Whether he’s playing a mob tough, a neurotic hit man, a steely detective, or a seasoned supermarket manager, Dennis Farina is the classic everyman — which means he finds the heart and soul inside of every role he has played. His screen persona in films like Out of Sight, Get Shorty, The Grand, and What Happens in Vegas (out this month), as well as TV shows like Crime Story and Law & Order, is much like Farina the man. In conversation, the 64-year-old Chicago native — who served on the Windy City’s police force for 18 years before becoming an actor — crackles with enthusiasm, sincerity, and downright likability.

Whether dodging questions about his work behind a badge or joking about his work behind one of Hollywood’s most famous mustaches, Farina is a gentleman, a man’s man, the guy you’re glad to know in any kind of weather and who always delivers on the silver screen.

You’ve played a lot of supporting roles on film and TV, but you’ve said that there are no small parts in Hollywood.
No matter the size of the role, you can make it your own. I don’t think anybody should go around feeling bad because they don’t have the most lines. I’ve always found that small parts are the most fun. For me, there’s a lot to be said for going in and doing a week or two on a movie. That’s nice. Gives you lots of time to play golf. [Laughs.] You’ve gotta remember that.

You also once said “I don’t want to know that an actor lived in a cave for twelve days so that he could prepare for a part.” A lot of actors really do go Method, but there seems to be a great, casual air to the work you do.
Some people would argue that I’ve never done anything complicated enough that it would require me to go into a cave for twelve days. [Laughs.] Maybe they wish I’d gone into the cave anyway. Truth is, I learn my lines. I show up on time. I do my job. When a job requires some research, I’ll do it. But I think you can overcomplicate things, and that Method — not that I’m criticizing anybody for how they get to the final performance — can be too much. I’m doing a job here.

Everyone says you’re a genuinely nice guy — even when you’re whacking guys in the movies, there’s a charm to your character. Is there a dark side?
I don’t take myself too seriously, and I’ve gotten invited into some great projects with great writers and great directors. Then, no matter what I’m doing, I’m always trying to find the humor in it. A lot of the stuff I’ve done isn’t necessarily funny stuff. These characters, a lot of them, are kind of ambiguous — you don’t know if they’re good or bad, but you can still have a lot of fun with that.

Is that part of your temperament — always looking for the humor in life?
Yeah. That’s my nature, the way I cope with life. You’ve gotta laugh. Some things you don’t have too much control over, but if you’re going to jump, do it with both feet and try to have a laugh.

What’s the key to playing some of these “ambiguous” characters?
It’s really just the script. I just finished a movie called Bag Boy, about kids who bag groceries. I never thought I’d be involved with anything like that in my life, but the script was so funny and so interesting I had to do it. There’s a whole little world involved in bagging groceries. Who knew?

Are there any grand metaphors or life lessons we can take from bagging groceries?
I don’t know. I’ve never been asked that question before. I’ve never thought a lot about bagging groceries. [Laughs.] Maybe we should put the hard stuff on the bottom of the bag?

I understand you were axed from a school play, your first acting job.
That’s true. It was high school. Me and a friend went and got roles in the school play, The Mousetrap. But during rehearsals, we were constantly goofing around and laughing and wanting to go to the ballgames, you know. That poor teacher, Mrs. Ferraro. She just told us one day to go to the ballgame and never come back. That was my introduction to acting. I think I made it through, like, a week or something. [Laughs.]

After school, you worked for 18 years on the Chicago police force. Then you made the switch to acting, which you “blame” entirely on Michael Mann.
Yeah, this is all his fault. [Laughs.] Michael was working with a police officer friend of mine on this movie he was doing, Thief, and he wanted some other police guys for some parts in the movie. Michael asked me into the movie, and that was that. Things just went from there — Crime Story, Manhunter, Miami Vice.

As an artist, intellect, and mentor, you could do a lot worse than Michael Mann. What did you learn from him?
We were doing Crime Story up in Las Vegas, and I was having a little bit of a hard time with this one story we were doing. The director wanted me to play the scene a certain way, but it didn’t feel right to me. It just didn’t feel like how a cop would do things. So I talked to Michael about it and he told me, “Nobody’s going to know your character better than you. If you feel that strongly about something, work it out with the guy.” I’ve taken that with me. Every time I’ve come across something that hasn’t rung true for me, I’ve talked it out. That’s always been my approach. So far, it’s working.

I doubt it always plays out like that.
There are more reasonable things going on in Hollywood than unreasonable things. The unreasonable stuff makes good copy, but most people are doing what they should.

Before becoming a film and TV star, you did quite a bit of theater. You played with the famed Steppenwolf Theatre Company in Chicago. Tell me the differences between playing the stage and acting on film.
Film is the great American invention, and I feel more comfortable on a movie set than I ever did on stage. I had a great time doing the plays. I had a wonderful time. But theater is something you have to do on a steady basis. I like doing a couple weeks on a movie and then…

…go play golf.
[Laughs.] Right. You’ve gotta make time for that.

I’ve read some good stories about you and Frasier star John Mahoney playing pranks on each other at Steppenwolf.
I’m not a prankster by nature, but I think John is. We really hit it off. He helped me out so much. All those Steppenwolf guys, they were so very, very nice to me. I had no idea what I was doing, and they never called me out on it. I don’t really know what they saw in me. I’m not big on self-analysis or self-description. I guess they knew I’d show up on time and know my lines and where to stand. I’ve always been good at getting the job done.

I understand Mahoney poured some liquor in your coffee mug onstage.
Yeah, he did. Best second act of my life!

A lot of the characters you play — whether they’re good guys or bad guys — come across as being very cool. Does the idea of “cool” mean anything to you?
I just stick to what I do, and I do it the best I can. When you’re happy in your work, you tend to be happier. And I’m not very excitable, either. If that translates into being cool, I don’t know. [Laughs.]

I understand you’ve got 40 really nice suits in your closet.
Forty? Is that all? Maybe it’s more.

What does a good suit mean to you?
Always, even as a kid, I was impressed with sharp dressers. My family was all really hardworking, really nice people, and always really sharply dressed — which wasn’t easy, because there wasn’t a lot of money where we came from. But they always, somehow, managed to look good. I’ve tried to emulate that. I don’t know if I’ve always put on the best suit, but I’ve tried. When I was a kid, I always told myself if I ever have any money I’ll have some good suits. I always thought someone who was dressed well did well. At least they look like they should be able to get through the day.

Tell me about the mustache. It might be the most famous mustache in Hollywood.
I don’t know. I’ve had it for years. I nicked it down a couple of times for movies, but I don’t even pay attention to it anymore. I just groom it every once in a while, and it does the rest for me.

It’d be like the Dennis Farina nude scene if you ever shaved that thing off.
My gosh. Nobody needs that.

You seem to have a real affinity for Las Vegas. What draws you to that city?
I’ve spent a lot of time there, and I know a lot of people there. Vegas feels like it’s always been a part of my life. The Rat Pack was a part of my generation. I wouldn’t presume to put myself in their class, but I relate to them. Those were real guys.

You’ve said that Dean Martin’s “Ain’t That a Kick in the Head” could be your theme song. Why?
How lucky can one guy be? That’s part of the song. I always felt that was me. I’ve been very fortunate in my life. Here I am, doing this, doing that…. You say to yourself, ain’t that a kick in the head? I mean, I’m a lucky guy.

Your high-school drama teacher would be proud.
Well, I hope so. I’m having a pretty nice time. I’m just enjoying the ride.

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J. Rentilly writes about literature, music, film, and pop culture from his home in Los Angeles.