“My generation of actresses — my friends, my cohort — should be working at the same level of endeavor as I am, and they’re not,” Streep says. “Why? Because to [businessmen], they’re old. And that bugs me. That’s wrong. Because the audience is there. They’ve just been shoved out of the theaters by the crap that they put out now to sell ancillary products. It’s just — ugh.”
Earlier in the week, she was in London for a tribute to Vanessa Redgrave, whom Streep calls “the pinnacle.” The film reel included a lengthy dinner scene from “Julia,” Streep’s first movie role.
“First of all, you’d never see a scene like that in a movie now,” Streep says. “The idea that a camera and the audience would be interested to just sit at a table for nine minutes and experience the tension that was going on in the scene. . . .
Jesus. What is happening to this thing we love? Film! It’s so powerful.”
And she leans back in her chair, exhales and extends her arms in some strange supplication to her chosen medium, as if she has opened herself up as a sounding board, an instrument to be played by the universe, a lute suspended — absorbing and projecting, at this moment, a rich vibe of weary gratitude.
‘Ask a woman’
Between the hotel and the Ronald Reagan Building, she does not make a costume change. She appears onstage in the same baggy dress, with the same casual hair. She trumpets the idea of a National Women’s History Museum, ably performing her prepared remarks and then, in closing, decides to try something.
“As Margaret Thatcher would say — ” and without warning she drops her voice a half-tone, upholsters her throat with a bristly British accent, cocks her head to suggest a hairdo and blazer and strand of pearls that aren’t actually there, and the air in the theater suddenly turns chilly and electric, like a seance is afoot, and behind the rostrum now is a fully-formed life force radiating energy:
“ ‘If you want something spoken about, ask a man. If you want something done, ask a woman.’ ”
The audience gasps at the quick-change and roars with approval, and then Streep snaps out of it, and Thatcher is gone, and so is she, replaced by applause.
See the rest of this year’s Kennedy Center Honorees:
• Neil Diamond| photos
• Yo-Yo Ma | photos
• Sonny Rollins | photos
• Barbara Cook | photos
Staff writer Ann Hornaday contributed to this report.
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