First still of Michelle in Blackbird ( photographed by Brigitte Lacombe ), Jeff Daniels has written a text for the New York Times about returning to a brutally unforgiving role in the play “Blackbird”, the text is so powerful, below are some extract :
Chemistry is nothing more than two actors who listen, react and trust each other. I didn’t know Michelle, she didn’t know me, but on Day 1 we grabbed hands and jumped. First, we trust. We’ll get acquainted on the way down.
Last week, Michelle and I were standing at the edge of the Belasco stage. Rehearsal had finished. We had another preview that night. Much like David Belasco’s ghost, Ray and Una were officially omnipresent. We stared out at the enormity of all those red seats. I looked over at Michelle. She had her eyes closed. Had there been a railing, I’d have squeezed it with both hands. I looked down, down, all the way down, until I could see bottom.
Before you can get to Michelle Williams’ dressing room at the Belasco Theatre on Broadway, you pass one with a sofa upholstered in bright colors, a flat-screen TV and a disco ball attached to the ceiling.
It’s reserved for her 10-year-old daughter, Matilda, who can now come to work with mom and hang out, knitting or watching movies. There’s one rule: She must not know what mom is doing down on the stage.
Williams is starring opposite Jeff Daniels in “Blackbird,” a disturbing tale of an older man, a much younger woman and what happens when they meet 15 years after their brief and illegal relationship has ended.
“She can’t see the play, be anywhere near the play, hear the play, listen to the play,” Williams said. “This is so she can come and hang out with mom, but with a lock on the door.”
Downstairs, Williams plays a vengeful victim, hurling accusations at her former lover with devastating accuracy, and yet harboring a few problems of her own.
The actress said the topic is, unfortunately, always timely. “You can’t not know somebody who’s been abused. It’s far more common than it should be,” she said. “So I find it very specific and very general.”
Williams, who on this day apologizes for needing to wolf down rice pudding in her dressing room before her show, seems to have found a way to balance work with single motherhood. She is raising her daughter with the late Heath Ledger in an apartment in a charming, cobble-stoned neighborhood of Brooklyn, above a grocery store.
To accommodate Williams’ schedule, producers have agreed to have no shows on Sunday — traditionally a key box-office draw — so “we can have a real life.” The two recently attended a concert by the girl’s favorite singer, Stevie Wonder, and she shows a photo on her phone of Matilda wearing an ecstatic expression. “She’s loved this life as much as I have,” Williams said.
David Harrower’s “Blackbird” marks the first big job Williams has tackled since she spent the better part of a year singing and dancing in the latest revival of “Cabaret” as the complex nightclub singer Sally Bowles.
“That took the stuffing out of me,” she said. “I put myself out to pasture for a while after ‘Cabaret.’ I ate a lot, literally, and ran lazily around fields because I was so tired. And then this came up and I just couldn’t say no.”
Williams’ film career took off with 2005’s “Brokeback Mountain.” She received the first of her three Oscar nominations for her performance as the rejected wife of former real-life partner Ledger’s cowboy. Her others came in “Blue Valentine” and “My Week with Marilyn.”
Although she had done some theater, she decided to make her Broadway debut in “Cabaret” in 2014, wearing lingerie and belting out “Don’t Tell Mama” and “Maybe This Time” for 10 months.
“I felt like I was pushed up against the edge of my ability every night. But, as a result, I feel like I could feel my ability just inch up,” she said. “So that’s been exciting to go back to work with some new ideas and abilities.”
Joe Mantello, the Tony Award-winning director who helms “Blackbird,” said Williams, 35, is essentially a very curious person: “I think there’s a fearlessness about her. I’m not surprised that she’s pushing herself to stretch in new and exciting ways. It just seems to be part of who she is.”
When she was offered “Blackbird,” she was immediately impressed by its beauty and consulted with her friend and “Cabaret” co-star Linda Emond, who called it one of the most exciting pieces of theater she’d seen.
So, after doing two small parts in two independent films — Kenneth Lonergan’s “Manchester by the Sea” with Casey Affleck and Kyle Chandler, and Kelly Reichardt’s “Certain Women” with Kristen Stewart and Laura Dern — Williams went back to the stage.
“It’s sort of like having a second child,” she said. “I learned so much in those 10 months that it would be a shame to give up all of that hard-won knowledge.”
As you enter the auditorium of the quite beautiful Belasco Theatre, Scott Pask's utterly realistic office set sucks the breath from you. It is terminally blank, grey - a complete evocation of every plain working office. Sterile offices, a sense of uncleanliness which drifts through the air toward you, the energy is dull and unsatisfactory. This is not a place anyone would want to spend time in unless it was absolutely necessary. It is both repellant and depressingly familiar. Almost everyone has worked in such a place, a place where the grime in the carpet would blacken the sole of your bare foot.
Fitz Patton's sound design signals the commencement of the action. A low grumbling rumble swells, grabbing attention. The centre office on the stage starts to revolve, to reveal a common room, where the detritus of a dinner for a large number (a dinner of snack foods or take-away meals it seems) decorates the sad room, adding to the sense of institutional neglect and collective shame.
Two people are striding down the corridor. He is tall, brutish looking, apparently furious. She is smaller, bird-like in appearance and gait. She seems to be stumbling to keep up; he has her gripped firmly. She wears a bright red coat, bringing the only real colour into this incessantly plain environment.
At first, it looks like she has committed some crime or indiscretion. He seems to be incandescent about whatever it is. She seems both uncertain and defiant. Are they father and daughter? Husband and wife? Criminal and victim? Or all of the above?
