HOLLYWOOD, LIKE AMERICA itself, is full. Since the dawn of the silver screen, show business hopefuls have flooded into Southern California’s basin of balmy weather and moneyed hedonists, dreaming after a slice of that pie in the sky we call fame. Few get to chew this sweet glory, but even the failures are allowed to wallow in the traffic jams of the stars (or at least wait tables at eateries frequented by gaffers and key grips). In short, there’s too much talent for too few jobs on too many reality TV shows. In Hollywood, carving out your own niche is something of a bitch.
And yet – God bless that indomitable human spirit – people soldier on. Auditions for herpes commercials held in the bowels of the San Fernando Valley are packed past capacity. Bland bands tirelessly distribute their CDs to passing pedestrians. The homeless whistle and skip for spare change. Elusive though it may be, there’s hope here. And Naomi Watts, ensconced in a famous café’s verdant courtyard on an oddly overcast mid-morning, reveals herself to be quite finely attuned to the fragility of good fortune. “I’m an extraordinarily lucky human being that I go to work where it’s not about punching in my time card, it’s about being there because I love what I do. There are very few of us that are blessed like that,” she says, brushing away blond wisps of hair from her eyes. “It’s an extremely lucky life. I feel very privileged, and the day I start taking that for granted is an ugly day for me…and everyone.”
When she speaks of life and luck and whatnot, she does so with an earnest, strangely forthright authority, and this is because she knows exactly what it is she’s talking about. Striving and struggling and waiting for the wheel of fate to rotate favorably are not abstract subjects to Watts, who spent the bulk of her young adult life losing the uphill battle of casting calls, cheap cameos, and worlds of worrying. Bit parts in B-movie busts like Tank Girl and Children of the Corn IV: The Gathering did little to alleviate the dry, nervous ’90s, nor did a vastly over-noted acquaintanceship with Aussie ally, Nicole Kidman. In fact, it wasn’t until an eccentric fellow named David Lynch decided to risk his new film’s risqué dual protagonist part on a relative unknown that Watts finally finagled a foot in Hollywood’s huge, heavy door.
“David allowed me to play two diametrically opposed characters in one role, and that’s a dream for an actor,” she gushes about her Mulholland Dr.-driven breakthrough. “Sometimes you don’t get to play that out in one career, let alone in one movie, so that was just a beautiful gift that he gave me.” And, in this business, the gift of exposure is indeed the gift that keeps on giving, as it freed her from the bane of every thespian’s existence: auditions.
“I always said that the meaning of success is knowing that I don’t have to audition again. I mean, I’m sure I will again at some point, but I think the last time I auditioned was for The Ring,” she says, squinting in remembrance. “God, it just reminds you of being a kid again and having to take your exams. And I’m terrible when it comes to being tested.” She couldn’t have been all that bad, of course, or else she wouldn’t be where she is today: casually wrapping up The Ring 2, while psychologically fortifying herself for what will likely be the most massive, monstrous cinematic plunge of her career. She is officially and excitedly signed on to play the Fay Wray role in Peter Jackson’s immense, life-long directorial dream-a vivid, towering, titanic new take on King Kong.
“It’s requiring me to go very far away and for a very long time – it’ll be a big chunk of my life! But you know what? I’m so ready for it. I’m so inspired by that group of people and the complexities of that love story and that environment, New Zealand. We even got to meet Fay Wray!” she says, lighting up. “It was at this really beautiful dinner that had been organized. She’s a 98-year-old woman and still very sharp, and Peter was pretty awestruck. I was, too, my God! Just…the legend of her. I got to ask her for permission, her blessing, to play the part.”
Wonderfully, Wray obliged, but the bigger hurdle was impressing the lucrative lord of the rings himself, Big Action Jackson. Watts is still slightly shocked to have been offered the role considering the plethora of top-tier actresses who could have been easily obtained, and she has only one theory as to what might have made her stand out as the giant primate’s perfect captive. “I think it might have had something to do with my scream,” she laughs. “There’s a lot of screaming in my movies-that’s the thread between The Ring and Mulholland Dr.-and my scream seems to have stood the test, or been proven or whatever. Maybe that’s it.”
Sure, maybe that’s it. But it’s not likely. It’s far more likely that everybody who’s anybody saw – and was stunned by – the searing, sincere anguish Watts summoned for her Oscar-nominated turn in 21 Grams and wanted to hire that dignified yet dire intensity for their own film. It doesn’t hurt things, of course, that she has a distinguished, elegant face, piercing pale blue eyes, and a malleable mane of straight blond hair. But outer beauty notwithstanding, Watts’ true contribution to Hollywood’s hallowed halls is her inexorable integrity. No matter how nerve-ravaging and hellish her characters’ circumstances-whether threatened by otherworldly evil, unfaithful desires, or nameless inner demons-she somehow remains graceful and retains a certain classy compassion with which audiences can commiserate. It’s uncommon.
