Blond Ambivalence
Is it fear of commitment
or the search for the perfect role
that keeps Michelle Pfeiffer from
making the most of her stardom?
By James Kaplan
Pictures by Matthew Rolston
Michelle
Pfeiffer is telling a story
on herself, doing a pitch-perfect
imitation of her agent, the mellifluous,
legengary Ed
Limato of ICM: “He
says, ‘Michelle darling. If
you think the public wants to see
you in another wig, doing another
accent, you’re mistaken. That’s
not what they want.’”
“What
do you think?” I ask.
We’re ensconced in the back
room of a French/Southwestern ladies
who lunch restaurant near Pfeiffer's
West Los Angeles house. It's a couple
of weeks before Christmas; a fire
crackles in the fireplace.
"Well,"
she says, "he's
probably right. The things that
interest me are not usually easy
sells. But they keep letting me
make movies, so that's all that
really matters to me. Basically,
for the last five or six years,
I've done movies because I like
them. Some have been successful,
and some haven't. Some I wear a
wig, and some I don't. Some I have
an accent, and some I don't. And
I'd like to keep making choices
in the same way. He was very relieved
when I did Batman
Returns,
though," she adds, with
a laugh.
It's a serious laugh. At 35, Michelle
Pfeiffer is at the zenith
of her career. Yet there were three
years between her Best Actress nomination
for The
Fabulous Baker Boys and the
release of the fabulously successful
Batman
Returns, and they were a
commercial minefield for her. There
are those who maintain she has sold
short her greatest success by choosing
character roles that emphasized
her extravagant acting talent over
her extravagant good looks. While
she's universally admired, even
revered, for her acting, she is
by no means above Hollywood's harsh
calculus. "Look,"
says one insider, "the
jury's still out on whether Michelle
Pfeiffer can open a movie."
Yet, if such assessments bother
her, she gives no sign. She knows
as well as anyone that nobody certainly
no woman is given tenure in Hollywood.
LAST JUNE, PFEIFFER finished shooting
Martin Scorsese's
The
Age of Innocence, an adaptation
of Edith Wharton's
novel about upper class mores in
1870s New York City. She plays Countess
Ellen Olenska, a woman liberated
before her time and ostracized for
her nonconformity. The picture was
to have come out last fall, but
it was pushed back a year to accommodate
Scorsese's
intensive editing process. The result
has been one of those odd lacunae
that becalm even the most productive
careers now and then. On the one
hand, it's been nice ("I
think I sufficiently burnt myself
out to where I could plan to relax,"
Pfeiffer
says); on the other hand, heat which
the world cares about, even if the
actress doesn't cools.
Into this gap fall the problems
of another wig and accent Pfeiffer
picture, Love
Field, a small road movie
about an interracial love affair,
set in the South at the time of
the assassination of President John
F. Kennedy. It was finished
in November 1991, but then the bankruptcy
of Orion
put it in cold storage. Now the
reorganized studio is hoping Love
Field will spearhead its
return to the business. It seems
a fragile spearhead, and Pfeiffer
is having a hard time hiding her
ambivalence about it.
"I like
the movie very much,"
she says, her flat voice belying
her words. "I
think that its message, if it has
one, is one of hope and crossing
boundaries of sex, of race, of class.''
Her voice trails off.
"Do
you have any quibbles with it artistically?"
I ask.
A thick, juicy silence. She looks
me straight in the eye for a long
time, her pupils tiny in pale blue
irises. "Okay,"
she says bluntly. "Movies
are bound to come out different
from the way you see them in your
head. But a lot of people bled for
this movie. And there were a lot
of hurt feelings, and a lot of anger,
but I think we all put it behind
us and said, 'Okay. Now the movie's
out, let's give it our best shot.'
Because there's a lot of good work
in the movie; there's a lot of effort,
and a lot of good intentions."
The road to video limbo is, of
course, paved with good intentions.
"The
movie was a difficult one from the
get go," Pfeiffer
admits. Orion
badly wanted Denzel
Washington to costar, at
a point when he and Pfeiffer
were being nominated by every award
outfit in sight, he for Glory,
she for The
Fabulous Baker Boys. But
Washington
was worried that the male lead was
too passive. A week before shooting
started, he backed out, and Dennis
Haysbert, a virtual unknown,
was called in to replace him. Due
to financial pressures from the
afflicted studio, the shooting schedule
was unrealistically short, and then
Orion
went into Chapter 11.
"Once
the studio went belly up,"
says the film's director, Jonathan
Kaplan (The
Accused), "we
never got to show the movie to an
audience."
