People

People

Who knew Vince Vaughn was so shy?

Shanda Deziel November 12 2001
People

People

Who knew Vince Vaughn was so shy?

Shanda Deziel November 12 2001

People

Who knew Vince Vaughn was so shy?

Shanda Deziel

One would not expect Vince Vaughn to be shy. The 31-year-old actor has played everything from Norman Bates in the 1998 remake of Psycho to the fast-talking, “beautiful babies”-chasing unemployed actor in Swingers. His latest role is as an ill-intentioned stepfather in Domestic Disturbance—a thriller starring John Travolta. But the six-foot-five Vaughn is surprisingly uncomfortable. Shifting on a sofa, his grey suit too short in the sleeves, Vaughn jiggles his knees incessantly. At times, he sits on his hands. To the question, “What aspect of your personality would you like to explore in a role?” Vaughn answers, without hesitation: “Very shy.”

The low-budget sleeper hit Swingers launched Vaughn, a Minneapolis native, into the spodight when he was 26 years old. Despite many other movie offers, he

refused to follow the teen idol route. “I think I technically ran away from it to some degree,” he says, lighting his second cigarette in 10 minutes. “It just wasn’t my thing. The more difficult the task, ultimately the more rewarding it is for you.” Vaughn stops moving for a moment while he compares the commitment he has for acting to that required to be a lover. “You have to love someone to build a relationship because it forces you to think and change, it puts demands on you, and the same is true with work,” he says. “I never had the desire or motivation enough for anything else.” Speech finished, Vaughn sits back in the sofa and shoves his hands underneath him once more.

Read the interview with Vince Vaughn online

www.macleans.ca

Naturally high

Guys with really high voices are making a comeback. And leading the pack is 31-year-old Ottawa-born countertenor Daniel Taylor. Although Taylor has won Opus Awards, performs about 100 concerts a year and has released a new CD, Handel— Sacred Arias, his talent has not always been in fashion.

During the 17th and 18th centuries, boys were castrated before puberty to arrest the development of their vocal chords. Eventually, the practice was deemed illegal. When the last known castrato died in the early 20th century, the demand for males with a high vocal range almost disappeared. And before the recent surge of interest, countertenors—who come by their voices naturally—were also deemed freakish and made audiences uneasy. “The people who are uncomfortable,” says Taylor, who lives in Montreal, “are probably more uncomfortable with their own sexuality or their own masculinity.”

Due to the history and the nature of the countertenor voice, Taylor admits that questions are raised about his sexual orientation. But no, he’s not gay. And he’s confident that any hang-ups people have about his voice will disappear when the deeper message and sacredness of the music he performs is revealed.

Jane, minus the frills

Jane Siberry has been paring down lately. She has given away 80 per cent of her belongings and tries not to accept gifts. The key, she says, is to “just have things you love and get rid of things you like.” The 46-year-old singer-songwriter says she just wants to minimize clutter and is applying this to life on the road as well. On past tours, she has taken with her the comforts of home-a stuffed bunny, jewelry, specially ground coffee and a Bodum. Currently on her North American tour, Siberry is going “prop free.” And if this leaves her drinking instant coffee, so be it.

Siberry recently released her 13th album, City, a collection of past collaborations with the likes of Joe Jackson and Peter Gabriel. Available only through her Web site, (www.janesiberry.com), the CD includes Calling All Angßls and It Can’t Rain All the Time. Unfolding chronologically, it shows how Siberry’s voice has matured since her 1984 song Mimi on the Beach. Although she could have taken the diva route afterthis hit, Siberry never succumbed to the trappings of success. Her most valued time is spent at her cabin outside Sudbury, Ont, which has neither running water nor electricity. “It makes you feel more secure,” she says, “if you’re used to making do with very little.”