, that was more his world. And the music was my world. We definitely tried to infuse those as much as possible.
When he was getting into film, what were some of the actors or movies you were looking to for examples?
The only one I can think of is Magnolia, by P.T. Anderson. Which is ironic because I was just saying we weren’t into the extravagance, and that movie is like 18 hours long and very extravagant. But I think it was just the character-driven piece of it. There’s all these stories and people and, for me personally, I was in a very specific place in my life, developing as an artist, too. I don’t even know if I could watch Magnolia today. Just the level of drama and what it does to me, I’ve grown past that and I don’t really need it. When I watch something and it moves me, I feel like I needed it, ya know? Why I needed it, I don’t know. But there was something really special about the way P.T. Anderson wrote those characters. Maybe it was me recognizing something in the art from where I was as a person. But there was this period where I was just in love with him and everything he did. It would be a way to communicate. I didn’t go to school for acting. I didn’t know shit about acting. I didn’t want to because I felt like it would ruin something or change something. I don’t know, maybe I should have…
You’ve done just fine without acting school, I promise.
Thanks. But P.T. Anderson and Magnolia were sort of a conduit and a way for me to communicate, rather than just adore, because I didn’t really know how else to talk about movies or character development.
It’s interesting that Magnolia is the one you bring up because its structure is very similar to Oh! My Dear Desire, the second film you and Frank made together. It has all those overlapping stories.
Yeah. As a songwriter that happens all the time. And I think later in life, I’ve been able to accept that dynamic when creating, rather than being scared by it, that I’m copying. I might be in a Cake mode, and then the next songs I come up with sound like Cake or Beck. That’s a natural thing. Being influenced is always about striving for a feeling, if there’s something in there that you want to recreate, or re-feel, or harness and do it your own way.
Do you remember when you and Frank first decided to make a movie?
We did one in high school and I don’t even know if Frank likes to talk about it.
A Story in a Life?
(Laughs) Yeah. I’m surprised you even know the name of it! That was the very first one. It had a touch of Clerks to it, because that was when that came out and it was like an indie phenomenon. We weren’t really harnessing what we were trying to do at all yet. It’s in there a little bit, and it’s cute. But I don’t think I could ever possibly watch that again. I have some memories of some shots, and I just had no idea what I was doing yet as an actor. And I don’t really know if Frank knew how to direct me yet either. So it was just kind of wild. But what was great about that movie was that it was film school for us. It forced us to have issues and problems and conflicts on set, all the things you need to happen that you probably don’t get from an actual film school. It was all happening quickly. Frank was reading a bunch of books, like tech stuff, and kind of gluing all the pieces together. So for what it’s worth, that was a great tool to have for what was to come after that in the next movies — maybe more of a ‘what not to do.’
Did acting come naturally to you?
Oh yeah! Almost too naturally. I felt like there was a level of manipulative behavior that I’ve had for a long time, and I don’t really know where it comes from — it might be a defense mechanism I developed to survive three brothers. I wish there was a nicer word to use than ‘manipulative’ but it’s the only one I can really think of. And I feel like I was able to harness it for good in a way. I put it into art rather than being a piece of crap. I think some people have a natural drama about them, where everything becomes sort of melodramatic. I don’t know if it comes from the household they grew up in or if it’s in their genes, but I’ve had that for quite a while.
When I was 12 years old, I was picked up to be an extra in a movie called Rookie of the Year. They did some shooting around town and I got cast as an extra. I was in a scene where I had to run from first to second to third and they must have done 70 takes. And every frickin’ take, I gave everything I possibly could — even when I knew the camera wasn’t on me. And Daniel Stern, the director, called me over when the shoot was over that day, and I wound up getting called back like five times to different locations. So even at that age, I was going as hard as I could with whatever job I was given.
Had you done any acting in middle or high school?
No, and I really wish I would have. I always admired the drama team and theater. I just never really got into it in high school. At that time in my life I was still trying to balance music and art with being a really good athlete. It was really hard to make it work. I had to make some decisions on whether I was going to pursue athletics or go with art but it became clear to my dad that it was going to be art and music.
Do you feel like there was a pivot in how you and Frank approached Quietly on By?
