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Star games in High Art >> Ally Sheedy on Hollywood by JOANNE LATIMER
Sheedy, in Cannes to promote High Art, was beyond skinny, distracted and gaunt. That seems to be the official "look" of starlets along the Riviera and she' d probably hate to know how easily she fit the mould. As gossip swirled about her supposed drug addiction, failed marriage, supposed lesbian lifestyle and the location of her tattoos, Sheedy gave off vibes that said, "Don't even ask." "I got out of Hollywood after 15 years. My passion was for acting, not being a movie star. That was anathema to me. I was incredibly depressed in that world," recalled Sheedy. She spread out flat on a beach chair, lifting her halter to tan her stomach, and grabbed the tape recorder to get a better angle on the mic. "The actors I admire are Judy Davis and Frances McDormand, actresses who have gone down a different path. It's a harder path. It's not the same as having ambition to be on the 'A' List in Hollywood. There were all these requirements to being a star there, like doing fashion spreads in magazines, showing up at certain parties wearing makeup and designer clothes." Sheedy sounded tired, more than bitter. She was kicked out of the William Morris Agency, to her amusement, and just finished a shoot in Australia for a TV movie. "I wasn't making William Morris enough money, so they booted me," she said, with eyebrows raised. "A friend saw the script for High Art and told me to read it. I called Lisa [Cholodenko, the director] to arrange an audition. Luckily, she didn't have any preconceived notions of me as an actress, because she hadn't seen any of my earlier movies." So what has Sheedy been doing since The Breakfast Club and St. Elmo's Fire? "You know, I met a great guy, got married, got out of Hollywood, had a baby--Rebecca is four--and moved to Manhattan. Plus, I've been doing some theatre, low-budget films and some TV stuff to pay the bills." In High Art, Sheedy plays Lucy Berliner, a "retired" photographer who gives up fame in New York art circles to hang out in her loft all day with her girlfriend Greta (Patricia Clarkson). Greta, a sexy German actress/drug abuser, is a handful and Lucy soon becomes attracted to the downstairs neighbour, Syd (Radha Mitchell). But Syd is straight and living with her boyfriend. Syd wants to orchestrate Lucy's comeback, which will help Syd climb the ladder at Frame magazine. Sexual orientations get confused, as ambition and attraction start commingling. Was Sheedy making a statement, having her own comeback in a role as a lesbian? "My mind didn't even go there. The truth is, with independent films, you never know if it's ever going to see the light of day. So, if there's a great script and a great role, you just want to do it--I have done a bunch of things that have never come out. People are still trying to raise money to finish editing, or whatever." Sheedy doesn't like going to the movies anymore. She's appalled at the kinds of roles available for women: "There's always a bunch of guy parts and one glam part for a female. She's the sex object. Or there's a sex object and an ugly, smart girl. That's it." Patricia Clarkson and Cholodenko overheard this remark, and they plopped down on the end of Sheedy's lawn chair. Clarkson angled her enormous white sun hat to block the rays and slathered more sunblock on her nose. Her white linen pantsuit and makeup belied the fact that it was a scorching day. Cholodenko, caught in the orbit of Clarkson's sun hat, leaned forward to talk about her film. "I know a lot of incredible, powerful, women," she said. "We all do," butted in Clarkson, "but in most screenplays, women are reduced to a simmer. They're never anything larger unless it's a huge star part. For women over 30, it's rare to play anything other than the wife." "But I wasn't trying to make a film all about women," added Cholodenko. "I know people like Greta, like Lucy, like Syd. So for me it wasn't a weird, stylized kind of film with a political agenda pushing strong role models. Anything but." Sheedy shifted in her chaise lounge and sent everyone onto the sand. Laughing, Clarkson spoke into the mic using a false tone of solemnity: "The deconstruction of gender while negotiating the politics of beach chairs at Cannes." High Art opens this Friday
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