By Myself and Then Some (78 page)

A
fter a week or so
of biting my nails, bugging my agent, I finally got the word. I had got the part. What a joyous moment that was. I was truly happy, thrilled at the prospect. A really good part, a funny character, the best I’d had in years. I had seen movies that Barbra had directed and knew how good she was. The movie was to be shot in New York, which was ideal for me as I could be at home and sleep in my own bed. Jeff Bridges was the leading man in the movie, my first time working with him – a really wonderful actor and lovely guy. Everyone in
Mirror
was hand chosen by Barbra, as the custom is with directors. It was a good company.

When we started shooting, I saw firsthand how Barbra functioned. It was very odd for us at the beginning because she would be directing the scene behind the camera, then come around in front of the camera and act in the scene. How she did it, I’ll never know, but she did and she does and she can. She is meticulous in her direction – both visually and in the playing of the scenes. Every detail is as important to her as the words. I remember her telling me that she woke up at four o’clock in the morning and sketched exactly what the cape I wore should look like. Then she couldn’t go back to sleep.

She is so concentrated that many days were many hours long. She had the drive that a good director needs, she knew what she wanted in a scene and she wouldn’t quit until she got it. Many days we worked fourteen and sixteen hours – fatigue entered the picture from time to time, but never took over. Barbra was so focused, so concentrated, she lost track of time. She controlled every aspect of the film – wardrobe
colors – every detail. Yet no matter how many hours she had worked the day before, she was on set early every morning. Amazing stamina. I marveled at her ability and though I had some frustrating moments, it was my feeling that it was her movie and she was entitled to every bit of it being the way she wanted it.

Her attention to detail was sometimes frustrating but, again, it was her movie, it’s her way, she’s the boss. As I’ve said, movies are a director’s medium, not an actor’s. We got along well. She is not a schmoozer on set. All professional. I like that – I am a professional. Between takes, I tend to loosen up with a laugh or two. Between takes, Barbra’s thinking of what shot comes after and what came before, how many shots she needs for each scene. And, with all of that, she takes her time when her close-ups are shot. She knows every light, where it should be and what it should do. I’ve never been able to know all that. I’ve left it to the cameraman and to the director, often to my detriment. Her best side is her left side. That happens to be my best side as well. Guess who won? Those are the breaks. Without her, there would have been no movie and that’s a fact.

Barbra is many faceted. To take on the job of directing a movie is not an easy task. It takes full commitment, total concentration, the willingness to have no other life until the movie is completed. Barbra enjoys all that and does it. I admire all of the above and I respect her choices even when I don’t agree with them. I love her talent, God-given and amazing. I love her looks and she makes me laugh. I recognize her frailties and the self-involvement which has enabled her to have the incredible career she has had. I have heard the gossip about her, mostly negative, mostly untrue. She’s been called difficult, tough, etc. So have I. All she wants is for whatever she is working on to be better than it is on the page. My sentiments exactly. What you hear normally comes from people who don’t know her, plus that old time emotion – jealousy! Barbra has a good heart and is very, very smart. In other words, I think she’s terrific. She impresses me and I’m filled with admiration and affection for her. Long may she wave! Finally we went a few weeks over schedule. And, finally, we were finished.

I
was very happy with
my character in
The Mirror Has Two Faces
, had some truly funny lines, some really good scenes. I felt good about my
work. Barbra was satisfied and so was the studio. They kept talking about my being nominated for an Academy Award. As I’d never been nominated, much less received any acting award in all my years of work in motion pictures, I put no stock in the talk. There are some actresses who are always nominated and some who always win. I have never been in either category. So, imagine my shock when I was nominated for the Screen Actors Guild Award, the Golden Globe, the Broadcasters’ Award and the Academy Award for Supporting Actress. I couldn’t believe it, but I still had no illusions about winning.

