Suddenly Screwball

Not a speck of makeup appears on Brooke Shields’ face--no dot of blush, no dab of mascara.

You’d like--no, love--to find a flaw somewhere (a zit, maybe?), but the woman is simply gorgeous.

You notice this first as Shields rehearses her new NBC sitcom “Suddenly Susan,” blocking scene after scene with her fellow actors. Then you notice something else.

She’s funny.

Very funny.

Who knew?

The country (well, 66.3 million people, to be exact) glimpsed her comedic talents when she popped up on the much-hyped post-Super Bowl hourlong “Friends” episode in January that also featured Julia Roberts, Chris Isaak and Jean-Claude Van Damme.

This wasn’t the Brooke Shields that America was used to--but a delusional fan so obsessed with soap star Joey (Matt LeBlanc) that she resorts to licking his hands to show her devotion.

But it started the wheels spinning in the heads of NBC execs.

In a series of events straight out of a Jackie Collins novel, the 31-year-old Shields soon had her own sitcom. She plays an under-confident, early-30-ish copy editor at a trendy San Francisco magazine who ditches her rich, handsome fiance at the altar, then begs her quirky boss (Judd Nelson) for her old job back. Impressed at her chutzpah (even though her ex is his brother), he makes her a columnist. The role gives her plenty of opportunity for physical humor, i.e. sliding off bar stools and singing karaoke while completely blotto.

Rounding out the cast are the acerbic Kathy Griffin, Gen X-er dude David Strickland and suave Nestor Carbonell as her co-workers. Barbara Barrie plays Shields’ wise yet hip grandmother.

NBC’s belief in the show is evident in its platinum time slot: Thursday nights at 9:30, after “Seinfeld,” starting this week.

No wonder Shields is bouncing around the set like a puppy dog just rescued from the pound. During a hectic day of blocking scenes for the second episode, she sprints over to an empty chair to talk before the assistant director crooks his finger at her to come back. She’s dressed in a schlumpy sweatshirt, jeans and tennis shoes. A flash of light bounces off her left hand--it’s a hefty rock, courtesy of her fiance, tennis star Andre Agassi.

“It was such an isolated moment,” she recalls of the “Friends” episode. “To me, it was simply a guest spot, and I felt honored to be a part of it. My first question when I heard that [the part] was offered was ‘Am I playing myself?’ Because if the answer was yes, I would have had to turn it down. Why perpetuate anything when it was the antithesis of what I wanted to delve into and work on as an actress? But it was the first glimmer that I had that I would enjoy an environment like this.”

Though film was always her medium of choice, Shields was becoming aware of television’s renaissance. The concept of “Suddenly Susan,” and the character, appealed to her.

“I felt like she had an opportunity to have a voice for women my age,” she explains. “[Until you reach 30] you’re dealing more with how to survive than who you really are, and I think this period for me and a lot of my friends has been one of self-discovery. . . . There’s a scene with her grandmother where she says, ‘You’ve got to find out what makes Susan Susan.’ . . . I’ve been asking myself these questions for about three years, and I think that’s what I identified with. And whatever was humanly pathetic about her spoke to me.”

Suffice to say that pre-”Friends,” Shields’ reputation as a comedic actress was pretty much nonexistent. Though her dramatic roles have been varied, till now she has never shown the world that she could pull off a successful pratfall.

“I think I’ve always been to a certain extent the self-deprecating one,” she says, tugging back a hank of hair. “I was the one willing to be silly or make the joke, ever since I was in school. . . . but it’s something that I’ve never professionally explored, and I’ve never had the opportunity or encouragement. . . . Humor was always an outlet for me--it’s the easiest defense and the easiest diffusion, whether from fear or just breaking the ice. And [doing this show] is cathartic, to be able to do it every day and watch people laugh.”

*

This is the latest chapter in a career remarkable for longevity if not for consistency. Shields has been in front of a camera since she was in diapers, starting with modeling (her early-teen “Nothing comes between me and my Calvins” campaign will be forever etched in our collective commercial subconscious) and segueing into films that ranged from impressive (“Pretty Baby”) to silly (“Blue Lagoon”) to not-even-a-rental (“Brenda Starr”). She received good notices for her stint as tough chick Rizzo in “Grease” on Broadway two years ago and as a stalking victim in the 1993 CBS docudrama “I Can Make You Love Me: The Stalking of Laura Black.”

