Clem Vandeloo (nĂŠ Clement Vandeloo Leclerq) was born on December 15, 1992 in Brussels, Belgium. He is the only child of director Vincent Leclerq and actress Pauline Vandeloo. Best known as a child actor, he began working at age 4 when he starred in One More Time (1997) and became an audience favorite with his father's smash hit Rocket Launch (1998). As of his official hiatus (2013-?), Vandeloo has appeared in 19 films and 2 Broadway plays.
Nominated for 1 Golden Globe. Another 2 wins & 8 nominations. Read more.
       âI paint a lot, read a lot, sometimes I steal the doctors text books to find out the side affects for varying treatments and pills, sometimes I sneak into where they store the pills and move the boxes around so they canât find things, if you would like to use a computer I could probably get you into one of the doctors offices.â
Clem perked up at her last suggestion. âThat doesnât sound too bad, actually... I could use some contact with the outside world, just for a little while. How would we go about doing that?â
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        âWork on our issues,â Charlotte said, her tone indicating she was not taking her own answer seriously but there was nothing much to do. âThere are supplies in some of the therapy rooms for music and art, I think we have some cards and other board games? Then there is meditation.â
âUghhh...â Clem sighed dramically. He wasnât sure what he was hoping to hear, but none of the things she listed sounded too appealing. Definitely not in the long run. âHow do you manage to function in here?â
It's not a secret / Everybody has decided
Look in the mirror / Starin' back in those eyes
Don't step on the crack, 'cause you know about that (x)
Clem watched with a frown as his publicist laid out the papers of the day in front of him. A wide selection of tabloids, printed articles, and regular old newspapers⌠this was the biggest surprise, really. He hadnât seen one of those in ages. As diverse as the displayed papers looked, they all had one thing in common: his face was on the front page of every single one. âVANDELOO BACK ON CRACKâ, âCHILD STARS BEHIND BARS â WHERE ARE THEY NOW?â, âLAST CHANCE FOR CLEM VANDELOOâ. Caroline let out an exasperated sigh and gestured towards some of the more colourful headlines. âClem, what am I supposed to do with this?â She looked at him, her frustration peeking out from its botox cage. The thought of this amused Clem and he had to he fought hard to keep the incoming wave of snarky remarks in. Even he knew that this was not the time for jokes. âItâs that bad, huh?â He finally said, somewhat more meekly than his normal tone. He was used to getting himself in trouble, but his team had always been there to sort it out. Pay off the right people, threaten to sue the tougher ones⌠there was a whole strategy to it, but most of it had fallen apart as his team got smaller and smaller. Now there were only two left: Caroline Harris, a publicist way out of his league, and Clemâs long-term manager, Keith Tucson. And neither of them were happy with the situation.
âLook, Clem⌠you know Iâm doing everything I can. You know how much I care.â Caroline put her hand on his shoulder and gave him a slightly stiff reassuring smile. âBut itâs a nightmare. We canât keep doing this, Keith and me⌠I mean,â she pointed to a particularly harsh online article. âLook at this. Youâre doing this. And you have to get it under control.â Clem felt like he was five years old again, being scolded by his mother for finger painting on top of the brand new designer carpet. And just like then, he felt guilty. It was an unusual feeling that heâd almost forgotten. He felt bad for his people. Truth be told, he didnât care too much about his own deterioration. Clem Vandeloo had already become the punchline of a bad joke, so what was the point? It was much more alarming that these people cared so much. He could see the plea in Carolineâs eyes, and he knew that the headlines were right: this was probably his last chance to make everything right. He slowly nodded his head. Caroline smiled in response and gave his shoulder a squeeze. âWeâre sure you can do it, Clem. I know Keithâs talking to some of your old collaborators, seeing if we can get you back in.â
While she spoke, she rummaged through her Proenza Schouler bag and produced a small pile of fliers. Rehab places. The names were as horrible as these places deserved. Heâd been to a handful already, each one slightly worse than the last. The thought of going back wasnât exactly thrilling. He leafed through each of the fliers, fully aware that Caroline was watching him keenly from across the table. None of them looked too inviting. Promises Pasadena, Ocean Breeze Recovery Center, The Lighthouse Foundation Ranch⌠He was already acquainted with that one. What a failure that one had been. Clem looked down at his arm where his sleeve just barely covered the bruises from where heâd shot up, as late as last night, and he could feel Carolineâs concerned botox-frown. Yeah, he needed help. âGo on,â Caroline said gently and he continued through the last few papers. Sundance Meadows, Overlook Mental Institute â thatâs different. Very The Shining. The thought of going to a mental institution wasnât exactly great but the place came with one huge advantage: it was far away from his normal life. And perhaps built on top of an Indian burial ground. It also seemed a lot less magical than the promises of all the other places. He nodded his head and looked over at his publicist. âI think this is the one. Overlook, Andover, Massachusetts⌠how does that sound?â Caroline smiled brightly from across the table. âI think it sounds wonderful, Clem. Iâll call them right now!â
As the publicist got up and called the facility, Clem made a mental note to split his emergency stash. One half in his socks, one half in the inner pocket of his coat. Just in case heâd need it.
