Metro Weekly cover. As the photographer shows off his preference for old-school camera bodies with physical dials, as opposed to digital interfaces, a casually dressed Broderick listens intently.
The magazine’s publisher and the theater’s publicist, meanwhile, stand to the side, each nervously counting down the minutes left as the clock rapidly runs out on the 20-minute shoot.“I prefer physical dials over digital,” says the photographer.“Yeah, yeah,” Broderick nods in agreement, bringing up his own experience with cameras.Tick… tick… tick.Time doesn’t seem to be an obstacle for Broderick, who, at 62, sporting a neatly combed swoop of gray hair, seems impossibly youthful.
There is nary a wrinkle marring his still boyish good looks. Perhaps it’s just being in the presence of a star of his stature that blinds one to it.
Or perhaps there’s a portrait hidden away in an attic somewhere….Sometime later, during an affable, hour-long conversation, I reveal to Broderick that I was genuinely starstruck in his presence.“I’ll cure you of that,” he chuckles.But, in fact, Broderick is game for any question lobbed at him, including a “gotcha” that actors absolutely hate.