DOUG JONES, IS the closest we have today to early Hollywood’s “Man of a Thousand Faces,” acclaimed silent film star Lon Chaney, known for his roles as Quasimodo in 1923’s The Hunchback of Notre Dame and Erik in 1925’s The Phantom of the Opera—a cinematic icon hidden beneath hours of screen makeup. Yet, thanks to Jones’ singular talents, his characters come to life through those layers of cosmetics and prosthetics. And it’s not hard to find him on your TV or even in person.
Pan’s Labyrinth, the groundbreaking fantasy film in which he plays the mythical guide El Fauno and the terrifying antagonist, the Pale Man, gets a 20th anniversary rerelease in theaters this month. Hocus Pocus and its sequel, in which Jones famously appears as the undead charmer Billy Butcherson, are a Halloween tradition, in heavy rotation in the lead-up to the spooky holiday every year. Tune into Paramount+, and you’ll find him on all five seasons of Star Trek: Discovery as the alien Saru, who resembles a somewhat less clammy, creepy Lord Voldemort. On Hulu, he splits sides as the ancient, coffin-dwelling vampire Baron Afanas in What We Do in the Shadows. And, of course, there’s his central role as the humanoid sea creature in the Oscar-winning best picture The Shape of Water. The Indianapolis native is also soon to be the subject of a documentary, Get Me Doug Jones, which successfully completed a Kickstarter campaign and is targeting a 2027 release.
Jones regularly makes appearances at fan conventions around the country and stops at IU Cinema in Bloomington this November 18 for a screening and discussion of Hellboy II: The Golden Army, in which he reprised his role as the amphibian-esque hero Abe Sapian. We caught up with the busy actor to ask some questions.
Growing up in Indy, did you dress up for Halloween?
Golly, I just dressed up for any reason. In 1978 when Superman came out, it was a light blue T-shirt with a red towel. For Halloween at Christ the King school, I’d dress out of my dad’s closet with big shoulders like a gentleman from an old black-and-white movie.
You’re almost 6-feet-4-inches tall, which has contributed a lot to your roles. Were you a tall kid?
I was called “the giraffe” and “ostrich” many a time, so I had to become the class clown. I wanted to control when they were laughing. It’s a common story among people in show business. I found solace watching reruns of The Dick Van Dyke Show and Gomer Pyle – USMC. Old sitcoms with a lead actor that was goofy-looking.
You’ve played some comedic characters, but you’re mostly known for horror, sci-fi, and fantasy. Were you into
that as a kid, too?
Every Friday night were horror films hosted by Sammy Terry … [I would watch] if I could dupe my parents into letting me stay up. I miss those days. [I also remember] a slumber party where we stayed up late and watched Boris Karloff in The Mummy.
Of course you were a Karloff fan!
That haunting gaze. The stillness. He didn’t overplay the scary. He underplayed, if anything, and let it seep in. And then there was the Creature From the Black Lagoon. Oh my gosh, I was so intrigued by that swimming guy.
Did you do high school theater?
At Bishop Chatard, I worked up the gumption to join the play junior and senior year. A Time for Madness was about a college student bringing home her boyfriend. I was the hippie boyfriend. As soon as the audience saw me—with an afro wig and some kind of groovy Southwestern print, bell-bottoms, and glasses—they laughed and didn’t stop, and I was hooked.
Was your home life pretty “normal”?
Mom was a homemaker with four boys to raise and did a lot of volunteer work. My father passed away at the end of my freshman year of college. He was a state representative in the Indiana legislature. We all were churchgoing Methodists, but at some point, my parents wanted to join the charismatic movement, and they started a church in our house. Later, my dad was a consultant for businesses on employee training.
What did the adults in your life think of your love for theater and flair?
My high school drama teacher, Nancy Montgomery, was the first person who knew what to do with these hopes and dreams of mine. She retired to Florida. Back in February, I was doing a Star Trek cruise, and the documentary crew was with me [for Get Me Doug Jones], and we reached out to her, and we did a full interview.
How did you keep pursuing your dreams after high school?
My SATs were decent, but my grades were abysmal. But Ball State took me in. Dr. English, a tall lanky fellow, taught the acting program. We understood each other. When he retired, [Ball State] asked me to present a lifetime achievement award to him, and I was tickled beyond belief.
