

(“Sometimes you gotta go back to actually move forward.”) In an epigraph immediately after his memoir’s intro, he quotes, unironically, his own much-parodied Lincoln advertisement. His philosophy is delivered with a self-awareness that some people still might not be expecting a Matthew McConaughey book to contain. I told them.”īut the way he tells them is important, too. As he puts it: “All the stories are true. Once you accept that the red light is there, you can prepare to change it and move forward.įor McConaughey, the red lights have ranged from feeling lonely and isolated on a year-long high school exchange trip in Australia, to the unexpected death of his father while he was busy seizing his debut role in Dazed and Confused, to that moment, on the edge of 30 years old, when he realized he was typecast as a RomCom Guy and being passed up for the serious scripts he desired. How various obstacles and tragedies in his life (red lights) actually turned out to be opportunities for growth and understanding and success (green lights). McConaughey just authored his first book, Greenlights, a memoir that earnestly shares a sort of philosophy he’s developed over the years. Seventy-five for a cover.Ĭlick here to subscribe to more top-level content with MH MVP. Fifty bucks for inside the magazine, he told them. He told them they’ll get paid, but only if the photos run. He’s recruited his kids (7, 10, and 12) to handle all his photo shoots and commercials-so far, one for Longbranch Whiskey and some pics for People magazine.

MCCONAUGHEY MOVED to Austin 12 years ago, and he’s been home nonstop since spring-save for “one little out to Hawaii for a week and a half to get outside and get some sun.” He’s “hunkered down” now with his wife, their three children, and his 88-year-old mother. They didn’t pay the rent, but they bought me a few drinks.” The grin seems to linger forever. And it paid 150 bucks,” he says with a grin. They rise now in front of the screen on a Zoom interview, when McConaughey is asked about the first time we ever saw him. The fingers swell around two rings-one silver and copper to protect the owner from evil thoughts, the other a wedding band. It was the face by which he would be judged. In our universe, it was the face that paid the bills. Perhaps there exists a universe in which that hand is all we ever saw of McConaughey, a universe in which that was all we remembered or judged him by. They had not yet gripped trophies or pounded bongos or worn handcuffs. They’d built tree houses and spun truck wheels and driven golf balls far down Texas fairways. Matthew McConaughey’s right hand resting open across his tuxedo buttons in a commercial for Al’s Formal Wear, in 1991.īack then, they were working hands.