There’s no doubt there’s a wedge between the first two and Quietly. It could probably be summed up as easily as: we got smarter. We started understanding what we wanted to do — probably couldn’t identify it or actually tell you, but with our relationship, hanging out so much, and constantly talking about the movies and what was going to happen and what we were going to do, it just started changing. And I think we went from wanting to make movies because it was the cool thing to do into genuinely wanting to make movies. That happened at the same time for both of us. And also being willing to be vulnerable. I know I didn’t look cool, but in the first two movies, I was trying to look cool. Because I was doing movies now! But by Quietly on By, it was like, ‘look as dumb and as vulnerable and as honest as you possibly can. It will yield better results.’ Frank really pulled that out of me. I still wanted to look cool. But I think that’s where watching movies together and Frank being able to point out what he’s trying to convey to me. I’ve always loved that movies were a way for us to communicate, because I just didn’t know how to use words.
In a video interview we did with Frank about Quietly on By, he mentions that your character in the film, Aaron, was partly inspired by a guy you encountered at an airport.
Yeah, it was kind of creepy. (laughs) We followed this guy around the airport because we both knew at the same time. It was like, ‘Look at his body language. What does he do when he leaves the airport?’ I will never forget that. I really cherish that because that was kind of the beginning of something, too. There’s this beautiful bizarreness to people when you watch them. That was our weird character development research. It wasn’t like I was playing a policeman, or a lawyer, it was just a human being with no labels and no jobs. Just a person. I do think that guy saw that me and Frank might have been watching him. We were respectful though.
From that experience, when you’re seeing that person, how do you take those details to start building a character?
I don’t know about Frank, but for me, whenever we would point something out or recognize a trait or a quirk in a person we were following, my brain always starts correlating that trait to other people that I actually know in life. ‘Oh, that’s like Ben so-and-so from third grade.’ You just start making these connections to people that have the same quirks or quality and it becomes a little closer to you. It funnels down to people that are close to you in real life, until it’s more like my brother. I don’t know if that makes sense, but for me, it would always funnel to people I’m actually close to. In a way, those traits are in everybody, but they get displayed a little differently.
Do you often start with physical traits when building a character? Frank mentioned the guy at the airport had a very particular walk.
Yeah, he had that walk… For me, it felt like he had this very defensive don’t-mess-with-me-type face that would intimidate absolutely nobody. But to him, it was working. And without that, I feel like that person would feel very, very seen in a bad way. It’s like this cover that is so obvious, but then the empathy kicks in and you think, ‘Oh, I get it because I do that, too. I just use a different face. I use different mechanisms. But why is he doing that?’ It forces you to ask these questions. And I think that’s where the correlation starts spreading out and you go, ‘Oh, that is like my brother.’ Or ‘Frank, that’s kind of like you a little bit.’ And then Frank goes, ‘Yeah, it’s kind of like you, too.’ There’s more cut and dry character stuff too. Like in Oh! My Dear Desire, I wanted to be a meathead. This kind of meathead that I knew, all the way down to wearing the visor. I don’t remember if we went with wearing it upside down and backwards, but we were going to go as hard as we could with that generalization. But we also mix-sandwiched in that the meathead has intellectual thoughts. Keep in mind how old we were at this time: generalizing someone to a meathead at that time made sense, but now, I was going to be a meathead, but I also had to make people kind of like me. That’s where it really starts kicking in.
One of my favorite photos ever is of Frank up on the roof filming you while you’re on the ladder during the Quietly on By shoot.
He’s inches away from injuring himself and falling off the roof, right?
Yep. Frank mentioned that it was kind of a wild production. What do you remember most from shooting Quietly on By?
We did all kinds of odd stuff. And I mean, from an acting standpoint, having to have a nervous breakdown, to the point of buckets of sweat and tears that were all real, that was pretty awesome… What was cool about that scene was that it definitely set a tone for the entire movie. It allowed for all the goofiness of the movie. Like, Aaron is an oddball, but I kept in the back of my mind — I think Frank even said this — that if you put anyone’s life under a microscope, they’re going to look crazy. The most normal, mundane person, if you never take your eyes off them, it’s just what we do, we do crazy stuff. By crazy, it’s just odd, off-tempo, not cool, or simple — all those things that a lot of movies don’t show. And that’s one of the things I really love about Frank’s movies. You get to see a lot of those things. It makes some people very uncomfortable and it makes people think it’s not slick or it’s not cool, and it’s like, you’re right. It’s not, because people aren’t. So I think that nervous breakdown scene was the biggest thing that I did in that movie. I think… I didn’t have to do anything too dangerous. Maybe driving. Some of those driving scenes where I’m being chased. Those were guerrilla shoots so that’s kind of dangerous. But never not fun!