Down the hall in my dorm was Reed K. Steele, a senior, and I could tell I was being watched. He was observing me while I did armpit farts and was being goofy. He led a mime troupe on campus, Mime Over Matter. It made me laugh, and cry, and feel things. They took me in, and by the time I was a senior, I was leading the troupe.
And you also were Ball State’s mascot, Charlie Cardinal.
My freshman year, Charlie kind of stood to the side at games and put his arms up every so often. I thought, There’s so much more that could be done! I auditioned my sophomore year and was rejected. I said, “I’m coming back the next year with a vengeance,” and, child, I did.
So the mime training came in handy!
I danced around a lot, did a striptease crowd-pleaser, and messed with the floor sweeper, poor guy. I got passed up through the stands. This year, Ball State is celebrating its 100th year, and the homecoming involves a reunion of Charlie Cardinals. I hope I can make it.
You graduate from college. You’ve done some theater, you have some mime experience, and you are still in Indiana. Where do you go from there?
A mime at Kings Island. It was a dream come true. Six 20-minute walks per day around the French area. It was a kind and gentle schedule because it was hot and muggy. Any more, and you’d be dripping your mime makeup.
Did you audition for other jobs while working there?
I couldn’t. I was on six days a week. After summer and fall, I moved back to Indy in “What do I do with the rest of my life?” mode.
So reality started setting in. How did you eventually end up getting acting gigs in California?
First it was a job at a newspaper in North Manchester. Advertising sales. I fell in love with small-town life. Everyone gossiped but everyone cared about each other.
Well, the paper wrote an article introducing me, and a librarian down the street called saying, “I remember you.” She went to Ball State. She asked if I was still doing mime and would I do a performance at the library’s weekly story time. I said, “Heck, yeah.” The paper sent a photographer, and I was on the front page. I started getting calls about entertaining for the Rotary Club, for Kiwanis, Girl Scout troops. I was invited onto a Fort Wayne talk show, and more calls came in, including for a PSA commercial for a local mental health center. I was a sad mime who, by the end of counseling, became a happy mime.
One day, my wife’s uncle in Fresno called and said he had a branch manager opening at his bank and had a management training program. They flew me out, and the interview went great. I knew I wanted to get into show business but didn’t know how to get closer to it. This was the ticket.
Obviously the banking career didn’t work out.
I faked my way through the nine-month training program. I was just awful. They figured that out by month eight and fired me. I was depressed for about an hour. My wife was working at an ad agency as a receptionist, so we were squeaking by and figured, let’s see how this acting thing goes. I took acting classes, fell into an agent without trying, did TV auditions, and with unemployment about to run out, I got an ad as a dancing mummy.
So your first time on a Hollywood set was wrapped in bandages.
Head to toe. Nothing but my little eyeball showing. They threw some purified dirt on me, dusting me down for when I burst out of a sarcophagus. They sprayed an aerosol right in my face. Who knows what I was breathing in. The next day, I couldn’t even whisper. It took two weeks to get my voice back. An early lesson that pain is temporary, but film is forever.
Your big break was playing the character Mac Tonight for McDonald’s in the 1980s. How did that happen?
It was my fourth job. I went in for an audition for a nightclub singer for McDonald’s. They wanted a Frank Sinatra/Dean Martin vibe. I’m a 26-year-old curly blond. Are you kidding me? Why am I going in for that? I was in the waiting room with a bunch of gray-haired guys in tuxedos. But on the wall were storyboards with drawings of this character with a big moon head. Ah, that’s why I’m here. They sat me at the keyboard, and I lip synced and played along, throwing my arms in the air. Then they put an actual paper bag on my head with eyeholes to do it again. I thought, This is humiliating. But I’m an actor. I need the gig.
And you got it.
It was supposed to be a four-commercial regional campaign. Then the national office in Chicago decided to make it nationwide. I did 27 commercials for them, and that’s how I bought our first house.
Had you already developed a comfort level with heavy costumes?
When piling things on an actor, we can be a bunch of divas, and if you don’t do that they think you’re the nicest guy in the world. Not complaining is key.
Then Batman Returns came along, where you dressed like a clown as a member of the Penguin’s gang.
