 As he shifted from one job to another, acting was “something to do in the evenings” and a way to meet women. In 1976 he met Aine O’Connor, an RTE presenter, while working as a teacher. Encouraged by O’Connor during their 10-year relationship, Byrne turned acting into a full-time job at the age of 28. His small-screen break came in the form of brooding farmer Pat Barry in the RTE soap The Riordans, a role that instantly elevated him to heart-throb status. Byrne graduated to Bracken, The Riordans’ offshoot, and then moved to London with fellow actor Liam Neeson and appeared in 1985 in Defence of the Realm, a thriller that led to him winning a role in the gangster film Miller’s Crossing. “I was unknown in America except for Defence of the Realm, which was a cult film there,” he said. “It was seen by the Coen brothers, and they asked me if I would audition for a picture that every major actor, from Gary Oldman to Richard Gere, wanted to do.” But when Byrne set foot in America he was really following Barkin, whom he met during the production of Siesta. They married in 1988, set up home in New York and after the children, Jack, now 19, and Romy, 16, came along, they bought a house in rural Galway. By the early 1990s, the pair had become regulars on the red carpet, with Barkin winning fame for her roles in Sea of Love with Al Pacino, and The Big Easy with Dennis Quaid, and Byrne earning celebrity status for The Usual Suspects. But the couple “drifted apart” and separated in 1993, though they didn’t divorce until 1999. Byrne moved to Hollywood and continued to star in big-budget productions such as End of Days and The Man in the Iron Mask. “I spent four years there because I wanted to know what it was like to be a Hollywood star and wanted and needed to make money,” Byrne said. “I discovered a life of ease and all the things that go with being in hit movies. But in a place with no seasons, years go by very quickly.” | ||||||||||
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In Treatment and a confession: Gabriel Byrne was nominated for a Golden Globe for his role as psychotherapist Paul Weston in a television series entitled In Treatment, it seemed apt that Irish viewers got a chance to watch the Dubliner exorcize his own demons about binge-drinking, depression and self-imposed exile. While the Hollywood Foreign Press Association was nominating four Irishmen for the film awards — fellow Dubliners Brendan Gleeson and Colin Farrell getting acting nominations for In Bruges and Jonathan Rhys Meyers for The Tudors — a television documentary that delved into Byrne’s battle with drink was captivating and even unsettling viewers at home. In Treatment depicts the therapy sessions that Byrne’s character, Weston, holds with patients before concluding each Friday in the office of his own therapist, Gina. But even more dramatic was the 58-year-old actor’s revelation in the documentary that his binges were so bad he once vomited and drank simultaneously while locked in a London hotel room. Byrne’s melancholic ruminations about his past, intercut with home footage of ex-wife Ellen Barkin bathing their children or bringing up breakfast while he read Hot Press in bed, provided a rare insight into an actor who has been scrupulous about protecting his private life. In Stories from Home, which was released for the Galway Film Fleadh last summer but only shown on television last week, Byrne reveals his “love of the bottle” and how much he related to James Tyrone, the alcoholic he played in a Broadway production of Eugene O’Neill’s A Moon for the Misbegotten. “I don’t miss drinking now at all but it did lead me to a place where, had I not pulled back, it would have led to an early grave,” the actor said. “I was a periodic drinker. I could go off it for weeks at a time, but I could go to a hotel room and be there for three or four days with the curtains closed and the phone off the hook. “I woke up one day a few years ago and decided to stop. I checked into a hospital and that was probably the most difficult thing I’ve ever done in my life.” While Byrne didn’t say when his problems with alcohol began, he believes drink and depression were intertwined.
