Chapter Eleven
Aiming High
Being Humbly Arrogant
When we worked together, the wonderful Ron Lacey, who played the Nazi General in Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark, summed up the kind of character it took to work in our profession: ‘Stephanie, the art of it is down to being able to be completely humble and utterly arrogant at the same time.’ You have to be able to take criticism and rejection while maintaining the confidence to get up and try again, time and time again. The humility has to be real; the arrogance is just a confidence trick.
When I was working on The Colbys I took a couple of days out to do a Shakespeare symposium in Houston with Miriam Margolyes, Ian Ogilvy and John Neville. During the symposium John Neville recited Shakespeare’s Sonnet 18 – better known as Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? He did it while looking straight into my eyes. It was incredibly beautiful. When we got back to Los Angeles, a limousine was waiting for me outside the airport. As I was getting in I noticed John standing at the bus stop. I asked him if he’d like a lift. ‘No,’ he replied, ‘I’m fine.’ ‘You truly are,’ I thought. It’s only transport. Catching a bus will also get you home. When you’re as consummately skilled as John Neville you don’t need a limousine. It’s just surface. Even after she’d become very successful, Maggie Smith used to catch the Tube.
I remember getting into a lift with Heather Chasen while we were doing the series Marked Personal. It was 1974 and we were both wearing fur coats. We looked at each other and started laughing. We knew the series was being axed and there we were, wearing the fabric of success. You have to stay humble, all the time fully believing you deserve your every success, and never getting out of the habit of catching the No. 23 bus.
Kindness
Kindness is so important. Ultimately, it’s the greatest wisdom. When our mother died, my friends Philip and Steve took my sister Didi and me to Mexico. It was fabulous fun and, while we were there, because of the healing work they did with her, Didi felt safe enough to be able to let go and cry.
Steve, me, Didi and Philip, disembarking from our holiday in Mexico
When you nurture others, you nurture yourself. Acts of generosity are actually quite selfish. When you do a good deed, you get back so much more. So be selfish – help a neighbour.
When I was 17 and working at the Liverpool Everyman I got sent to the laundrette with a big bag of laundry. I’d never been to a laundrette before. Walking in, I saw a tramp sitting in the corner with a bottle, talking to himself. I ran straight back to the theatre. I returned with someone to look after me. When we arrived they looked at the man and said, ‘Hi, Tony.’ Then they turned to me. ‘Where’s the tramp?’ It was Anthony Hopkins with a bleach bottle, learning his lines. That was the first time we met.
When we were in Hong Kong, working together on To Be the Best, Anthony was taking the brave and fantastic step of stopping drinking, once and for all. I’d get the biggest yachts lined up for happy jaunts out, but he refused to come with us. ‘Thank you, Stephanie,’ he’d say, ‘but something will annoy me and I know what I’ll want to do – but I appreciate being invited.’
Some years later I was at a big charity event for the Coen brothers. Holly Hunter had given a speech, then Sigourney Weaver had followed that, and then the prize for the raffle was drawn. I won it. I was thrilled. ‘How lovely,’ I thought. I went up to the stage and suddenly realized it was like winning a scratch card at the Oscars. I didn’t know what to do. All I could say was ‘Thank you’ before turning and going back down the stairs. It felt so humiliating. Anthony Hopkins was sitting at a table right in front of the stage. He saw my embarrassment, got up from his seat and, as I was coming down the stairs, walked straight up to me.
‘Stephanie!’ he exclaimed. ‘How wonderful to see you again, how are you?’
‘Embarrassed’ I said, looking distraught.
‘That’s all right,’ he said, taking me by the arm. ‘Now, where are you sitting?’ He accompanied me to my table. When we got there, I told him how grateful I was. ‘Whenever you need help,’ he said to me, with absolute sincerity, ‘I’m here for you.’ I was incredibly touched. How generous was that? Anthony had seen my embarrassment and had had the kindness to come to my aid. He was such a knight.
When I was working on Venice Preserv’d at the National Theatre, just before my near-death experience, I discovered how magnanimous Ian McKellen is.
During rehearsals Ian was coming through these enormous doors and going straight upstage. He’d be facing the audience and I’d be facing him. By doing that, he’d have the audience’s full attention and all they’d see of me was my back. I was being upstaged by Ian McKellen. I thought, ‘OK, thanks,’ and asked Alison Chitty, the designer, to add a 15-foot train to my costume. ‘A 15-foot train behind you?’ she said. ‘You’ll never manage.’
‘I will, darling,’ I assured her. ‘It’s the only thing about me anyone’s going to notice because Ian’s going straight in upstage.’ ‘Really?’ she asked.
‘Honestly,’ I replied. ‘15 feet, please. Give them something to look at.’
We got to the first preview and burst on-stage through the door. I felt suddenly warmed by the fact that we were out of the rehearsal room. I was so relieved there were real people, ordinary people wearing cardigans, sitting in the audience. We made our entrance and Ian went upstage. I delivered my line and got a laugh. Ian came downstage. We continued the scene and I got another laugh. Ian went even further downstage. Now I was facing the audience. I thought, ‘OK, this is good. Hello, audience.’ I was playing with my long train, swirling it around and really enjoying myself.
