Atkinson doesn’t usually read reviews of her work. If she did, it could be incredibly awkward. Take John Simon’s 1990 savage New York Magazine takedown of The Art of Success, the off-Broadway production Atkinson starred in less than a decade out of Northwestern and Yale Drama. “There is little to Art of Success beyond anarchy, scatology and stupidity,” Simon wrote, concluding, “‘Do I have to stand here and listen to this shit?’ asks someone in the play. Even seated, one might ask the same.”
But buried in this vicious review, Simon spared one performer from his poison pen: “Jayne Atkinson is riveting: Here is a plain woman transfigured by shining talent.”
Atkinson concedes “not all reviewers are out for blood. One actually saved my performance in The Heiress when he said, ‘If she would just look up, she would be magnificent.’” From then on, she did.
When Atkinson heard about the opening line of Peter Marks’ recent rave review of Ann in the Washington Post — “In a more just universe, Jayne Atkinson would be a household name.” — it had a familiar ring. “It’s what my parents always told me,” she says. ”And I would say, ‘Then I won’t have a life.’” Atkinson acknowledges some of her reluctance to embrace fame has to do with fear. “It takes a lot to be a Julia Louis-Dreyfus, to be constantly in the limelight. It’s enough what I have,” she says.
The fear of stepping over that invisible line between having a really successful acting career and becoming a household name is real. The challenge is finding the tricky balance between getting great parts and maintaining some semblance of a private life.
During a recent interview, Atkinson revealed an encounter with an acting teacher at Northwestern that has stayed with her. “There was a moment onstage, performing a play called Ashes, a moment that I can’t explain, where I came through as an actress in a very profound way.”
Soon afterward, she went to Ann Woodworth’s acting class, unprepared for the assignment she had been given. “I came in half-assed, and she stopped me and said, ‘Why are you sabotaging yourself? You’re being a clown.’ I just looked at her and burst into tears.”
Nearly 40 years later, reliving this pivotal moment nearly prompted tears again. “I told her I’m afraid of what I have, that people won’t like me, they’ll be jealous of me, think I’m too big for my britches.” And like it was yesterday, Atkinson recalled Woodworth telling her, “Stop it. You have a gift and you’re responsible for that and you have to take yourself seriously.”
“Ann made me face my fear at a very critical moment and was willing to say tough things to me. She moved me deeply because I was hiding.”
This month, Woodworth ’75, ’79 MA is entering her final year teaching acting at Northwestern, her 10th on the campus in Qatar. “Over the years, there are some students I worked with for three years whom I don’t remember,” says Woodworth. “But I had Jayne in one summer quarter class and have always remembered her. She had a great sense of showmanship.”
She, too, recalls that very intense moment with Atkinson. “The thing I took away was that she was willing to be vulnerable. That’s why Jayne stood out. I remember having total respect for her and thinking she’s going to be great.”
Some 16 years after that moment, Woodworth saw Atkinson doing Ivanov at Lincoln Center in New York City. She remembers thinking, “Oh, my God, Jayne’s so lovely onstage, and three dimensional. It’s all I hope for a student.”
Above all, whether she’s wearing ill-fitting glass slippers or a confection of white on her head, don’t ever tell Jayne Atkinson that acting isn’t open-heart surgery, as a colleague once did. “If we play our cards right, it is,” she insists. “You never know who leaves that audience with their life changed forever.”
Richard Harris ’76 wrote “The Life of Brian,” the Northwestern Magazine profile of Brian d’Arcy James ’90 in 2015.
Reader Responses
I was lucky to see Jayne perform “Ann.” She's an incredible actor and a lovely person to boot.
—Wendy Grishman Susswein via Facebook
Wonderful!
—Jake Daehler New York, via Northwestern Magazine
No one has commented on this page yet.
Submit a Response