Ask Me Again Tomorrow

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by Olympia Dukakis




  Ask Me Again Tomorrow

  A Life in Progress

  Olympia Dukakis with Emily Heckman

  for my children and their children

  Now I know, I understand…that in our work—acting or writing—what matters is not fame, not glory, not what I used to dream about, it’s how to endure, to bear one’s cross and have faith. I have faith and it all doesn’t hurt so much, and when I think of my calling I’m not afraid of life.

  From Anton Chekhov’s The Seagull,

  translated by Nikos Psacharopoulos

  Contents

  Epigraph

  Introduction

  I NEVER wanted to write a book about my life

  Prologue

  IN THE late 1980s, something truly unexpected happened to my…

  Chapter One

  THE SPOTLIGHT that shined on my family in 1988 started…

  Chapter Two

  DURING THE couple of years that followed the Oscars, we…

  Chapter Three

  MY MOTHER’S family emigrated from the Mani region of southern…

  Chapter Four

  DURING the early days of my parents’ marriage, they ran…

  Chapter Five

  JUST AFTER I began the ninth grade, my family moved…

  Chapter Six

  WHEN I BEGAN my master’s in fine arts at Boston…

  Chapter Seven

  I GOT TO New York in late 1959, when I…

  Chapter Eight

  SOMETIMES IT SEEMED like my life was one big effort…

  Chapter Nine

  ONE AUTUMN NIGHT in 1977 I received another phone call.

  Chapter Ten

  IT HAD BEEN a long five years since Louie’s accident…

  Chapter Eleven

  THERE WAS A crisis with my mother. She had been…

  Epilogue

  IN 1999, Louie and I decided to sell our house…

  Selected Reading

  Olympia Dukakis Selected Credits

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Introduction

  I NEVER wanted to write a book about my life. When I was first approached by a literary agent, I told her I wasn’t interested. I didn’t want to dredge up all the personal history that I had already spent much of my life rehashing—in conversations with my husband, my friends, my therapists, myself. I felt I had nothing new to learn or to teach. But as the idea of doing a book insinuated itself in my thoughts, I grew more and more attracted to the possibilities. I couldn’t resist taking one more look back.

  When I play a role on stage, I tell the same story night after night, but each time, I see and understand a little bit more of who that character is. In order to write the story of my life, though, the only script I had was “Olympia” and what a chaotic, angry, loving, contradictory character she turned out to be. But as the events of my life began to unreel in my mind, I recognized that I had an advantage now I’d not had in the past: I had the vantage point of distance. Looking back through the prism of time and experience, I went over and over the events of my life, trying to identify the narrative threads that have made me who I am; trying to understand the forces that have made me Olympia Dukakis, Greek-American, mother, actress, wife, trying to make a coherent story out of all of it. There were times I wanted to quit, but as I began to unravel the past and examine where I came from, several themes revealed themselves. The biggest one turned out to be the one that made this book-writing process so difficult at times; here I was, trying to define who I am for the reader and realizing that one of the main themes of my life was to defy definition.

  Much of what I’ve done in my life, many of the decisions I’ve made, has been a reaction to ethnic and gender bias. I’ve spent a large part of my life rejecting the definition of what a Greek-American, and what a woman, was supposed to be. I’d set out to define myself, not fall into the role others wanted to define for me. I’d done it from as early as I can remember; first with my parents, then as a schoolgirl, later as an actress and wife and mother.

  The life I’ve chosen to lead bears very little resemblance to what has been expected of me in all those roles. I’m a poster child for the bad Greek daughter—there are no Greek Orthodox bishops holding up my picture and nominating me as a role model. As a woman, I never fit into the prescribed parameters of “proper” behavior. As an actress, I’ve made choices that led me directly away from the fame and fortune acting is supposed to bring. As a wife, I refused to be stifled by the rules that society says wives are supposed to follow. As a mother, I made mistakes, but I’m happy to say that my three grown children like spending time with me, I believe, because they see me as a human being as well as a mom.

  It’s not always easy to stay true to your own definition of yourself. There’s a lot of pressure from the outside world, telling you to be like everyone else, don’t rock the boat, take the easy way out. When you fight that, you naturally put yourself on the outside, and I spent a lot of my life feeling like an outsider. When I was younger, I took this as an indictment, but I grew to understand it was not just the road I’d carved out for myself through sheer stubbornness, it was the only road I wanted to take. In the year 2000, I played one of the most demanding roles of my career in Martin Sherman’s one-woman show, Rose. There is a line in that play that has always resonated with me, because, perhaps more than any other, it is a reflection of my own experience: “Maybe there’s a joy in not belonging.”

