Jean Smart Never Went Away

Jean Smart has been working steadily for more than forty years, from her first onscreen appearance, a small walk-on part as “Woman Bather” in the 1979 made-for-television movie “Before and After,” to her starring role as a millionaire standup comedian on HBO Max’s “Hacks.” In that sense, the current chatter about a Jean Smart renaissance (Jeanaissance?) is a bit surprising—she never went away. But it must be said that Smart is having a remarkable year. The “Hacks” season premièred less than a month after the release of the hit HBO drama “Mare of Easttown,” in which Smart had a starring role as Helen Fahey, the wizened mother to Kate Winslet’s melancholic detective. Starring in two shows on the same network at the same time is unusual enough. What made Smart’s performances stand out all the more was how dramatically different they were from one another, even if the two characters have in common a spiky sense of humor and acid tongues. As Helen, Smart wore butt padding and a shaggy wig, and occupied herself playing games of Fruit Ninja on her iPad and hiding pints of ice cream in bags of frozen veggies so the rest of the family wouldn’t find it. As Deborah Vance, in “Hacks,” Smart looks impossibly glamorous in drapey cashmere and gold lamé, and delivers bawdy one-liners at sold-out Las Vegas standup shows.

Smart grew up in Seattle and got her start doing Shakespeare plays at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival. She went on to have a robust stage career before transitioning to roles onscreen, including television movies (her first big job was a made-for-TV bio-pic of the serial killer Aileen Wuornos) and plenty of quippy sitcoms. In 1986, she was cast as Charlene Frazier-Stillfield, the sweet, affable office manager on the beloved CBS sitcom “Designing Women.” Along with “Murphy Brown,” it was one of the first sitcoms to focus on the trials and tribulations of working women, and it became a cultural phenomenon. For Smart, the show ushered in new career opportunities: work in films (“The Brady Bunch Movie,” “Homeward Bound”), appearances on “Frasier,” “24” and “Hawaii Five-0,” and a handful of leading sitcom roles. It had a more personal effect as well. During filming, Smart met her husband, the actor Richard Gilliland, who played J. D. Shackleford, the onscreen boyfriend of Smart’s castmate Annie Potts. On March 18th of this year, Gilliland died suddenly, of a heart condition. Smart wasn’t sure she was ready to discuss the loss, but our conversation, which has been edited and condensed, ultimately turned to the love of her life.

You’ve never really had a down period in your career. How did you know how to make good choices along the way? Where did that internal compass come from?

I think I got a sense of that from my mom—not about acting but just about trying to be classy. I used to joke that I would never do a nude scene as long as my parents were alive, but then they lived to be so old that no one ever asked me.

What was your mother like?

Elegant. I mean, she grew up very poor during the Depression. She never even thought she could afford to go to college. And she finally did. It took her six years to get through school, because she’d keep dropping out to work. She was always on the dean’s list, and she wanted to study architecture, but she said, “Good girls take home ec.” So she actually majored in the history of clothing. Years later, I took her to Italy because I knew that she would really love it. And she did, except she got sick there and almost died from an allergic reaction. Other than that, it was a great trip.

Do you feel like being from the Pacific Northwest really informs who you are?

It was a great place to grow up. It had, you know, a world-class opera, world-class symphony, lots of theatre, lots of comedy clubs. It just has everything.

Did you have an acting teacher who encouraged you?

Earl Kelly. He was well known around town for putting on really spectacular productions. My dad taught at that high school, not when I was there but before, so we would go see all the plays. I just was wowed. I just remember looking up at these sixteen-year-olds, and they just seemed like such exotic grownups and doing these fabulous things, and that made an impression on me as well. My sister and I used to put on little plays in the neighbor’s garage, and we’d charge admission and sell popcorn.

You started being a working actor right away, and then you were just a working actor forever. That’s very rare.

I know. I always feel guilty when I tell other actors that I never had a civilian job after college.

My mother insisted that I stay in Seattle for college. I had been diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes when I was thirteen, and she still hadn’t gotten over that by the time I was getting ready to graduate high school. She was afraid, I think, for me to go out of state to school. My big sister went to Washington State, on the other side of the state, so I thought, Oh, I’ll go there. But my mother discouraged that. I got into the University of Washington and thank God I did, because they had a phenomenal theatre program. Washington State had almost no theatre program. I don’t know what would have become of me if I had gone to school there. So I have my mother and my diabetes to thank.

