11.22.09

Geraldine Sue Page, born in Missouri in 1924, discovered her talent for acting in a Sunday school play, knew she was good, moved to the big city of Chicago, and then to New York, where she became, arguably, the greatest actress of her generation. She was my teacher, before, during, and after I studied with her, and Chris Wells asked me to say a few words about her at the Secret City because today is her birthday. I almost called this “10 things about Geraldine Page”—but Geraldine impressed upon her students the power of the more interesting, the unexpected, we hope, choice. She was and is an enigma. So I’m calling this “11 Things I KNOW FOR SURE about Geraldine Page”.

5. She was born November 22nd, 11/22. I don’t know much about numerology, but I’m told that 11 and 22 are major numbers—mystically powerful. Geraldine, her husband, Rip Torn, and their three children, lived on 22nd Street in Chelsea, with a mailbox that said “Torn Page”. She died 22 years ago. Today would be her 85th birthday.

2. Her hands were exquisite—long and expressive. They fluttered to hide her smile in SUMMER AND SMOKE, death-gripped the telephone receiver in SWEET BIRD OF YOUTH, pointed and shook with fury, when words weren’t enough, in AGNES OF GOD. Her hands were so beautiful it was almost unfair. Lee Strasberg made her sit on them.

3. Speaking of Strasberg, she said—and it was such sacrilege she made us promise not to repeat it—that Method Acting meant “the Method that Works for You”. Shhhhhhh.

10. She charged 10 dollars a class. Cash. She threatened to charge you more if you didn’t do a scene, but she never enforced it.

1. She spoke between the lines, onstage and off. Other people might think she was talking about the weather when she was telling You and You Alone some secret of the universe. It was terrifying.

6. She said the greatest single performance she ever saw was by Shelley Berman. I forget the name of the play, but I said, “Shelley Berman, the comedian?” and she shot me a withering stare. “The Actor!" I got my 10 bucks worth that day.

7. She studied acting with Uta Hagen. For eleven (11) years, even after she became an acclaimed actress. After seeing Miss Hagen in MRS WARREN’S PROFESSION, she said, “I wish Uta would practice what she preaches.” Geraldine did not preach.

8. She was nominated for an Academy Award eight times, finally winning for TRIP TO BOUNTIFUL, by Horton Foote. She is unforgettable in so many films, but especially in POPE OF GREENWICH VILLAGE, in which she was onscreen for only eight minutes. (She counted.) And she told us that it’s not the time that matters, it’s what you do with it. Next time you see that film, look at her beautiful hands. She holds a cigarette in one, and a glass of scotch and a ROSARY in the other. The unexpected choice.

9. She told us to look for inspiration, for our strongest, deepest choices and substitutions, in the love, the crushes, the passions we felt in junior high school. When the subject of Rip Torn came up—and it did, often--she looked all of fourteen.

14. The music at her memorial service was Ravel’s Pavan for a Dead Princess, and there was reserved seating for her students up front, near the family. She often said she had been fortunate to have had good teachers, and felt it her responsibility to teach. I can’t tell you how glad I am about that.

Happy birthday, Geraldine. It’s fruitcake weather!

Doobydooby doo

When I first moved to New York in the early 80's, I was pretty miserable. I was subletting a dreary mustard-colored studio on 89th and Second, just around the corner from Elaine's, the restaurant made famous by Woody Allen-- but I was worlds away from the quirky-urban, romance-and-art-filled Manhattan of his films.

One summer night, coming home from my job as an answering service operator--(yes, children, this was before cellphones--even before voicemail)--I saw Mia Farrow and her bespectacled Swain huddled in front of the fabled Elaine's. (See, I still rhyme when I think of how romantic it could have been. Was, for some people.) Woody and Mia looked like little lost waifs who wouldn't have had a clue how to get home if their car hadn't pulled up to the curb. I can't tell you how much I wanted to be them.

That same sticky, un-airconditioned night, sleeping in the "loft" bed (so close to the ceiling it felt like a coffin) became unbearable. I moved to the mustard-colored corduroy daybed instead, tossing and turning and listening to the city through my open window, tortured with guilt.

Why had I ruined a too-early marriage to someone I adored, why had I moved to New York to pursue my Career (WHAT career!?) and my girlish romantic notions: lunch with broodingly handsome playwrights at the Russian Tea Room; champagne cocktails at the Blue Bar bought by lovesick lawyers; the unwanted attentions of Jerzy Kozinski or some other foreigner over martinis at One Fifth Avenue; breaking the hearts of promising stand-up after stand-up at the Improv--you get the picture. Most of those things didn't actually happen, but when they did, they were not at ALL the way I had imagined. I still wasn't Diane Keaton or Mia Farrow. I wasn't even Louise Lasser. I was sweat-soaked me, alone in the heat, stuck to the ugly yellow corduroy daybed, just around the corner from Elaine's. Why didn't I go back to the Midwest? I flipped my pillow to the cooler, dryer side.

From out of the stifling nowhere came the first few notes--slow, sultry, and so lonely they made me laugh out loud--a trumpet, moaning-- "Strangers in the Night"!? I jumped off the daybed, naked. Where was he? Finally! The man of my dreams, a man who could read my mind, behind one of hundreds of open windows, maybe in his own little sublet hell, crazier than I was, blowing his lonely trumpet at 3 am-- I would have married him on the spot. If we ever had met.

We never met.

Of course things are different now. Elaine's is gone, and so are One Fifth and the real Russian Tea Room; Woody Allen gives me the creeps, and Louise Lasser has all but disappeared. Diane Keaton still looks great and still plays quirky, but she seems to have gone off romance completely.

And Mia Farrow? I wonder why it never occurred to me, Little Miss Movie Trivia Freak, that sweltering August:"Strangers in the Night" was released the same year she married Frank Sinatra.

Maybe the most romantic memories we have are our regrets. I bet Mia Farrow thinks that, too.