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Mark Sousa on the filming of
City of fallen angels

by Steven K., photography by Blake L.

Pick a celeb, any celeb, just one celeb and know this: getting to them is a Kafka-esque game of egos. Their assistants have assistants, each one less trusting than the next, who want to know every last question you want to ask Him and know nothing of grace or tact.

Once they deem you worthy enough to be granted access, there’s still plenty to do: they vet all queries, and go on an on about what you can’t ask. Unless you’re Mark Sousa.

To chat with this quintessential guy’s guy—who’s constantly in demand—you gotta penetrate his entourage of one: his kid brother, Joey, a former Golden Gloves boxing champ, just like Mark. But Joey was a heavyweight, the category above Mark’s cruiserweight status, and the heavyweight’s voice even sounds menacing.

THE RIDE
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A mile a minute, he’s too busy to wait for an answer. “And chill with that on-set romance sh*t. Let the guy have some privacy, will ya?” Before pushing the front door open to let me in, giving me a smile that shows off five gold teeth, and yelling, “Yo, Markie, that reporter is here!”

Unless you’ve been in a coma, you know that the onset romance Joey is referring to is between his brother and Wendy C., a towering femme fatale from the UK who made her big screen debut in Double Identity. Rumors raged during the filming but have yet to be confirmed by the very private actor. When Mark appears, looking like he hasn’t gained an ounce since his fighting days in Bridgeport, Connecticut, I reconsider my original intention on beginning the questioning with this subject.

“Sorry, it’s been one of those days. We…” he says, pausing and ushering me inside, “…me and Joey have been working on the bathroom, installing some tile.” Then there’s a crash, followed by a scream, and an “Oh, bollocks!” from the bathroom that can be no one else other than Ms. C.

He rolls his eyes as she enters the room with a sheepish grin, hair covered by a Union Jack bandana, wearing an old pair of jeans and white tank top that says “Husband-beater” across the chest.

“Pardon me,” she says in the Queen’s English, looking my way before turning to him. “Mark, I need you for a second.”

He tells me to have a seat and heads to the bathroom. The 1950’s bungalow is warm, cozy, and classic, complete with Eames furniture, and a Pakistani rug on top of a polished concrete floor. It feels much larger than its 1000 square feet—a credit to the two brothers, former contractors, who work on it between projects.

“We’ve found that it’s easier to get what you want when you do it yourself. We just crank the Yankee game and get to work,” he’ll explain that evening.

Five minutes later, Mark is back and apologetic, but with the un-phased equanimity that he’s famous for. It came in handy during filming of Double Identity, a post-Depression era detective thriller with the usual ingredients (car chases, gun battles, fist fights, police interrogations, chalk outlines, spurned women and devious seduction) as well as a post-modern twist: the story of two writers rewriting the movie on an almost hourly basis, trying to bridge the gap between a cohesive narrative and the mercurial studio boss’ demands.

And the shoot of the film within a film mirrored the madness on the screen. Nineteen-hour days were the norm. Scenes that were shot dozens of times one day, were scrapped the next, only to be re-shot 24 hours later. Even the lowliest of the low, the production assistants and interns, were walking off the set, which begs a question.

“Like? What do you think it was like?” says C., as she storms out of the bathroom, spackling knife in hand. “It was bloody awful. They worked us like dogs. Even if he won’t tell you that.”

Mark is amused by this. By her. He brightens each time she enters the room, which she does constantly for the rest of the interview.

Regardless of what C. says—each statement runneth over with piss and vinegar. He lets her say her piece, happy to be out of the spotlight and in her presence. When I’m leaving he answers the question about the marathon shoot.

“It wasn’t awful. It wasn’t even bad. Hell, I met her,” he says, motioning inside. “You want to know work, all you have to do is meet my mom. Raised me and my brother while working 18-hour days at the family bakery. Did she complain? Heck no. She just thanked her customers and the Lord everyday for being able to do what she did.”

THE SHOOT
On the set of Double Identity, Mark Sousa put in 20-hour days as the hard luck detective Rick Chase. Off the set, rumors raged that he and the female lead were inseparable.

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