By Harry Haun
11 Jan 2011

	Holt McCallany in "Lights Out"
	photo by Craig Blankenhorn/FX

The best and most daring thing "Lights Out" does is to serve up stardom on a silver platter to Holt McCallany, an "overnight discovery" of 26 years who has been kicking around in movies and on TV in supporting roles too small for his talent.

Ray Liotta toyed with the idea of playing Patrick "Lights" Leary but eventually passed, prompting McCallany to pounce and ultimately triumph over the career-long handicap of not being a Name. He had an edge here: Being 46 years old when The Big Break comes along gives an actor a certain desperate urgency he can use in his work, particularly if playing a defeated boxing champ reduced to money-making indignities like calling out bingo numbers and manhandling deadbeats.

"When you struggle for years as an actor, you understand how rare and special it is to get a tour de force part — the role of your dreams," McCallany said. "Some guys never get it. That doesn't mean they're not good, and it doesn't mean they're not deserving. It's just the breaks. It's a business where luck and timing are everything. There are a lot of factors an actor can't control that can make or break his career.

"It's a really difficult thing for a lot of actors, being forced to retire while they're still relatively young. Trying To Find Your Second Act becomes the name of the game. You're still a young man. You have all those years left ahead of you, but the thing that you've devoted all of your life to — you can't do anymore. What comes next? A lot of guys have trouble answering that question. I was one of the lucky ones. I got a great part. Now, at this stage of my career, I have a lead — basically, my first lead."

	Holt McCallany and Catherine McCormack in "Lights Out"
	photo by Craig Blankenhorn/FX

At long last, the lead — and, recreationally, he was born for it. "I've always loved boxing," declared the bruiser you may have seen fleetingly as boxing trainer Teddy Atlas in HBO's telefilm, "Tyson," or as The Mechanic in "Fight Club" (both the movie and the video). "I think boxing is inherently dramatic. That's why we've seen a love affair between Hollywood and boxing for so long. I remember how moved I was by Jack Palance in 'Requiem for a Heavyweight' — that 'Studio One' version on TV — and by a movie Robert Wise did with Robert Ryan, 'The Set-Up.'"

How McCallany fits into this dream of things was gleefully relayed to the audience by FX's top honcho, John Landgraf, quoting TV Guide's just-in review: "You remember the first time you saw Jon Hamm's Don Draper and James Gandolfini's Tony Soprano? Well, get ready for some déjà vu as McCallany, a former amateur boxer, will have you wondering, 'Where's this guy been all my life?'"

Where, indeed! Anyone who saw him step on stage at the Provincetown Playhouse in April of '92 for his first lead role, opposite Tatum O'Neal and William Hickey, in the five fast performances of Kevin Breslin's A Terrible Beauty could have seen this day coming. He had the trademark stamp of a star.

Great showbiz genes account for this charisma and hormone count. His dad, Michael McAloney, was the Dublin actor who produced the Tony-winning Best Play of 1970 (Borstal Boy). His mom is the much-loved and longstanding nightclub institution, Julie Wilson. When the screening morphed into an after-party at the Edison Ballroom, she formed her own receiving line right beside her son's.

Elegantly outfitted in a wrap-around black-lace gown, she warmly accepted the good wishes of any and all who rushed up to her. It being his evening, she made a token attempt to dress down for the occasion by not wearing the signature gardenia in her hair. I didn't notice one when I whispered in her ear, "A star is born."

Appreciatively, her eyes widened, and her smile broadened. "Can you believe it?" she said incredulously. "After all these years, a gate finally opens, and here we are."