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âIâm not having boy problems. Youââ She looked up and recognized the face of Clem Vandeloo and glared. âOf course youâre here. Get out, Clem. Get out of my room, now, before I scream.âÂ
âWerenât you screaming already, though?â Clem struggled not to laugh as she recognised him. The sheer rage in her eyes made it obvious that theyâd met before at some point, and there was something amusing about that. âI was just here to check on you because you were clearly in distress. They canât really blame me for that.â
She rolled her eyes at his work. Hanna knew for sure he was going to ask a favour in return. He didnât suite her as the type not to. âI assumed you were from the Netherlands, you know, since you knew what Sinterklaas is.â Playing coy wasnât something she would be able to keep up with forever, but she was curious to see whether his ego would betray his identity first. âWhy? How could I possibly know where youâre from?â
âHey, heâs not all yours. We have Sinterklaas in Belgium too. Or Saint-Nicolas, as my dad would call it.â He kept watching her while she pretended not to know who he was. They both knew it was an act, obviously, but he didnât really care enough to push her into admitting to it. No point in that. Sheâd crack sooner or later and start begging him for an autograph or something. Perhaps it was better left for another day. âFair enough. Youâre a stranger after all.â He shrugged his shoulders and glanced down the hall, his interest fading quickly.
Family: Just his parents, and some other family back in Belgium.
Physical Description: Clem is tall and in somewhat good shape considering his situation. He has greyish-bluish slightly squinty eyes, and formerly sported really long hair.
Weight: Around 70 kg.
Height: 185 cm.
Personality: Clem mainly cares about Clem. Someone might capture his interest for a while, and he can be friendly when he chooses to. Mostly heâd just like to make sure that everyone knows heâs important and too good for this place.
Sexuality: Straight.
Hobbies: Writing bits and pieces of poor poetry. Photography. Netflix.
Allergies: Pineapple and kiwi.
Favorite Artist: Art: Gustav Klimt. Music: Pixies. Film: Martin Scorsese.
Kind of Clothing: Casual. Clemâs a jeans a t-shirts kind of guy.
Deadly Sin: Pride, probably.
Blood type: B.
Regrets: Agreeing to work on Ghost of a Chance, which flopped completely.
Favorite Place: Bruges, Belgium.
Favorite Food: Bacon. All the time. Endless quantities.
Favorite book: The Road, Cormac McCarthy.
Most Appropriate TV Tropes: The Gentleman Snarker, probably.
Thoughts on love: He believes in it, but itâs not really all that important.
Hometown: Brussels, Belgium. Or Santa Monica, CA.
Current location: Well, Overlook.
Jung Personality type: ESTP.
Pet Peeves: Slobby-looking people. Whether itâs intentional or not.
Favorite Object: His treasured Lexus. Or his old Gameboy Color.
Nervous Habits: Biting his nails.
Addictions: Alcohol, heroin, nicotine.
Random Fact: Once had a Yorkshire Terrier called Periwinkle.
Cat or Dog Person: Dog person.
Half Glass Full or Empty: If you pour water into an empty glass, itâs half full. If you drink from a glass until half of it is gone, it is half empty.
âHow could he do this to me?! Ugh! No! I canât believe this! Iâll kill him, Iâll kill him! How could he abandon me?! HE HAS TO GIVE ME WHAT I WANT!â Athena screamed, after receiving a letter from her own father. Normally, Michael Holden had been wrapped around his daughterâs finger for so long. She would get anything she desired with him in her corner, but recent reports and evaluations on Athena said that she had to stay longer in the hospital. As much as Michael loved his beloved little girl, he knew that he requests to go home, back to her mansion, maids and glamor, werenât good for her and he had written her to tell her that while he loved her, she had to stay. Â It was the first time her father had denied her something. And it made her crazy.Â
Throwing her satin pillows (which her father had bought for her, as long as satin sheets), Athena flew into her rage, her blonde curls bouncing, as she let out a cry.
 âHe canât do this to me! I tell him what to do, that coward! Ugh!â The spoiled blonde princess exclaimed, throwing a classic Athena tantrum.
Clem peeked through the open door as he heard screaming. Probably not the greatest idea in an asylum kind of place, but he was still learning. âUh, you okay?â He said, an eyebrow raised. It was obvious that she wasnât, of course, and he immediately began to regret asking that question. It wasnât like he had to get involved. Still, the scene looked somewhat amusing, and he couldnât help but watch her. She looked familiar, too, he realised, but he couldnât quite place her. It probably didnât matter anyway; he guessed she was one of the spoiled brats from the party scene. âCould you maybe keep the boy problems down a bit? Youâre being pretty loud, you know...â
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âBut? Come on, there has to be a but to this type of thing. Unless you can honestly tell me you will share them for free. Which is kind, but not something you come by very often in a place like this.â She allowed herself to smile this time, after all, the promise of pepernoten was something to smile about. âThe Netherlands, Noord-Brabant to be exact. How about you? I havenât met a single soul who knows what Iâm talking about when I mention Sinterklaas.â
âMaybe youâll owe me one. Weâll see.â He leaned against the wall and watched her. She seemed genuinely happy at the prospect of receiving these holiday treats, but maybe that was natural, considering where they were. She probably didnât get that kind of thing too often. He couldnât help but wonder what she was in for. âIâm from Brussels, originally. But you knew that already, didnât you?â
âPepernoten? If youâll share, I might be able to get someâŚâ
âand where are you going to get some? Last time I checked my dad had to order them online to even get them here.â She had a hard time keeping a straight face as she spoke, playing it coy as she had recognised his face at instance. Although she didnât know all of his later work she had seen nearly all the movies he played in, in his youth.Â
âI have my ways. Connections. Pretty sure I can get my hands on some. At least in time for Sinterklaas.â He noticed the look on her face and smirked slightly. Although he wasnât sure if it was a good thing to be recognised in a place like this. âWhere are you from?â
âIs there a way I can get my dad to send me a few things? Itâs already November and I havenât even had any pepernoten or specululaas. This sucks.â
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Thereâs more to see than can ever be seen / More to do than can ever be done / Thereâs far too much to take in here / More to find than can ever be found
