In bathing suits, we sit and soak, faces to the firmament. The automated john lid rises when I walk in, flushes after I zip. Our tubs - two ceramic teacup baths - are in a large, roofless suite, exposed to the pale sun. You can stick around a lot longer if you kind of slow-play it." The easy payday is a powerful seduction, but it may not take you anywhere you want to go.
"It's not a sprinter's approach," he continues. Someone offers us some citrus-flavored water (zesty, not half bad). The takeaway is clear: Be picky with your career - the right kind of picky.
And so far, I think it's respect and quality and company, not celebrity or box office or stardom." "So I need to figure out the fuel to do that. "My goal is to get another 30 years out of this business," he says. So this time he's not picking any low-hanging fruit. He's been hot before, and he knows what can happen when you aren't careful with your name (in his case, death by Teen Wolf Too). Choices like that allow Bateman to work with first-rate people while expanding his versatility. But it's a juicy 15, in which he trades dramatic haymakers with Russell Crowe. Bateman's role in State of Play, for instance, clocks maybe 15 minutes.
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"If it's a good part in a good movie, I'll do it." Good part, good movie is different from big part, big movie. "I've been fortunate, but I'm also not very precious about making sure I'm the star of a film," he says. Our rubs finished, we're in spa robes and slippers, Bateman's impish mug dented from the table's doughnut-holed face cushion. Here's how he's making it happen, and how you can, too. With a bumper crop of movies this year, including Couples Retreat, the Mike Judge film Extract, and Paul, a new comedy by those Shaun of the Dead chuckleheads (who are responsible for Bateman's being in New Mexico), he's well on his way. In the best shape of his life and with his career on an incline, Bateman's looking for something more: longevity. But Jason Bateman, the playful, good-hearted king of the wiseasses, has a plan. He's kept the smirk, and yeah, there's still a 12- year-old inside who loves to break up the class. Along the way he's learned a thing or two about a thing or two. His staying power is what he's most proud of-that he's still here after nearly three decades (a couple of centuries in actor years). FOX's late, great Arrested Development - a showcase for Bateman's recise comic timing and dry wit - reanimated him like a dormant monster in a Shelley novel. But Bateman is here his comeback is official and no longer news.
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By the normal narrative of his industry, he should be, perpetually, a cherubic face on TV Land, or a reality-show contestant selling the last bit of his soul. We watched him grow up ( Little House on the Prairie, Silver Spoons, The Hogan Family), and then washed our hands of him. I don't mean here at this spa, but here - in our movie theaters and on our TVs. Part of that means being okay with, well, having his sacrum lifted. But Bateman, even in leisure, is keeping himself tuned. So many of us celebrate our successes in so many stupid ways: toys, vices, blowout parties. Not on the couch, and not running himself ragged it's more investment than extravagance. It's a day off for Bateman, and this is how he's spending it. (I'm paying.) Knowing Bateman, who seems nearly incapable of doing anything without a tiny twist of the irony knife, and who delivers layers of meaning on the screen with an eyebrow, it's both.īut this, it appears, is a man who is comfortable in his skin, which is all he's wearing, by the way.
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Either it's an ingenious tie-in to Couples Retreat - Bateman's new film with Vince Vaughn and Jon Favreau, about people who travel to a spa/resort to work on their marriages - or the guy knows how to score a freebie. Footbridges, Buddha statues, koi ponds, the whole deal. It's just me and him, mid massage, letting it all hang out.īateman, who'll be on movie screens this December in Up in the Air, has booked us massages and then soaks in a pair of private baths - an appointment he keeps calling our "rub and tub" - at Ten Thousand Waves, a Japanese day spa in the redrock and scrub above Santa Fe.
And yet there's no sass as his masseuse rouses him from the depths to whisper something about "lifting his sacrum." Even the new-agey Japanese flute music noodling quietly in the background has thus far escaped his ridicule. If this were one of his films, he'd surely be skewering such foofery. he's snoring, in fact, facedown on a massage table, draped in a white towel.
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