We came to the second preview and, when we burst through the big doors, Ian didn’t go upstage. He went across it instead, and I got my laughs. Ian moved downstage and I got more laughs.
It was opening night. We burst through the doors and Ian went straight downstage. I was getting all my laughs and suddenly it made total sense. What Ian McKellen does is, if he thinks he has to hold the scene together, he’ll go upstage and give the audience as much as he can. If he thinks the other actors are pulling their weight, or more than pulling their weight, he’s generosity itself. He’ll give the scene to his fellow actors. He’s fabulous. His first thought was for the audience, but I was a close second. He needed to feel confident I’d be able to step up to the mark, but once he saw I could, he gave me the stage. It became my scene; given to me by now Sir Ian McKellen – and ‘Sir’, rightly so.
Robert Powell is another generous actor. I’ve worked with him several times. I once told him that, if we carried on down-staging each other, one of us was likely to fall off the stage. Another time I walked on stage, began the scene, then came out with ‘Pah, rubbish’ and walked off again. I started the scene again, as if doing a second take. I didn’t miss a beat and neither did Robert. Afterwards, with his lovely laugh, all he said was, ‘That was interesting’. Robert is love and generosity itself.
My sister Didi is a kind and warm person. It’s why people are so drawn to her. A few months after Bill, her wonderful husband of more than 40 years, had died, my dear friend Prince Azim of Brunei invited us to Brunei for a holiday. He thought it would be good for Didi. We went, and it helped Didi enormously with her grieving process. Prince Azim is another amazingly kind and generous person.
Consciousness
I used to be afraid of the word ‘consciousness’. It sounded a bit like attempting a Full Lotus position. Then I realized that all it meant was being aware of what was going on. If you’re aware then you’re looking, and if you’re really looking at a situation you can work out what’s actually going on. Once you’re doing that, if you need a solution you’ll be able to see one.
There’s a bit of a contradiction between the spiritual books that tell you to live consciously in the moment and the basic truth of simple housekeeping, which demands that you have to plan ahead. The past is over but the present informs tomorrow. In Western societies it’s only really possible to live in the moment if you have a great deal of money; otherwise you need to plan ahead. You’ve got to be practical, but it’s also important not to let the practicalities become overwhelming. I make sure I take time out to see something of beauty every day. I read a poem, laugh with a friend, or brush my dogs with love and care. In their own way these things are beautiful.
Once you’re conscious you’re lumbered – there is no option not to be. If you behave in an unconscious fashion, the universe will slap you down.
Being conscious also means being able to see things as they are – without any preconceived opinions or judgement. It’s hard not to make a judgement or want to control a situation.
I was on the beach with Phoebe when she was about three. While she was digging sandcastles, a little boy and his mother walked past. Phoebe looked up. This little chap had a hand that came directly out of his shoulder. She went straight over to him. Embarrassed, I started apologizing to the boy’s mother. ‘Oh, no,’ she said. ‘He loves to show it off.’ The little guy had a great audience in Phoebe; he loved the attention. Phoebe thought having a hand stuck on your shoulder was the coolest thing. She was far too young to think anything cruel. She was just interested to see something she’d never ever come across before. She accepted the boy for what he was rather than thinking she’d prefer him to be otherwise. Little children are so aware of how to be. That taught me something.
Animals
I’ve been using animals to help me for a long time. Fox has always been a good guide for me. He certainly helped me work out how I was going to deal with Pam Ferris’ character while we were rehearsing Connie. Sometimes I’ll be in a stressful situation and I’ll feel it would be good to be able to call on a higher power to help me, but I’m thinking, ‘I don’t have a stinking higher power. I’ve got a thumping headache – I’m stuck in Oxford Street and I can’t lift my feet off the ground, let alone get in touch with my higher power.’ Animal guides come into their own under these sorts of conditions. I’ll make a little evocation and ask fox, crow or eagle to show me the way.
Fox is cunning, but with humour and always with a smile. Fox will show you alternative ways of approaching a situation. Crow is law. Crow reminds us to stay in line with the process. Crow reminds us that the universe has laws, and that there are consequences to our going against them.
If I’m losing objectivity I’ll ask eagle for help. Being able to see things from 30 feet up gives you an entirely different perspective. Things always look very different when you can see them from above. When we’re confronted by difficulty we need to fly like an eagle rather than be petrified like a rabbit or mouse. Eagle is good for big problems. You’re not actually going to be able to mend a child’s toy as eagle – you need mouse for that, attention to detail – but you will be able to get the perspective you need to be able to sort out a situation.
We have God nature and we have animal nature. And it’s because we’re so intelligent that we can be so vicious. Our animal nature encompasses a selfishness that is exclusive of other people’s survival, but our God nature realizes that other people are our survival. Fear invokes the animal instinct for self-preservation. If we could rise above it all like eagle, and see the true nature of everything, we’d see that it all makes sense, and avoid getting snared by fear.