Despite the smallness of the picture,
Pfeiffer's
moving performance as Lurene Hallett,
a chatterbox of a Dallas housewife
who finally transcends her own vacuity,
is strong enough to have generated
talk of an Oscar nomination. But
the movie's commercial prospects
it goes national on February 12
seem modest.
And Pfeiffer
chose Love
Field over another road picture,
Thelma
& Louise.
"Michelle
loved the character in Love
Field," says Kate
Guinzburg, her production
company partner, adviser, and best
friend. "I
mean, you look at [Geena
Davis
and Susan
Sarandon
on] the cover of TIME and go, 'Huh?
Hub? How could she have made this
choice?' But commercial considerations
are the last thing on her mind when
Michelle's deciding on a project."
She didn't always have this luxury.
Pfeiffer
had been through her TV period (The
B.A.D. Cats, Delta
House) and her B movie period
(The
Hollywood Knights, Charlie
Chan and the Curse of the Dragon
Queen) when roles in Grease
2 and Scarface
ratcheted her into respectability.
Then, with Oscar nominations for
Dangerous
Liaisons and The
Fabulous Baker Boys, in 1988
and '89, she was suddenly close
to the top of her profession. But
choosing the next step proved strangely
tough.
"I think
one of her problems has been the
choices she's made,"
says George
Miller, who directed her
in 1987's The
Witches of Eastwick. "She's
a hesitant decider she tends to
withdraw when she gets seared."
He speaks from experience: Pfeiffer
came very close to committing to
his current release, Lorenzo's
Oil. "And
what we really all ought to be doing
is what scares us the most."
One project that particularly scared
her was The
Silence of the Lambs.
Lambs
director Jonathan
Demme, an admirer since they
worked together on Married
to the Mob (1988), passionately
wanted Pfeiffer
for the role Jodie
Foster wound up with. He
wasn't alone. "Kate
[Guinzburg] wanted me to do that
movie very badly," Pfeiffer
says. "But
my agent actually had ambivalent
feelings as well. I was kind of
surprised that he did."
"Michelle
felt that evil won out at the end
of the story," says
Guinzburg.
"She
struggled with that decision, but
I finally understood. And I think
she'd make the same decision today."
Instead of Lambs,
she did Frankie
& Johnny with Al
Pacino. On the face of it,
it was not an odd choice: Director
Garry Marshall's
previous film had been Pretty
Woman. Frankie plummeted
out of sight, but Pfeiffer
has no regrets. She rarely does.
"She
never says, 'I shoulda,"'
says Marshall.
"She
doesn't dwell."
PFEIFFER WAS HARDLY an obvious
choice for the muchcoveted role
of Batman
Returns' Catwoman. But she
lobbied as hard as anyone well,
except Sean
Young for the part. When
the first choice, Annette
Bening, got pregnant, the
plum fell to Pfeiffer.
I remember she once told me (I
interviewed her for the release
of Married
to the Mob) she had no confidence
in her comic ability then I think
of the terminally mousy Selina Kyle
jamming her stuffed animals down
a garbage disposal. "How'd
you get so funny?" I
ask.
"Well,
this is the problem,"
she says. "I'm
never gonna think I'm funny. That
hasn't changed. I might get a little
snicker out of myself every now
and then." She laughs.
"I have
a different thing,"
she says. "I
have a funny bone. It's more slight
and more subtle."
That doesn't quite describe Catwoman.
She smiles. "Yes.
Not my most subtle work. I think
the more confident I've become over
the years, the more I'm able to
venture into those territories.
I'm not so afraid to make a fool
out of myself anymore. It was hard
work, but I really had fun."
The work, and the fun, showed.
In Batman
Returns the smash hit of
1992, with a $163 million take "she
went from being very well regarded
to being an international star,"
Guinzburg
says. Their production company is
now developing an eclectic mix of
projects: a commercial CIA thriller
romance; an adaptation of Jane
Smiley's epic farm novel,
A Thousand
Acres; a love story about
Georgia O'Keeffe
and Alfred
Stieglitz. And Pfeiffer is
looking at other options. "I've
been encouraging her to direct,"
Garry Marshall
says. "My
sister [Penny] did very well with
it, and I think Michelle could too.
She has a great understanding of
other actors, of material, and the
visual. And the truth for her is
that there are only so many scripts
she can act in."
THE FLAME in the restaurant's fireplace
has gone down, and, our waiter being
scarce, Pfeiffer
simply reaches in and shifts the
cool ends of the logs around with
her long thin fingers. It comes
back to me that she's one of the
least self important stars I've
ever met, and one of the few who
uses the word you with any regularity.
"She's
from a working class background,"
Jonathan Kaplan
says. The daughter of a heating
and air conditioning contractor
and a homemaker from blue collar
Midway City, Calif., she has gone
from one job to the next since her
midteens. "She
knows damn well she could survive
without all that star stuff."
