Meryl Streep is so good even at being a bad singer
STREEP in the film, “Florence Foster Jenkins” Nick Wall
LOS ANGELES—“Come closer,” Meryl Streep jokingly motioned us to get closer and have a better look at her face when she was complimented about her beautiful glow. The iconic actress’ joie de vivre, sass, playfulness and down-to-earth charm were once more on full display in our recent chat. She’s not only the world’s preeminent actress; she’s always a joy talk to.
“Sometimes I let myself fall apart when it is appropriate (for a role),” said Meryl, fetching in a Stella McCartney floral print jumpsuit, her hair in a ponytail.
Even though she was wearing tinted glasses, those expressive eyes still showed her emotions, which were mostly of mirth in this interview. She has the artist’s grace and flourish—a simple turn of her head to the left or when her fingers tap the table—nuances that are engrossing to watch onscreen but even more so in person.
“I try and swim a mile every day,” she said. “We are all lucky if you have your health, but none of us have it forever. Just be happy when you do.”
As for her skin, she pointed out, “My mother had beautiful skin, but wrinkled. But who cares? I have the same.”
In her latest film, “Florence Foster Jenkins,” Meryl plays the title character, a real life New York socialite who rose in the 1940s as a singer despite having a spectacularly terrible voice.
Florence, accompanied by her pianist (“The Big Bang Theory’s” Simon Helberg, who deserves a best supporting actor nod), and shielded from the truth by her pseudo-husband and manager (Hugh Grant), gave private performances.
In 1944, Florence, who was said to have “unsinkably high spirits” and encouraged by the audience in her private shows, decided to perform in a public concert at the famed Carnegie Hall.
Our verdict: Meryl is so good that she’s excellent even at being the “worst opera singer in the world.” In an early scene when Meryl sings—screeches, squeaks and squawks are better words—a full song for the first time, it was divinely hilarious. We haven’t laughed that long and so hard while watching a film in a long time.
Working with director Stephen Frears for the first time, Meryl invests Florence with humanity and pathos. Florence could have easily emerged as a caricature but Meryl fully paints a woman who is sincere, tender and kept from her scoffers—and the truth—until the fateful Carnegie concert.
“I did take it very seriously as she did,” Meryl replied when we asked her how she, who sings very well, prepared to sing horribly. (She does croon wonderfully in a scene toward the film’s end.) “I was making ‘Ricki and the Flash’ with Audra McDonald. I said, ‘Audra, I have to sing all these arias.’ She said, ‘You have to go to my teacher. Arthur Levy will lead you through this material.’
“So I studied with Audra’s coach (laughs). He probably doesn’t want anybody to know that now. But he is great. He’s very compassionate. He is a funny man. He has a big understanding of the line we were trying to achieve.
“But basically, what he did was teach me the arias, to sing them as well as I could. Then, it was up to me in the moment of filming, to move it off the way I wanted to or whatever it felt like or what the audience was feeling. So that I knew what it was supposed to be, then I could just aim a quarter tone under or over or around.”
It is actually hard to sing awfully, she agreed with a hearty, genuine laugh.
“To me, her singing was just another piece, a manifestation of her excess, and the way she dressed. Every time I would put a necklace on, I would decide, let’s put on three more (laughs).”
This legend who holds a record 19 Oscar nominations theorized why Florence developed a cult following, drawing the likes of Enrico Caruso and Cole Porter to her shows. Even the late David Bowie was reportedly a fan.
“People loved the aspiration and hope in her voice. When it inevitably went off the tracks, they loved the mistakes, too. There had to be something more than just bad singing. That was what attracted me to the part—the humanity of the woman.
On that night at the Carnegie when reality finally intruded, Meryl commented, “When that fails and they’re laughing at her, something crumbles inside.
“We watch children this way and you are laughing, but you are loving it, too.”
This thespian who graduated cum laude from Vassar College and earned her MFA degree with honors from Yale University heard about Florence during her student days in the ’70s. Apparently, even in the ’60s, people played Florence’s (in)famous recording at dinner parties—it was the in thing to do.
“For years and years, it was something that students laughed about. It was funny. I happened to have supper with Jasper Jones. He told me that he and Robert Rauschenberg, when they were very young, used to sit around and play her records.”
When told that Hugh Grant admitted that he was very intimidated working with Meryl, she turned her head to the left, dramatically paused, laughed, then exclaimed, “Good!”
Living legend
Does anyone intimidate this living legend? “A lot of people make me nervous,” she admitted. “I am in awe of great musicians and artists, some people in the political realm and anybody who has an aura.”
On folks like Florence who follow their passion but, unfortunately, are not blessed with talent, Meryl remarked, “Life hands you your destiny. Jack Nicholson said to me, ‘Never spit on another man’s happiness.’ Forward is always better.”
Asked if she is the patient type on the set, Meryl answered, “I am always impatient when I work. I want to keep going, let’s go (taps her fingers on the table). I like people who are fast on their feet. I don’t like long set-ups.”
After all these years, Meryl claimed that she still prepares for new roles as meticulously as she did when she was starting in the ’70s. “Every movie, especially in the hundred years that I have been working, is a new challenge.
“They (her characters) are human beings. That is all I am trying to be.”
She confessed with that endearing chuckle, “I used to get the lines really easily, in the morning, in the makeup chair, but that doesn’t happen anymore. Now, I have to learn them the night before. Then, I have to go over them again in the makeup chair in the morning (laughs).”
On the recent death of Michael Cimino, who directed Meryl in “The Deer Hunter,” for which she earned her first Oscar and Golden Globe nods, she said, “Michael gave me a lot of freedom in creating the part. I would say he created a monster, really, because I thought that all directors would be willing to just let the camera roll and you say what you want to say … It was a thoroughly wonderful experience.”
On that memorable wedding scene seemingly going on and on, Meryl agreed with a laugh: “They just gave us beer and let us go. And we danced. Chris Walken is such a great dancer.”
Teased that we haven’t talked about her family yet, she shot back with a smile, “Oh well, that’s good. They hate being talked about.”
But she obliged with a quick update on her husband, sculptor Don Gummer; son Henry; daughters Mamie, Gracie and Louisa, who are actresses.
“Oh, I am very proud of them,” she began. “My son is running an after-school program in Los Angeles and he is a musician, as well. And the girls are all working, but I forget on what continents at the moment, because they have been flying around a lot. My husband is going to install a sculpture in front of the new American Embassy in Moscow.”
On the strife around the world, Meryl remarked, “I am concerned. But I am really an optimist and I believe in the best in people.”
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