Kristin Scott Thomas
Let’s cut to the chase: How do Broadway audiences measure up to those in London?
They’ve been great. I’ve really enjoyed the different kind of audience that we have here on Broadway. They seem to be more willing to enjoy themselves. They spend a lot of money for their tickets, so they want to come and have a good time. You get less of the “let’s see what you can do”-type attitude. It’s very exciting to be doing Chekhov on Broadway, and also to be in a show that’s surviving in this difficult period.
In London, you were acting with Chiwetel Ejiofor, who played Trigorin. What was it like getting used to Peter Sarsgaard in that role?
It’s great with an actor like Peter, because you never do get used to it. There’s always something fresh and interesting to react to every night. I don’t know what kind of show he’s going to do tonight, and he doesn’t know what kind of show I’m going to do. That’s the great thing about Chekhov, too. You can find 50 million ways to act any given moment and still keep the soul of it.
What sense have you been getting from audiences from performance to performance?
They’re really surprised when they come. I imagine people hear and read things about the play and have certain ideas about Chekhov. Then they come and see it’s really funny! I definitely sense moments when the audience is very surprised at the amount of distinctive humor in it.
It starts out on a surprising note, with Zoe Kazan’s “I’m in mourning for my life.” You laugh.
You do. But you don’t just laugh, because it’s not just funny. Toward the end of the play, Arkadina talks about her son and says, “I’ve never read what he’s written,” and there’s an audible gasp in the audience. They’re really shocked. She’s really awfu! Then when the gun goes off at the end, you feel drained. It’s very moving. [She pauses.] Sorry, I’m just walking the dog.
What kind of dog do you have?
A wirehaired dachshund [laughs]. She’s great. In London, you can take a dog to the park and let her run around; it’s really great fun. You can’t do that here, since you have to keep them on a leash.
Is this your longest stint in New York?
No, I’ve been here for a bit before. When I was married, my husband was doing research here, so we lived here. I’ve rented an apartment [for the Broadway run]. It’s all very well organized.
Do you have your family here?
Yes. My youngest son [eight-year-old Georges] is set up in school. It’s all very cozy. He loves it, but he especially loves coming to the theater. He just loves coming to the theater—the actual building itself—and hanging out there.
How does it compare to a movie set for him?
It’s much more exciting for him. He can talk to the actors, and he can go to their rooms. He can run errands. It’s exciting for a kid to see people transform. You witness somebody who, before they go on, seems to be a really nice, jovial-type person. And then they go onstage and become something else, something irritable. Then they come back off and are nice again.
What’s his reaction to the actual show?
He’s a bit too little to look at the second half, so he’s only seen the first act. He liked it. He thought I was horrible, and asked, “Why are you so mean?”
And he’s surely not ready to see you get out of prison in I’ve Loved You So Long. What’s it like to be on Broadway while getting great reviews for your new film?
I like that fact that people can see both the show and the film. That’s a wild thing, to be able to see two different performances in the same week by the same person. A different language, different type of character, different medium, everything—that’s exciting to me.
How does it feel to generate Oscar and Tony buzz at the same time?
Of course, all that kind of thing would be marvelous, but it’s such a long shot, really, so you do your best not to think about it. Being in the show is good for that, since you can’t let your mind think about anything else.
Two-show days must be pretty intense, consider what Arkadina goes through in the second act.
I really like matinees, myself. My favorite show is a Sunday matinee. Love it! It’s the last show of the week. Everyone’s relaxed. Everyone knows they’re going to have a nice early evening. It’s always really great, and the fact that it’s so early in the day is great for me. I find it very difficult going on the stage at 8PM. It’s just too late for me. In London, everything goes up much earlier.
New York usually turns people into night owls.
Yeah. I’m not. The very frustrating thing is not being able to go and see the things I would have liked to while I’m here. I’d really like to see All My Sons. I wanted to go and see Peter Brook’s The Grand Inquisitor. And Black Watch [at St. Ann’s Warehouse in Brooklyn].
