Lara Pulver on Sounding American and Blossoming into a Burlesque Queen in London's Gypsy

Lara Pulver was nominated for a 2008 Olivier Award for her performance opposite Bertie Carvel in director Rob Ashford’s London production of Parade and is back in town to play Louise—better known as Gypsy Rose Lee—opposite Imelda Staunton in Gypsy at the Savoy Theatre. The gifted performer chatted with Brroadway.com about honoring a classic musical and being an, um, ecdysiast.

Gypsy hadn’t been seen in the West End for over 40 years until now; how well did you know the musical beforehand?
I knew some of it, and I’d seen the movie when I was a kid. But you’re right: it’s not in our theatrical DNA in the same way it is for [Broadway audiences], so it’s been wonderful to explore and tell this story because it’s such a good play regardless of the wonderful music.

What about it appeals to you?
I think the fact that it’s so well-crafted and that those out-of-town tryouts early on really worked. There’s not a moment where I think, “How am I going to be able to make that bit of it fly?” It really is thrilling, especially for Imelda and myself, that we get such extraordinary journeys to play.

The dynamic between Rose and her daughter, Louise, must be very rich to play.
What’s fascinating to me is the role reversal of this little shrunken mouse that Louise is in Act One—this girl who’s desperate to be noticed or appreciated. Imelda doesn’t even physically look at me until “Everything’s Coming up Roses”—I don’t have a connection with her until I’ve been enticed into following her desires. And then at the end, I’m the one who’s going, “It’s OK, Rose.” You see the mother age and the daughter bloom.

The shared focus of the piece is implicit in the title—i.e. Rose may be the main character but the show is still called Gypsy.
Yes, and I think what people react to is how this woman treats her daughters and how these daughters respond—to understand the desperate actions that are taken on both sides and why, and that’s what has been so thrilling. It’s about time and age and feeling relevant and ego and the daughter becoming the parent and all those wonderful things that we can all relate to because we all have parents.

How does Imelda deliver that cataclysmic performance eight times a week?
I think she’s living like a nun—who wouldn’t when you’ve been given that type of role to do? You would want to take it with both hands. She’s always eaten well and taken care of herself, which is part of having longevity as an actor, and she’s spent months with a singing coach learning to use her voice properly and having an osteopath to give her that freedom to produce the sound. I try as well to take care of her and bring her little bits of lunch and stuff on a two-show day.

Given that you and Imelda share the final scene, what happens right when you both come off stage?
There’s often a moment where I just need to hold her and she needs to be held and other times we will fall into laughter about something ridiculous. Our job is to deliver the show at whatever the cost.

Tell us about your defining striptease number in which Louise morphs from reticent wallflower into the “ecdysiast" of legend.
What’s thrilling for me is that it’s the first time Louise is noticed in the entire play and the trigger where she goes from girl to woman is the second a member of the audience in the first strip notices her. And all of a sudden, she realizes that there’s power in femininity—in sensuality and sexuality—and it’s a whole new world for this young woman.

Were you tempted to check out any of the various Broadway incarnations of Gypsy online?
I’ve got such a photographic memory that if I listened to something or looked at something, I would find it hard to shake off. My research came instead from memoirs and pictures from the vaudeville era—not because I don’t think I could learn something from these other ladies, but because I would find it hard to put what I’d seen to one side after I had seen it.

Have you had a “Sondheim moment,” as actors often seem to when doing his work?
There have been a few that are so personal and private that I don’t want to share them, but there was one I witnessed where he went up to the orchestra pit at the end of our first preview and said, “Well fellas, you sound American”—which I think is the biggest compliment that he could have given!