Barkin quit the film business after marrying billionaire Ronald Perelman, the boss of Revlon cosmetics. Her friendship with Byrne, however, has endured. “I met her once and she was raving about In Treatment,” Terry George, an Irish director, said in September. “She was proud of Gabriel. They really are close after all this time.” Byrne is believed to be in a relationship with Anna George, a former hedge-fund manager turned actress who will appear as Mrs Singh in Peter Jackson’s production of The Lovely Bones. Byrne, though, has barely discussed the relationship and is uncomfortable in the public glare. “When you’re on the red carpet, as soon as you walk through the door, there’s someone bigger and more famous behind you,” he says. “Fame is a small village where everyone knows you.” Instead, the actor prefers focusing on strengthening cultural and political ties between Ireland and America. He threw a €4,500-a-plate fundraising party for Hillary Clinton in his Brooklyn brownstone last year. Byrne also used his star power to win support and funds from the Irish government and Irish-American benefactors to help set up the Irish Arts Center in New York. Pauline Turley, executive director of the centre, says groups of women fly into New York to attend the centre’s annual gala — but they really just want to meet Byrne. But the actor is shy in large crowds. “There are times when I am at parties and I feel uncomfortable and I wish I could take the edge off,” Byrne admitted in Stories from Home. “It’s hard to be in those situations but I’m in them all the time.” He hides his shyness well. “Most people would never know when I’m tense in my head. I can be a very gregarious person.” |
| Credit salon.com Gabriel Byrne feels your pain The star of "In Treatment" talks about the role of a therapist, the challenge of being a good listener and why everyone needs a good chair. By Sarah Hepola So much of the show seems to be about the stories we tell ourselves. People come into Paul's office and they are so convinced that they are self-aware and yet, as you watch each episode unravel, you realize just how deluded they areGB:It's the difference between objective and subjective reality. Robert Burns, the Scottish poet, has a line, "Oh to have the power to see ourselves as other people see us." Your subjective reality is your truth. And the role of a therapist is to be objective, to be detached and to give you a sense of a narrative of your life, to present it in a way so that you might alter the way you see the world. So when you're doing a role where 99 percent of the time you're sitting down, how does that change things? So much of the show seems to be about the stories we tell ourselves. People come into Paul's office and they are so convinced that they are self-aware and yet, as you watch each episode unravel, you realize just how deluded they are. It's the difference between objective and subjective reality. Robert Burns, the Scottish poet, has a line, "Oh to have the power to see ourselves as other people see us." Your subjective reality is your truth. And the role of a therapist is to be objective, to be detached and to give you a sense of a narrative of your life, to present it in a way so that you might alter the way you see the world. So when you're doing a role where 99 percent of the time you're sitting down, how does that change things? That changes things a lot. A huge amount. Your body language is constricted. All that's left is your eyes, your physical body language. It's like being in a wheelchair. Part of the character is his stillness. In order to really listen, you have to be still. The danger there is that it becomes dramatically uninteresting. To make that interesting, you really have to be listening so that when the camera goes back to you, the audience has to say, "Oh, he's thinking." So what on paper seems like a pretty simple role -- you get to sit in a chair, you ask a bunch of questions -- it's much more difficult than that. You mentioned listening. For the audience, part of the drama of each show is watching Paul as he listens, trying to decode what's going on in your mind as you hear these people's stories. And I always wonder, how do you calibrate how much to show about what you're thinking? That's one of the big acting challenges, to convince people that you're thinking something and also to give them the illusion that you're not letting the patient know what you're thinking. It's a delicate thing to do.Another big acting challenge is to find new ways of listening, finding the truth of what the other person is trying to say, after you've been told the same thing 24 times. Even when you're off-camera, you have to give it back to the other actor, so that by the end of the day, you're utterly drained. And you don't get much of a reprieve in this show. I don't think there's any scene that I'm not in this season. I think it's 1,500 pages to memorize. That's a hell of an amount. But the brain is a muscle -- if you use it, you improve it. I can now speed-read. I could always memorize my lines, but I've come up with a way to memorize the relevant points, and work in the logic around it. Let's talk about where Paul is at the beginning of this season. He's moved into a new stage of his life. It's a transition time for him. He's still living with the remnants of how he behaved in the first season -- the death of the pilot he let fly, the consequences of his affair, the split-up of his marriage -- and he's dealing with a new raft of patients. And he moves to Brooklyn. How does it change the dynamic for his practice to be in New York? It does bring him back in touch with his past, though, and one of the people he begins to treat is a former patient named Mia, played by Hope Davis. Can you tell