Award season in Hollywood gets crazy – all P.R. people working overtime, taking ads in all the trades, pushing, pushing – it’s nerve-racking and much too competitive. The heat was on and I was in the middle of it. I had no – nor have ever had – a concentrated P.R. team working for me. I tried it once for a short time and found it uncomfortable. Also one must attend every event, every lunch, one must talk to the press endlessly and answer idiotic questions like, ‘How does it feel to be nominated?’ ‘Where were you when you heard the news?’ ‘How did you like working with and being directed by Barbra Streisand?’ and on and on, getting sillier and sillier. The word was that I was the favorite to win all four. All my friends were convinced I was a shoo-in. I did win the SAG Award and the Golden Globe Award and the Broadcasters’ Award. It was an exciting time. I was getting more and more jittery. I had to accept these awards and say a few words – that always makes me nervous. Except for various Lifetime Achievement awards, which I found very flattering and nerve-racking in their way, and my two Tony Awards in the theatre, it was new territory for me – and the movie scene was different. After all, I began my career on the screen. But the Academy Awards were much more public, with much more stress attached to them. Also, it was the year of
The English Patient
, a Miramax release, and Harvey Weinstein was known for being a master at pushing his movies.

There was a dinner the night before the awards. I attended, of course, with all of my children and in-laws. Steve and his wife Barbara had flown to California for the big event, Sam and his wife Sidsel, and Leslie and her husband Erich Schiffman, they were all my escorts. Kevin Spacey sat with us for the dinner. He was sure that I would win. My old crush and special friend Kirk Douglas and his wife Anne were there. Kirk delivered a most flattering and sweet toast to me. They all said I
was a shoo-in. I said, ‘Beware of shoo-ins. They often are the losers.’ But they would have none of it. ‘You deserve it – it’s about time.’ All those words were repeated by many. ‘You can’t lose.’ My New York friends, city and country, gathered, also certain I would win.

The following day, you have to start getting ready for the Big Event at three o’clock in the afternoon. You must be headed downtown by around five to do the red carpet walk before entering the Shrine auditorium. My children arrived in my suite at the Bel Air Hotel along with my then agent, now manager, Johnnie Planco, and into the car we proceeded. It was hot – would my hair hold up? Make-up? They were all excited, sure we would be celebrating at the after Oscar party. On arrival, disembarking from the car, the long walk down the red carpet began. First my old friend Army Archerd, also sure I would win. He is always first with microphone and camera at the ready. He and I started in Hollywood at roughly the same time. All the while, and from the time you step out of your car, there are batteries of cameras from all over the world and hundreds of screaming fans. Your face cracks from smiling – waving. Every time another famous actor – star – appears, the roar goes up and you can hardly hear the questions being asked of you. Some of the interviewers are very busy while talking to you – looking past you to see who’s coming up behind. If it’s a big, huge star, you have the feeling you are being dismissed. Their attention span is not very long. The whole experience is torture and it is an endless day.

Being the front-runner in their eyes, I was stopped and had to speak to each member of the press – same questions, ‘How does it feel?’ ‘How did you hear about the nomination?’ etc., etc., and so forth. By this time, I was totally stressed, beyond nervous. We were finally led to our seats – all seven of us in a row – me on the outside – Steve sitting next to me holding my hand. The evening began with Master of Ceremonies Billy Crystal. I did my best – trying to look relaxed as though I was enjoying myself. I doubt that I was very convincing. The truth is, I wanted to win. No matter how you try to rationalize it, to be nominated is fine – chosen by your peers, etc. – but it’s better to win. In any contest, that is the goal.

The first award – wouldn’t you know – Best Supporting Actress. Kevin Spacey came out with the envelope in his hand, announced the nominees, looked at me and smiled, opened the envelope – ‘And the winner is …’ He was so sure – my heart was pounding so loud, I thought I would faint, Steve was squeezing my hand – his voice dropped. ‘The
winner is Juliette Binoche,
The English Patient.’
It was
The English Patient
down the line. Harvey Weinstein had done it again. I felt so badly for my children. They were so upset for me. Steve turned white. He couldn’t believe it. Sam and Leslie were stunned.