This is David Harrower's 2005 play, Blackbird, now being revived by director Joe Mantello for a limited run season at the Belasco Theatre. Winner of an Olivier Award for Best Play, Harrower's play is as bleak as could possibly be imagined, and deals with difficult and confronting issues. It is not a play you enjoy; but it is a play which should be experienced. Just be prepared to leave the production feeling somewhat eviscerated.
At the heart of this play, and perhaps its most disturbing feature, is a love story. When the central characters first meet, years before the time of the action in the play, he is living alone and she with her parents. They strike up a friendship and one thing leads to another; eventually, the relationship becomes sexual. He is about 40, she about 12.
And there's the rub.
He goes to jail, emerges having served his term and relocates with a new name. He gets a job as some sort of petty bureaucrat, forced to work in a soulless building to process unspecified orders and help other staffers. He is in a relationship with a woman who has children, not by him. He is haunted by what happened, a sense of constant fear of discovery strong about him; there is nothing relaxed about any part of his being.
She sees his photo in a paper and tracks him down. She appears at his office, demanding to see him. Alarmed, surprised, scared, he takes her to the canteen room and shuts the door, wanting to keep the prying eyes and whispering mouths of his co-workers closed to the truth. She is more overt, almost hopping mad it seems, and she opens the door to let their conversation out, as if the pressure of keeping it quiet has finally become too much for her.
And so, for about 90 minutes, the pair talk, argue, reflect and meditate. Recrimination and fear gives way to inquiry, tentative interest, shared understanding and wistful regret. The shadow of the past recedes, replaced with the shadow of the present, blocking the horizon of the future. As the piece goes on, the characters almost grate the facades from each other, shredding the protective shields each have built to ensure their survival. Everything is raw and anything can happen.
Then the lights go out.
There is no resolution for these characters and one doubts there could be. Is society ready for a world where a 40 year old man has sex with a 12 year old, is jailed for it, but then they reconnect and live happily ever after? It's an interesting question though, especially if it is the victim who now wants to rekindle the relationship.
Ibsen played with similar themes in The Master Builder and there resolution involved the death of the man. Harrower takes a different, harder option, condemning his transgressing male to life - and, especially, life without the woman he probably truly loves.
Towards the end of the play, apart from the stunning black-out moment, there are at least two shocking moments. One, perhaps inevitable, is horrifying to watch, not because of what it is but because of the memory it invokes. The other, just as grim, introduces a third character, one whose presence seems to shatter the string of sanity by which the woman is hanging. Both are electric, powerful theatrical moments.
As Ray, Jeff Daniels is in excellent form. He radiates dullness and irritability, and you can see what his life has been since his love for the girl was exposed. Equally, there is a hard edge to him, a latent brutality which seethes below the surface, escaping every now and then. Daniels makes Ray ordinary, everyday, which, of course, accentuates the uniquely painful position in which he exists.
To give him his due, Daniels manages the near impossible feat of establishing a degree of credible empathy for the situation his Roy finds himself in. He has strayed from the path, been punished, tried to live better and differently, only to have the child who so entranced him track him down, confront him, tempt him again - but this time as a woman. The agony in his voice when he reassures her that she was the only one - extraordinary.
There is no trace of the intellectual about Daniels here. He is morbidly masculine and dimly a cog in a wheel he partially, perhaps fully, understands. It's a vigorous and bracing performance of bruising honesty.
As Una, Michelle Williams is an intoxicating blend of child and woman, clinging on to what was, the moment in time which has defined her for life, but trying to move forward, to confront or possess her demons - either way, to get them behind her. Frail and flighty, stubborn and aggressive, she manages all of the attributes of childhood tantrums while, at the same time, pulsing with a lost innocence, a stolen virtue, a compromised sense of self that makes her seem more Ophelia than Lolita.
Her long speeches are hypnotic, so intensely invested in every sentence, every phrase is Williams. She can snarl and smile on a dime and her obvious passions are never far from the surface. When she feels betrayed or compromised, you can see her entire form arch in rebellion. She is magnetic and mature. It is easy to imagine what Daniels' Ray found so irresistible.
Which, of course, is meant to be problematic. Should the audience empathise with Ray? Should the audience want this pair to get together given their past? Should bygones be bygones if Una wants it that way? Or has what damaged her meant that her choice her is not her own any more? These weighty questions will punch your stomach long after you leave the Belasco Theatre.
Mantello has produced a smooth and revoltingly fascinating/fascinatingly revolting take on Harrower's play. The sharp edges are razor sharp and both Daniels and Williams are wholly convincing. The big questions are still asked. The answers are up to you.
The elderly Jewish ladies who sat next to me remarked to each other at the play's end that Blackbird was the strangest romantic play they had ever seen.
Quite.
Michelle Williams is in negotiations to co-star with Julianne Moore in Todd Haynes’ next film, “Wonderstruck.”
Amazon Studios will finance, produce and distribute the movie based on the Brian Selznick children’s book about the intersecting stories of two deaf children — a girl from 1927 and a boy from 1977. The girl eventually turns out to be the boy’s grandmother, and the book ends with the 1977 New York city blackout.
Williams plays the boy’s mother in the pic.
Christine Vachon’s Killer Films is producing along with Pam Koffler and John Sloss. Brian Bell is exec producing.
Killer and Haynes recently teamed on “Carol,” starring Cate Blanchett and Rooney Mara. Amazon Studios executive Alan Khamoui will oversee the project on behalf of the company.
Williams, a three-time Oscar nominee, has always participated in projects with strong pedigree, with her most recent credits already generating 2016 award season buzz. Those credits include “Manchester by the Sea” and “Certain Women,” both of which were hits with the critics at this year’s Sundance Film Festival and are expected to draw similar praise from awards pundits.
She has also received rave reviews on Broadway for her role opposite Jeff Daniels in “Blackbird.”
Williams is repped by WME, Brillstein Entertainment and Bloom Hergott.