Quietly on By was the first attempt to have a big crew. Lots of lighting people, and people running gels, all that stuff. It’s funny because I was pretty focused, pretty methody on that one. I would show up in character. For as social and ‘hey everybody!’ as I can be, that didn’t last very long on that movie. I would show up and be ready to go. So I wasn’t really focused on what was going on around me. It was all just kind of happening. I was trying to constantly make people feel uneasy because that’s what Aaron, that character, was supposed to be. You know, like, ‘c’mon man! Get some rhythm!’ But he doesn’t have it.
It’s interesting that you say that because one thing Frank mentioned, especially about Quietly on By, is that the way you perform, he isn’t sure if you even know you’re following a script. Everything feels so natural.
That’s a really nice compliment, but what I think that is in incredible writing on Frank’s behalf and our relationship at that time. That’s what that is. I feel that way strongly because I have tried acting for other people and I’ve tried doing other stuff and I… it can be really bad. Because it’s just not working.The magic isn’t happening because that relationship isn’t there. It’s that simple. We’re not trying to do the same thing. A lot of that is the synergy, where it’s really good writing and, at that time, a really wonderful kinship and friendship.
Your song “Home” plays during the end credits of Quietly on By. Is that representative of the kind of songs you were writing at the time? Mostly acoustic stuff?
There’s always kind of an acoustic element because I was limited on instruments. That’s usually how I would write songs. I always meant to transfer and transform and get more things going but the acoustic would always end up in it. Sonically, my stuff changes up. But I like to think I just have a style of writing melodies. I’ve never prided myself as a lyricist. The band I’m in now, my wife is the lyricist. And it’s so nice to have someone who cares about lyrics the way she does because I like to focus on melody and movement and stuff like that. So hen I wrote “Home,” even Frank was like, ‘what?’ because I wasn’t known to write anything that was lyrically moving or captivating. A lot of my stuff was kind of immature, just trying to figure myself out and kind of sad. But “Home” was one of those songs where I feel like I kind of broke through something and something was showing. That was a good feeling. I wrote that in like five minutes. It was one of those really fast ones. And then I wound up rerecording it a few different times.
Do you remember any audience responses to the film?
I really don’t. I’m trying to think… I remember the audience’s response to the movie before that. We were at a festival on a cruise or something, but no, not for Quietly. You know why, probably because I wasn’t in the room, dude. I was so, like, scared of what people are gonna think… I don’t want to see that. ‘What if they don’t like it?’ That kind of thing. So I’d probably be out eating candy and pacing the hallways until it’s over.
The next film, Hohokam (2007), took place in Arizona because you moved down there.
Yeah, it was that time in my life when I was coming to a crossroads. You just kind of feel it sometimes, you know? A ‘things have gotta change’ kind of thing. And I had just ended a long-term relationship and I wanted to start taking audio more seriously. I was getting scared that I would need a piece of paper — found out later that I didn’t really need it — but I thought I’d better go to school. So I found an audio school out in Arizona called The Conservatory of Recording Arts & Sciences. It was based right outside of Phoenix. It was like a 10-month crash course and I went out there to get my certificate so I could get a real job in audio. So that’s why I was out there, but also to just get away; to get the hell away from Chicago and the suburbs and all that.
Were you playing music too when you were in Arizona? Did you have any projects you were working on down there?
No projects. I always play, but I had tried to facilitate a project for an artist that was from Chicago. I had got everything set up but then she kinda backed out of it. But that was about it. I mostly kept to myself and did a lot of mixing. I mixed a couple records while I was out there. I came to Chicago on Christmas break to record it at my old studio in my parents’ house and then took the files back to Arizona and mixed them.
What do you remember from the development of Hohokam? Frank said he was in a similar situation as you were, of just needing to get away, and he had a friend in the desert and decided to go make a movie there.
I was all about it. I loved the idea, but I didn’t know if it was actually going to happen. It just seemed like way too many moving parts from what I’m used to for a Frank Ross production. And then it was like, ‘Oh, this is really happening.’ It was right around the time that I got lucky enough to score a job before I could graduate. I was working for this band, kind of a tribute or cover band that was really big out there, and I was extremely lucky to get a job like that. I remember telling Frank to come on out, I just couldn’t miss work. I did wind up missing one day of work and the day I missed, they had a horrible show and I totally got reamed out for it by the band. ‘This is what you signed up for! You’re not supposed to miss any gigs!’ I guess the show was a trainwreck when I wasn’t there, but anyway, I told Frank he had a place to stay. I also had become pretty good buds with a guy who lived in the apartment complex. We went to school every day in the morning; he would drive, I would make the coffee kind of thing. He was cool and he let us use his apartment for the movie. And Frank had a cousin out there, who I actually worked for doing asphalt for six months in the desert — that was fun… But that became another connection and location for the movie. A lot of times Frank and I would think in terms of locations.
