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Living Dangerously: Anna Paquin Makes a Killer Stage Debut
Robert Cashill
Anna Paquin plans to showcase her Oscar in the New York apartment
she's renting. As soon as she finds it.
"I believe it's inside a duffel bag inside a suitcase inside a
bigger suitcase inside my suitcase closet," she ponders. "I know
it's here in New York, I'm pretty sure anyway. You know, I'm
actually not exactly sure where it's gotten filed."
In The Piano, she and Holly Hunter dragged the title instrument
through sea and storm, and for their pains both took home Academy
Awards in 1994. Her thunderstruck reaction to winning, at the age
of 11, charmed TV audiences worldwide. Rather than take her Oscar
and run, however, the first-time thespian (the second-youngest
performer to win the prize) has kept right on going, from film
to film, and from location to location. She had been directed by
Franco Zeffirelli (Jane Eyre) and Steven Spielberg (Amistad)
before she was old enough to drive a car. She celebrated her 18th
birthday as an X-girl in the superhero smash X-Men, with at
least two sequels in the works. "Incredible opportunities have
come up and sat on my lap," she says, as modestly as possible.
Now 19, Paquin is trying out a new arena, the stage, in the MCC
Theater production of Rebecca Gilman's The Glory of Living. Even
if she could find her Oscar, there was no guarantee that hauling
it over to West 28th Street would automatically cinch her stage
debut. "I had to audition, and convince them, somehow, to put
their trust in me."
Managing her career, she's not one to coast on former glories,
which may be one reason why Oscar sits in the closet (in the
same suitcase, presumably, as the other citations she's amassed
over the years, from an eclectic group including the MTV Movie
Awards, Blockbuster Entertainment, and the Academy of Science
Fiction, Fantasy, & Horror Films). Making movies, she's minimized
the kids stuff. An upcoming credit, Buffalo Soldiers, has her,
Joaquin Phoenix and Ed Harris up to their necks in black
marketeering and heroin smuggling as the Berlin Wall collapses.
Even in the fluffy teen romp She's All That, she wasn't all
that, but instead played Freddie Prinze Jr.'s bratty little
sister. "I'm not so fascinated by smiley happy characters,
all light and bubbly. Every once in a while that's fun, but
it's not something I yearn to explore creatively."
That said, Paquin is light and bubbly in conversation, sliding
in and out of what she calls, laughingly, her "generic, but
messy, `American' voice," which has a few flecks of her native
New Zealand mixed in and perhaps a bit of Canada (her birthplace),
too. She begins some of her sentences in typical teen fashion,
prefaced by "It's like, you know," and agrees it was "cool" to
put on a rubber suit to play Rogue in the X-Men movies. As an
actress, though, she's put her inner Sandy Duncan on hold for
The Glory of Living, a piece with a few bleakly funny moments
but zero effervescence.
Loosely adapted from true events, The Glory of Living stars
Paquin as Lisa, a 15-year-old Alabaman living a few junkyards
below white trash level with her prostitute mother. Closed off
and wary, Lisa nonetheless exudes a fleshy, Baby Doll-like
sensuality that's catnip for Clint (Jeffrey Donovan), a
"reformed" car thief who in the course of the production
graduates to kidnapping, child rape, and worse. How deeply
Lisa, whom Clint has married, is involved in his crimes is
the crux of the drama. For most of the play, it's title seems
a sick joke, or exasperatingly ironic, but Gilman saves (or
perhaps withholds) a grace note for the very final moments.
Previously performed in London and Chicago, The Glory of Living
follows Gilman's sociologically fraught cliffhangers Spinning
Into Butter and Boy Gets Girl onto the New York stage. The
director is the perpetually multi-tasking Philip Seymour Hoffman,
who when not appearing on stage or screen finds time to direct
Off-Broadway plays, most recently In Arabia, We'd All Be Kings
and Jesus Hopped the `A' Train. Paquin and Hoffman shared a
marquee, but no screen time, in Cameron Crowe's Almost Famous
last year. They had not met until Paquin, whose greatest
theatrical accomplishment had been playing a skunk in a
school ballet, showed up to audition this past summer.
Paquin had completed a thriller, Darkness, that was filmed in
Spain and was enjoying siesta time when her agents sent her the
play. "Yeah, I thought, whatever, I know I said I wanted to do
a play, but I'm relaxing. I sat there reading it, though, and
my mouth just fell open. `I want to do this, I want to do this
definitely,' I said to myself. So often girls get a little
shafted in terms of the layers of their characters and this
part was just so complex and so rich. Lazy summer time was over."
An education in theatre was about to begin. Gilman tutored the
cast on the nuances of the piece for a week. "She didn't have
specific things to say; it was more like little things within
the script that no one was sure what the exact intention was
except her. We'd say, `So, Rebecca....' It made my job so much
easier, because there was nothing vague about anything." Paquin
credits Hoffman and the cast for filling in the blanks on more
mundane matters. "They have been so nice about me asking the
stupidest questions, like, `Which way is upstage and which way
is downstage?' `Why do I have to speak louder? It's an intimate
scene--Oh, they can't hear me in the back row?' I don't quite feel
so much like the foreigner up here anymore."
The Glory of Living isn't her first brush with theatre people:
She played Donna, underage sexual plaything to the stars, in
the film version of David Rabe's Hurlyburly, and was featured
in the handgun satire All the Rage, penned by playwright Keith
Reddin. The biggest difference between the two mediums, she
says, is the ability to work continually with material onstage.
"I really enjoy the hours and hours of rehearsal, discussing
everything about every scene and every beat within every moment.
I'm not sure I'll ever actually `finish' developing Lisa; I'm
sure that right up to the last night I'll be finding things
that I didn't realize were part of my character or part of the
story. All this time is time you have to take, because there's
nothing else besides the characters that's driving the play and
keeping people in their seats."
The audience is the other key variable. For all her honors,
Paquin says she was tongue-tied, "staring at my feet," when
delivering book reports in English class. More comfortable
now, she confides, with a laugh, "I absolutely love that I
can't see them because of the lights. I can see the front row
seats, and someone who's jittering or shaking in them through
my peripheral vision, at which point I just look somewhere else."
Offstage, she shies away from those curious only about her
celebrity. "I don't have any other perspective on my own life
except for that which I've gotten from having these things
happen to me," she relates. "I tend to steer clear of people
who only want to hang out with me because they think it's cool
that I'm an actress. I mean, like, you know, close friends are
proud of me and happy for me in my successes, but I'm equally
proud of them and happy for them in theirs. Some people are
like, `It must be so cool meeting famous people!' and I say,
[lowering her voice to a comical whimper] `Actually, I don't
meet famous people and can we please talk about something else?'"
New York is a favorite subject. She has completed her freshman
year at Columbia University and will resume her studies once
The Glory of Living ends its scheduled run on December 1 and
she completes the second X-Men adventure right afterwards.
"I visited here when I was 12 years old and decided to live
here once I had grown up," she says. "Of course, I'm not sure
I have grown up. In my 20s, I look forward to playing women,
rather than girls, and maybe have some of the life experiences
that will allow me to get more deeply inside their heads."
And, someday, she plans to delve more deeply into her closet
and dig up that errant Oscar. "There's just nowhere appropriate
to put a great big shiny gold thing," she muses. "My apartment's
not big enough to sort of place it surreptitiously on a shelf
somewhere. Not that I have any shelves. I'll have to install
them first."
Playbill, November 13, 2001
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