What would you say was the point at which you were “discovered” for the Hollywood life?

Well, I finally moved to New York. Part of me thinks that I should’ve moved to New York sooner. I was in my very late twenties when I moved there. But I have to say all the work that I’d done in the local theatre gave me an enormous amount of confidence. So I didn’t really feel intimidated by going to New York. I had that actor-snob thing of doing New York before you do Hollywood. You get your Equity card before you get your SAG card.

I stayed with a friend for a while on the Upper West Side, and I would look in the trade papers for little auditions. I would sometimes pick the auditions based on whether or not I thought I could get there, because I was so unfamiliar with Manhattan. There was an audition at this woman’s apartment and I thought, Oh, that’s close to here. And it sounds like it’s got a lot of great women’s parts in it. So I’ll go to that one.

It was a wonderful play written by the late playwright Jane Chambers. And it was called “A Late Snow.” I got cast in the lead in that, but, about a week later, the playwright’s manager called the woman who was directing it, who had never directed a play before. She just decided to direct this play without getting any permission; I don’t think she knew she was supposed to. The playwright’s manager called her up and said, “Who are you? And why are you doing my client’s play? You can’t do that one, but I’ll tell you what, I’ve got one that’s been sitting in a drawer for years. Jane says you can do that one.” And so the woman recast all of us, and cast me in the lead again. And that play started my entire career.

It was called “Last Summer at Bluefish Cove.” It was about a gay woman who met the love of her life the summer she was dying. We used to compare it to “The Boys in the Band.” We called it “The Girls in the Sand.” No one had ever seen a play like that. It was considered very cutting edge. Now it would be considered extremely tame, but it meant a great deal to our audiences. I mean, women would come six, eight, ten times. They’d never had themselves represented like that, as normal, charming people.

Did your parents see it?

They did. I was a little bit nervous about my dad seeing it because I did kiss a woman, but he couldn’t stop raving about it. He just thought it was fantastic. I knew my mother would love it. She’s very well read.

This was in the eighties. You also did an HBO series, “Maximum Security,” about a supermax prison, a few years later. What else were you doing at that time?

I did four very short-lived series before “Designing Women.” It was the first one that actually had a hold. That was the scary thing about signing on to “Designing Women,” as good as it was. I thought, Yikes, I have to sign a five-year contract.

You had anxiety about committing.

I did. I cried. Not because of the show, because I think the show was wonderful. I loved that role. I have to say, I know people don’t see me that way, particularly, but I often feel I’m more like that character than I’m some of the other characters I’ve played.

What do you mean that people don’t see you that way?

My character, Charlene, was very gullible. A good Baptist girl. Not that I was a good Baptist girl. I was brought up Unitarian. But a sweet, optimistic person.

You think people don’t see you as sweet and optimistic?

I certainly don’t get cast that way lately. I would like to play someone who’s a little more joyful.

I was going to ask about that, because your character in “Hacks,” Deborah Vance, has such an edge to her. I wondered whether that was something natural to you, or whether it feels like you’re playing against your own instinct?

I certainly can tap into that edge, and I’m not sure why. Because I’m not a bitter person at all. I am a very optimistic and gullible person. If my husband was still with us, he would tell you stories. Next season will get a little bit more into what happened between her ex-husband and herself and her little sister. She lost them both. She lost everything, and she’s never gotten over it. She embodies that expression “living well is the best revenge.” She works and makes money any way she can. I think that’s her way of saying F you to everybody who ever hurt her.

Did you study any standups to prepare for this role?

Frankly, I did not, no, though I’ve always enjoyed watching standups. I remember going to see Roseanne Barr live, before she was Roseanne Barr. I loved Joan Rivers’s early stuff. I loved Phyllis Diller. Don Rickles was a bit much sometimes, bless his heart. The first time I saw Ellen DeGeneres, I just was wowed. No one had delivered like that. That’s why I didn’t really feel I should study anyone in particular, because the good ones all have such unique styles and unique deliveries. It’s got to come from you or it’s going to seem put on. I would say my style’s maybe closer to Elayne Boosler, whom I always liked very much.

Did you have a hand in any of Deborah’s jokes?