And when did he tell you he was going to be the only crew member? He mentioned that after his experience working with a bigger crew on Quietly on By, he decided he didn’t want one for Hohokam.
Yeah! That was fun. But that part I was glad about. It was sometimes like pulling teeth to hear the other people giving Frank shit on his own movie. And me being best friends with the guy, it was a project of ours, it took everything to not be very unprofessional at times to the people around him — to be like, ‘It doesn’t matter if you don’t get it! Shut up and do it!’ So for him to come out to Arizona, that was refreshing that he was just going to do it. And then there was no one else to blame. You get the freedom but you’re the only one who’s going to get blamed if it’s not going to work. And it totally worked.
How did you prepare for your role as Anson in Hohokam?
There was a level-up in maturity of the characters that I had been playing up to that point for Hohokam. And I think it kind of came with the territory where I, for the first time in my personal life, took a little bit of life by the balls, as far as I thought, by leaving Chicago to try something I was scared to death to do. There was no one there, my dad wasn’t there, to help me or protect me anymore. So I feel like I tried to channel that into Anson and call it integrity, that kind of thing. I know it’s easy to write him off; he’s ex-military, he’s got this way about him. But, yes, he’s ex-military, but why is he ex-military? He didn’t go to the military because he loved America. I think he went because he had issues; that kind of thing. So I could relate to him in that kind of way. He would have to be strong for the sake of being strong, because that’s what you do now. There’s no one to impress, so sometimes that makes it even easier to get to that level you’ve been trying to get to, because that’s just the next thing to do now. It’s funny because, the tattoo I had in the movie, that actually really helped me get into character. I don’t know why it did, because it was such a lame tattoo, but it really helped me psychologically. There was some permanence there at that time for me. So for Anson, whether he actually was strong enough or not, I wanted to make sure that he was perceived as sort of a tough son-of-a-bitch — with a heart of gold (laughs). It was kind of general like that, but there are a couple really amazing scenes in that movie where his dark side really comes out and it’s like, ‘Whoa! That’s the guy that needed to go to the military! That’s the guy that needed to get slapped around!’ It comes out, and those were probably my favorite scenes.
What do you remember shooting the scenes with Danny Rhodes as Guy, who plays the gay best friend of Anson’s girlfriend, Lori (Allison Latta)? There are those great moments where Lori and Guy are kind of openly whispering behind Anson’s back, notably about his concealed carry gun.
Frank just gave me my stuff in my ear. Sometimes I don’t know if I would even know that Frank was doing the ‘Frank stuff’ — talking to who about what. Whether Danny knew this or that, just didn’t matter. So I knew my cues and what beats I had to hit, and I also had a prior relationship with Danny. I had known Danny for a very long time. So there was a level of comfortability that really helped some of those scenes. Danny and I couldn’t wait to act together. There was a lot of trust that was very nice to have. And it’s kind of funny because, in that scene, Allison and Danny are best friends, but in real life, me and Danny were super close.
Frank has said that a lot of Hohokam was kind of serendipitous, notably how when he was struggling to write the scenes with Lori’s visiting friend, you introduced him to Danny. He originally envisioned it as a female friend, but when he met Danny, he realized that Lori had to have a gay male friend instead. Did you also feel the shoot was kind of all about those types of things clicking into place?
Oh yeah. It added this extra dynamic. I remember when I recognized it, that Anson is somehow threatened by a gay man, that for some reason he’s this tough, ex-military dude but there’s something — I don’t know what it is — but something felt threatening, and I just loved that dynamic of a homosexual and a sort of brute heterosexual coming face-to-face. I think Anson kind of cowers down a little bit. He tries to use his words to get ahead and be assertive but Danny’s character just doesn’t care, like, ‘you can be as assertive as you want but it’s just not working.’ So maybe that’s what I was recognizing.
I love when Anson asks him, ‘Is Guy your real name?’ And Guy responds with just, ‘Yeah…’
(Laughs) I love the toilet scene, too! With Guy’s rationale for why you shouldn’t flush a toilet for number 1 or number 2 and it’s just like, ‘But, dude, it’s my house! Flush the toilet! Do that at your house!’ There are so many beautiful moments in that movie.
