Tony Goldwyn,
Timothy Hutton,
Ron Rifkin and
Sarah Jessica
Parker in a scene
from Substance of
Rm. The film
version of the Jon
Bait play is
coming to Detroit-
area theaters.
There is a passion that permeates Ron
Rifkin's every word. His heart is in the
right place, and that place is the arts —
TV ("The Trials of Rosie O'Neill"), the-
ater (Broken Glass, Ghetto, The Three Sis-
ters) and film (Husbands and Wives,
JFK).
`There are people who know what they
want to do since they were 2 or 3. I am
one of them."
Not that life hasn't had an intermis-
sion or two.
"I find it enormously challenging to
find myself not only acting again — I had
stopped in 1982 for a while — but to be
in such great plays," says the handsome
actor.
In a way, it's been a fashion statement.
Mr. Rifkin and his wife had run a fash-
ion business, designing coats, only giv-
ing it up for good in the early 1990s. He
then decided to hang his hat full time on
the acting peg.
Which leads to the hat trick of acting
-- portraying an observant Jew, kippah
in place, on TV in prime time, which is
exactly what Ron Rifkin did in "The Tri-
als of Rosie O'Neill" from 1990 to '92.
As Ben Meyer, Mr. Rifkin had a say in
what his character said on screen.
"Imagine," he marvels, "the first time
an Orthodox Jew was shown like that on
prime-time TV."
The part was such a gift — and so were
the yarmulkes. "People would send them
to me. I'd wear them on the show. I still
Michael Elkin is entertainment editor of
the Jewish Exponent in Philadelphia.
wear them," he laughs fondly.
The network, he concedes, didn't ex-
actly take off their hats to the idea. They
"seemed nervous about the yarmulke."
But Ron Rifkin felt right at home. Af-
ter all, he had been shomer Shabbos un-
til he turned 30. When he began to feel
that the rituals started becoming rote, he
laid down the tefillin.
"I was putting tefillin on one day —
which is a serious business — and I just
felt like I was doing it out of habit.
"It is a lovely, comforting ritual, but
something was off for me."
His soul has remained in place
throughout, however. "I am a Jew to my
very core," he says.
Indeed, the music of the night is one
that fills his days, too: "If I close my eyes,
the sounds that come to me are the
sounds of the chazzanot."
"I will not play anything that does not
dignify me as a Jew," he adds.
Which does not mean he will not take
on mean, hard-hearted characters, such
as the devious doc he played last season
on "ER," one who doctored his own re-
search.
But it is Ron Rifkin's sense of Jewish-
ness and Judaism that fires up his heart
and mind. "That's who I am," says Mr.
Rifkin, who grew up in Williamsburg,
Brooklyn, and attended yeshiva.
But performing always had its lure,
says Mr. Rifkin, parting a curtain on his
past.
"I remember in Williamsburg, spend-
ing time at my Aunt Lilly's — she had a
one-room apartment.
`The bedroom area was separated from
the living room by a curtain.
Now, I was 3 at the time, and I re-
member I'd get behind the curtain, say
my name and then come out and do a
song and dance."
His eyes dance merrily at the remem-
brance, as they do when talking about a
friend from his yeshiva days, a woman
who is now a principal of a Jewish day
school.
It is when talking about principles and
matters of faith that Mr. Rifkin positively
glows.
"I wrestle and struggle with God all
the time," he avers.
Is he nettled by the world's nastiness?
What rattles him in matters of religion?
"Everything shakes my faith," he says.
He is shaken — but stirred. "But I be-
lieve so much" that ultimately nothing
has altered his faith.
Indeed, it can be hard to change his
mind. He recalls getting a call from his
agent for a hot new show, but it conflict-
ed with Mr. Rifkin's spending time with
his mother over Rosh Hashanah.
His wife prevailed. "She said, 'Ron, get
with the program.' "
That program was "ER."
While his starring status on TV's most
popular drama made a dramatic differ-
ence in his national visibility, it made no
difference in the kind of work he was at-
tracted to.
If he has a nose for quality-roles, Ron
Rifkin also has one for wine.
"I have an incredible nose," he says
with a proud sniff.
"I've always loved smells. Smells, for
me, are fascinating, which helps make
me a good wine taster."
Chardonnay, anyone? Indeed, adds Mr.
Rifkin, he often gets invited to wine tast-
ings, serving on three, maybe four pan-
els a week.
Hi _ s early memory of theater is redo-
lent of romance: "My first experience in
professional theater was doing summer
stock in Fishkill, N.Y. I was 18; the play
was Teahouse of the August Moon."
He also was mooning over one of the
female leads. In addition to his part in
the play, "my job was to clean the dress-
ing rooms," he smiles.
"I had a mad crush on this actress; she
was beautiful.
"She used a certain perfume. I'd sweep
her room and put some of that perfume
on me. That's my theater smell."
The Substance of Fire smells like a win-
ner to Mr. Rifkin. Indeed, the role of Isaac
was written for him by playwright Jon
Robin Baitz.
Ron Rifkin also starred in the writer's
Three Hotels, taking home another Lu-
cille Lortel Award for his work.
Perhaps Ron Rifkin's greatest work is
that which has earned him a happy 30-
year marriage. That script, he is delighted
to reveal, is chock full of compassion, un-
derstanding and hope.
Life, after all, is a wonderful work in
progress. "Human beings," says the ac-
tor with a beatific smile, "are so beauti-
ful and so frail and so strong."
As are Ron Rifkin's intricate and com-
plex portrayals of men and menschen. ❑
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