"Michelle
has no goddess time,"
Marshall
says. "Except
when she's on the screen. And then
she's home. I've worked with a lot
of stars, and she's different. She
doesn't get obsessed with hair and
makeup. She's not a happy girt on
the set she's very prepared, very
serious."
Ironically, one of Pfeiffer's
very best roles was as a goddess,
in the haunting but largely unseen
1987 PBS
movie Natica
Jackson, an adaptation of
a John O'Hara
story; it is about a '30s movie
star whose brash, wistful essence
she captured with eerie perfection.
Michelle Pfeiffer
made you believe that, had she been
around then, she could have shown
Garbo
and Lombard
a thing or two.
It's an impression she has made
more than once. "Of
all the screen tests I've given,"
George Miller
says, "the
two I most remember are Mel
Gibson's
for Mad
Max
and Michelle's for Witches.
The minute the studio people saw
her test, they were scrambling all
over themselves to say they'd thought
of her first."
"Michelle
has something very rare on the screen,
and that's mystery,"
says Steve
Kloves, who directed her
in The
Fabulous Baker Boys. Baker
Boys solidified Pfeiffer's
myth by suggesting similarities
between Susie Diamond's harsh beauty
and Pfeiffer's
own: a tough past and plenty of
somber undertones. "At
the same time, there's a raw quality
that comes through in her performances.
It's a unique combination.
"She's
a dark soul," Kloves
goes on. "She
questions everything. But I think
she's happy now."
"When
we were shooting Frankie
& Johnny," Marshall
recalls, "people
would say to me, 'That girl's too
pretty to have any trouble.', And
I said to them, 'I know Michelle."'
When we first met, she was just
coming into her own commercially,
but she had plenty of trouble. Her
seven year marriage to actor Peter
Horton had just ended; she
was smoking too much, and working
too hard.
"It
was hard for me to be famous initially,"
she says now. "But
then I got older, and I got more
famous. And it wasn't going away.
So unless you come to terms with
it, you're gonna have a miserable
life. I chose not to have a miserable
life."
Did this choice involve the recent
ending of her relationship with
actor Fisher
Stevens?
"Fisher
and I had a wonderful three years,
and he's an extraordinary human
being," Pfeiffer
says. "However,
all relationships are not meant
to last. There was no terrible deed
done contrary to what was reported."
(Tabloid accounts blamed the breakup
on his infidelity.) "It
just ran its course,"
she says.
Pfeiffer
does seem to have found an even
keel. "I'm
basically a happier person,"
she says, weighing her words. "I'm
never gonna be a perky person it's
not my nature."
"Has
Michelle changed?" repeats
her close friend Cher.
"Oh gosh,
yeah. She's coming into her own.
Being an artist isn't always so
good for your everyday life. But
I think she's merging the two really
well."
"You
have someone new in your life,"
I say. Her latest involvement is
with TV producer David
Kelley (Picket
Fences).
"Yes,
but I think I was in a very good
place before I met him,"
she replies quickly. "You
know what?" she adds,
after a moment. "I'm
really happy. I want to have children
at some point; don't know when.
I guess basically in my life I don't
know that I would change anything."
WE’RE IN A HUGE West Los
Angeles antique market, buying Christmas
presents. Pfeiffer
looks fetchingly casual in her shopping
clothes bib overalls, T shirt, black
Doe Martens
but she's not down dressed enough
to fool fawning salespeople. Every
time we turn a corner, a new one
appears, describing items, offering
to open another cabinet. An especially
persistent blue haired saleslady
shows up for the third time; Pfeiffer
makes a flea flicking gesture when
the woman isn't looking. "Have
you thought about what you're going
to do as you get older?"
I ask.
"I've
thought I should invest my money
very, very wisely”,
she says. She smiles. "I
had a really interesting thing happen
when I was working on Age
of Innocence.
We were in Brooklyn Heights, and
we were on the street, and all of
the neighborhood people would come
out we were like the circus that
came to town. And I was in my trailer,
and they were being so loud. And
I kept trying to find a place where
they couldn't see in. So I find
myself in the back of the trailer,
and they can't see me, but I can
hear them a little clearer. Now,
these are people who are usually,
like, 'Michelle, Michelle! We love
you! Michelle!' And I hear somebody
say, 'Hey, man! I saw her, and she
look old!"'
She laughs delightedly.
"I'm
not worried about age,"
Pfeiffer
says. "But
I'm very aware that this is my window
of time. I mean, I costarred with
Sean
Connery
in Russia
House,
and nobody batted an eye. When he
was 60, he was voted the sexiest
man in the world. This just is not
gonna happen for women not in my
lifetime. I want to be allowed to
age gracefully, but they don't let
you do that in this business."