And maybe the most beautiful of them all takes place at the zoo. Do you remember shooting at the zoo?
I shouldn’t, because I think I was super sick.
Were you actually sick? Because your character is coming down with shingles at that point in the film.
I think I was. And it could have been that I was just hungover and very dehydrated. But I remember it being kind of brutal — but maybe I’m just misremembering because it was so hot. It really was desert hot. It was really rough to run around and do stuff. But it was fun because it was a guerrilla shoot in a zoo. What’s not fun about that? Frank would give us cues and beats to hit and we would have to find our way to do it. I think we lapel mics on, wireless mics, so that we could capture the audio in real time with no ADR. So that was exciting to shoot it in a way that we were getting reactions from people because they can’t help it, ya know, because we were acting kind of weird to the normal people in the world. But Frank was shooting in a way that no fourth wall was being broken. It was really clever. Really well done.
There’s a scene in the Hohokam script that describes a very short scene of Anson, following an argument with Lori, checking out a woman who walks by him. Frank details Anson’s attraction to the backs of women’s knees and ends the passage with, ‘And starting right now, Anson loves Lori more than he ever has.’ I’m always blown away by the detail in Frank’s screenplays, the way he packs so much into the smallest moments.
Me too. That’s what makes those often very uncomfortable, bizarre little moments in his movies — they’re like 40 frames long sometimes, it doesn’t take much — but so much is being said or conveyed in that little moment. They’re kinda risky to do and people that aren’t really clicking with the movies might think it’s pretentious or unnecessary. But, no, they’re the greatest. That scene is like a whole page and it’s a three second shot. In my head, there’s a lot going on too when I’m reading this. I kinda remember that because Anson’s kind of immediately repulsed by himself because of where he’s at in his life versus a year or so ago. I’m trying to make it my own and there’s all this phony justification, but that’s not going to work anymore, that’s horse shit. Yeah, he’s never loved her more, but he’s also, at the same time, for me, acknowledging his growth.
Happy Apple did the score for Hohokam. Do you have any memories of hearing it for the first time?
I got to mix it! I’m so proud of that because it was the first time I ever got to record a real studio with a real jazz band. So I was foaming at the mouth. I remember being really proud of that and then, years later, talking to a mentor of mine who does a lot of jazz production and he heard it and goes, ‘That’s your first one? Whoa, OK!’ I was expecting it to not be good so that was a blast! I just remember thinking, ‘Space, space, space. It’s jazz, so you’re supposed to hear the air.’ So I just took that philosophy and ran with it.
The next role you did with Frank was a supporting role in Present Company, as Craig. It’s interesting to see you in that role after playing Anson, because you’re kind of the wild guy. In your first shot in the film, you literally jump into the frame.
That’s a little bit of my ego. (Laughs) I knew I wasn’t going to be in the movie much so I knew I had to go balls-to-the-wall with my entrance. The only thing that was lacking was a curtain call! I think Frank picked up on that too so we went with it. So there was some Anthony Baker frustration in that. I probably wanted to be a lead, but Frank and I had many talks about that and it made way more sense, but at that time, in real time, there was a little bit of harnessed frustration happening that leveled-up quickly. So that was odd, but it was different. And I kinda picked up on what I was needed for, because I was needed more for tech help and the music. The movie needed soundscaping and post-production in the audio. There were a lot of audio problems, especially having the kid, and some of these mics kind of scratching up. There would be these wonderful scenes, and then the audio…. I remember one specific, pivotal moment, where it just made sense why I was doing what I was doing because I could focus on what I was doing on the audio. There was a scene with Tami, Frank, and the kid, and the scene was done so well, everyone nailed it. But the audio was all [makes garbled audio sounds]. But we had two lapels, so I was able to amplify one mic when it wasn’t being used and save the audio. And I remember Frank coming in and watching the scene after I ‘saved’ the audio and he was just grabbing my shoulder like, ‘How?!’ and I told him it was because he had two mics and that saved it. So that was where I really got to shine and help that movie. I learned so much stuff doing the post audio for that movie because it forced me to learn a lot of shit.
You wrote and performed the score for Present Company as well. When you’re acting in a movie that you’re also scoring, is there an overlap with the two realms or do you keep them separate?
