I was asking to be seen, and respected. When I played a serial killer in Basic Instinct I tapped into that rage. It was terrifying to look into the shadow self and to release it onto film for the world to see. To allow people to believe that I was “like that.” Even more, to let myself know that I have or had darkness within. I can say that it was and is the most freeing thing I have ever done. Ultimately, it also let me know that I wasn’t really the stabbing type. Letting myself process that rage was magnificent, and I think letting others feel that release was a bit therapeutic for the audience. The day Basic Instinct came out in theaters I hired a limo.
I was asking to be seen, and respected. I was asking to be known.
When I played a serial killer in Basic Instinct I tapped into that rage. It was terrifying to look into the shadow self and to release it onto film for the world to see. To allow people to believe that I was “like that.” Even more, to let myself know that I have or had darkness within. I can say that it was and is the most freeing thing I have ever done.
Ultimately, it also let me know that I wasn’t really the stabbing type. Letting myself process that rage was magnificent, and I think letting others feel that release was a bit therapeutic for the audience. I know it’s not just me.
The day Basic Instinct came out in theaters I hired a limo. Mimi and I started in Harlem and went to movie theaters all over NYC, from one side of town to the other, into the wee hours of the morning. We had bought two bowler derbies and wore our hair up inside, and both of us wore our glasses. We watched about 20 minutes at each theater.
Harlem was my favorite. People were yelling and screaming at the screen. Cheering my character on. We were having a ball, seeing the reactions all over town. We stopped in the Upper East and West sides, Hell’s Kitchen, all the way into the Bowery. We were running in and out of theaters at various points during the film and fleeing like thieves into the day and night. And the audiences went wild, they loved this movie! It was one of the best times.
The next morning while we had a glorious, celebratory breakfast, the horrible reviews came out.
What is a critic? Someone who sees movies for free and then tells you what they think.
What is an audience? Someone who tells you how a movie makes them feel.
Do you have any idea how many people have watched Basic Instinct in the last 20-something years? Think about it. It’s about more than just a peek up my skirt, people. Wake up. Women championed that movie; men were obsessed with a woman who could make it stop. She was their favorite. But now, only now, do I go to events and there is a certain respect about that film. Oh, that film is coooooool. But when I went to the Golden Globes as a nominee in 1993 and they called my name as a glamorous finalist, everyone laughed. Well, not everyone, but enough of the room so that I was told where I sat.
I think that I am not alone in processing some pent-up female rage. It’s unnerving to know that for me, this rage was so controlled, I think because I was forced to control it for so long, to keep it hidden as though it were my shame. This was the nature of abuse in my era. Everything carried the heavy weight of threat. Not only to me but to those I loved or was supposed to love or whateverthefuck was going on there.
As we are learning, abuse comes in all kinds of ways and our reactions come in all ways. Generation after generation we will still be learning just how to talk about and deal with abuse without being abusive in our very discussions, sensationalistic in our interest, cruel with our concern.
I recently had a talk with my European bodyguard, Bruno. We have traveled the globe together for more than 30 years. He was laughing, saying that when we started, his job was much more difficult since I was much more difficult. Of course, it was also at the height of my fame, which was a scene. But he said that the change in me from my Buddhist practices was so big that I had become, in his words, “so beautiful on the inside” and “so easy to be with,” and so his job was easy now. I must have been a hellion. In fact, I am sure of it. I used to love to mix it up.
Peace of mind is a rush, though, I must say. Bigger than the other thing—and a lot less trouble. Though I can look back and laugh. Oh, I used to cause some trouble. I used to love to piss people off. Just to watch. It was so easy to wind people up. I think that I liked to have control of people’s minds and it was so easy to get them off their rockers. I wasn’t the person who was at home later, thinking, Gee, I wish I’d said that, I was the person who went home thinking, Gee, I wonder if I really should have left them in pieces on the floor.
It is okay to change.
So, the acting thing: I do still like it. Actually, I like it more than before. I feel much more comfortable in it, and it’s a whole lot easier to do. I feel less pressure when I do it now, as it is not my entire world. I have also had more profound life experiences to bring to it. When the workday is over, good or bad—and it’s mostly always good—I go home to a house full of love, so no big deal.