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Patrick Stewart Interview
Copyright © 1997 The Washington
Post Co.
'Patrick Stewart, Inside a Murderous Mind'
- By David Richards
Washington Post Staff Writer
By Craig Herndon - The Washington Post
Wednesday, November 12, 1997; Page D01
Actor Patrick Stewart knows what it's like to want to kill someone. Like all
of us, he says, he's experienced his share of murderous thoughts.
But this particular morning, with sunlight pouring cheerfully through the window,
he's trying to figure out what goes on in a killer's head after he's committed
the deed. What does it feel like to have murdered?
"It's much easier to know the pre-experience, I think," he says in a sonorous
voice that sounds like thunder dipped in honey. "But obviously I've never murdered
anybody. I haven't even done much murdering onstage. Just battle scenes and
sword fights -- and that is all kind of silly."
The man with the gleaming ovoid pate, known the world over as Jean-Luc Picard
in the syndicated TV series "Star Trek: The Next Generation," is poised to take
on the title role in "Othello," which begins performances at the Shakespeare
Theatre on Tuesday. It's one of the theater's most demanding roles -- an impossibly
high hurdle, he believes, that separates the great actors from the near-greats
-- and he's already feeling the pressure.
"I'm pretty sure I can get through the killing of Desdemona eight times a week.
Yes, I think we can do that," he says. "But then, you see, I have another 25
minutes of stage time after she's dead. All Desdemona has to do at that point
is lie in bed. There are stories of Desdemona's who have actually fallen asleep
and come to with a great start, wondering where they were. But Othello goes
on. I've got to keep the play going for 25 more minutes!"
A self-confessed addict for research, Stewart has been grilling psychologists
about violence and obsession. He's been reading scholarly treatises like the
one that sits on the coffee table before him, "Shakespeare as Prompter: The
Amending Imagination and the Therapeutic Process." He's even hoping to pick
up a few pointers from author John Douglas, who profiles serial killers for
the FBI. "He looks for clues on the murder scene," Stewart explains. "So I'm
going to give him the `Othello' crime scene and ask him to do an analysis of
it."
In the posh town house in Northwest Washington where he is staying, the 57-year-old
actor has just brewed himself a cup of coffee and collapsed on a couch. For
all his apparent exhaustion, there is a curious elation to his mood. The night
before, he had his first full run-through of Shakespeare's tragedy. It took
six hours. He didn't get home until well past midnight and by then his mind
was reeling.
But he'd finally had a real taste of what it was like to be Othello, a character
he has yearned to portray since he was 14. For the first time, he had gone the
full distance, from the exultation of love to the darkest reaches of jealousy
and despair.
"You have to throw yourself at something like that," he says. "You can't hold
back and can't say, `I'll try that tomorrow.' It's got to be now. As I was coming
home in the cab last night, my bones ached and I was kind of licking my wounds.
But I thought, `You've actually done the role.' Granted, in a rehearsal room,
and wearing jeans and a T-shirt, with substitute props and some actors still
carrying scripts. But I'd done it. I'd gone from beginning to end. I'd died
in that bed."
Role Reversal
According to the dictates of the times, Othello is not a role Stewart should
be playing. The character, a Moor from North Africa, is the lone black in the
opulent society of Venice. And Stewart, who was born in a tiny Yorkshire village,
the son of a career soldier, is white -- even a bit wan at this hour.
In another age, actors like Orson Welles and Laurence Olivier simply blackened
their faces for the part. But in our post-civil rights era, that practice has
been discredited. Ironically, even as the proponents of nontraditional casting
have done much to break down racial barriers in the theater, Othello has become
a role for blacks only.
"It does seem to be one of the few works where racial separation runs through
the play as an absolute, consistent current," observes Jude Kelly, the British
director who is staging the production at the Shakespeare Theatre. "To say that
it doesn't matter who plays the role strikes me as a bit balmy."
Stewart, in fact, had pretty much given up any dreams of portraying the tormented
Moor. "I felt a certain irritation at having been caught in this bind of political
correctness," he says. "But whenever I imagined myself grandiosely trying to
take on the characteristics of a North African, I thought, no, I can't do that."
Then, several years ago -- he's not sure how -- an idea struck. Couldn't the
colors be reversed? What if Othello were white and the Venetian society that
hails and then rejects him were black? Nothing about the work would have to
be altered and the role could be his after all. From that brainstorm has since
sprung what Kelly has dubbed a "photo negative" production.
