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The Best of ROB LOWE

With the release of the new remake of Youngblood out in theaters, I thought, you know what, this is as good an excuse as any to sit down and really think about Rob Lowe.


Because here’s a guy who has been part of my moviegoing life since 1983. Since Francis Ford Coppola put him in The Outsiders and suddenly this impossibly handsome kid with the jawline and the hair and that movie-star glow was everywhere. And I mean everywhere.


Robert Hepler Lowe, born March 17, 1964, in Charlottesville, Virginia. Lost his hearing in his right ear as a baby because of undiagnosed mumps. Grew up in Dayton, Ohio, that kind of traditional American setting, then moved to Malibu, Santa Monica High School, hanging out with Charlie Sheen before either of them were famous.


Bench pressing 135 pounds and apparently still talking about it forty years later on his podcast. German, English, Irish, Scottish, Welsh ancestry.


Found out on Who Do You Think You Are? that one of his ancestors was a Hessian soldier captured at Trenton in 1776 who decided to stay in America. That’s pretty cool. That’s a hell of a backstory. It’s very Rob Lowe, actually. A little bit of American history, a little bit of reinvention.


He got his first professional acting gig at 12, calling theaters in Ohio looking for work. That hustle never really left him.


Now here’s the thing. Rob Lowe is basically a contemporary of mine. He’s a year older than I am. I spent my formative teenage years watching Rob Lowe movies. I spent my twenties watching him grow up on screen while, let’s be honest, watching him implode a little bit off screen.



Those heady, ridiculous, wonderful, excessive early-to-mid ‘80s days when all those kids were in everything. The Outsiders. Class. The Hotel New Hampshire. Oxford Blues. St. Elmo’s Fire. About Last Night…. He was right in the middle of it. A leader of the pack, really. Him and Estevez were the connective tissue.


And yeah, he was a teen idol. A pin-up. On every magazine cover. Dismissed by a lot of people as just a good-looking guy. And let’s not kid ourselves: he is an incredibly handsome, striking human being.


The man is 61 years old now and looks like he’s 30. He’s the Atkins poster boy for a reason. But for a while, in the ‘80s, he coasted a bit on that. The hair. The smolder. The cheekbones.


Then the excess caught up with him. The sex tape scandal in 1988. Suddenly he became the symbol of young Hollywood gone wild. It stymied his career for years. Tabloids. Jokes. Late-night punchlines.


And on top of that, the hard partying. He started drinking heavily as a teenager, and by 1990 he had to get sober. To his enormous credit, he did. He went to rehab. He’s been sober ever since and says it’s the best decision he ever made. I believe him.


You can actually see the shift in him as a performer and as a public figure once he got clean. There’s a clarity there.


The ‘90s were this weird rebuilding period. Supporting roles. Smart choices. A little self-deprecation. He pops up in Wayne’s World — small role, but funny. Then comes Tommy Boy.


And I will say this flat out: Tommy Boy is the movie where you first really see how funny Rob Lowe is. He has scenes with Chris Farley (who could eat people alive onscreen) and not only does Lowe hold his own, in a couple of scenes he’s funnier. Dryer. Sharper. Smarter.


That supporting performance kicked the door wide open for him in comedy.


You saw flashes of it in the Austin Powers movies. I’m not a big Mike Myers guy, I’ve never loved those movies, but I will tell you this: Rob Lowe is one of the funniest things in them. Period. He understood the assignment. He leaned into the absurdity. He’s got killer timing.


And then he starts doing terrific supporting work in stuff like Thank You for Smoking, The Invention of Lying, even silly things like View From the Top.


He has taken chances, like The Hotel New Hampshire, which was a bold move early on. He did weird stuff like The Dark Backward. He never stopped working. Straight-to-video, TV movies, miniseries. Grind it out.


Then comes the real renaissance: television.


The West Wing. Sam Seaborn. Over 80 episodes. Emmy nomination. Two Golden Globe nominations. When that show premiered, he was basically positioned as the lead. And even when the focus shifted to the ensemble (Allison Janney, Richard Schiff, Bradley Whitford, Martin Sheen) Lowe remained the emotional heart of that early run. He was amazing on that show.


Idealistic, fast-talking, wounded, passionate. And yeah, there were behind-the-scenes disputes, pay issues, Aaron Sorkin drama, and he left before Sorkin did. But when he came back for the final season? It mattered. It meant something.