us a bit about her? She's a 42-year-old woman who's not married, and really wants a child, and has an incredibly successful career. That wouldn't have been dramatic material 20 years ago, but it is now, because the role of the woman in the workforce has changed, the role of women in society has changed, and marriage itself has changed. One of the reasons the show is successful, I think, is that it speaks to the anxieties of our time, and this is one I think will find a lot of resonance -- there are women who are married who wish they had a career, and there are women who have a career and wish they had a child but don't.The traditional notions that we had in society have changed so much. Everything that we took for granted five years ago is now debatable. I think we're living through a profound revolution. Not a revolution in the sense of people attacking the castle with pikes and so on. But the world we live in is undergoing a profound revolution -- economically, culturally, socially, spiritually. We haven't called it yet a revolution, but that is what it is. The world will not be the same in five years. And these characters that are thrown up, seemingly randomly, in the series should also be put in the context of the changes in the world. In the first few episodes, there are references to how barraged we are by media. With our iPods and our iPhones, a 30-minute, uninterrupted conversation is increasingly rare. This woman puts forward a plausible theory that technology has actually altered the physical structure of the teenage brain. Which means that the generation after this generation will communicate in a way that will make how you and I think seem like something from the 17th or 18th century. But yes, 30 minutes of uninterrupted conversation, for that to be successful in television is an achievement. Thirty minutes of conversation with another human being in this day and age is an achievement. Credit salon.com |
Gabriel Byrne Can Fix Your Problems in 30 Minutes “The idea of revealing who you are to another person is a fundamental need in all  human beings. The act of listening to another person is emotionally draining. It’s also one of the greatest compliments you can pay to another person, is to say they can really listen, to really hear what they’re saying.”Many of Paul’s patients on the show don’t want him to just sit and listen. They provoke him, prod him, and demand approval or validation of their decisions to confirm their sanity. But Paul must remain composed. He calmly sits in his chair, almost stoical, to help them find answers to their problems within themselves. “Who we become when we’re confronted with authority figures is interesting,Whether it’s a father figure, mother figure people have the need to be approved of, the need to please. I would imagine that would get in the way of therapy, that you can actually find yourself saying, ‘I need to impress this person … make them approve of me, make them like me.’” “Basically, Paul is a man in midlife crisis, for want of a better description. He’s a human being, with all of the emotion and complexities and the vulnerabilities and the frailties of a man in his middle age. [Paul’s patients] are all talking about more or less the same issues that he is dealing with. What are those issues? The issues that kind of unite everybody, patient and doctor, man and women. It’s love, sex, intimacy, family, relationships. They’re the things that we all struggle with.” Byrnes Brooklyn Heights home for a temporary move to Tribeca, which seems to drown out all of the pleasant city dialogue he loves so much. “God, the noise of it. At all hours and the soullessness of it. It feels like a very dislocated place to me, of guys in striped shirts living in lofts, walking on treadmills at 10 o’clock at nighttime and garbage trucks making this horrendous, grating noise at 1, 2 o’clock in the morning. Brooklyn is like the countryside in comparison.” “So much of my life isn’t really about acting at all. “The time I spend acting is very small in comparison to the time I spend loping about aimlessly, sitting in cafes. “Isn’t it one of the great, of the last, free pastimes to sit and watch other people be just people and what they do?. I love earwigging, just listening in on conversations. I’ve perfected the art.” Credit: observer.com |
“I didn’t like that chair last year, but I hate this year’s chair even more,  “What I wanted was the camera to go inside, go into him and let the audience into his head. That’s kind of frightening, and very challenging. Because you don’t know” if the audience will follow. "John Mahoney’s character is a tough nut to crack, because his problem is denial, is in absolute denial about everything. And he’s also arrogant. You gradually unwind what his thing is, you see what he was hiding all this time." The irony is that Weston, who spends a good portion of his week engaged in verbal and emotional jousting with his patients, in his own therapy sessions sometimes battles Toll, who patiently deflects his occasional displays of defiance and arrogance. "There’s something between them that is unresolved. Why is he so dismissive of her opinion? He’s always fighting her. Yet he goes back to her and listens to her." I tend to think of him as an innately compassionate man, but a damaged man. But just because you’re damaged doesn’t mean you can’t be compassionate. I think what makes him a good therapist with all his patients, and sets him on the right road, whether he says the right thing or the wrong thing—he truly listens. He may not have the answer, but he’s paid the person the compliment of listening to them. Interview March 16 2009 Was the reason for the move to New York, was that so you would be able to shoot here and use locations