Joan Allen

Nobody’s better at playing smart, together women than Joan Allen, from feminist icon Heidi Holland in Wendy Wasserstein’s The Heidi Chronicles on Broadway to a pre-Sarah Palin Vice Presidential candidate in The Contender, which earned one of her three Oscar nominations to a prison warden admiringly referred to as “the baddest ass in the yard” in the recent action film Death Race. But it took a script about a women who is not in control of her life to coax Allen back to the stage for the first time in almost 20 years. In Impressionism, she’s paired with Jeremy Irons as a troubled twosome who have to face the ghosts in their past while figuring out what they really want in life. In conversation, the Tony-winning actress is warmer than the screen persona she’s perfected in roles like the Bourne movies’ government agent Pamela Landy, chatting easily about her days in the original ensemble of Chicago’s Steppenwolf Theatre and the acting ambitions of her daughter with ex-husband Peter Friedman, 15-year-old Sadie.

You’ve said in numerous interviews over the past two decades that you weren’t interested in stage acting anymore. What changed your mind?
This play and [director] Jack O’Brien. I had worked with Jack on a production of All My Sons, which we did for PBS [in 1986] with Michael Learned, James Whitmore, Aidan Quinn and Zeljko Ivanek. I hadn’t seen Jack for many years, but he still had my phone number somehow. I was sitting at my kitchen table last June, the phone rang and Jack said, “Darling, I have this play, and you have to do it. I’ll be there in 15 minutes.” He rang my bell with Impressionism in his hand. I said, “Jack, I haven’t done a play in almost 20 years,” and he said, “Darling, that doesn’t make any difference. We’ll have a lot of fun. Just read it.” So I read it the next day and was blown away by it. I thought, “I can’t not do this.” The fact that it would be a limited run helped and, of course, that Jeremy Irons would be involved.

You and Jeremy look great together.
We’re having a wonderful time. Funnily enough, after I agreed to do the play, we cast Jeremy as Alfred Stieglitz in a movie I’m co-producing about the life of Georgia O’Keeffe. I played O’Keeffe, and he and I worked together in Santa Fe in November and December. We had a month off, then we started rehearsals for the play. So I’m having my Jeremy Irons year, and it’s lovely.

She’s very intelligent and strong; she reads very true to me as a single New York woman. She’s successful, but she hasn’t had luck finding a long-term relationship. I think she’s had a certain amount of heartache and disappointment, and she’s trying to learn from that. She’s got her armor up a bit, but that’s the story of the play—how these two people [Irons plays photographer Thomas Buckle] ultimately touch each other. I find it very moving.

What do you like about your character, art gallery owner Katharine Keenan?

It’s extremely rare for a new play like Impressionism to debut directly on Broadway. Does that feel risky?
It’s actually very exciting. And to be honest, it interests me more to do new things than revivals. I have memories of certain plays [in which] somebody’s done the definitive version, and I think, “Well, that’s been done!” I’m more intrigued by discovering something new.

Why had you been so adamant about not coming back to the stage?
I had done it for so many years. I did many, many shows in Chicago with the wonderful Steppenwolf company before I came to New York; basically, the first 10 years of my career, I only did theater. Then I did two demanding Broadway runs back to back, The Heidi Chronicles and Burn This, and I got somewhat burned out. It’s very difficult to maintain eight shows a week; it’s exhausting. I became a mom, and being away in the evenings is horrible with a child. And gradually, I found myself more interested in the process of film work than theater. But this play was so special, and Jack was so perfect to direct it, it really enticed me.

Let’s talk about the early years of Steppenwolf, with you, John Malkovich, Gary Sinise, Laurie Metcalf, John Mahoney, Terry Kinney, Jeff Perry, Gary Cole and so many more. Did you think, “We’re all going to become stars”?
No! Not at all. It was all about getting the chance to work. I was from this little town in Illinois, and I never had that thing of “I’m going to hitchhike to New York.” I was more reserved than that! I went to college with John and got involved with Steppenwolf through him, and it was just the most amazing blessing for me. I was thrilled to be with this group of insanely talented people. We had our own theater; we picked our own season; it was an excellent training ground. I never really thought about it beyond that.

What was John Malkovich like in college?
He was incredibly exotic. Oh my god! [Laughs.] There I was in my poncho and my little cotton tops and jeans and sneakers, and here was this guy in purple platform shoes and a big blousy Romeo kind of shirt; he had long hair and lived with a bunch of interesting people in this house. He was incredibly outside the box.

What did he see in you?
I don’t know! It was a small theater department, I’ll say that much. Maybe he saw some potential in somebody who loved what we were doing, and who had a certain amount of ability.

In an early group photo of the Steppenwolf company, you’re sitting up straight and look very proper.
Yeah, that’s my dear mom [laughs]. I was a very good girl. I never pushed the envelope when I was in high school. I loved doing plays; I was on the “A” honor roll and was voted Most Likely to Succeed. I took my work very seriously and didn’t want to give my parents any headaches. But some of that is just your nature, you know? You are what you are.

Then, in the early 1980s, Steppenwolf descended on New York.
Yes, with True West [starring Malkovich and Gary Sinise] Gary said, “Man we’ve got to branch out. We’ve got to let the world know what we’re doing.” The actors were very divided about it. Some felt it would be the end of the company.