He tried some other shows. The Lyon’s Den. Dr. Vegas. Not great. Didn’t last. That happens.

But then… Parks and Recreation.


Chris Traeger.


And I will say this without exaggeration: Chris Traeger is one of the funniest characters in the history of television. Rob Lowe’s performance on that show is magnificent.


The positivity dialed up to 11. The physical comedy. The verbal precision. The micro-pauses. In an ensemble that included Amy Poehler, Nick Offerman, Aubrey Plaza, Aziz Ansari (killers, every one of them) Lowe was one of the funniest people on screen. Watching him on Parks and Rec was a joy. A real joy.


He pops up on Californication and is hilarious. He does 9-1-1: Lone Star and becomes this steady, commanding presence as Captain Owen Strand.


He hosts Mental Samurai. Now he’s hosting The Floor. He executive produces. He directs... he made his directorial debut with The Bad Seed remake. He does podcasts: Literally! With Rob Lowe, the Parks and Recollection recap show. He’s a late-night staple. He did his own roast. He’s affable. Self-aware. Game.


He’s been married to Sheryl Berkoff since 1991. Two sons. Stable. Sober. Philanthropic. Lost his mother to breast cancer and became involved in fundraising. He’s had lawsuits, controversies, headlines — but he’s navigated all of it.


And that’s the thing about Rob Lowe. The arc of his career is fascinating. Teen idol. Brat Pack royalty. Scandal cautionary tale. Tabloid punchline. Supporting player. Dramatic actor. Emmy-nominated TV star. Comedy assassin. Game show host. Executive producer. Podcast personality. Political junkie. Atkins spokesman.


The guy reinvented himself multiple times.


So with Youngblood being remade (and that original 1986 hockey flick being one of those quintessential mid-‘80s Lowe vehicles) it just felt right to look back. To sit with the career of a guy I’ve been watching since I was a teenager. A guy who’s grown up onscreen more or less alongside me.


Rob Lowe is really terrific. He’s far more talented than people gave him credit for in the ‘80s. His comedic chops are extraordinary. His dramatic work, when he locks in, can be powerful.


And he’s carved out this second (maybe third) act that’s arguably more interesting than his first.


So in honor of that, I’ve put together my 10 favorite Rob Lowe performances — film and television.


These are my personal favorites. The ones that meant the most to me. The ones where I think he absolutely nailed it. They’re ranked in order of preference.


Here they are. My 10 favorite Rob Lowe performances.


THE BEST OF ROB LOWE:



Chris Traeger is, quite simply, one of the funniest characters in television history. And I do not say that lightly. Rob Lowe took what could have been a one-note joke (the relentlessly positive health nut city manager) and turned him into this beautifully calibrated piece of comic machinery.


The line readings alone are genius. The physicality. The way he weaponizes optimism. “Literally” has never been used with more intensity. In an ensemble packed with killers, Lowe somehow carved out one of the most memorable roles on the show. His timing is razor sharp, his commitment is total, and he understands the rhythm of sitcom comedy at a molecular level.


This is where all those years (the teen idol stuff, the dramatic chops, the supporting comedy work) fused together into something perfect. I adore him in this role. It’s his masterpiece.


Now this is the one that made people go, “Oh…Rob Lowe’s dangerous.” This 1990 thriller, right after the scandal, is fascinating because Lowe leans directly into his public image. He plays this seductive, manipulative, morally bankrupt drifter who pulls James Spader into a spiral of excess and destruction.


It’s dark. It’s sleazy. It’s very late-’80s/early-’90s erotic thriller territory. And Lowe is terrific. There’s a self-awareness there that makes the performance crackle. He’s playing the devil on your shoulder, and he does it with that movie-star charisma dialed up and twisted sideways.


It’s one of the first times you see him weaponize his beauty instead of coast on it. Bold choice. Smart performance.


This is the turning point. The movie where you realize, once and for all, that Rob Lowe is legitimately funny. Not “oh look, the handsome guy is doing comedy.” No. Funny.


He plays the smug, corporate villain opposite Chris Farley and David Spade, and he not only holds his own — in several scenes he’s the sharpest comic presence in the room. His dry reactions, his exasperation, the subtle arrogance — it’s beautifully pitched.