Even while doing hard time in academia (Princeton), she’s never been too far out of the gossip loop.

Like many other child stars, she was managed by a parent, in this case her mother, Teri Shields. If ever a relationship was dissected over and over publicly, it was this one. Stories portrayed Teri as the overbearing, overprotective string-puller to Brooke’s innocent puppet. Brooke talked openly about her mother’s alcoholism. Still, she managed to side-step Tragic Child Star Syndrome and to continue to work.

(Teri Shields was unavailable for comment for this story.)

The two parted ways professionally when Shields decided to overthrow the regime and hire the requisite acting team: an agency (William Morris), a manager (Perry Rogers, who also handles Agassi) and a publicity firm (Wolf-Kasteler).

As Susan has broken free, so has Brooke.

And now, with more success looming, everyone even vaguely connected with the Brooke Shields machine is gleefully rubbing his or her hands at capturing this “lightning in a bottle,” as one executive described her. In the ultra-competitive television world, tapping unexplored hot talent can literally mean rating points galore and millions in the bank.

*

But a new sitcom may also be the entertainment industry’s biggest crapshoot. Says one television executive who preferred to remain nameless: “A certain amount of development is going to be derivative, and studios are going to try to repeat their successes in future series. But it’s not that easy, and what brings a show together--the right actors, writers, producers and director--is a magical process and very difficult to replicate. . . . There is no formula for a hit show, and that’s why you see studios and networks try a variety of combinations, with stand-ups or successful feature stars or personalities to build shows around. I don’t think that Brooke is any less likely a candidate for success than any of the aforementioned.”

Says John Kimble, head of the TV talent department at William Morris: “From the day we started talking, I had been on a soapbox saying, [let’s] put on film who she is and what she’s evolved to, and not what people think she is. . . . We started looking for writers, took a lot of meetings with most of the major studios. Everyone had seen ‘Friends’ and that started creating some heat, and more and more people started bringing her things.”

One of those things was a pilot from Warner Bros., written by Clyde Phillips, about a newly single woman, a one-camera “dramedy” a la “The Wonder Years.”

NBC liked the concept but wanted it in a multi-camera, live-audience sitcom format, a la “Seinfeld.” Producers Billy Van Zandt and Jane Milmore (“Bless This House,” “Martin”) were hired, a pilot was shot, and executives were pleased--but not thrilled.

“The pilot was good; we thought it could be better,” says NBC Entertainment President Warren Littlefield. “I think we were right not to settle.”

In came producers Gary Dontzig and Steven Peterman (the Emmy-winning team from “Murphy Brown”), who kept the basic premise but made cast changes and moved the setting from a publishing house in Pasadena to a hip magazine in San Francisco.

What made the TV powers that be so sure that Shields could pull off her own sitcom?

“I can’t say I had my eye on her from [early on],” Littlefield says, “but I had some sense of Brooke--we all did. I think the first eye-opening role of hers in recent years was as a guest on a two-part ‘Quantum Leap.’ . . . We were watching a woman emerge that was entertaining, interesting and with a real sense of humor.”

*

The day after Shields has taped the second episode, she is back on the set for a table reading of the next show. During a lunch break, she talks about how well she gets along with her co-stars--they go to dinner together, go to movies together, sweat at the gym together. Her enthusiasm for being part of an ensemble show is palpable.

“I’ve always wanted to belong to a group,” she says, “and maybe that’s from the isolation I sensed from being a young child, or having to carry the weight of films since I was young.”

Those early films, she adds, “were more of a summer vacation, but they created a professional with a very intact work ethic. I’ve always enjoyed being part of the team, so I’m trying to perpetuate that with this show.”

Does she think audiences will be as willing as TV execs to accept her as a pratfalling sitcom star?

“I hope they’re willing to come along with me and go with it and take a look at another facet,” she says. “When I did ‘Grease,’ you know they weren’t hearing anything you said at first. ‘Is that really her hair? I didn’t know she could sing.’ It was sort of all about me and my past. But I could feel that by the end of the first song, people had forgotten about who they were watching and they were just into Rizzo.”

Not that Shields is trying to run from her past; in fact, she harbors no regrets for some of the roles she has taken. She just hopes she can persuade audiences to let her past go--Brooke the provocative child model, Brooke the poster child for virginity, Brooke the perennial nice girl, attached at the hip to her mother.

