Showing posts with label Sissy Spacek. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sissy Spacek. Show all posts

Thursday, May 20, 2021

John Patterson / Welcome back, Sissy Spacek



Welcome back, Sissy

John Patterson is thankful to still get a glimpse of Sissy Spacek - the artist formerly known as Rainbo

Saturday 30 October 2004


T
he good name of the great state of Texas may currently be mud among 50% of Americans, but in truth, Texas isn't just the home of Halliburton KBR, Enron and a fast-track death-penalty process. Lots of cool things have come out of the Lone Star state: Jewish country singer and comic mystery novelist Kinky Friedman, Bob Wills and his Texas Playboys, the Dallas Cowboys' Cheerleaders, T-Bone Walker, Patricia Highsmith, Tommy Lee Jones, Woody Harrelson - and Sissy Spacek.

Tuesday, May 14, 2019

Colin Farrell / Sissy Spacek / A Home at the End of the World


A Home at the End of the World (2004)

Cynthia Fuchs
21 Jul 2004

A HOME AT THE END OF THE WORLD

Director: Michael Mayer
Cast: Colin Farrell, Robin Wright Penn, Sissy Spacek, Dallas Roberts
MPAA rating: R
Studio: Warner Independent Pictures
FIRST DATE: 2004
US RELEASE DATE: 2004-07-23 (LIMITED RELEASE)
In Cleveland, 1967, cute-as-can-be Bobby Morrow (Andrew Chalmers as a nine-year-old) comes to self-consciousness with the help of his brother Carlton (Ryan Donowho). Or maybe more precisely, he comes to realize the world is a wildly beautiful and unpredictable place. Here he as likely to view his first sex scene (via Carlton's unlocked door: "It's just love, man, it's nothing to fear") as to have his mind expanded (via Carlton's LSD) or his heart broken (via an unexpected and quite brutal death). Wide-eyed and apparently cherubic (his favorite grave marker in the local cemetery is the angel), the child absorbs his lessons serenely, a proverbial blank screen onto which you're invited to project your own desires.

Unfortunately, Bobby's vagueness tends to be more tiresome than inspiring. This despite the fact that, after a few scenes as a 15-year-old (played by Erik Smith), he grows up to be Colin Farrell, whose full frontal has already-famously been cut from the finished film ("Too distracting" is the filmmakers' reported rationale). And, aside from this bit of promotional detail, A Home at the End of the World, written by Michael (The Hours) Cunningham from his novel, is doesn't have so much to frame its central character. The movie doesn't quite translate the book's lyrical internal monologues to embodied characters. Bobby's naïveté grants him a blithe ignorance of anything outside his narrow existence, everyone around him admires, resents, adores, resent and lusts after him, usually all at once. As complicated and intriguing as such a range of responses might sound, A Home at the End of the World, directed by Michael Mayer, doesn't provide much in the way of motivation for any of them. Why do all Bobby's acquaintances (okay, three characters) fall all over themselves to be in love with him?

Saturday, December 8, 2018

Sissy Spacek / ‘I was fearless’




Sissy Spacek: ‘I was fearless’


Thu 19 Mar 2015


Sissy Spacek has been away. She disappears often. Since making it big as one of the golden girls of 1970s Hollywood, she has been a fan of the hiatus, frequently leaving the limelight to take stock, to enjoy life on her Virginia farm, and to raise her kids.
Now, in her first role since 2012, Spacek is about to star as Sally Rayburn, the matriarch in Bloodline, the new thriller series from Netflix. So what’s she been up to? “Family and animals,” she beams, sparky and exuberant as she sits on a sofa in a London hotel. “I need to fill myself up with real life. That’s kind of the well I draw from. Though this show has been a wonderful experience: I’m exploring my seventh decade with this role.”
Spacek, now 65, has been acting since 1972. Even back then, she was always careful about what parts she agreed to, finding immediate success as Holly Sargis, the teenager who runs away with a psychopath in Terrence Malick’s Badlands. By 1976, she had become an icon, thanks to Brian de Palma’s Carrie, which she followed with an appearance in 3 Women, directed by Robert Altman. After that, she didn’t make a film for three years. When she returned, to play Loretta Lynn in Coal Miner’s Daughter, she won an Oscar.


Decades later, she’s still a great actor, bringing grace and weight to Bloodline, in which she plays wife to Sam Shepard and mother to four combative middle-aged kids. A taut family noir co-created by Todd A Kessler, a writer and producer on The Sopranos, Bloodline is set in the forests and wetlands of Florida Keys where the Rayburns run a picturesque hotel. When their eldest son Danny returns home, old wounds are ripped open and the façade falls away from his not-so-squeaky-clean siblings, all of whom are desperate for their parents’ affection.
“I think they’ve just put things away and moved on,” Spacek says, of the past traumas that lie at the heart of Bloodline, “rather than address them and have them be alive in their lives.” It’s a scenario that has parallels with her own family background. Her older brother Robbie died from leukaemia when she was 17. “For me, the grief was almost like rocket fuel,” Spacek wrote in My Extraordinary Ordinary Life, her 2012 autobiography. Having grown up a tomboy in the small Texas town of Quitman, she left for New York to hang out with her cousin, the actor Rip Torn, became a singer and then an actor. How did her brother’s death influence her acting?