  Women still stop me in the street to yell, “I know who I am,” which is the line Rose Castorini says in my breakout role in Moonstruck, when rebuffing a pass from a younger man. I love the strength of character it took for her to say that. I love that she believes that to be true, and that it’s the thing that keeps her true to herself. But I am not Rose Castorini. When I finally agreed to write this book, my editor suggested that should be the title. “But I don’t know who I am,” I told her, “that’s just the point.” Because the “who I am” keeps changing, evolving—it’s inevitable. We are constantly gathering—or stumbling upon—new information that, if we allow it to, will change our understanding of the past and point us in new directions for the future. The sand shifts constantly. Our life stories have a logic all their own—they meander this way and that. Their logic is the logic of the spirit as it seeks to know itself, as we seek to work and love.

  What I think about my life keeps changing. At twenty, I thought one thing. At thirty, I thought another. And forty, and fifty, and so on. Each decade, sometimes each day, has brought its own revelations. If you want to know who I am today, I’ll tell you. But you better ask me again tomorrow….

  Prologue

  IN THE late 1980s, something truly unexpected happened to my family and me, something I never thought I’d see in my lifetime, something my father could only dream about. In 1988, my name became a household word. I don’t mean just in Montclair, New Jersey, where I lived at the time. And I don’t mean within the theatrical community (a community in which I’d been an active member for thirty years). I mean the name Dukakis became known all across the United States! Even around the world, thanks to an acting award and a presidential election.

  For me, it meant being recognized for the role I’d played in the movie Moonstruck. For my cousin Michael, it meant being on the ballot as the Democratic candidate for president of the United States.

  It was hard for me to grasp that two first-generation Greek-Americans had made it in this incredible, public way. I became—literally almost overnight—no longer what I’d always considered myself to be: a hyphenated American, living between two cultures and constantly trying to balance the many contradictions forced on us
, trying to bridge a divide in ways that kept us on our toes and sharpened our senses. It also meant having to live as a kind of second-class citizen. Now we Dukakis progeny had broken through a barrier of ethnic discrimination that had been, at times, vicious, unforgiving, and isolating. But living in the hyphen, or as an “outsider,” also had its benefits. It gave us all a degree of freedom that we each, in our own way, tried to capitalize on: we weren’t expected to conform (how could you when you didn’t look like everyone else and you spoke a foreign language and you had a name that no one could pronounce?). In the minds of our nonimmigrant classmates and playmates, we were the “other,” and it was our job to figure out how they lived and not vice versa; how to “belong” within a context defined by the majority around us. Instead, Michael, my brother, Apollo, and I, and all the other Dukakis cousins—Stelian, Arthur, and Strat—seized our standing as outsiders and became what our parents had hoped we would: hardworking American citizens.

  For me, the process of assimilation has been the lifelong process of allowing this line, this hyphen, to blur and soften. It hasn’t been an easy process, nor has it been simply about assimilating culturally. It’s been about learning to embrace the influences of my family and my heritage without letting them limit, hurt, or hinder me from becoming a better person, a better actor, a better mother, wife, and citizen. It has been about allowing my heart and my mind to open to new influences that will help me embrace life and all of its contradictions, instead of run from them.

  It’s only now, at a relatively late time in my life, that I can even begin to articulate what it meant for my parents to come to this country and to raise children who became successful here. It’s a complicated ideal, this notion of being successfully assimilated, and it had such a profound effect on so many aspects of our lives. It determined, for example, how much personal gratification my parents would delay so that they might provide us children with more opportunity, more education, more freedom than they had. And though they tried to shield us from the limitations that were put on them by the outside world, particularly in the form of ethnic bias, they were never really successful. This was something my generation had to figure out for ourselves. We had to figure out how to be good Greek daughters and sons while also becoming Americans. There were so many competing ideals of what was valued, what was honorable, what was right. The world was fraught with contradictions and the best we could hope for was not to be undone by them. Learning how to grasp and use the lessons of this great paradox has been the source of more consternation, more joy, and more growth than anything else in my life. I was taught, by example, to stand tall in the face of fear, not to shy away from obstacles, to believe in myself—even when I felt utterly defeated inside. I was encouraged to strive to be authentic, to become an American without betraying my Greek heritage; to become the authentic Olympia Dukakis, warts and all; to take on the obstacles that came my way, learn as much as I possibly could from them, and then move on. I’ve been overlooked or unfairly treated, but just as often, I’ve been rewarded and honored in very unexpected and public ways, and even acclaimed, as I was so lavishly in 1988 for just that one part I played.

  Chapter One

  THE SPOTLIGHT that shined on my family in 1988 started on what was a typical February morning—typical except for the TV crew sitting in my living room.