They wanted people who could do circus things. It was a seven-week contract. Seven weeks turned into 14. I guess [director] Tim Burton liked having me around.
You had a much bigger part in Hocus Pocus. It’s a cult classic now, but it wasn’t popular at first, was it?
That’s fascinating to me. Some movies come out big, then they become less and less known. This was the exact opposite, It’s a Halloween family film, but they advertised it as a Bette Midler summer comedy. It was like selling a Prada purse as a pair of shoes.
It seems like finding the walk for Billy Butcherson was as important as the makeup and costume.
The audition was in a dance studio, not a casting office. Billy was connected with dust and I had to run that through my head to help find his way of moving. Since then, my process has always been to start with the script, get the writers involved, find out where my character lives in the story and the film’s ecosystem, then sit down with the director and find out what nuances and idiosyncrasies to include. Then I go to a dance floor with mirrors in a T-shirt and jeans and figure out how this character stands, what kind of gait he has, what else the script calls for.
Once they build the prosthetics and bring in the makeup and life casts, then I try things on, and we see if I can move in them. You have to adjust to what the costume will allow you to do.
How did you figure out Abe Sapian in the Hellboy films?
Watching my goldfish. I loved their curious heads, how they moved gently. So I gave him a curious, jerky head with fluid and elegant hand movements. I wanted the hands to move like fins.
How do you stay sane during the hours of makeup and costume application?
Most people need to be doing something. I am not that person. I love sitting still, and staring at a wall, and being alone with my thoughts. And all the creature effect makeup teams are good-humored, creative people. We tell stories, listen to lots of music—I always request Whitney Houston and Barry Manilow.
Many well-known actors don’t like accepting lesser parts or smaller films. You take on a mix of bigger and smaller parts, bigger and smaller films.
You pegged me. If I had a Tom Cruise career to worry about, I’d understand the progression of bigger and better. But as a character actor, I’m allowed to age, allowed to show up in something as a cameo. If the role is interesting in a story, I want to help tell it if it’s a director I want to work with or cast members I want to work alongside.
I have been with the same management since 1994. In that time, he has learned that Dougie does what Dougie wants. Some you do for the loot, and some you do for the art. I want to do both.
What kind of projects do you say no to?
When you have a rep for being a monster guy, a lot of blood-on-the-wall splatter movies come at you. A typical script has a bunch of young people in underwear running around in the woods, and Doug Jones is coming out of the swamp to kill them one at a time. Those things bore me to tears. I’ve said no to a bunch of those.
You attend a lot of conventions. Is it just a part of the job, or do you enjoy it?
A lot of actors do it because they have to and get grumpy, but a line of people who love you? How can you hate that? The only downside is how physically exhausting it is to give off energy all day long.
You’ve played Saru on Star Trek: Discovery for five seasons. How did you get the role, and what’s it like developing a character over time?
I was on set for The Shape of Water when I got the call. No audition, just a meeting with the writers. For an actor, this was
a dream.
It is different from doing a movie, but I knew the drill, having done an intelligent alien on the series Falling Skies. When I watched the original Star Trek series, even when I was 6 years old, I connected with that Spock guy, the tall lanky one who didn’t look like everybody else.
Were you involved in designing his look?
The original designs for Saru were very different—two horns, winged head, 10 eyeballs. They did a life cast and prosthetics, and we did a fitting. I thought, This is going to be a nightmare. I came home a little depressed. But I got a call that afternoon from [lead creature and makeup designer for the show] Neville Page asking me how I thought it went. Nobody ever asked me that before. I said it’s problematic, not just the comfort but for the performance. If I need to connect emotionally with other characters and show what’s going on in my heart and mind, well … He said, “I felt the same way. I wanted to see more Doug Jones.” Two days later, they had a new design.
What role have you played that is underrated or underseen?
One filmed in Indiana, My Name is Jerry. A film student reached out to my agent and asked if I could be in his thesis film. Then he wrote a feature script and sent it to me. It was charming. … It was shown at the Heartland Film Festival.
What’s your dream role?
When it comes to costumed and heavy makeup characters, all those boxes have been checked. At 66, I’m leaning more into human characters. I’m not wanting to wear quite as much rubber.