The writers were very generous and let Hannah and me ad-lib. I think there was a line I came up with when I’m talking to Hannah about what I’m selling on the shopping channel—the progesterone packets. I’m trying to explain menopause and say, “It’s basically Mother Nature’s way of telling you to move to the back of the cave.” That was my line.

I want to go back to “Designing Women.” Did the fandom around that show surprise you?

The thing that Linda Bloodworth did in her writing that nobody else did, and which made it fun to do, was that you got a page-long monologue. When does anybody ever have that in a sitcom? Unfortunately, sometimes she would hand them out right before the audience came in. She said, “I’m lucky the four of you are word processors.”

Do you miss the live-television audience?

No, actually. The first time I did something in front of a live audience after it had been years away from that, I found it very intrusive. The audiences, they’ve been trained. If somebody kisses somebody, the whole audience goes “Oooh!” And you think, Oh, God. Please don’t.

You left “Designing Women” after five seasons. Were you just ready to see what else was out there?

The studio was not happy with my decision, but I just felt like five years of doing the same thing as an actor is enough. I wanted to do other things. Delta [Burke] left around the same time, as well. They did two more seasons after that. I wanted to remind myself that I could still do other things. I was getting used to making decent money, and I didn’t get into acting for the money. I hadn’t grown up with any money. And it just wasn’t something that I wanted to get used to.

You didn’t want to start making choices for your second mortgage.

Exactly.

You later starred in another network comedy, “High Society.” It lasted for one season, right?

Yes, “High Society” with Mary McDonnell. If it was on today, it would be a huge hit. It was an American version of “Ab Fab,” basically. And I remember Les Moonves said, “You think you guys could do it more like ‘Cybill’?” This was when Cybill Shepherd had her series on.

What does “doing it more like ‘Cybill’ ” mean?

Oh, a buddy kind of show, instead of this slightly twisted, slightly tongue-in-cheek, slightly over-the-top comedy about these two women who were stinking rich. My character was a romance novelist—very successful, a total lush and pill popper, and was lusting after Mary’s [character’s] college-age son constantly. And they just wanted us to be a little more . . . normal.

Then I did Peter Tolan’s show. He’s the funniest man in the world. It was basically a takeoff on Martha Stewart, called “Style & Substance.” And I was playing a character who had her own empire—her own TV show, magazine, and cooking show. Martha was not amused. I think she threatened a lawsuit.

After those false starts, “Frasier” comes along. You got to waltz into a giant hit for a change.

That was so fun. I hadn’t done a guest part on a show since practically the first year I was in L.A., and I’d gotten kind of snobby about it. But my agent said, “You have to read this.” And, of course, I read it and said, “I have to do this.” The first read-through, I remember, we couldn’t get through it—we were all laughing so hard. And it was such a glorious set to work on. Between the scenes Kelsey [Grammer] or David [Hyde Pierce] would sit at the piano and play music.

I went back and watched some of those scenes between you and Kelsey and it feels like Noël Coward or something. It’s very rat-a-tat.

I would love to do Noël Coward with Kelsey. That would be heaven. We were on the same wavelength. What was so great about that show, because it was so well-established at that point, was that the audience was a step ahead of you. They know your characters so well, they see the banana peel coming before you step on it. For instance, my character puts her cigarette out in the glass of wine on the nightstand, and Kelsey doesn’t even have to react and the audience is dying, because they know that he’s going to be absolutely repulsed. I wish more production companies would trust their audiences the way the “Frasier” producers trusted the audience. That show got away with jokes about obscure, vintage wines. Even if you didn’t get every joke, you understood why it was working because the characters were so specific. They never talked down to the audience.

I’m sure you are so sick of hearing about the Jeanaissance that people are talking about lately. But there was a period of your life, in the twenty-tens, when you felt like you weren’t getting as many jobs.

Well, yeah, it was weird. I had a weird dry spell after “Fargo.” I won the Critics’ Choice Award. And just . . . I don’t know. It was weird.

Do you think it had to do with the fact that you had done prestige drama, and people didn’t know what to do with you now? Or was it more like, for women of a certain age, the parts are less plentiful?

I’m going to be honest—I really think a lot of it had to do with the way I looked in the show. I think casting directors didn’t know what to do with me after that.

Just because you were wearing a brunette wig?

