Quotes

I always wanted to be an actress. My mother told me to get a job as an elevator operator - because Dorothy Lamour was discovered that way.

I hope to have some more cracks at some wonderful roles before I go to the Great Beyond.

It hasn't been smooth or delightful every minute, there were lean years and rough years, but it's been exciting and good and I'm thrilled to be an actress and a singer and to have spent my life this way.

[on coming to the role of Major Margaret "Hot Lips" O'Houlihan] Soon after The April Fools (1969) my agent called me about an audition. I didn't know anything about the director or who, if anyone, had already been cast. The only thing my agent said was that I was reading for the part of Lt. Dish (later played by Jo Ann Pflug), so I thought that I had better put on some red lipstick to look more "dish-y". The audition room was full of men, scattered about, none of whom I recognized. I didn't even know which one was the director. I guess I did well because, all of a sudden, one of the men--he had the longest fingers I've ever seen, like birds about to take flight--said, "I'll give you the best role in the picture: Hot Lips." "Really?" I said. I was so excited. Finally! The best role in something. I thanked the long-fingered man, took the script, and rushed outside. I didn't even want to get home before I cracked open the script to get a better look at this "best" role in the picture. Leaning against the building, I began thumbing through the pages looking for my part. And looking. And still looking. Nothing. On page forty, maybe I found a single line. Later I found a few more. Fourteen years in Hollywood and my "best role" is the nine-line part of a solider named Hot Lips? I staggered home, angry and bitter, and I called my agent, indignant. "There's nothing to this part!" I told him. "This guy is supposed to be really talented," he said, trying to calm me down. "I really think you should do it." I later learned that fifteen directors had said no to this film before Robert Altman had said yes. So I read the script again and then agreed to take another meeting with Altman, it was just the two of us this time, and I arrived in a huff. I didn't know him from Adam, but I hated him for thinking he could fool me. Hot Lips was a memory before the script was even halfway over. But as long I had come this far, I was going to tell him what I thought. "Why does she have to leave in the middle of the film?" I began. I had spent years playing roles on TV. I was already thirty-one years old. I didn't want a career playing hard-bitten drunks in Chanel suits who get slapped by their husbands. This movie was supposed to be a comedy. Hell. I'd done two episodes of Bonanza (1959) just to prove I could be funny. I was capable of so much more than a few lines. I was capable of a "best" role--and so was my character. "I'm not just some WAC--I'm a woman!" "So why can't she do this? And why can't she do that?" I shouted at Altman. I was ranting. When I finally came up for air, Bob just casually leaned back in his chair. He said, simply, "Why couldn't she? You could end up with something or nothing. Why not take a chance?". The minute he said that, something in me shifted. Here I was having a tantrum in his office, and there he was leaning back in his chair, smiling. Everything about him was comfortable and relaxed. So sure. So it was settled. The role of Hot Lips O'Houlihan was mine. The movie was M*A*S*H (1970).

[on Brewster McCloud (1970)] Okay, M*A*S*H (1970) was a big hit, so let's do something obscure. I think he (Robert Altman) made up my part because he wanted to work together. I loved it. He gave me wing scars and let me sing "Rock-a-bye Baby" to Bud Cort. I stopped people on the road to tell them about Bob and how I loved Bob and how I'd do anything for Bob, And of course he took full advantage and he put me sitting naked in the fountain. To his credit it was a long lens and there was nobody in the streets, and I was this bird, this fairy godmother. Why I did these things... All I know is we had a great time. I remember Bob had the police chief come over and he'd have these big bowls of grass sitting around. I don't know if the guy knew or if he didn't.

[on her Academy Award nomination] it may sound like a cliché when someone who's up for an Academy Award says, "It's an honor just to be nominated," but it really is an incredible honor. Yes, it's true that the coolest thing is doing the work, being on the set, having a part you can sink your teeth into, and 5 am burritos and doughnuts at craft services or hanging out in the makeup trailer. But being nominated is amazing because it's your peers' acknowledgment of your work. That's humbling!

[on Sissy Spacek] On the set of Welcome to L.A. (1976), I had the joy of meeting the oh-so lovely and adorable Sissy Spacek. Sissy played my topless housekeeper and was a sheer delight. Memories of her Texas drawl still bring a smile to my face.

[on Rodney Dangerfield] I remember he was being honored one evening and invited me to come along with him and his date. We had a lot of fun, and when we got back to the car, I said, "Rodney, you're going to have to come up to the house for dinner." The look on his face said it all: "I'd rather get in a helicopter and jump." I howled. The rejection wasn't personal. Rodney was a night club guy. He didn't want to have a nice, quiet dinner with Jonathan and me, he wanted to be in Vegas!

I didn't know anything about building careers. Somehow I still have a career.