One day, soon after I’d turned 50, I was watching a report on television that recommended people of my age get tested for a particular medical procedure. ‘Not likely,’ I thought. ‘I’m not going to do that.’ All of a sudden I heard a terrible rattling coming from the room next door. I went to look and saw a dove careening around. It took me ages to get it out, but eventually I managed. I looked it up in my animal book. Dove is messenger. I thought it best I follow up on the report I’d been watching. I got tested. I needed the procedure.
A week later I heard a much more gentle fluttering sound coming from the same room. I went to see what it was. A beautiful little hummingbird was hovering around the room. Hummingbirds rarely fly into houses; they stay outside, flying where there’s nectar. There was nothing in my living room that might have attracted it. When I went into the room to say ‘hello’, it flew around for a moment or two and then flew out. I looked it up. Hummingbird is joy.
Grace
Once when I was in China I saw two old men at opposite ends of a street sweeping in perfect rhythm and total harmony. They were carrying out a simple task, but with such beauty and grace.
The same food can be slopped onto a plate or presented well and with grace – it makes such a difference. Grace is another of those words that needs to be taken off the ‘Only for Saints’ shelf, scrubbed down with a bit of Ajax and allowed to live brightly in all our lives.
Grace is about attitude; it’s in the detail and is very practical. Grace includes gratitude; it’s a blessing, and it involves doing things with good intention. To do something with grace means doing it with awareness. Grace could have all these words flowing in her skirt. It’s one of those things you know when you see it. Lucifer’s angels were banished from heaven in disgrace.
Working with Bill Roache on Coronation Street in 2009 was a lesson in grace. It was an extraordinary period for both of us, and I sincerely believe we were put together to ride out that particular time in our lives. While we had a very gentle story line together on Coronation Street, our lives away from work were quite challenging.
I started the job in the depths of a personal crisis. My daughter Phoebe wasn’t well and my grandson Jude’s situation was uncertain. Everything felt rather insecure. It was great that I was working in the UK, but my personal circumstances were difficult. Bill was a very good person to be working with – very solid and stabilizing. Then his wife died, very suddenly and quite unexpectedly. Although we share a belief that death is not the end, it was terribly sad. The whole Coronation Street family shared much unspoken communication, empathy and, in the nicest sense, love.
Over the years I’ve worked with a host of international stars, and I can truly say that the quality of Bill’s spirit is as bright as any I’ve met in that time.
It All Cross-Checks
Apart from her offering Earl Grey tea to Ken Barlow a little too often, I felt quite an affinity for Martha, the character I played in Coronation Street. She was educated, not demanding and a good, strong, independent woman. As I’ve got older, different aspects of my life have come closer together.
In one of my earliest interviews, when I was just starting out as an actress, I said I’d been born in Casablanca. That established the distance I’ve maintained between how I’ve chosen to represent myself and who I am. Since the Casablanca story, rather than continuing to stretch the truth, I’ve tended to limit it. My private persona has always been very different to my public persona. I’m an actress. I’ve developed a character I use when I turn up for interviews and publicity. Though it’s meant I’ve been tarred with my own brush. I’m most happy remaining anonymous and just being left to play. It’s easy for people who know my work to imagine me very differently from who I really am. That’s why my true friends are so important to me.
A lot of the characters I’ve played have had a toxic energy, with inflated and wounded egos. So I always enjoy being able to play a really nasty piece of work as comedy. For the most part, that’s what Amanda Barrie and I did with our characters in Bad Girls. We didn’t take our Costa cons seriously; they were a wicked pair of con artists but we were far more interested in lying on our backs listening to Radio 4 in our dressing room. And our characters seemed to work. We never knew why, never bothered to find out. We just got on with it. We didn’t get too engaged.
Sometimes you have to get engaged, however. The energy you have to use is strong, but not necessarily good. It’s why having a spiritual practice is so valuable. It allows me to deflate, to re-align and find harmony again – to breathe out those false, damaged characters. Making sure I remove my make-up has always been part of the ritual. Katharine Ross’ daughter Cleo used to call it ‘make-muck’. Washing off the make-muck has always been important. I really don’t want to take home the characters I play.
I don’t understand longing for fame, but I do cherish being good at something. Talent isn’t mine, it’s a gift for me to hold and treasure, and to feed with what it needs. We should feed our gifts like little birds who’ve alighted on our hands. Feed and house them; they’ve been given to us to care for. It’s so easy to squander our talents, but they’re like flames that should be built into a big fire, not left to burn out or be doused with drink.
Don’t look sideways; just know what you want and go for it. We are not in competition with other people. We all have different challenges, different demons. Enjoy being inspired by others’ success stories.
In my experience the universe gives us more of what we’re paying attention to, so it’s a good idea to want what that is. Go for what you want and work until you get it. If you didn’t get the job you went for today, you’ll get something else. All you can ever do is to be fully prepared and fully open to all possibilities, and if you don’t do so well this time, make up your mind to do better next time. You might not be able to change your circumstances, but you can change your attitude.