We got through the rest of the program and headed for the great dinner – chocolate Oscars at every place. I felt very alone. No matter how you slice it, this was a ball for winners. Kevin Spacey was there. He came over and invited me on to the dance floor, thank heaven. It’s not a good thing to be a shoo-in.

I did, however, receive a Cesar, the French equivalent of our Oscar, a beautiful sculpture by Cesar himself, the famous, ubiquitous and much loved French sculptor. It is large – in brass – easily identifiable as his creation. It is visible to me in my apartment and always gives me a lift at the memory of that occasion. It was not only in the same year as the Oscars, but also the second honor bestowed on me by the French. The first had been presented two years before – Commandeur des Arts et Lettres.

The Commandeur is a truly distinguished honor given by the Minister of Culture, Jacques Toubon. At the same ceremony, Dustin Hoffman was made Officier – the only time in my life or career I would be one notch above Dustin! The medal is on a blue and white ribbon – so lovely – and there is a tiny blue and white rosette to keep in your buttonhole. Dustin had found a poem by Francois Villon that he dedicated to me. I was so touched, it is one of the greatest perks in my life to know Dustin Hoffman, not well, but to have spent enough time together over the years to feel great affection for him. I have never worked with him and, though I’d love to, I guess I never will. But I really enjoy his company and am always happy to see him.

The Cesar was presented to me by Alain Delon. I accepted in French – speaking quite well, though nervously. The audience cheered me and I felt good, though I am never comfortable with that kind of reception. There was plenty of press but I do not recall a red carpet.

It’s a funny thing about a red carpet, it has a place and life of its own. There is one at each of the award events in California – SAG, Golden Globe, etc. It is of varying length depending on the venue. Thinking of the many years I have walked that walk, I realize the more I walk it, the larger my hips – until one day they will pass the width of the carpet which tends to narrow anyway with the budget – and incidentally was
quite short and turned to pink at the last Tribeca Film Festival. Yikes! What has happened to my world? Can we never preserve those special traditions?! It’s the economy, stupid. I guess.

So the nomination came and went and I survived. Then, one day, later that year, I was opening my mail. I get an enormous amount of junk mail – announcements of openings – people from all over wanting time or donations. I don’t expect too much when I’m opening the mail so I do it, letter opener in hand, quickly. I have been known on rare occasions to toss an envelope out leaving the letter in. Anyway, this morning I was about done with that day’s offering – a few more envelopes left. Slit went the opener, out came the inside, I opened it to the following:

The letter continued with details of the weekend’s events – December 6th and 7th. They requested confidentiality until George Stevens, Jr announced the honorees. The letter was signed, ‘Jim Johnson, Chairman of the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts.’

It took a while for the shock to wear off. I could not believe it. As for the flattery, never in my wildest dreams could I ever envision such accolades being applied to me. It didn’t sink in. I checked the envelope – Kennedy Center Washington – I reread the note. I still couldn’t believe it. My God – that was completely unexpected. But so thrilling. I needed someone badly at that moment to share this with. My first three calls were of course to my children. My pal, Jean Kennedy Smith, who had known but had never said a word to me, was very happy when I called her. Now that was a very happy moment and a real surprise. And on the night you don’t have to do a thing. Just sit there and be praised.

The state dinner on Saturday night is great fun. There is one person who delivers a toast for each honoree. My toastmaster was the wonderful
Peter Stone, playwright and close friend of many years. He shone brightly that night. It was a marvelous weekend: a White House reception, a presentation of the medal by the President. It doesn’t matter what side of the political spectrum you are on, entering the White House, seeing the portraits of the Presidents on the walls, climbing the staircase, the U.S. Marine Band Combo playing, meeting Senators you don’t like much politically and finding them rather likeable – it’s an absolutely unpolitical weekend – and it is somewhat awe-making and truly exciting. And nervous-making.