Fallout Games Legend Ron Perlman Finally Appears in Fallout

I’m about 15 seconds into my conversation with Ron Perlman when we get sidetracked. When I join our Zoom call and mention offhandedly that I’m currently in Minneapolis, Perlman—who got his MFA in Theater from University of Minnesota—jumps in to ask me what life is like now that ICE has descended upon the city. “It really does feel like Minneapolis is under military occupation,” I explain. “You know why?” says Perlman, wearing actual rose-colored glasses and a black T-shirt that says “ICE CREAM” on it. “Because you motherfucking are.” There it is: the gravelly, deadpan charisma that convinced Guillermo del Toro—so far correctly—that Ron Perlman was the only man alive who could play the sardonic superhero Hellboy. Minneapolis aside, Perlman and I are here to talk about a different dystopian reality: the second season of Amazon’s smash hit Fallout, based on the beloved video game franchise of the same name. Perlman brings credibility to the project that eludes even his TV costars Walton Goggins and Kyle MacLachlan. His history with Fallout stretches all the way back to the very first game in 1997, which began with Perlman monologuing what has become the franchise’s most iconic line: “War. War never changes.” No one is more surprised than Perlman that a work-for-hire gig for a ‘90s video game is still paying dividends, culminating in Perlman’s surprise appearance in this week's episode of the Amazon TV series. And while longtime fans of the video game will be thrilled to see him, no one is more delighted that Perlman is in Amazon’s Fallout than Perlman himself. “You know, I should have been retired ten years ago, baby,” he says. “I’ve got nothing to lose.” Below, Ron Perlman talks Fallout, the principles underpinning his new movie studio ASLYM, and the latest on the long-rumored Hellboy 3. A gig is a gig, right? You get a call from your agent. Back in the ‘90s, I was doing a lot of Saturday morning cartoons and a lot of video games. I don’t know how to play a video game—that’s not my thing—but I’ve got the voice part. For Fallout, they give me forty dollars and a sandwich to say this catchphrase: “War. War never changes.” About a year and a half later, I get another call from my agent: “Hey, remember that Fallout thing?” I didn’t. He said, “Well, they’re doing a second one.” And I said, “Why?” And he said, “Because the first one went through the roof.” And I said, “Well, I guess they’re finally gonna pay me.” And he said, “No, there's the catch. They still think they have no money.” We went through that little dance. You know, artists generally don't like repeating themselves if they don't have to. But they will, to keep the lights on. I think I did do all the Fallout games, in one form or another. And then, one day, I read Amazon has greenlit this TV adaptation of Fallout. And I keep looking at my phone, like: Where’s my fucking call? How come no one’s calling me from Fallout, motherfucker? Little did I know they were trying to come up with a character that had enough gravitas to make it worth my while. [Showrunner] Geneva Robertson-Dworet and [executive producers] Jonathan Nolan and Lisa Joy are some of the fucking smartest, coolest motherfuckers in the game. They came up with a character—they might hate me for saying this—but a character who feels kind of like you’re finally meeting Colonel Kurtz. In this post-apocalyptic world, I’m one of the remnants of the dust heap upon which civilization is trying to rebuild itself. I’d say to them, “None of your fucking business.” We're in litigation. Oh, yeah, we’re coming at him. It’s good. And it’s an important dialectic about being careless with our civilization. And the price you pay for that. It's also nice to be able to turn it off. One hour of the apocalypse, now I can go back to my life again. I have not been approached. But who knows? I mean, life is full of these delicious little surprises. I’ve got to imagine that they are looking at what's happening with the TV show and going, “We've got to go back to that.” I call it ASYLM Studios, like “asylum,” because the inmates will be running it. There are no executive classes. There are no executive levels. Of course, we have legal and we have marketing. All the things a studio needs to have. But there are no robber barons sticking their fingers in the till, taking out half a billion dollars per year and sticking it in the pockets of five or ten people. Every single person that works on an ASYLM project is part owner, all the way down to the people who clean the fucking toilets. And there won’t be any movie we make that won’t do a theatrical run. I’m 75 years old, motherfucker. I know I’m not down with that shit anymore. Take the lawyers and the accountants out of the equations and just have the artists, and my bet is we’re going to be humming. Just great scripts by great artists. People have asked me: What do you want to do? And I say: No. The question is: What do you want to do, Mr. Scorsese? What do you want to do, Mr. Anderson? What do you want to do, Mr. Tarantino? Why should we look around at this current environment, with these fucking streamers, and say, Well, this is this is how it has to be, because that's the way it is now. We are shirking our responsibility, as artists, to preserve the art form. Nobody working today can make a fucking Frank Capra movie. Nobody can make a John Ford. Sullivan’s Travels is a favorite of mine. There’s about five Frank Capra movies that are tied for first: Meet John Doe, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, It’s a Wonderful Life, Arsenic and Old Lace, and You Can’t Take it With You. Sullivan’s Travels is a favorite of mine. And I mean…I cringe when I say it, because it’s almost a cliché, but the most perfect film ever made was The Godfather. Every single frame, every single cut, every single music cue, every single performance, every single camera move. It’s the greatest showcase of talent I've ever seen. It’s a cliché because it is the best. I will. I will, when he settles back to Earth. I probably shouldn’t say this, but I was once arguing with him about Hollywood remakes being a cowardly act. And I said, “There’s one caveat—only one movie I’d remake. It’s called Nightmare Alley.” And he’d never seen it! I screened it at my house for him, and 10 years later, I read in the paper that Guillermo del Toro is doing Nightmare Alley. So we had some little wounds to patch up before we got back together on that one. No. Mostly with del Toro it's food. Talk about desserts, talk about sandwiches. You know, proteins, carbohydrates, pizza. That’s why he thought of me for Hellboy. Because all Hellboy wants to do is eat junk food. Fuck yeah. I mean, I was asked to do the one with David Harbour. But the only Hellboy I’m interested in doing is Hellboy 3—finishing the trilogy we started with del Toro and the original crew. It can’t be jobbed out. You know, call me in five years if we haven’t made Hellboy 3 yet and ask me if I’m ready at 80. And I’ll go, “Yeah, alright. As long as I’m covered in rubber, no one will know I’m pissing my pants.” You want to see my audition? [Perlman raises his hands over his head and does a credible version of the “If I Were a Rich Man” dance.] I won’t sing, because then you’d say no.