here? It was because my family's here and I live here. It was really important to me to not be away for that length of time again. It was a personal decision and HBO was very good about facilitating that. And it also seems to make sense for the character, given that he's been through some life changes. Well yes, because he's now separated. At the end of the last season, I think they separated, or they talked about separation, and now he's moved on to a new city. Last season there was a journey for Paul -- he was going along a certain path, he wasn't happy, and then all these things happened to him at the end of the season. As far as the story line or journey for Paul this season, how would you characterize that? He's dealing with the after-effects of separation, both from his wife and his children, and from the city where he lived and worked. He's definitely confronting himself. And I was kind of interested in that notion of how men are presented in terms of character -- what the definition of masculinity and what a man is. I was interested in exploring it, because I don't believe that men are meant to be strong, silent types who know exactly what to do in every situation. The role of men has changed hugely in the last 10 years. It's changing by the week. You ask a man who was employed four months ago, who thought the world was a predictable place, how he feels now about himself. Because we all to a greater or lesser extent, find ourselves defined by the work that we do and the relationships that we're in. Take away the work and the relationships and who is actually there? So he has to begin again in another city, with a completely new list of clients and he also has to redefine himself as a man, outside his marriage. Was the move really necessary? Was it part of an effort to make a clean break and do this redefinition? He seems kind of lonely, like this is a difficult adjustment for him. I think anyone who's been through a separation or divorce or has moved to another town will understand that sense of alienation. So yes, he is going through that. One of the things about this series, I suppose, is that it reflects a wider world out there. Although we are connected more in terms of technology, we seem to be more alienated spiritually from each other. We live in an age of huge anxiety and uncertainty and fear. And that is reflected in how we behave and how we view the world. This revolution that we're going through -- I believe it is [a revolution], it's not just an economic revolution but it's political, social and spiritual, and the world will not be the same in five years' time. So some of the themes that come up in the show reflect that broader uncertainty about the world. It examines the notion of, for example -- there's a story about a woman who has a flourishing career. She's not in a relationship and she wants a child. The role of a woman who's 40 years old in our culture, what does it mean? Is there an alternative to marriage? Is marriage changing as well? The Eisenhower-era notion of two kids and two cars in the garage, the nuclear family, is that changing? The society that we wanted, that we longed for, the small-town community where everybody knows everybody else, and everything is safe and predictable -- that notion has been challenged. America's living through a truly tumultuous age. And never was there a greater need to be listened to than now. Which is why I think people find some sort of reflection in this show, where they may not exactly have the same problem, but something about the spirit of the problem moves them. That's just it. With Sophie, that didn't reflect anything in my life, but there was something so moving about her trying to come to the truth about her life. Just watching her learn to trust Paul was moving. Yes. Learning to trust anybody is an enormous act of courage, really. Sometimes you can't even trust your own family. Or yourself. Or yourself, yes. Paul has such a good rapport with Oliver, the young boy whose parents are divorcing. Did you have a lot of input into who Paul would be seeing and the story lines and things like that this season? I suppose I always have the ultimate choice, in how I react, what qualities I think this man should have. I tend to think of him as an innately compassionate man, but a damaged man. But just because you're damaged doesn't mean you can't be compassionate. We are all conflicted as individuals. We can be both mean and kind. Winning a young person's trust as a parent is one thing. Winning the trust of a child as a therapist is another challenge. How do you speak to a kid? I tried to not make him be patronizing. I think what makes him a good therapist with all his patients, and sets him on the right road, whether he says the right thing or the wrong thing -- he truly listens. He listens and then he may not have the answer, but he's paid the person the compliment of listening to them. I think sometimes as parents, we tend to think that what we have to say is more important than what they have to say, because they don't really know what the truth is. But the truth is, [kids] really do know, many times, what they want. And what they're telling you is what they want you to hear. But sometimes we don't want to hear that. What's sad about this particular case is that the kid is caught between parents who made a mistake. What's interesting is that Paul sees right away that the kid has made the only choice that he can -- to shut down and not talk about his feelings, as a way of not creating further conflict between his parents. Paul doesn't have this attitude that this kid should be able to easily talk about his feelings -- he sees that the kid's smart and has actually hit on a strategy that, in a way, works for him. Yes. See, the