He eats pizza for breakfast, stays up all night, and likes to hang out in his underwear. Meet Hollywood's new leading man.

By Steve Daly
Updated October 17, 2003 at 04:00 AM EDT

He’s said in the past that he cares less about being a movie star than being a rock star, calling the latter career path ”the one that I secretly love more.” But Jack Black doesn’t think that way now.

”I’d like to fix that quote,” he says, his stocky frame tucked into a front booth at John’s Pizzeria in Greenwich Village, where he’s savoring a midday breakfast of half a plain pie. And correct himself he does, with an explosion of energy that amps up his normal, stoner-groggy demeanor into a sort of body-language DefCon 1. He jerks his head like a demented bird eyeing a worm and unleashes a tirade. ”I’m an ENTER-TAIN-er, okay?” he booms, his voice crackling with faux indignity. ”Music and ack-ting are merely weapons in my arsenal. I’ve got…the music pistol!” He whips out his right index finger. ”I’ve got…the acting bazooka!” The left arm pantomimes a lock-and-load. ”You don’t know what I’m gonna do. And a lot of times, I’m gonna use ’em both at the same time, full guns a-blazin’!”

Black is certainly spewing ammo in this month of ”Rocktober,” to use the 34-year-old’s mock-hipster terminology. ”There’s no escaping me,” he grins, proud to unleash a double dose of rock & roll spirit on the populace. But will both blasts be equally powerful, as Black hopes?

Fire one is definitely a direct hit: School of Rock, a formulaic, high-concept studio comedy that Black, along with screenwriter Mike White (Chuck & Buck, The Good Girl) and director Richard Linklater (Dazed and Confused, Waking Life), has given a deliciously unformulaic spin. The bull’s-eye is both financial — a $20 million No. 1 opening — and critical, with praise nearly unanimous for Black’s performance as a plugged-in Peter Pan. He plays Dewey Finn, a wannabe lead guitarist and singer who gets kicked out of his own band, then scams his way into a substitute-teaching job to pay the bills. He thereupon transforms a class of prep-school fifth graders into a rocking ensemble and leads them to a hardcore Battle of the Bands competition against grown-up contenders.

A few weeks from now, Black launches fire two: a DVD collection of parodistic folk-metal modestly titled Tenacious D The Complete Masterworks Volume One. It’s a cultish, pea-shooter kind of thing, but Black wants to make it more than an inside joke for other comics and smart twentysomethings — even though parents who’ve just discovered Black via the family-friendly School of Rock will likely freak out at its rawness. ”The D,” as those in the know call it — a name taken from sportscaster Marv Albert’s shorthand for tenacious defense — is the musical duo Black formed with actor Kyle Gass more than a decade ago, after the pair met in Tim Robbins’ L.A.-based fringe-theater troupe, the Actors’ Gang. What’s their most popular tune? Probably ”F — – Her Gently,” a good-natured paean to the glories of taking it easy when satisfying ”the ladies.”

Not much radio airplay with a title like that. HBO, the home of unbleeped language, signed up Black and Gass to make a series of short Tenacious D sketches that first aired in 1999. Now Black hopes the DVD, which rounds up three mini-episodes with concert footage, will build an appetite for the movie he wants to make next: Tenacious D in The Pick of Destiny. ”We’re full-bore,” says Black. ”We’re in the final stages of negotiating with New Line. We’ve been f — -ing working on a deal with them for like a year.” While casting is only in the conjecture stage, Black wants Meat Loaf to play the father of his fictional troubadour, Jables (extrapolated from the initials J.B.).