“I think it made me brave,” she says. “Once you experience something like that, you’ve experienced the ultimate tragedy. And if you can continue, nothing else frightens you. That’s what I meant about it being rocket fuel – I was fearless in a way. Maybe it gave more depth to my work because I had already experienced something profound and life-changing. It was a devastating blow but it became a real positive. I grew so much and it was definitely because of my mother. She wanted all of us to be better through what we had experienced – and not be devastated by it. Something like that can propel you or it can be a black hole that sucks all the life and air out of the room. And I think the Rayburns, and particularly Sally, don’t have the tools to understand that.”
Danny is played by Ben Mendelsohn, the Australian whose recent roles in the likes of Animal Kingdom, The Place Beyond The Pines and Starred Up have established him as something of a firecracker, an actor with a dangerous unpredictability, all of which makes him perfect for this new part. Like Spacek, Mendelsohn is no stranger to family upheaval. His parents divorced when he was six and he later went a little off the rails, finding himself expelled from boarding school at the age of 13 for, as he says cryptically, “burning stuff”. He became an actor, finding the family he lacked in the Australian film industry.

Sissy Spacek with Ben Mendelsohn as her eldest son in Bloodline.

Danny has a brother called John, a seemingly upstanding figure played by Kyle Chandler, whose reasons for taking up acting aren’t dissimilar to Mendelsohn’s. After ending a five-season spree as coach Eric Taylor in US football drama Friday Night Lights, Chandler worked his way through small but meaty roles in Argo, Zero Dark Thirty and The Wolf of Wall Street. Bloodline, he says, appealed to him from the start. He grew up in Georgia, enjoying an idyllic childhood until, at the age of 14, his 56-year-old father died of a heart attack. For a couple of years, he fell into a life of drink, drugs, car crashes and arrests, getting into acting in a bid to find new father figures.
Is he still searching? “Yeah, I think so,” Chandler says. “Now that I have kids, I look at them and think about our relationship. I see things I missed out on when I was younger and could have used help with. There was something missing when I was a kid. I didn’t have a father to guide me. I had to figure those things out for myself. I was a pretty insecure kid and became somewhat introspective. I looked at other people to see how they fitted in, I was more observant of life around me. Once I got into acting, without realising it, I had a pretty good grasp of how to take all those pieces I had in my memory and use them in acting. It’s odd, too, because my dad used to call me a faker when I was a little kid all the time. I often think about that.”
As for Spacek, she lives for family these days, priding herself on being an ordinary girl with roots in smalltown Texas. But there’s no denying her otherness, her ethereal beauty. Somehow she manages to exude an air of purity, gliding about on screen with hypnotic oddness. Spacek has never bowed to Hollywood pressures. After playing Loretta Lynn, she received a telegram from Dolly Parton, reading: “Dear Sissy, I hope you make millions of dollars from Coal Miner’s Daughter so that you can get a boob job and do the Dolly Parton story.” Needless to say, there was no boob job.

We talk more about her Hollywood hiatuses. I’d read a 1979 interview with her by Cameron Crowe in Rolling Stone. At one point, Spacek’s father takes Crowe out on a boat and confides his concerns about his daughter. I read out his quote: “We’ve been worrying a bit about Sissy lately. She’s passed on so many projects, you know. Rip is an actor who has mouths to feed, like many of them. He admires Sissy for being able to hold out. But he worries for her, too. We don’t want to see her lose what she’s built up to.”
Spacek’s eyes light up as she remembers her time with Crowe, and she’s happy to explain why she’s never been afraid to disappear for years on end. “Maybe I was naïve,” she says with a smile. “I just thought it would always be the way it was. Maybe it’s because I became involved with a young artist who I later married, Jack Fisk, and we had this plan to live the art life. But also, my cousin Rip told me early on, ‘I hope you’re doing this for the right reasons. If you’re doing it because you wanna see yourself huge on the screen, that’s the wrong reason. But if you’re doing this because you are interested and you love the work, you’ll have a happy life.’ That was some of the best advice I ever got. And because of losing my brother I didn’t have fear. The world was my oyster. And also, maybe, ignorance is bliss.”


Friday, December 7, 2018

The miracle of Sissy Spacek / Why it's time to rediscover her genius






The miracle of Sissy Spacek – why it's time to rediscover her genius

She stars in The Old Man & the Gun, but all the film’s publicity has been about Robert Redford. Anyone who hasn’t encountered her earlier performances is in for a treat

Ryan Gilbey
Thu 6 Dec 2018

T
roubling news just in of a well-known comic in his early 30s, who approached a friend of mine at a party and squinted at his T-shirt. “What does that say?” he asked. “S-I-S-S-Y S-P-A-C-E-K?” (It was one of those Girls on Tops-style affairs, with the name of a female actor or film-maker emblazoned in capital letters.) An explanation, including the words “Carrie” and “Badlands” and possibly “acting legend”, was forthcoming, but the baffled celebrity was none the wiser. Could it be that the miracle of Sissy Spacek has eluded an entire generation?