thing about it is, each character brings its own complexity. Talking to a 40 year old woman about whether she should have a child requires a different kind of acting than talking to a 12 year old kid who doesn't know what's going on, but does know, at some deep, unconscious level [what's going on]. Talking to a CEO who thinks he knows everything and is in complete denial requires a certain kind of energy and acting. Could you talk about that more? Do you prepare for each scene with the different patients differently? They have to be so subtly different, really, that it's almost impossible to describe. What you work off is the core, the essence, of the other person. That's really what your raw material is. You can't say, "I'm going to act this way because this particular actor acts in this way, so I have to act in this way." You have to respond to their energy. You can't be the same with each patient. So the way he treats the young girl who [is one of his patients] is going to be very different to the way he treats the CEO or the way he treats Gina, his own therapist, or his ex-wife. One of the things that's been consistently interesting, though, has been watching Paul's reactions to these people. But there are so many reaction shots of Paul. Is that hard to do, that many reactions? Was that a challenging part of the job? That's incredibly challenging. It's incredibly challenging to sit in a chair and have nothing else except your face, mostly your eyes. You may have a pen now and again, you may have glasses. I didn't use props so much this year, because I wanted to strip it down even more. If you take up a cup, a cup can give you all kinds of business to do. When that's not there, you're stripped down essentially to nothing. I wanted to strip it down even more. What I wanted was the camera to go inside, go into him and let the audience into his head. That's kind of frightening, and very challenging. Because you don't know [if the audience will follow]. What the camera's actually doing is, it's photographing thoughts. So that was immensely challenging to me -- I thought to myself, "If I think this thing, will the camera pick it up?" And it's amazing, that if you think something, the camera will pick it up, if you know what you're doing. So let's say you have a reaction where a [patient] says, "I'm going to kill myself." I can choose to play this as, I really believe this person and I'm worried about them. Or I can choose to [react with], "I don't really believe this but just in case, I'll be alarmed." Or I can [react with], "I downright don't believe this," or I can be disinterested or over-anxious. So how do you choose which one? And you can choose sometimes to have no reaction, which allows the audience in. Sometimes you can do nothing and the audience thinks you're doing something. There's definitely a quality of attentive listening to Paul, he picks up on quite subtle things that the characters say, he finds these connections. But then sometimes in Season 1, he have moments where he would be really angry at the patients. Yeah, the thing about it is, as a professional, he has to keep his prejudices to himself. That's why the Dianne Wiest episodes are so necessary. You get to know what he really thinks about these people. So the next time you see him in session with that person, you think, "He hates this person, why is he being so nice to them? How can he not react to that, when we know he hates the guy?" Then you'd see him in his life, and you'd realize what a liar he could be. But then you realize, we all lie. We all lie, we're all self-deluded. It's what Eugene O'Neill said, we are haunted by the masks that we wear, and the masks that others wear. You can believe that you're something and actually the truth is, you're not that at all, according to the universe. What I've always tried to do is keep him as human as possible, and as un-actorly as I possibly could. By keeping him prop-less this season, I've pared him right down to just his eyes and his brain and his emotions. That's what my ambition was, to just have nothing in the way of that. Did you have input on the choice of the chair this season? I thought I read that you weren't fond of last season's chair. I didn't like that chair last year, but I hate this year's chair even more. In fact, in one of the episodes, I get to vent about the chair. I don't know if I'd be able to be a psychoanalyst in reality, but if anyone ever needed to pick out chairs, I'm the guy to go with. I could walk around and sit in any chair, and after five minutes I could tell you whether it's a good chair or not. I said, "I want a chair that a regular therapist sits in," because they have to sit for all these hours all day. So they gave me this chair and it seemed comfortable, but it restricted my body movements even more. So before, I was able to use my hands and lean and do all that. I can't do any of it this year. I'm now really reduced by the chair and the lack of props. I said, "OK, that serves the purpose even more." I'm even more restricted. Now it really just is about his reactions. It's physically a hugely challenging role. There are roles that may seem more difficult that would be much easier than this. Because how do you sustain over however many hours purely reacting with your face? How do you do that? I don't know the answer to that. At one stage I was thinking maybe [Paul] would take notes. But if you take notes, what you write down becomes important. But what you do not write down becomes important too. People are saying, "Why didn't he write that down?" So, no notes, no glasses, no nothing. Just, this is it -- you tell me the story and I listen to it. What becomes clear, though, is when there are those big breakthroughs or those intense