In the
1950s, they called her the princess of Off-Broadway, because
she first made her name working with Jose Quintero at Circle
in the Square and playing Shakespeare in
Central Park
for Joseph Papp. In the
1970s, she became the matriarch of Broadway through her
commanding performances as Martha in Edward Albee’s revival
of Who’s Afraid of
Virginia Woolf? And Josie in Eugene O’Neill’s A
Moon for the Misbegotten, among others. By now Colleen
Dewhurst has extended the boundaries of her sovereignty to
encompass all of the American theater. She recently succeeded
Ellen Burstyn as the national president of Actors’ Equity
Association. She has lent her name, her presence, and her
support to numerous political causes ranging from Performing
Artists for Nuclear Disarmament to the gay civil rights bill
in
New York
to the International
Committee for Human Rights. And this month she makes her debut
with the recently inaugurated American National Theater at the
Kennedy
Center
playing Madame Arkadina in Chekhov’s A Seagull, as it is titled in a new translation staged by Peter
Sellars, the company’s wunderkind artistic director.
“As
I said when Jason Robards was here with The
Iceman Cometh, part of our job is seeing to it that the
royalty of the American stage will appear in the best
plays,” says Sellars. “These days, you usually see the
royalty of the American stage in made-for-TV movies. An
actress of Miss Dewhurst’s stature should be taking the big
roles.”
Although
Colleen Dewhurst is no stranger to the classics, Chekhov is
relatively new territory for her. She once appeared in The
Cherry Orchard at the Williamstown Theater Festival. “It
was a disaster,” she says, displaying the gravelly voice and
the glinting Irish eyes that more than 30 years in show
business have made so familiar. “I’ve tried to black out
the whole experience.” And she second-acted an off-Broadway
production of The Seagull “a hundred years ago” to see Montgomery Clift in the
role of Treplev. But for the most part she has brought a fresh
perspective to A Seagull,
along with enthusiasm and a lot of questions.
“The reason I am excited about this is that everybody has a
different vision of this play and this character,” says
Dewhurst. “This is really up for grabs.” Arkadina, the
character she plays in A
Seagull, is a famous actress who is summering on her
retired brother’s estate and who becomes embroiled in
artistic and romantic rivalries involving her lover, a
successful novelist, her son, an experimental playwright, and
his girlfriend, an aspiring actress. In approaching her
character, Dewhurst says, “You have to think about a lot of
things. Is she a good actress? Or is she just a good actress? Is she charismatic and therefore threatened by
age? Do we have a woman who could have been different in some
way, or is she a woman who’s just fine as she is? What is
her Achilles’ heel? I find it interesting that her husband,
the father of her child, is never dealt with in any sense, not
by name, not by casual reference – you don’t know whether
he’s dead or alive. Those are the things you begin to
sift.”
The
strong, earth-mother persona that Dewhurst most often projects
contrasts sharply with the usual presentation of Arkadina as a
pampered, temperamental grande dame. In particular,
Dewhurst’s political activism makes her a very different
sort of public figure from the more self-involved Arkadina.
“It probably started with my being astounded that anyone
thought it would help if you came out in favor of something
you thought was appalling,” she says. “There’s always
this debate – should actors speak out? The intimation is
that your brain is not too big, and actors are not thought of
as intellectual. But I was lucky in that I started
Off-Broadway with Joe Papp and with Jose. I became conscious
of things happening around me and that I was not in the
business of self-aggrandizement, even though it sometimes
seems that it’s all about how many pictures of yourself you
can get in the paper.”
But
it was exactly because of her earthy forcefulness that Sellars
made Dewhurst the cornerstone of a cast that also includes
Henderson Forsythe as Sorin, Kelly McGillis (who co-starred
with Harrison Ford in Witness)
as Nina, and the titanic avant-garde actress Priscilla Smith
as Masha. “These people are always played as vain and
trivial, which is not enough,” says Sellars. “Nobody in
this play is stupid. And the main thing about Colleen Dewhurst
as an actress is that she does no funny business, nothing
vague. She goes right for the heart of something and nails it.
So instead of being this dumb piece of frippery, you see her
as a dangerous, lonely, tormented woman.”
“Dangerous”
is also the word Dewhurst uses most often to describe Sellars,
whom she spoke to first on the phone and later met when they
were both on a panel of artists in Washington. While noting
that “this young boy could be my son,” she found the
director “very impressive. From talking to Peter, I
immediately assumed it was not going to be your ordinary
approach to Mr. Chekhov. The intellect is amazing,
extraordinary, and of course the humor is what I like. If I
can’t laugh, I may as well go home again.”
There
are very few good directors in today’s theater, Dewhurst
opines. “The ones you meet that you adore, you never want to
let go of. You realize that’s ridiculous, but you’re
always looking for someone who keeps beckoning you, taking you
somewhere you always felt you could go but maybe stopped
short. When you act, there are things you’re known for,
adjectives they will always use for you, which may be
complimentary but also begin to bore you. If you don’t have
a good director, they will accept what you’re giving them as
the best that you have. Someone else will not accept it, and
that’s what you’re looking for. You’re looking to
stretch.”
Born
in Montreal and raised in Milwaukee, Dewhurst got her first
training at the American Academy of Dramatic Arts in new York,
and she learned her profession touring in stock with Edward
Everett Horton and playing a bit part in Tyrone Guthrie’s Tamburlaine
long before starring on Broadway opposite Jason Robards and
George C. Scott. But the actress confesses that she doesn’t
have a recipe for acting. “I use words like ‘approach’
and ‘motivation,’ but probably the truest word to use is
‘intuition,’” she says. “I mean, I want to say how
hard I study and all of that, and I do study, but I think when
we were in our twenties we talked so much about acting that it
bored me ever to open my mouth about it again. We were the
group that grew up in the heavy Method, and we could talk and
analyze everything to death. Unfortunately, we weren’t
always able to do
it. Harold Clurman used to say the trouble with us was that we
always wanted to make everything so difficult. ‘If it’s
easy, just leave it alone,’ he said once. ‘You’ll get to
the hard part soon enough.’”
Stagebill, December 1985
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