Spacek’s pace has admittedly slowed down in the past decade. Her last Oscar nomination was 16 years ago, for her performance as a grieving mother in the revenge drama In the Bedroom. She was a regular a few years back on Bloodline, a Netflix smash full of noirish foreboding and corkscrew twists, in which she played Mum to bad boy Ben Mendelsohn. And now she is in The Old Man & the Gun, AKA the Robert Redford Retirement Movie, where she shows off her flirting abilities, her translucent and infinitely freckled skin, and even one of her own off-screen catchphrases, “Keep on keepin’ on,” all the while seeming vaguely underused.
Spacek’s characteristic pensiveness is also on display in the new film. She can be vividly in the moment – think of her as the woman fighting to find her husband in Missing, set during the 1973 Chilean coup d’état – but her default setting is contemplation. Few actors can look so fascinating staring into space. As the country and western singer Loretta Lynn in Coal Miner’s Daughter, the film that won her the best actress Oscar, she has plenty of reason to gaze into the middle distance, imagining a life that would lift her out of hardship. The British director Michael Apted, who knew the value of patience from his work on the seminal Up documentary series, kept coming back to that face. You would offer more than a penny for her thoughts.

That was 1980. But she had been brilliant right off the bat seven years earlier in Terrence Malick’s debut Badlands, an intoxicatingly lyrical real-life crime drama about a dopey killer, Kit (Martin Sheen), and his teenage girlfriend, Holly, played by Spacek at her dreamiest and most distracted. Character and actor, both Texan, became fused at a molecular level. “People who’ve worked with Terry either love him or hate him,” Spacek recalled. “I love him. We’d spend hours talking about things, and then the next day I’d look at the rewrites, and there’d be all the things I told him.” She said she could twirl batons and, sure enough, there it was in black and white the next day: “Holly twirls a baton.”

Badlands was an interminable shoot, with the whimsical Malick prone to abandon the day’s schedule whenever he became distracted by this sunset or that river, taking off to film over there instead. Crew members quit. (The movie has three credited cinematographers.) But Spacek and the production designer Jack Fisk stuck it out. “I had a vested interest,” said Fisk. “I’d fallen in love with Sissy, so that also kept me going.” (The couple are still married.) Although her acting career was fully underway, she could be found helping out on Fisk’s jobs: she held the clapperboard on David Lynch’s Eraserhead and decorated sets on Brian De Palma’s gaudy horror-comedy Phantom of the Paradise.
De Palma used her on Carrie for more than just her knack with an undercoat. For her luminous performance as the pale, terrified schoolgirl waking up to her terrifying powers, Spacek got the first of her six best actress Oscar nominations. The contorted poses she strikes during her telekinetic episodes – like a mix of kabuki and voguing – came from studying the dramatic biblical drawings that formed part of her husband’s research for his production design on the film.
Carrie marked the start of her celebrity but also an end of sorts. She could pass for a teenager until she was almost 30 – she was 27 when she played Carrie – but during the 1980s she graduated to adult roles, including a run of rural dramas such as The River, Places in the Heart and the unsettling Raggedy Man. Even her smallest parts are comprised of fine, tender brushstrokes: one of her best is as the shy, stammering Rose in David Lynch’s The Straight Story. She doesn’t have more than 10 minutes of screentime, but her compassion and chiming sadness resonate throughout the picture.

Spacek can also be blissfully dotty. She provides the voice of Anne Uumellmahaye, the brain with which Steve Martin becomes smitten in The Man With Two Brains (he takes her out on a rowboat and slaps a pair of wax lips on her jar). And she matches Christopher Walken quirk-for-quirk in Blast from the Past, where they play a couple who have been holed up in a fallout shelter for 35 years.
As extraordinary as Badlands, Carrie and Coal Miner’s Daughter remain, I would point the oblivious and the unbelieving in the direction of the most spaced-out Spacek movie: Robert Altman’s eerie 3 Women. The film’s first half, with Spacek as the timid, impressionable Pinky being bossed around and jollied along by her garrulous roommate (Shelley Duvall), is the closest thing US cinema has produced to a Mike Leigh-style comedy of social awkwardness. In the second half, identities become blurred and exchanged, and those of us previously reassured by Spacek’s sweetness start to lose our bearings as the characters lose their marbles. For all the havoc Carrie wreaks, she is always sympathetic; she only kills when cornered. But 3 Women, released only a year later in 1977, hinted at parts of Spacek that might be unknowable, even duplicitous. That face could never again seem purely placid.
The Old Man & the Gun is on general release