Eric Stoltz is an American actor with an estimated net worth of $5 million dollars. Born in Whittier, California, Eric Stoltz began studying acting at the University of Southern California, but chose to drop out as well as move to New York during his junior year. Eric began his professional on-camera career in 1978, appearing on the television show, “James at 15”, and in the television movie, “The Grass is Always Greener Over the Septic Tank”. Eric subsequently began to add film work to his curriculum vitae, beginning together with the hit film, “Fast Times at Ridgemont High” in 1982.
Eric Stoltz Net Worth $5 Million Dollars
From there, he went on to appear in a chain of successful film and television projects, including, “Mask”, “Some Kind of Wonderful”, “Say Anything”, “Memphis Belle”, “Bodies, Rest and Motion”, “Pulp Fiction”, “Little Women”, “Rob Roy”, and “The House of Mirth”.
September 30, 1961
Whittier, California, United States
San Marcos High School, University of Southern California
Jack Stoltz, Evelyn B. Stoltz
Susan R. Stoltz, Catherine Stoltz
Golden Globe Award for Best Supporting Actor – Motion Picture, Tony Award for Best Featured Actor in a Play, Independent Spirit Award for Best Supporting Male, Drama Desk Award for Outstanding Featured Actor in a Play, Daytime Emmy Award for Outstanding Directing In A Children/Youth/Family Special
Mask, Some Kind of Wonderful, Pulp Fiction, Anaconda, Fast Times at Ridgemont High, The Butterfly Effect, The Fly II, Killing Zoe, Memphis Belle, Little Women, The Waterdance, Say Anything..., Rob Roy, The Wild Life, Kicking and Screaming, Bodies, Rest & Motion, Grace of My Heart, Mr. Jealousy, Naked in New York, The Rules of Attraction, 2 Days in the Valley, The House of Mirth, Jerry Maguire, Keys to Tulsa, The Passion of Ayn Rand, Fort McCoy, Sleep with Me, Haunted Summer, The Prophecy, The New Kids, Lionheart, Singles, Harvard Man, Things Behind the Sun, When Zachary Beaver Came to Town, The Honeymooners, Childstar, Hi-Life, 5 to 7, Code Name: Emerald, The Simian Line, Fluke, Surf II, The Lather Effect, A Murder of Crows, My Horrible Year!, Our Guys: Outrage at Glen Ridge, Highball, Blackout Effect, Sister, Sister, A Killer in the Family
According to a 1992 Movieline Interview, the casting agents for Mask (1985) had refused to let him in to read for the part. When he had finally finagled his way into an audition via a sympathetic receptionist, he arrived for his big chance before the casting people wearing a stocking over his face. And he got the part. Now he really put the technique to work. Reportedly he also insisted on being called Rocky, never Eric. But he went further than that. "I walked around town with the mask on. It was important to get people's reactions in grocery stores and post offices and see what they would say when they saw me strolling down the street. I just wanted to get an idea of how Rocky may have felt, which was horrible. People were generally cruel and mean. They would make snide comments. Kids threw things at me. People took pictures and asked, 'Hey, are you in the circus?'".
Lived in American Samoa for a few years as a child.
Spent three months in a wheelchair in preparation for his role in the film The Waterdance (1992).
(1992, on being private) I'm in one of the most public professions in existence. But I've always felt that the less you know about an actor's personal life, the more you can get involved in the story in which he's playing a character. And I don't like to see movies where you know about everything that happens behind the scenes. I can't engage in the story if I know what's going on in the actor's head. I don't want to see the zipper in the back of the monster suit. Like everybody else who goes to the movies, I want to believe the monster is real.
(1992, on The Waterdance (1992)) The role required a lot of research. I spent every day for three or four months at the hospital, never getting out of the wheelchair. I would have lived there, but there aren't enough beds as it is.