Farley is a hurricane, and Lowe doesn’t try to out-hurricane him. He plays it smart. Controlled. And it works brilliantly. This performance opened the door to everything that followed in his comedy career. Without this, you don’t get Chris Traeger. Period.


Sam Seaborn. The golden boy speechwriter with the idealistic heart and the slightly bruised ego. When The West Wing premiered, Lowe was positioned front and center. And he’s wonderful in those early seasons.


He brings warmth, intelligence, and that classic Lowe sincerity to Aaron Sorkin’s machine-gun dialogue. He makes the idealism feel real. You believe this guy cares about policy and poetry in equal measure. And even as the ensemble expanded and the focus shifted, his presence remained essential to the show’s emotional core.


The Emmy and Golden Globe nominations were deserved. This is Lowe proving he’s not just a former teen idol or a comedic assassin — he’s a genuinely compelling dramatic actor.


This is where it all started. Francis Ford Coppola. S.E. Hinton. The Brat Pack before we even knew to call them that. Lowe as Sodapop Curtis — the dreamy, sweet, open-hearted middle brother. And yeah, he was dubbed in parts because of technical issues with the original cut, which is one of those weird bits of trivia that still bugs me — but even with that, you can see it. The star quality.


The camera absolutely loves him. He has that golden-boy glow, that tragic romanticism that defined so many of those early ‘80s teen movies. Watching him in this now, knowing everything that came after (the fame, the scandal, the reinvention) there’s something kind of poetic about it. This is the launch pad. This is ground zero for Rob Lowe, Movie Star.


Now this is what I love: Rob Lowe doing something completely unexpected. In Steven Soderbergh’s terrific HBO film about Liberace, Lowe plays Dr. Jack Startz, the plastic surgeon with blinding veneers and an ego to match.


And he goes big. The hair, the teeth, the tan, the absurdity of it. He’s hilarious and grotesque and weirdly perfect. It’s a supporting role, but he makes it count. This is seasoned Rob Lowe, comfortable enough in his own skin to look ridiculous and have a blast doing it. It’s fearless comedy, but grounded in character. That’s not easy to pull off. He nails it.


One of those early ‘80s coming-of-age movies that doesn’t get talked about enough anymore. Lowe as Skip Burroughs IV, the privileged prep-school kid navigating friendship, sex, and total emotional confusion.


The movie is messy and very much of its time, but Lowe brings a sincerity to it. You can see him trying to stretch beyond the teen-idol thing even this early. There’s vulnerability there. There’s awkwardness. He’s not just posing for the poster. It’s a transitional performance, it's still glossy, still very “Brat Pack,” but reaching for something more layered.


Look, I’ve made no secret of the fact that I’m not the world’s biggest fan of the Austin Powers movies. They’re not my thing. But Rob Lowe? Rob Lowe is consistently one of the funniest parts of those films.


As Young Number Two, he understands exactly how heightened the universe is and plays it with that perfectly dry, slightly smarmy edge. He doesn’t mug. He doesn’t overdo it. He lets the absurdity breathe around him.


And that restraint makes him funnier. It’s a great example of how he found his groove in comedy — not by trying to be the loudest guy in the room, but by being the smartest.


This is not a great movie. Let’s just get that out of the way. But Lowe, as the charming, slightly sleazy pilot love interest opposite Gwyneth Paltrow, is having a really good time. And sometimes that’s enough.


He leans into the rom-com energy, plays up the smirk, and reminds you how effortlessly charismatic he can be. It’s light, it’s fluffy, it’s early-2000s studio comedy comfort food — and Lowe fits into that world perfectly.


Not every performance on a Top 10 list has to be high art. Sometimes it’s just about presence. And he’s got that in spades.


Ah yes. The hockey movie. Peak mid-‘80s Lowe. Playing Dean Youngblood, the talented, brooding young player trying to prove himself on the ice and off. It’s sweaty, it’s melodramatic, it’s got that classic sports-movie arc, and Lowe is right at the center of it.


This was him fully in teen idol mode, carrying a movie, smoldering through close-ups, embodying that blue-collar sports hero vibe. Watching it now, it’s a fascinating time capsule. And with the remake out now, it’s impossible not to look back at this and think about how far he’s come.


From hockey heartthrob to Emmy-nominated dramatic actor to one of the great sitcom characters of the 21st century.





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