I think it’s separate. I wish I did more film music, and sometimes I want to get back into it, because it’s one of the easiest things for me to do. I’m a melody generator and if you give me imagery, that’s like cheating. I would watch Frank’s scenes on mute, I wouldn’t even listen to the dialogue, I just wanted to see what it would look like with all the facial reactions and stuff. A lot of times I already knew what it looked like because I was on set helping by holding a camera or holding a pole or something. But the imagery gave me a feeling. For Present Company, I found some xylophone, vibes, and a music box that totally captured this innocent feeling, you know, of childhood. There’s a lot of hope for the future in those melodies, like in the timbre. I remember the smile on Frank’s face distinctly when he first came over and heard the music. And maybe the baby in the movie influenced it, but that was so much fun and really easy to do. I did a lot of soundscaping stuff for Quietly, like when he’s paranoid and the guy is following him. Everything kind of shifts and you don’t really hear what’s going on and then all of a sudden there’s these noises and sounds. Frank and I did that together. It’s very eerie.
You really shine in the scenes you’re in in Present Company, especially the funeral party scene with Tamara Fana.
Oh, the drunk scene!
Yes, and drunk scenes can be hard for a lot of actors.
Unfortunately, for me, they are very easy. (Laughs) The secret is knowing the difference between how you are at two drinks versus four drinks because it’s wildly different. I am an alcoholic. So I don’t even know what two drinks is. There is a Jekyll and Hyde for a lot of people when they drink, so I was just constantly trying to be three drinks in, where you’re kinda making sense and I can almost relate to you, but then there’s moments of creepiness and overbearing. You’re displaying emotions that you can’t tell if they are real or if they are just amplified. But I didn’t want Craig to be hammered and I didn’t want him to be sober. There was a pretty big area there and I’ve been around a lot of alcoholics in my life, so I was just drawing, and trying to make it as sad as possible.
It was funny talking with Frank about his choice to play the lead, because he told us once that he felt that he played a better asshole on camera.
He’s 100 percent right — and that’s not a dig at Frank. But Frank plays a very specific type of asshole that I really don’t think I could’ve pulled off. It’s really sharp, very belligerently inconsiderate. I feel like I would’ve done more of a hidden kind of inconsiderate, a hidden kind of asshole, and his was right on the table. That’s not my style and it would’ve been difficult for me. Going all the way back, think of Oh! My Dear Desire, it’s not belligerent, but it’s in there. He’s a terrible person, but if it was displayed the same way as Present Company it would be cut off early on because it would be so obvious. But Frank’s got this body language and this demeanor and he just nails it. Think of Quietly, when he’s the boyfriend, and he’s kind of a precursor to the character he plays in Present Company. It’s the sharpness, the quick-witted sharpness. It was really fun to be in scenes with him. He owns me in Quietly on By, and I just love that. I try to sauce him up a little bit and he just owns me and makes me realize how creepy I am.
You mentioned that you felt Frank’s role in Quietly feels like a precursor to his character in Present Company, I’ve always seen your role as Aaron in Quietly as a precursor to Ron in Audrey the Trainwreck.
I definitely already recognize some connections. For Audrey, there were a lot of long, long talks with Frank about the character. I think a lot of my personal life kind of crossed over. That was the worst time of my life. I was struggling heavily with substance abuse and other stuff. It was really, really difficult because I didn’t want to let Frank down as a friend, but at the same time, I had a job to do. So there was this powering through. I think so much is said in that scene where Ron is just eating chips in the kitchen, in the dark. That scene resonated with me so heavily because I felt like that. That’s where I was at at that time in my life: I was just eating that bag of chips in the kitchen by myself, ya know? And there was a lot of crossover with the emotions coming in and the feeling that you’re just trying to survive when nothing’s threatening you. You’re just trying to survive, but there is no threat. That’s the only way I can really put it.
And in addition to struggling, I was coming up to another point in my life of stagnation, of asking what I was going to do next. What am I actually doing? A lot of that was crossing over. And sometimes that just naturally happens, even when things are being written. I know Frank is an amazing observer, and I’m sure he saw a lot of stuff that was going on with me. But that was without a doubt, the most difficult movie to make and to do.
One of the things that Frank said you both discussed in regards to your character in Audrey, was that he wanted you to think about how much music means to you and what kind of person you would be without it. Were you playing music at this time?