Well, it wasn’t a wig, first of all. That was my hair. I had to cut it and dye it and perm it.

Has vanity ever been a big concern for you?

I’ve been a character actor off and on long enough that that’s not the big concern. But I do have to admit, I am incredibly vain. I’m in complete denial about my age and my looks right now. I see myself onscreen and I go, What? Who is that? But, luckily, I’m slightly more vain about my acting. Thank God.

So, you’re willing to toss it all aside and get a bad perm.

When watching myself on “Mare of Easttown,” I was, like, Oh, my. That was a wig.

Does it feel bizarre to be on two shows at the same time on the same network?

Well, I have to say, I think that that has worked to my advantage a great deal, which is why people are making a fuss. I think, if they’d been six months apart, it wouldn’t have been quite the same reaction. I’m just very fortunate that they were both really quality projects and that the roles were so dramatically different. I’ve always tried to pride myself on being versatile. Though when people say that they think I’m versatile, my first thought, usually, is, Well, isn’t that my job?

Do you feel like you know what your strengths are as a performer? Are you able to sort of articulate what makes you a good actor?

For whatever reason, I think that I can access my emotions very easily. I don’t know why that is. I don’t know much about astrology, but somebody did my chart years and years ago. She said, “Oh, my goodness, you have what’s called a grand cross, where your head and your heart are in complete opposition.” When she said that, I knew immediately that was true. And I’m, like, “Yeah, I can see that.” I don’t think that’s necessarily helpful in your personal life. But maybe that’s helpful as an actor.

Because you can separate intelligence and emotion?

Yeah, I think maybe. I don’t know why I brought that up. That just sounds silly.

On the subject of the Jeanaissance discourse, does it make you feel happy, or do you feel like “Come on, I’ve been here”?

Come on, I’ve been here, is one of my first thoughts. The selfish, petty, greedy actor side of me wants to say, “Oh, gosh, I think about the parts I can’t play now, but I would love to.” There are two movies; if I could have played the female lead in both, I swear to God, I could have died happy.

Which two movies?

The first one, which is one of my favorite comedies of all time, is “Galaxy Quest.” I would have killed to play Sigourney Weaver’s part. Just killed. Then one movie that I think is a nearly perfect film is called “Witness.” It’s with Harrison Ford and Kelly McGillis. I was not well known back then; otherwise, I would have tried to move heaven and earth to audition for that. I think it’s the only time I’ve seen nudity in a movie where I thought it was completely necessary. She’s giving herself a sponge bath. The way they shot it, I get chills. It looked like a Vermeer painting.

And you would have done it. You would’ve gone nude?

I’m not sure. Mom and Dad were still very much alive.

So that’s the part of you that’s, like, “I’ve been here,” but you do have momentum now. I wonder what you’re going to do with it.

I want to be in a big historical ensemble, like “Downton Abbey,” or even “Game of Thrones.” I’d also like some downtime so people don’t get sick of me!

I don’t take any of what’s happening for me right now for granted. I know that I’ve won the lottery. I know actors who are so extremely talented who just never got a good break. There’s a small, small percentage of actors who get to make a living. And even a smaller percentage of them ever get the chance to show what they can do. It’s not like other endeavors, like singing or writing or dancing or painting, where you can do it whenever you want. Doesn’t mean you’ll get paid, necessarily, but you can at least do it. Whereas with acting, for the most part, you have to be invited to do it.

Have you ever thought about writing a memoir?

No. I’ve literally only thought of it in the last six months. Before that, I thought, Good God, why would anybody want to read a book about my life? It’s not that interesting. And also, I’m too private to tell any of the more interesting parts. So what good would it do? But I’ve been through some personal things in the last year that someday, maybe I’d want to write about.

You know, I feel like I just should say something about my husband, because he passed away very unexpectedly. I still had a week of “Hacks” left to do. That was hard. I had to do a funeral scene.

I was a wreck, but it actually turned out to be very funny. But he was one of those actors who never got the chance to really show what he could do. A couple of times onstage, he did. But he really sacrificed his career for me to be able to take advantage of my opportunities. I wouldn’t have all this, if it wasn’t for him.

I’m so sorry for your loss, Jean.

It’s been really weird. It’s not anything I ever dreamed would happen. Not so soon. He made me laugh all the time. That’s going to be hard to live without.