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NO WAY OUT Sean Young with costar Kevin Costner in the 1987 film
Everett Collection

Young does take some responsibility for her Hollywood downfall. Tired of feeling demonized, the actress fled the scene for Sedona, Ariz., and spent much of the '90s living in peace in an adobe-style house off a desert road. ''I retreated, and that was a mistake,'' she allows. ''I should have stood my ground and fought. If you're not there to stand up for yourself, the rumor turns into a monster. I may have perceived it as self-preservation, but it had the effect of career derailment.'' Or, Young says, she might at times have been too giving, too alluring, too unwilling to tiptoe around powerful men with fat egos. She should have taken Dirty Rotten Scoundrels instead of The Boost, and she curses the accident that forced her to bow out of Batman. She wishes she hadn't been offered Sharon Stone's role in Casino when she was pregnant with her first son. Tell Young that she would have been interesting in the juicy part that won Stone a Golden Globe and she sighs. ''I have a lot of would-have-beens,'' she says, starting to look annoyed. ''We should, uh — I get tired of talking about myself after a while. Franklin Roosevelt had the New Deal and I had the raw deal.'' But she has just finished reading Mitch Albom's Tuesdays With Morrie and she feels righteous, convinced that like the serene old man in the best-seller, she'll die one day with a clear conscience.

A young woman walks awkwardly up to the table and starts gushing. ''Can I tell you how much of an inspiration you are from when I was a little girl? No Way Out? That's why I'm an actor.'' Young smiles beatifically, seconding ''good movie, good movie.'' The fan asks if she can take a picture with the actress and Young agrees. ''Let's go back in the shade where it's flattering,'' she tells her new friend who, Young swears, was not paid to take part in this little scene.

Not so long ago, Young decided to take an audition class given by That '70s Show casting director G. Charles Wright. So on a cold January night, she watched all the students around her get up over and over again, vulnerable to a room of their peers. She credits the class for turning her negative attitude around. ''For years every time I would go to an audition, I'd hear, 'So what about this James Woods stuff?''' she says. ''So I didn't audition well.... When you have your reputation wrecked, then you go in to prove yourself, it's really not the same game. I'd be frustrated or needy or just not believing that anybody on the other side of the table was rooting for me. Then I took the class and thought, 'Okay, I got it, maybe people really want you to do well.'''

Young looks at her watch and realizes that she's late for her 1 o'clock computer class, but she wants to leave on a note of go-get-'em optimism. ''I'm a comeback waiting to happen,'' she says firmly. ''No one deserves it more than I do. So what I would wish for me is good luck. Just a lot of good luck.'' Her big dream is to remake the 1937 madcap comedy Topper with George Clooney sliding into Cary Grant's shoes and her tackling the Constance Bennett role. ''I think our chemistry would match very well and I'd give him a run for his money. I have at least or more of what he has, just not the same opportunities. So if he would just return my call,'' she says, glaring at her unresponsive cell phone on the table, ''and give me a shot, that could be really great.... I really see myself in that new niche: a glamorous comedienne like Carole Lombard or even Lucille Ball. Humor and beauty. Those two things, they're natural to me.''

After a firm handshake, she leans down to purr that she's gone ahead and taken care of the check and then saunters off, smooth as silk. From out of nowhere, a small bird flies toward her head, its little wing flapping for a beat in her sprayed nest of hair. Young yelps, and waves off her attacker with a nervous laugh. She just can't get a break.


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