That makes perfect sense… He’s a sneaky son-of-a-bitch. At that time, I was 28, I was starting to go more tech and leave the art of music. I was starting to produce, and engineer, and get live sound gigs, which was good because it was money and security, but it’s not what I wanted to be doing. Now, where I’m at in my life, I am very grateful to have a tech job. I have a different life now. With what I’m doing, I need that. But at that time, when I was 28, there was a level of, Is this the towel? Are you throwing it in? Is this it? I thought there was more. There’s supposed to be more?! And the frustration of, in a sense, having that taken away, like ‘you can’t do that anymore!’ — That’s a frustration that I can’t describe; it’s terrifying. It will lead you to behave differently than you actually are. It will make you do some shit that you wouldn’t normally do.
So much of this movie comes down to you and Alexi Wasser, who play two characters who don’t really have a lot on their own, but find something in each other that makes them decide to give a relationship a shot. With everything that was going on in your personal life, was it a struggle to be working with professional actors like Alexi from outside of your usual crew?
That was new to me. The format of somebody coming in from another state and having a lot of experience and a résumé. It was actually pretty intimidating at first, because it was a whole new dynamic for me. I always try to embrace whatever is actually happening in life rather than try to fix everything. But there was some uncomfortableness, just because my approach and her approach were so different. It was kind of hard because I’m used to people saying, ‘OK, we’ll do it your way, Tony.’ She wasn’t doing that and Frank was glad she wasn’t. I was kind of being put in my place and we kept butting heads. But at the end of the day, we were professionals and made sure we got what was needed. It was creating this really weird chemistry that I haven’t really seen in a love story. It’s like, ‘what’s that tension? I don’t even know what that tension is!’ It’s like Ron’s scared of something, or something’s holding him back, like it’s hovering. And I felt that kind of naturally, and rather than try to fix it, I tried to embrace it, harness it, and use it.
I’ve always thought it was so smart that after Ron goes on two good dates with Stacy, Frank had him go on another date with another girl. That’s kind of a classic Frank Ross twist to it all.
Yeah, I had such a problem with that at first — as a reader. I remember bringing it up like, that’s not how it works, but Frank had made his choice. Sometimes, even as an actor, I would fall back into the spoonfed kind of thing, of thinking that’s going to take away from the character’s integrity and make this relationship mean less because he’s not on 10 right away. But Frank was like, ‘That’s not how life works.’ If anything, Ron probably made that appointment and didn’t want to break an appointment. He’s a man of his word, he’s got integrity to protect. So he’s going to go on this last date because he already made the date. You could go that far, which probably isn’t that crazy. A lot of those little tidbits in the script, they would spark from little conversations between me and Frank. I would learn a lot about myself and people around me because of it.
I love that during that date, Ron offers to wipe something out of her eye.
Oh, the eye booger! That’s what people do. People really do that kind of crap. I love that stuff in any movie. That’s my favorite stuff.
What do you remember from shooting the scene with Danny’s rant about taking shoes off at the airport?
The big explosion? Which is kind of Audrey? I kind of remember it… but it’s not burned in my head. I remember I didn’t have to do much in that scene but it was very taxing in a great way. But there was something really heavy going on at that time.
Your character actually goes through quite a lot in that scene…
Oh yeah! Now I remember that Frank was pretty much trying to get Danny to make me mad. Really set me off. But I have to be honest though, some of those kinds of scenes, that are that intense and move the viewer like it moves you, do kind of get buried in my head. When things are… You gotta understand, when you’re in it that hard, you kind of form a trauma response almost, in retrospect. If that was a super intense scene, and now that you’re saying it, it’s like an onion and now I’m remembering it. A minute ago all I could say about it was that it was taxing. Now I’m starting to remember it because it was very emotional and it was kind of traumatizing. It was very real to me when we were doing it so I think a kind of natural trauma response would be to just try and forget it. Like, ‘that happened.’ And then watching it again, that kind of does a whole other thing to you.
But there are a good handful of occasions where that happened on Frank’s movies, where I’m like, ‘I don’t really remember that.’ The breakdown scene in Quietly, I remember it being epic but I don’t remember anything about it other than waking up in a pool of sweat and tears. And if you watch, how long is that scene? I’m like kicking and screaming and it’s frickin’ brutal. I don’t remember any of it. It was a scene. Same with Oh! My Dear Desire, when I get attacked, when Kurt Naebig attacks me, he cuts me up and everything else. What I remember most about that scene is setting up the set design before we shot. I remember making sure that there were no promo ads for the soda because we didn’t have any rights, but then my memory goes blank when we started shooting. Even Kurt was shaking after shooting that. He was like, ‘That was some of the most real shit I’ve ever been a part of.’ He had been acting for like 30 years at that point!
