The Actor Within: Intimate Conversations with Great Actors

Amanda Plummer

118 i Amanda Plummer ‘‘Hey, I really love your work,’’ I said to Amanda, recognizing her standing alone on a Manhattan subway platform one late night in 2005. ‘‘You know who I am?’’ ‘‘Why, yes, you’re Amanda Plummer!’’ [daughter of actors Christopher Plummer and Tammy Grimes] ‘‘You’re the first person to actually come right up to me like this. Nobody ever recognizes me in public.’’ Though she might not be instantly recognizable on the street, Amanda won critical acclaim along with a Tony and Drama Desk Award in 1982 for her performance as Agnes in Agnes of God. She had also played a number of memorable roles, like Lydia in The Fisher King (1991) and Honey Bunny in Pulp Fiction (1994). Four years after our chance meeting, I phoned Amanda requesting an interview. We got together at her apartment in Los Angeles to talk about acting and the choices we make in life. ‘‘When did you first recognize the impulse to act?’’ Lighting up a cigarette she said, ‘‘As far back as I can remember. When I was three or four years old, I brought characters into my life and gave each of them a personality. I liked to close myself o√ in the closet and play with one or the other. Asenath, Thomason Harbord, and Amberstwyth emerged from my imagination, but there were others, too. From the ages of twelve to sixteen, I moved in and out of these characters.’’ ‘‘What were Asenath, Thomason, and Amberstwyth like?’’ ‘‘Asenath was the worst. Poor Asenath. She was a linear character. Her handwriting was tiny and tight, and she always stayed on the lines. She was closeted and nonsexual. Oh, and she played the piano. Thomason was half boy and half girl. He/she was a lot of fun to embody. Amberstwyth, the most ethereal, was not earthbound or limited by form of skin and body. She could fly in the wind.’’ ‘‘Were you conscious that you were engaged in a form of acting, something you could do professionally when you grew up?’’ ‘‘I wasn’t thinking about it in that way. If you’re brought up in a family of actors like I was, there is an expectation that you will be one, too. My reaction to that was complete defiance. You expect that of me? Well, you’re 120 The Actor Within not going to get it! I’ll find something else to do with my life that you’re not expecting. It wasn’t until I was seventeen, when I ran away from home, that I realized I’d have to support myself. So I became an actor.’’ ‘‘Can you point to any films or stage productions that may have helped shape the actor within you?’’ ‘‘When I was eleven, I saw the movie Odd Man Out (1947)—a film by Carol Reed, who is best known for The Third Man. It made me weep—my entire body wept. I understood the film’s underlying theme: that there is a universal human connection that transcends time. We have the capacity to step into the footprints that have been left by others. We can’t actually see them, but they’re there. Someone back in 1919 might have left his or her imprint on the ground, invisible to the eye. But someone else in 2009 may step on those same footprints. It’s a question of intersecting paths and the notion that footprints can possibly direct one’s life and influence one’s destiny. I define destiny as the merging of people’s energies. Some call it chance, but for me it’s the opening up of possibilities and of experiences to come.’’ ‘‘So, in terms of acting, are you saying that every time an actor takes on a role, he or she is stepping into the footprints of their character and beginning a journey toward an exciting and unknown destination?’’ ‘‘Yes, Exactly!’’ ‘‘To step into another’s footprints, do you have to step out of your own?’’ ‘‘I have to empty myself so that I am not present. Through this process of self-annihilation, I rid myself of my own identity and personal habits such as thought patterning and physical gestures. Take this gesture [she twists her wrist]; I’m so sick and tired of this gesture. Why do I do it? One has to be clued in to the myriad of...