Stewart had trouble finding any theater willing to do it, however, until he
approached Michael Kahn, the Shakespeare Theatre's artistic director, who leapt
at the chance. "It seemed especially right for Washington," Kahn says. "The
issue of race and racial difference is actively part of this city's dialogue,
all the time, every single day. You can't say that about every city. But it's
part of the fabric of life here and it concerns people deeply, not just intellectually.
Washington seemed the most fruitful place for this project."
Apparently, others agree. The run for "Othello," which concludes Jan. 4, was
completely sold out by mid-September. No previous show at the Shakespeare has
generated that kind of early response. (Standing-room tickets are still available
and can be purchased an hour before performance at $10 apiece, with a limit
of two to a customer.)
"I don't think we're trying to make any more major a point than Shakespeare
himself was trying to make," Kelly says.. "We're just making it differently.
What's fascinating for me is that you have 22 African American actors onstage
who know what racism is about, and one white British actor who may know the
effects of racism but has never experienced it the way they have. So the images
of racial hostility flip back and forth. What it all means, I think, will depend
very much on the color of the person who's watching."
Boldly Going
For Stewart, Othello may be the boldest attempt yet "to step out of the spacesuit,"
as he puts it. He was a well-regarded member of the Royal Shakespeare Company
when he landed in "Star Trek" in 1987. But seven years as Capt. Picard, plus
one "Star Trek" feature film (with another to follow about a year from now),
have put his face in world's pop culture gallery.
"For a lot of people, I will be locked for all time on the bridge of the Enterprise
in my spacesuit," he admits. "Not only am I reconciled to that, I'm quite proud
of it. The show represents quality television. It was intelligent, thoughtful,
argumentative, and it also told wonderful stories."
At "Star Trek" conventions, his appearance has been known to set off pandemonium
that "reminds me of what it must be like to be Paul McCartney." Even now, his
daily arrival at the rehearsal hall on Capitol Hill provokes a flurry of excitement
in the nearby schoolyard.
Before the television series came to an end in 1994, however, Stewart had already
set out to diversify his image. His first effort in 1991 was a one-man version
of Dickens's "A Christmas Carol," in which he played 39 different characters
on a bare Broadway stage -- children, women, spirits and Scrooge. "I had a friend
who said I actually played the goose at one moment, but I have no recollection
of that," he notes dryly. He followed that tour de force by performing the aged
Prospero in "The Tempest" at the New York Public Theater, a production that
also ended up on Broadway.
As a flamboyantly gay interior director in the motion picture "Jeffrey," he
switched gears again, and his latest role, Captain Ahab, the crazed killer of
white whales in an upcoming four-hour TV miniseries of "Moby Dick," couldn't
be further from the reaches of outer space.
"I guess the point has been made. I've put as much distance between me and that
spacesuit as I can. Perhaps I can relax a little bit now," he says. "Of course,
I've experienced situations where I've not been considered for movie roles because
the studio or the director was afraid I carried all the wrong associations.
But that's diminishing."
He pauses. "On the other hand, Jean-Luc Picard is a name that opens countless
doors."
That Voice
Kelly describes Stewart as a "carnivorous actor" who wants to "eat drama." That's
evident even in casual conversation. His voice rises to majestic peaks, dips
into hushed valleys, then scales the peaks again. Stewart has been bald since
he was 19, and the effect of the unusually high forehead is to put his eyes
in relief and reinforce the exoticism of his features.
"More than once these past few weeks I've found myself thinking, `I must be
out of my mind! Why did I ever want to do this?' " Stewart moans. "I was talking
with my closest friend in London . . . and he asked how it was going. I said,
`There are times when I feel as if I am drowning.' "
The voice is building now. "Once you get to Act 3, Scene 3, it's like being
caught up in a huge surf. You are pounded by experiences and overwhelming feelings
that oscillate violently. Sometimes within one sentence. I go from passion and
adoration to the most extreme expressions of loathing and self-hatred I've ever
had to try to get close to."
Here, the volume drops and the eyes glint mischievously. "And my friend replied,
`Well, you know it killed Olivier, don't you? That's why he avoided it for much
of his career. And you'll remember that Edmund Kean died onstage, right after
delivering the Pontic Sea speech.' And then he mentioned someone else who was
never the same after playing it. `The role,' he said, `is simply unactable.'
"
Patrick Stewart -- in the thrall of tumultuous passions, spent, excited and
every inch the Shakespearean actor -- lets out a peal of laughter that rattles
the chandelier.
Copyright © 1997 The Washington Post Co.
END OF INTERVIEW