moments, that intensity wouldn't have been possible without the restraint that came before. That's very true. It's one of the things I learned in the theater. If you're doing a Pinter play, and people are just saying, "Hello." [long pause] "How are you?" [long pause] "Good." I mean, those are not Pinter lines. But what you learn is, the banality of the dialogue is given importance by the silences in between. When the explosions come, because everything has been superficially so banal and predictable, when something even slightly dramatic happens, you think it's major. Right, like when Paul stands up, when he gets out of the chair, it's major. Yeah. In one scene, it was with Hope Davis, I said, "I'm going to stand up in this scene." And she said [quizzically], "Yeah?" I said, "I have never stood up before. The reason I'm standing up is because it's too much to take sitting down." Getting out of the chair is a big deal. That episode with you and [guest star] Glynn Turman was so intense last season. And now that they've brought back that character [of Alex's father] -- is that going to be resolved at the end of the season, or well before that? It doesn't resolve itself until the end. There's unfinished business. I like that idea. There are things he still has to deal with that cause him real pain. One of them is, he sent a guy [a patient named Alex] to die. He feels morally responsible for his death and the father blames him for that. The father cannot believe the son killed himself. The father is saying, "You are the one who gave him permission to go back -- if it wasn't for you, he wouldn't be dead." And the father has recourse to law. Now he has to go to court to defend an ethical and moral situation A situation in which he feels some culpability. Yes, but he feels he absolutely did the right thing. And then he starts to doubt himself. Is a therapist someone who bears the responsibility for, say, letting someone out of jail when they could be kept in jail? What if when they get out, they kill someone? Are you culpable? In [the case of Alex], it was tied up with the fact that he didn't like the guy because he was having an affair with the girl he wanted to be with. Do you think he thinks he's good at his job, that he's a good therapist? And do you think he cares too much about his patients? I think he is a good therapist, objectively speaking. I think he doubts that he is, which is interesting. Because I think most people who are really good at what they do doubt that they're good at it. They have a doubt about it. In this season, why he becomes a therapist is explored. There are some people who are born with a rescue complex -- "I'll fix your problem." You find out a lot about Paul's life, [about his parents, etc., in Season 2]. So now he has this desire to make everything OK for everyone else. He shares that in common with that CEO. He finally says, "It's time to stop taking care of everyone else, it's time to take care of yourself." He's just compelled to rescue. It's a form of co-dependency. There are people who are born to be victims, who want to be rescued all the time. Then there are [rescuers], those professions suit those people. Professionally, they can indulge in that thing of, "I'll fix everyone else's problems," meanwhile they're falling apart inside. I know last season people picked favorites, and in the early going, my favorite is John Mahoney's character, the CEO. I really enjoy the sessions with patients who think that Paul can't get to them. John Mahoney's character is a tough nut to crack, because his problem is denial. He's in absolute denial about everything. And he's also arrogant. You gradually unwind what his thing is, you see what he was hiding all this time. John was a joy to work with. He's a theater actor, he was doing "The Seafarer" in Chicago as well. Working with all those actors was like working in the theater. I think what worked so well about the series last season was that we didn't know if the patients would make progress or breakthroughs in therapy, but the other track focused on the suspense of what would happen with Paul's life. He goes on an emotional journey of his own [this season] that is quite traumatic. Things are not easy for him. But I don't think he's the kind of person who wants things to be easy. I think ... yes, you're right. I think he's a tortured man. But we're the recipients of our past history. He's trying to make sense of himself in his present without understanding his past. [Gina] eventually gets him to confront his past, and he does, to a certain extent, confront his past. He ends up … well, I don't want to give it away. Life goes on, let's say. Life just goes on. I think there will be an emotional payoff. Those Gina sessions are always so good -- she has this uncanny ability to call him on his [b.s.]. Yes, he's a [b.s.-er]. And he's deceptive and a liar and he can be self-deluded. And he can be quite arrogant. And he's arrogant and angry. There's something between them that is unresolved. Why is he so dismissive of her opinion? He's always fighting her. Yet he goes back to her. Yet he goes back to her and listens to her. Would you do another season? That's what everyone keeps asking. I just finished last Friday. I don't honestly know. We'll see how this goes. How long does it take to film a season? Five months. I can see how that would be grueling. Yes. Five months of reactions. Of sitting in that chair. Yes. [laughs] So when you watch this, remember I hate that chair. Did you ever say to the producers, "Could there be an episode where Paul destroys the chair and gets a new one?" I didn't want to go to them. I just wanted to take it and set fire to it. credit: chicagotribune.com |
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