New York is a frigid eight degrees on this clear, pre-Christmas day. Inside the homey brick confines of Cafe Lalo, an Upper West Side boite, the warm hiss of the capuccino machine penetrates the drowsy, half-empty room. Cold air bursts in as Alee Baldwin enters, his dark coat billowing behind him. Seemingly unconscious of the discreet sidelong glances that follow his entrance—New Yorkers like to be cool when it comes to their movie stars—he settles into a chair in the center of the restaurant and looks around for a waitress.

Despite the kind of looks that would normally straight-jacket another actor into a lifetime of playing tight-lipped heroes, Baldwin has artfully essayed a Juicy portfolio of characters: Geena Davis' newly-dead husband in Beetlejuice, Melanie Griffith's smarmy boyfriend in Working Girl, Michelle Pfeiffer's hit-man husband in Married to the Mob, Eric Bogosian's yuppie station manager in Talk Radio, Dennis Quaid's preacher-cousin Jimmy Swaggart in Great Balls of Fire.

The never-boring Baldwin now takes on those leading man laurels. Starring in the East vs. West sub & spy thriller The Hunt for Red October, Baldwin plays a CIA man who plots maid a Soviet nuclear submarine capitan (Sean Connery) who wants to defect. Based on the best-selling novel by Tom Clancy and directed by John McTiernan (Die Hard, Predator) this forty-million-dollar action/adventure mega-movie boasts Connery, James Earl Jones and three submarines built on the Paramount lot.

"When I look at Red October I subtract myself from the equation, because I don't think I mean that much to the project," says Baldwin in his distinctively raspy timbre, as he ticks off the reasons. "I look and I say Tom Clancy is a great writer—his book have sold untold millions. John is one of the best directors out there—he turned out to be a real actor's director. He could tell me what he wanted without all constipated crap you get from a lot directors. And Sean Connery..." His voice holds a tinge of awe. "We just flipped when he decided to do it. He's such an icon."

He pauses for a moment to order a cup of tea and a pastry. The waitress, drowning in Baldwin's blue eyes, takes his order and promptly forgets it. Returning, she averts her eyes, re-writes the order and skitters off. Baldwin smiles.

"I think as far as being an actor, first and foremost you're a fan. That never changes. From the day I met Julie Harris, when I was doing Knots Landing, to the day I met"—he feigns heavy breathing—"Michelle Pfeiffer. When I saw Elizabeth McGovern I couldn't stop staring at her, I wantected to meet her so badly. On Red October I think I made an ass out of myself because I was constantly asking James Earl Jones questions about himself, and his life, his opinion." He adds, almost shyly, "I think maybe I bugged him."

The son of a schoolteacher and a housewife, the inquisitive Baldwin was raised on Long Island, the eldest of six children. After studying at the Lee Stras-berg Theatre Institute, Baldwin started out in the soap opera The Doctors before becoming a series regular on tv's Knots Landing. He was recognized, he was successful, but he wasn't happy.

"In this business, if you get sucked into a 'going up the ladder' mentality, you fmd you wake up one day and say, 'I'm not really acting enough.' Chasing success in this business is my great difficulty—because who doesn't want to be successful? For economic remuneration, for the freedom that buys you. When I lived in Los Angeles I used to sit at home and watch tv—the entertainment news. Entertainment Tonight, Entertainment This Week—you know. I would just sit there and say, 'God, why didn't I go to the William Devane Charity Polo match? What's wrong with me?'"

So he moved back to New York. Three weeks later he was cast in the Broadway revival of Joe Orton's Loot, following that up with the Joe Papp/NY Shakespeare Festival production of Serious Money opposite Kate Nelligan. Serious film offers soon followed.

Currently, Baldwin's got two movies slated for release: the Jonathan Demme-produced Miami Blues and Woody Alien's latest, opposite William Hurt and Mia Farrow. But what really gets him jazzed are the two plays he'll be in this year: Prelude to a Kiss, at off-Broad-way's Circle Rep. He laughs, "You're always hearing stories about Pacino spitting on the front row when he was doing American Buffalo. I want to get right down in their faces." Taming of the Shrew for the N.Y. Shakespeare Festival's Shakespeare in the Park this summer is the other play he'll be in.

"I was talking to this executive at a movie studio—he was trying to get me to back out of Prelude —he said to me, 'If you don't want to do this movie, fine, that's okay. If you don't do this movie, no big deal with me, because I'll do it with the guard at the gate.'" Baldwin's eyes glitter dangerously. "I've found in this business the more you care about what happens, the more you're skipped over." He stresses, '.'Red October is the exception. I don't want to sound ungrateful. I wept when I got Red October. When you hope and hope and it happens, that's the exciting part. But this is an industry that is run by people who thrive on 'Care, c'mon care. Care a lot. Care more'—and then just kick you in the nuts.

"We live in a world today where people in power, our government leaders, don't even care what we think. Now with Glasnost and the things going on in Eastern Europe, we were forced to frame Red October very deliberately in the early eighties, when the Soviet Union was this place, this 'evil empire' that people wanted to defect from. You would think that Americans would always lead the way in democracy, but we can't be so sure of that anymore. Democracy seems to have more of a soul, a scope and a passion over there now."

Baldwin is more than passionate about his politics. He has stumped for the Democrats at colleges; he journeyed to the Democratic Convention with Jane Fonda and Tom Hayden; and recently he joined a group called the Creative Coalition, formed by actor Ron Silver in New York. Still, he feels guilty.

He sighs, "I talk about these things because I'm committed and when I'm done I feel kind of disgusted with myself. Sitting in a coffee shop and talking about it is not committed. I think once or twice a month I lie in bed at night and think how I'd like to find a militant organization—like some Black Panther or IRA equivalent—that revolved around some important cause and go out and blow up some chemical plant. Really put my ass on the line. One of the most significant differences I see between the right wing and the left wing is that in this country, the right wing's fanatical assassins—they have better aim." Baldwin gestures ruefully. " I must be really babbling."

Musing on the politics of his own career, Baldwin is a little more sanguine. "I'm just glad I didn't wake up five years, three divorces and six houses in Malibu later and say, 'Hey, I just chased this thing,' getting all amped up about money and career advancement. I don't want to say I'm being an 'artist,' but I am trying to be as much of an artist as an actor can be. By just acting." He grins happily, his gaze briefly flickering outside to the Manhattan street.