Pfeiffer
picks out a present for her agent:
a gilded statuette of a man wrestling
a wolf to the ground. Should we
see symbolism here? No doubt the
agent has done some grappling to
get his most beautiful client all
she deserves. No doubt the client
has wrestled with some tough decisions
herself.
But just for a moment-back in the
parking lot, under a fierce L.A.
sun, as she pops on shades, climbs
into her four wheel drive, and waves
goodbye she makes it all seem easy.
By James
Kaplan
A Concise Pfeiffer
Pfilmography
The growth of an actress, from
happy high schooler to kitten with
a whip
HERE’S MICHELLE Pfeiffer’s
dilemma: Shes beautiful, Shes blond.
She's got them big blue peepers.
So she can't be one of today's best
screen actresses. But that common
assumption is also the source of
her art Pfeiffer's
unshowy performances work because
they don't call attention to themselves,
This didn't happen overnight, though,
and her filmography on video shows
a maturation from awkward starlet
to performer of subtle creativity.
* FALLING
IN LOVE AGAIN (1980, Sultan)
Also known as In
Love, Pfeiffer's first film
is a sappy coming of age in da Bronx
tale. She does hold her own as the
love interest, however, even managing
a British accent.
* CHARLIE
CHAN AND THE CURSE OF THE DRAGON
QUEEN (1981, Media) She's
game but hapless as hero Richard
Hatch's dumb bunny fiancée.
* GREASE
2 (1982, Paramount) This
is Pfeiffer's first lead role: Rydell
High's new top Pink Lady. Too bad
it's one of the worst sequels of
all time.
* SCARFACE
(1983, MCA/Universal) Her wan sadness
as Al Pacino's WASP moll goes deeper
than anything else in Brian De Palma's
delirious gangster opera.
* LADYHAWKE
(1985, Warner) The Middle Ages for
mall brats, with Pfeiffer and Rutger
Hauer as a knightly couple under
a curse. She doesnt get to do much
except quiver her lips, but it's
passable silly stuff.
* INTO THE
NIGHT (1985, MCA/Universal)
This comic thriller is where things
get interesting: Pfeiffer rings
deft changes on the stock femme
fatale role as she leads schmo Jeff
Goldblum into danger.
* SWEET LIBERTY
(1986, MCA/Universal) Alan Alda's
comedy about a film crew invading
a college town is good natured,
articulate, and a little too coy
to stick. Pfeiffer is nicely brittle
as a neurotic starlet.
* THE WITCHES
OF EASTWICK (1987, Warner)
Before getting lost behind the horror
goop, Pfeiffer brought her timidity
to the fore as the intellectual
of the three suburban spell casters.
* DANGEROUS
LIAISONS (1988, Warner) This
courtly sexual roundelay is as nasty
as any soap opera and twice as penetrating.
Pfeiffer goes the acting distance
and picked up a Best Supporting
Actress nomination as a virtuous
woman betrayed by love.
* TEQUILA
SUNRISE (1988, Warner) Pfeiffer
is an icy restaurateur who thaws
for both cop Kurt Russell and criminal
Mel Gibson. It doesn't make a shred
of sense, but everyone's so beautiful
you won't care.
* MARRIED
TO THE MOB (1988, Orion)
This velvety mob farce plays like
humane screwball, and Pfeiffer,
as a Mafia widow torn between the
godfather and a cute fed, comes
off like, Carole Lombard's shyer
sister.
* THE FABULOUS
BAKER BOYS (1989, LIVE) It's
just a bunch of smoky romantic clichés,
but so what? Watching Pfeiffer sing
"Makin' Whoopee" as she
crawls on a piano is a major movie
moment. And she earned a Best Actress
Oscar nomination.
* THE RUSSIA
HOUSE (1990, MGM) Sean Connery's
the main show as a raffish publisher
turned spy, but Pfeiffer, as the
Russian editor he falls for, fills
in her role with unexpected grace
notes.
* FRANKIE
& JOHNNY (1991, Paramount)
Pfeiffer as a dowdy waitress? Hard
not to call it miscasting. But this
is an affecting, toughminded romance,
with Pfeiffer's cautious blooming
matched by Al Pacino's happy hamming.
* BATMAN
RETURNS (1992, Warner) You
can keep Jack's Joker, Danny's Penguin,
even that uptight guy in the rubber
hat. Pfeiffer’s Catwoman is
the real prize. Her transformation
from a much abused secretary to
a dazed, latex swathed mistress
of kink is both comic and scarily
on the money. This is the performance
that deserves an Oscar.
By Ty Burr |