We asked Frank what Audrey means to him when he watches it today, and his mind went to the fact that they just broke ground on new high-rises where you and Alexi cross the train tracks and have your first kiss. He was like, ‘that’s gone.’ That’s what stood out to him. Do you have anything like that that sticks out from any of the movies?
As far as where Audrey’s at for me, I know exactly what Frank’s thinking with the high-rises. Things just keep on truckin’. They keep on going. That theme is kind of what propels Frank’s style, in my opinion. You get a glimpse of these people and how crazy their normality can be. And then move on. Now there’s a high-rise there. For me, there’s always a correlation of where I’m at in my life with the movies. I know that Hohokam was special because there was a change going on in my personal life. There’s always something tied in.
The last time you worked with Frank on a movie was Tiger Tail in Blue (2012). You have a very small, but important, role as Leonard. I find it quite touching that the final scene of you two working together is a scene of your characters just sitting on couches sort of trading barbs back and forth. How did Frank describe the role to you when he first asked you to do it?
It felt kind of like a culmination of a handful of his other characters, but unique in his own way. All I remember was having really long hair and, deep down, maybe knowing this was going to be the last time we worked together. So there was this full-circle feeling. That’s what I remember the most. I remember my character was trying to piss him off or egg him on a little bit, which is always fun to do. But I do remember thinking on a personal level that this might be it. So it’s not necessarily sad or bad but, like it is in a lot of Frank’s movies, it’s just kind of how it is.
When you look back on the films you did with Frank, what stands out to you? Do you have a favorite role you played?
I would almost say Quietly, because Quietly had its own excitement about it. It had a very unique sort of excitement about it because we took it very seriously, about the character development and this guy kind of losing his shit but not spoon-feeding or going over the top to where it’s unbelievable. There was so much that went into the delivery of that character and keeping a mystique about him. And then Hohokam, like I said earlier, the correlation of where I was at in my life. But Audrey the Trainwreck, that was really… If I had to pick, it would be Quietly because that was early on in the progression. That was where we first got it right. There were a couple movies before that, but with Quietly there were some gears that started working. Frank and I both felt that, whether we talked about it or not.
When did you meet your wife and when did Broken Robots start?
I met my wife in 2016. I was homeless. I was panhandling on the side of the road right outside of Chicago, off the 355 and North Avenue, I think. This chick kept driving by and she would give me cigarettes and dollars and stuff like that. One day she got out and parked her car and came and talked to me. We just started talking and we grew a friendship really quick. I was abusing substances at the time and she was as well. So we started taking these long trips to the city to acquire our substances and we hung out non-stop. We didn’t really use together because we were really enjoying the friendship we were building. But after some time, we got into some trouble and we did start using together. We went downhill really quick. I did some time for it for a possession charge and she went and got some help, too. When I got out, I went to the same rehab that she was at. That was in 2016 and we’ve never looked back. We’ve been clean since then. We got married five years ago and we started the band in 2018, mainly as a way to keep our minds on not doing stupid shit. I was broke and we were both waiting tables. I saved some money and got a little PC computer. I knew how to run Pro Tools already. I was able to get an interface and I started writing. At first, I told Kat, ‘I don’t write with other people, so I’m going to write by myself. If you want to do your own thing, you can.’ Then one day, we wrote a song together and it was one of the most beautiful experiences I’ve ever had. And we haven’t stopped since. Writing music together has been a way for us to connect on crazy, crazy levels and also maintain some of our sanity. It gives us some kind of purpose outside of our families and stuff like that. It’s been a blast. We’ve got our fifth record on the shelf and we’re just waiting to see how we’re going to release it. It’s a 10 song EP and it’s really exciting. She’s my best friend. Her name is Kat Baker.
Is acting something you would ever pick up again?
Yeah, I would. But it would have to make all the sense in the world. It’s not something I would go out and look for. I know what my abilities are and the people who know who I am and what I can do also know my abilities. So if that somehow came about, then yes. But I’m not really seeking. I’ve got other stuff. I’m a musician and a husband. I came out of some really nasty shit eight years ago so I’m just kind of enjoying it now.
Learn more about Broken Robots at their website and follow the band on Instagram
Read more about Baker’s work with Frank V. Ross in
Brett Wright’s Films of Frank V. Ross essay and interview series
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