(1992) My parents moved to American Samoa when I was three or four years old. My dad was principal of a high school there. It was idyllic for a kid. I had a whole island for a backyard. I lived there until I was eight years old and we moved to Santa Barbara. That was a rough transition to make. I remember being the only kid in second grade who couldn't tie his shoelaces, because I had never worn shoes on the island.
(1992, on his early love with Ally Sheedy. Source: Movieline) We met in history class. Neither of us were acting [in films] at the time. We were just kids in college. We lived together in a commune on Hollywood Boulevard. It was a huge old Victorian house called the Harris Hollywood House, and there were four or five rooms filled with ex-patriots from England, a handful of homeless people, lots of young, aspiring actors. It was cheap and the atmosphere was exciting. It was a wonderful, messy, fervent time filled with crazy people starting their careers and very excited about what might happen. (http://movieline.com/1992/06/01/eric-stoltz-true-confessions-of-a-faux-paraplegic/)
(1992, on his preparation for The Wild Life (1984)) I got a job at a bowling alley, moved into Oakwood Apartments in Burbank and tried to live that life. It was awful. I had to clean other people's shoes, deal with women's bowling day. The time really dragged. On one level, it was no fun at all but, on another level, it was real interesting. I had the opportunity to hang out in the apartment complex's clubhouse and down by the pool. The place was filled with recently divorced people who were licking their wounds. I did that for two months. And, ultimately, it did make it easier to do the character.
(1992, on Haunted Summer (1988)) Actually, Laura Dern got me that role. She brought me the script and told me that I should meet the director. Ivan Passer took us to dinner and offered me the role. Some directors just want to hire you after getting a sense of who you are and others want you to read a million times. Either way is fine with me. Although it's a lot more fun to just go out to dinner...We lived this sort of bohemian existence during that film. We thought of those people as the rock and roll stars of their day, young, hedonistic people pursuing anarchic lifestyles, shocking society. We were all passionate about it. I already had a knowledge of the Romantic poets, but I didn't know much about (my character) Shelley. So I read every book about his life. I read this man's mail. I went to the places he went. I had a great time. I remember one night on Lake Como when there was an incredible thunderstorm. All the power went out in our hotel. I went out on the balcony and saw Laura and Philip Anglim on a balcony, and Alex Winter on the balcony next to them, watching the lightning. And I thought, this was what life should be like.
(1992, on Memphis Belle (1990)) Michael Caton-Jones was a little twisted. He had us spend three weeks running five miles a day with packs on our back and sleeping with 20 other smelly, grumpy guys. I think he wanted to see spoiled Hollywood actors tortured and beaten down so he could come in and direct. After boot camp we were putty in his hands. He wore a general's cap on the set and occasionally walked around with a riding crop. He's a good director, but his sense of humor is obviously strange.
To go from trying to steer a scene to trying to bring it to life from within is a big difference. Directing has only increased my admiration and respect for what it is that actors do. (On going from directing to acting on 'Grey's Anatomy'.)
I find that there are two kinds of actors (or actresses) that you work with constantly: (1) The Respectful Actor. This person is kind and giving and talented and fun to work with and respectful of your relationship. (2) The Predatory Actor. This person is kind and giving and talented and fun to work with but feels that because they are famous they don't have to function within society's rules, i.e., if they are hungry, they eat; if they are attracted to their co-star, they act on it, married or not, no matter what destruction may ensue. These people obviously should be in therapy.
There's a strange sense of accomplishment in making an independent film. Everything's against you; there's no time, and even less money- you bring a bottle of glue, chip in twenty bucks, and hope you all make it through the day. If you manage to finish it and it actually turns out to be pretty good, it's thrilling.
I realize I'm a very lucky man. I love what I do, I love films, tv and theater, and the fact that I'm able to make a living at it staggers me.
I'm interested in doing movies I wouldn't normally be interested in doing.
It's hard not to get a big head in the film industry, there are people on a set paid to cater to your every need, from the minute you arrive until you go home. It's kind of strange, but not unpleasant.