What did you think?
I was unsure. I thought the company would possibly disintegrate. But [personally] I was thrilled—And a Nightingale Sang [a wartime drama that brought Allen critical acclaim and a Theatre World Award] was the second play to come, and it was the right time in my development as an actor to branch out. Actually, I think it was the healthiest thing for the company, because it’s now 34 years old. If we’d all stayed in Chicago, we might have imploded. You need to get out of the nest.

How did you decide to settle down in New York?
When Nightingale came, I was 28 and had never even visited New York. I thought my life might go by and I would never get to see it. Then the play came, and I just fell in love with it here. In Chicago, it took me about a year to adjust to big-city life, but moving to New York was a breeze. I’ve spent time in L.A., of course, and I have a lot of friends there, but I just like the culture of New York. I like walking; I like taking the subway; I like the fact that it’s not a one-industry town. I think it’s stimulating and inspiring. I’ve lived here almost 25 years, and I still walk around thinking, “Oh my god, I can’t believe I’m in New York.”

What are your memories of doing The Heidi Chronicles and Burn This on Broadway?
It was a great privilege to work on both of those plays. Dear, dear Wendy [Wasserstein, author of The Heidi Chronicles]—that was an extraordinary experience for me. I felt so fortunate to get to originate a role that she crafted so beautifully and that meant so much to so many women. I still have women who come up to me on the street and go, “Heidi was my life.” It’s deeply sad to me that Wendy is no longer with us. You know, back when I first came here, you could be an unknown person and have a significant part in a Broadway show. Broadway seems to be morphing into [casting] people with even more TV and film recognition to survive.

I’ve never had the feeling that you care too much about being famous.
I don’t. It doesn’t appeal to me. I love having a regular life. I don’t want to be sequestered. I take the subway all the time; I walk the streets. Once in a while somebody will say, “Hey!” But New Yorkers are great—they’re busy and they have their own lives. Usually they’ll say something and just keep on walking, which is lovely.

Was movie acting always a goal?
It really wasn’t. I hadn’t thought about it, but I was grateful when it happened because it paid more than the theater, and it was wonderful not to have to hold down a full-time job, which I did in Chicago. I was a secretary the whole time I was acting at Steppenwolf, because I couldn’t afford to live on my theater salary. The company I worked for would let me off for the month of rehearsal, and then as soon as play opened, I would work all day, come home at 5:30 or 6, have a bite to eat and do the show. I did that for six or seven years.

When you’re in your 20s, you can do that. I was so excited, I didn’t care. Speaking of film work, it took me quite some time to get comfortable before the camera, but once I did, I thought, “Oh man, this is actually fun.” I love the actor/director relationship on a film, in terms of creating something. A huge part of film work is that relationship, and I love the intimacy of it.

That sounds tiring!

It depends. When I got my Oscar nomination for The Contender, I don’t think I got a call for year. The same thing happened to Frances McDormand, who is so magnificent. After she won for Fargo, I remember thinking for the next year or two, “Where is she? What is she doing?” The next thing I saw her in was Madeline. But there’s a youth emphasis in the film business; that’s kind of apparent. If you’re a younger actress and you get a nomination, I think it translates more.

Do Oscar nominations translate into job offers?

You’ve managed to transcend the whole “ice-queen” persona—or at least have fun with it, as you do in Death Race.
Yeah, we all have auras about us; things that we can do better than others. At a certain point in my career, there was a tendency to cast me as the “reserved moral center.” But the past five or six years, I’ve gotten to do an interesting variety of things—Off the Map, The Upside of Anger, the Bourne movies, and even Death Race, which was such a hoot. I feel blessed.

How did you feel about turning 50? Was that a big milestone?
It was OK [laughs]. I wasn’t crying or anything. I went out with eight or 10 of my closest girlfriends and my daughter and had a wonderful dinner. It’s not so bad. There are things I don’t like about turning 50, but I’m active, and I try to eat well and take care of my skin. I’m kind of a gym addict. I used to go six days a week, which was a bit much. A year and a half ago, I started going every other day and walking on my in-between day, and that makes me feel pretty good. But it gets harder!

Are you enjoying being the mom of a teenager?
Most of the time! It has its challenges. You’ve got to pay attention and really be there—even more, in a way, than when they’re little because all the negative outside influences are so ready to jump in if you’re not protective and kind of a pain. It’s definitely a balancing act. My daughter is turning 15, and she’s a city girl; she’s very social and has a lot of independence. You’re just trying to make sure she stays safe. How much rope do you give her? What is the curfew? All those things. But her dad and I have found that creating reasonable limits is the best way, and she responds well to that.

Will Sadie follow you and Peter [Friedman, Allen’s ex-husband] into the business?
She seems to want to. She’s starting rehearsals for a school play right now, Wonderful Town, and she’s said that she would like to be an actress. We’re going to support her as much as we can if that’s truly where her heart lies. I think she’s gifted.

Her interest in an acting career is a nice tribute to the two of you.
Well, I’ve had a tremendous amount of good fortune along the way. If Steppenwolf had never brought And a Nightingale Sang to New York, that would have made a difference. If Oliver Stone hadn’t decided to do a film about Richard Nixon and cast me, that would have made a difference. Some of it is just timing. I honestly feel like I have experienced a relatively small amount of frustration in what can be a very frustrating business.

See Joan Allen in Impressionism at the Schoenfeld Theatre.