But it’s also finite, and that’s why she’s decided to take a brief break from the business after King Kong to pause, reflect, and rejuvenate. “We have to stop sometimes,” she explains, glancing at some babbling businessmen, “because we need to live life in order to explain life. And that’s our responsibility as actors and storytellers. Because, ultimately, this craft is about human sharing and trying to make audiences feel less alone, and allowing them to identify with your feelings so that they can feel better about themselves.” She furrows her brow at something, then laughs, “Oh, does that sound awfully pretentious?”
To these ears, it sounds less pretentious than it does utterly serious, which is a virtue distinctly lacking from many of the wacky, young Hollywood set. Watts’ niche asset as a fresh, but older dramatic lead further sets her apart from the fluke stars lumped together under the banner of “newcomer.” And while they bum-rush the landfill-bound, fart-comedy films that are apparently necessary for our nation’s well-being, Watts is content to stay serious, though she technically considers herself open to the idea of scripted levity.
“I’m truly in love with the idea of creating more opportunities in that light-hearted world, but I find the scripts incredibly difficult to come across,” she explains. “I don’t think you’ll see me in a straight-up romantic comedy. I don’t think I can deal with myself on a billboard, kicking my heels, eyes rolling back in my head. It’s just…not my thing.”
That’s only normal. After all, not everyone can win a date with Ted Hamilton. And, for the time being, Watts doesn’t need to because her family ties are still strong. She’s intimately close to her mother (“She’s an incredibly creative person and has always been a huge inspiration to me,” she says), has aunts and cousins in Australia, and converses often with her brother, Ben, who’s a successful photographer. Her family has always supported her dreams through all the ups and downs and all-arounds. Currently, these dreams primarily concern acting and Oscars and potential, prestigious roles, but she hints at the possible existence of life beyond movies.
“Well, there’s always more to do and there’s always more to reach for. And I get that acting has its meaning, but there’s a lot more I could be doing and should be doing, and I want to explore a lot of other things, too,” she says, staring at the table. Then she smiles and concedes that, for her, one of the more uncomfortable facets of her job is interviews just like this one. “You want to show the truest version of yourself and be quotable and be honest, but then you don’t want to expose too much because it’s not about that,” she says. “You can’t give too much of yourself away because one of the points of being an actor is to maintain the mystery so that you can adopt these new identities.” She pauses a moment to ponder further, but then breaks off her rumination to alert me that my chocolate croissant is growing rapidly colder. It’s a tender, gentle gesture from a tender, gentle woman, one for whom the public’s merciless gaze seems to be acutely cutting.
“Even at the Oscars, when you’ve had your massage and you’ve had your acupuncture and you’re really trying to talk yourself into it – even with that much preparation, it’s still a surreal and unnatural experience. There’s nothing normal about it,” she says, resolutely. “But you try. You try to be as relaxed as best you can, but it’s just quite strange. You don’t have to create a totally untruthful persona, but you do have to be as poised and calm and graceful as possible. But I’m still a human being, and if I snap at someone on the red carpet because they’ve asked me an unfair question, then that’s just me coming through. I’m not a ‘movie star,’ I’m a human being. I’m capable of being hurt even in business-like situations.”
Who isn’t, really? Only the very numb or the very arrogant, and Watts is clearly neither of these. On the contrary, she’s painfully perceptive regarding her presence on the screen and, like many artists, she’s her own staunchest critic. “I always dread seeing a movie I’m in for the first time. Always. And most of the time, to be very honest with you,” she says, eyeing me with a conspiratorial smile, “I don’t like it. I’m always slightly disappointed. I always think, ‘I wish there was more. I wish I could have done this or that. I let the material down. I let down the character…’ All those nitpicking ways of finding fault, unfortunately. Even some of my favorite films I’ve had a bad reaction to from the get-go.”
Perhaps it’s a case of being too smart for her own good, then, because nobody else comes down so harshly on the fine work she’s turning in. In fact, when she asked David O. Russell (who challenged her with a smart, clever spot in his darkly existential comedy, I Heart Huckabee’s) if he was sure he wanted her for the part rather than a more comedically inclined actress, he replied, “Would you shut up? You’re going to do great.” And director John Curran, who helmed the interwoven infidelity heartbreaker, We Don’t Live Here Anymore, trusted Watts’ aesthetic rationale so much that he persuaded her (and co-star Mark Ruffalo) to come on board the film as full-fledged producers. Also on the way is Marc Forster’s seething, psycho-suicidal thriller, Stay, which boasts both the red-hot Ryan Gosling and Ewan McGregor in the cast. By any standard, Watts seems ready for lift-off.
But despite all this, and despite her driver’s nagging reminders to get in the SUV so they can go back and solve the mystery of The Ring 2, she stays, further stressing how grounded and landlocked is her sense of self, and space.
“Acting isn’t rocket science,” she says, smiling softly. “After all, everything – every little thing that every human being does on the planet has its own meaning, and it’s not just about itself, it’s about the bigger picture.” She hesitates for a charged few seconds, frozen by her own words, an awareness of perspectives outside her own. Then she looks right in my eyes. “Do you think I’m on acid right now?”
We both laugh. Naomi Watts is not on acid. But she has found herself and her niche, in a city where few others do. And there’s something mind-expanding about that.