“There were choices made that if I were to go back I wouldn’t change them,” she says, “because I do believe that they all sort of contributed to who I am today. But professionally I feel like there’s a lot of undoing that needs to be done. That just means my work is cut out for me. . . . The more work I do, the more of a deflection off of me that will be.

“So that’s why it’s up to me to just be steadfast and keep going and make it about the work instead of about my life, which I think my past was more about. Somehow I became something very independent of any of the work I did, and it was a machine that kept perpetuating itself--understandably so, and I did nothing, because I didn’t really think about it to change it.

“It does really boil down to making choices,” she continues, “and you’re not always going to make the right choices, but you at least have to believe in what you’re doing, and that’s one of the biggest lessons I’ve been learning. It was easier when I was younger, because I was void of all responsibility. And I welcomed that. So now it’s more tiring, and I miss a little of the bliss of when I was a kid.”

Although it’s been two years since Shields and her mother parted professional company, there are still some ruts in the road.

“Personally it’s created such an upheaval that I think it will be years before it’s settled,” Shields says. “That’s just the reality. When you’ve lived in a context for 28 years, it’s very familiar to you, and no matter how much you want it changed, there’s this pull that wants things to all be OK still.

“Sure, we talk to each other. It’s not the drama that you would anticipate. It’s just very deep confusion. There’s a sadness. I don’t feel as if I made any mistakes, but I do feel that I have hurt her, without intention. It was just my need to really do this on my own and figure out what my capabilities were.

“I know her desire to have me be stronger as a child, and yet she was always there to pick up the pieces, and that doesn’t help any type of growth. Yet I took away her purpose. And now her place as a mother is undefined. It’s a redefinition. And that can be so painful, and you have to really get in there and find out all you don’t like about yourself, and I know I’m doing it, but she has to do it for herself. And I don’t believe it’s ever too late. I just am hopeful.”

The split came at a point, she explains, “when I was basically saying, ‘What are the things I know I want? And how can I be honest in getting them?’ I’m not a one-woman show. My agency was very responsible for this [TV] show coming about, for really giving me a path. Perry was phenomenal in asking me what my dreams were, and then asking questions like ‘Why are you refusing to live in L.A.? Why? Why? Why?’ There are pieces to this puzzle that I’ve resisted probably my whole life, because as a team with my mother we thought we could just do it all. And I realize now that if I’m going to be in this industry and commit to it, these are the people I’m going to have in my life.”

Another integral part is Agassi, with whom Shields was fixed up by a mutual friend three ago. They share common threads of being child prodigies coached by strong parents--in Agassi’s case his father.

He’s still based in Las Vegas, and she’s realizing that she’s going to have to buy a place in L.A. (she has been staying with friends since moving from Manhattan). They get together when they can. More real world, grown-up stuff.

She gives Agassi credit for a big chunk of the New Brooke.

“I think one thing he’s taught me was [how to deal with] this inability to be disliked by anybody, which I think my insecurity dictated as a younger person. I wanted everyone to like me, and that was professionally, personally, every way. I was very much in the pleaser mode, in the I’ll-fix-everybody place. Add to that a professional life that’s predicated on being an adult, being on time and a good person and gaining a reputation that you’re liked.

“And you don’t even realize the toll it’s taking until you’re given the option that maybe it’s OK if a few people don’t like you. It took me 30 years to figure it out. It’s almost as if there’s this molting, and it’s painful, and yet it has a purpose. At least you’re aware and alive and you keep growing.”

She laughs when asked if there’s a date set for the marriage.

“A date? A date? No. That’s the problem. I swore I would never be one of those women who was perpetually engaged.

“I don’t know,” she sighs, “maybe we’ll run off and get married and have a huge party or something. I’ve always wanted a formal wedding, but I have to be realistic--I don’t want it to be stolen from me. Somebody mentioned getting the air rights [for helicopter photography]. Air rights? Doesn’t that take the romance out of it a little bit? I mean, it’s bad enough you’ve got to find the guy, and all of a sudden you’re dealing with zoning?” She laughs. “There’s something very wrong here.”

That suddenly sounds very Susan.

*

“Suddenly Susan” airs Thursdays at 9:30 p.m. on KNBC Channel 4.