What have you been doing in your time off?
What time off?! I’ve been meeting with people like you, that’s what I’ve been doing [laughs]. Because of the film coming out, I’ve been very, very busy with that, and there’s another film [Confessions of a Shopaholic] coming out as well. I have managed to get to some galleries and some museums. Oh! And I’ve been to see the Carole Lombard series at the Film Forum. Love Carole Lombard!
So when you’re at places like Film Forum, do people stop and say hi?
In a really nice way. It’s fantastic! People don’t stop and say, “I know you!” or “Who are you?” or anything like that. Immediately, they say “I saw the show, and I loved it.”
So we shouldn’t feel shy about stepping up and saying how much we loved The Seagull?
I’ve always loved it when people are upfront and clear and pleasant. New Yorkers, in particular, give you the feeling they’re pleased to see you because they know what you’ve done, rather than just that you’re a famous person. Whereas in England, it’s more like, “Oh look, it’s her!” I prefer the New York approach. It’s just encouraging, you know. Acting’s a great job, but it’s a very tough job, especially on the ego.
What do people recognize you for most often?
The English Patient, mostly. The younger ones tend to know me from Mission: Impossible. Then there’s Four Weddings and a Funeral, of course.
It’s funny how everyone talks about theater being so old-fashioned, when for performers, it offers the sort of instant gratification that movies don’t.
In film, you feel very removed from the audience, since you never meet them really. But the great thing about live theater is you do meet them. You meet them when they’re standing in the freezing cold and asking for an autograph with smiles on their faces because they just had a fantastic time.
And in an age of TiVo and YouTube and video-on-demand, there’s a lot to be said for watching human beings perform in the flesh.
The way the world seems to be going, I really think the theater will undergo a major resurgence. Live performances are going to be treasured more and more because they’re a unique experience. And uniqueness is what none of us have much of these days.
So let’s backtrack some. You were born in England but relocated to France when you were 19. What inspired that decision?
I was at drama school in London, and it wasn’t going well at all. I was trying to be a teacher, and I didn’t want to be. I thought I’d switch to an acting course, and they said that they’d already auditioned for those, and besides, I would never get anywhere anyway and it was a waste of time. So, that was that. I went to France to forget about the idea of wanting to be an actor. I figured I’d find something else I wanted to do. It was a bit of escaping, really, running away, although it ended up being a very useful thing.
Was it hard learning the language?
No, because I did speak French before I went there. I wasn’t completely bi-lingual, but I guess now I am.
And you made your feature debut in Under the Cherry Moon, the first movie directed by Prince.
When I did that film, I had been doing a play in Burgundy, France. We got our first review, which was very complimentary, and everything felt like it was all going really, really well. Then I got the call, and the next day, I’m in this swanky hotel doing auditions for this film.
People write it off, but it’s not that bad. And Roger Ebert liked it!
I enjoyed it a lot. The people involved, especially Prince, were all extremely interesting. But that’s when the film work started, and then I didn’t do any theater for 17 years or so. I got back to it in France. In 2001, somebody offered me the chance to act in Jean Racine’s tragedy Berenice, which I invested wholly in for eight months. I stepped down from a few films and just worked, went off on tour in a play through rural France. I loved it!
And you’ve appeared regularly on the boards since. How do you maintain a balance between the two worlds?
It depends. Recently, I’ve been working a lot in the theater, doing one play at the beginning of the year and then another at the end of it. But from here on, ideally, I’ll try to keep it to one play every 18 months. Otherwise, I can’t make any films, really. As much as I love theater, I do love film, too.
How do you feel at the end of a run?
It’s going to be very tough at the end of this particular run, because it really is the end. We all love this play so much. We love performing it, and it’s made for really great, tight company. In that sense, it’ll be sad to say goodbye. But we’ve all got family. We’re all a long way from home. It’s just one of those choices that we’ve made as a company, to not extend. It’s sad, but we just can’t go on.
See Kristin Scott Thomas in The Seagull at the Walter Kerr Theatre.