  A couple of days before, I’d gotten a call at the theater where I worked. It was Entertainment Tonight (ET) and they wanted to know if they could come film “my reaction” when the Oscar nominations were announced. There was some talk that I might be nominated for my part in Moonstruck, but I thought wanting to film me on the off chance I might be nominated was an odd request, and I laughed when I told Bonnie Low-Kramen about it. She was the head of publicity for the Whole Theatre in northern New Jersey, a nonprofit organization I’d been very involved with for the last eighteen years. Ten couples—including my brother, Apollo, and his wife, Maggie, and my husband, Louie, and me—had been founding members of the company and Bonnie had, by then, been working with us for a number of years. She thought the ET idea was great. “Just think,” she said. “You can plug the theater on national television. It will be great publicity for us.” As a not-for-profit organization, we were always scrambling for money, so any publicity was truly helpful. I asked her, when she set it up, to have ET come to the theater so that we’d have the opportunity to get a good shot of the exterior of the building and our sign. However, they didn’t want to interview me at the theater. They wanted to tape this at my home, at eight A.M. sharp, just as the nominations were broadcast live from Los Angeles at five A.M. I was disappointed by this but determined to figure out some way to promote the theater anyway.

  On the morning the nominations were to be announced, I was up early, doing routine paperwork for the company and taking care of things around the house. I had already helped my mother, who was living with us by then, get dressed and have some breakfast.

  I also let our dog, Sandal, out the back door for his morning dash over to our neighbor’s yard, which, for some reason, he’d recently decided was the only place he could relieve himself. This was probably the greatest stress in my life at that moment, as our neighbor, who was always having his breakfast at the picture window that spanned his kitchen at the exact moment Sandal needed to go out, was threatening to sue us. Things had gotten pretty ugly between us, but I couldn’t worry about that today. I had to get Sandal back into the house and see if Louie needed help with the coffee and bagels; we had a crowd to feed.

  Some of our friends and neighbors began showing up, as well as some of our colleagues from the Whole Theatre. I remember being vaguely annoyed as the techs from ET began dragging cameras and lights into the house—I didn’t want them to scratch the floor or bang the furniture. I started to feel that the whole thing was a ridiculous mistake and neither Louie nor I had time to play host to a bunch of strangers with heavy equipment.

  But apparently, ET knew something we did not because sometime between eight-thirty and nine, there was my face, on the television, and I’m looking around my living room watching my family, friends, neighbors, and this film crew jump up and down. I was nominated! For Best Supporting Actress for my portrayal of Rose Castorini in Moonstruck. Louie was cheering and my mother, who still couldn’t believe that I was actually paid to act, was beaming. Everyone was just so high. I think I must have been, too. I don’t really remember.

  What I do remember is that the phone started ringing off the hook after that. People wanted to interview me and, in particular, find out how it felt to be an overnight success. An overnight success? Either the media really believed this was the case or they just thought they would get more mileage out of the story if they presented me as the heroine of a slightly twisted Cinderella story because I was also a middle-aged overnight success. True, I was in my fifties at the time and Moonstruck was only my fourth movie, but what most people, especially those in the film industry, simply did not know was that I’d been working as a professional stage actor and director for thirty years. So much for overnight anything.

  As the reality of the nomination set in, I did start to feel like this was some kind of fairy tale. What did happen overnight was that so many people became interested in my work, including what I had done in New York and with the Whole Theatre Company as both director and actor, and everything I had done before then—all of it. Small tremors began rolling through my life and me—but they weren’t unpleasant. Something good was happening and I was the belle of the ball, albeit one with three kids, a naughty dog, and a big mortgage. Not to mention a mother who called my dining room home.

  There were interview requests and job offers. Suddenly my asking price went up. I’d signed on for Look Who’s Talking before the nomination, and one of the first calls I got was my agent telling me that the producers would up my salary if I actually won the Academy Award. I was beginning to like this.

  It was Norman Jewison, the director of Moonstruck, who told me to take
every call, do every interview. Sure, talking about the movie would bring people into the theaters and he knew that, but he was really telling me to seize this moment and promote myself. I took his advice to heart and spoke to everyone who called.

  Then I got a call from the New York Film Critics Awards to tell me I had won their award for Best Supporting Actress and to please bring anyone I wanted to the award’s ceremony. As it happened, we were, as a family, just emerging from a decade-long crisis, and we badly needed a reason to celebrate. So Louie and I and our three grown children, Christina, Peter, and Stefan, dressed up for the big night out.

  It was a wonderful evening. I remember seeing this look of satisfaction on my children’s faces, a look of recognition when they realized that what I did, day after day, and the work their parents were engaged in that was so different from anything their friends’ parents did, had value.

  I was also nominated for the Golden Globe Award. Jewison, who was now certain I’d win the Oscar, was equally sure that I wouldn’t win the Globe, because the Globes are awarded by foreign critics and Moonstruck was a quintessentially American film. Just as I had earlier with ET, before the Oscar nominations were announced, I realized that attending the Globe Awards would give me another chance to promote the Whole Theatre, so Louie and I flew out to L.A. I had no idea what to expect, but I was curious to see how this would unfold.

  And then the damnedest thing happened—I won the Golden Globe, which was more than a bit unnerving, as I had absolutely nothing prepared to say. I was so convinced I wouldn’t win that I had worn an old dress from my closet back home, and had not bothered to have my hair or nails or makeup done professionally. Those little tremors I had started to feel back in New Jersey began to intensify.

 

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