by Nathaniel R
Olympia Dukakis as "Anna Madrigal", one of three iconic roles
Olympia Dukakis, the much-loved Oscar winning actress of stage and screen, has died just a month shy of her 90th birthday. The Los Angeles Times has a lovely article which goes in depth into her early career and backstory. On her devotion to theater, which often pulled her away from mainstream success, she's quoted as saying:
I did not become an actor in order to become famous or rich. I became an actor so I could play the great parts.
I regret that I never had the opportunity to see her on stage. Like the rest of the world, I fell in love with her first via "Rose Castorini" in Moonstruck (1987), a role she initially and surprisingly didn't think too highly of. Nevertheless she aced it, becoming one of the most beloved and famous screen moms of that era -- a screen mom to Cher no less!
But I'm not here to talk about Moonstruck. Have you ever had a actor that reminded you specifically of one exact person in your life? I don't mean an actor who looked like a loved one in some small way, but a star who always brought a real loved one immediately to mind...
For me there are a few but Olympia Dukakis is the most forceful. I literally cannot chance upon her in anything without thinking of the ex-boyfriend. He adored her. We began dating in 1998 which was coincidentally the year where she first reprised her beloved role as the trans matriarch "Anna Madrigal" in PBS Tales of the City. (She would revive that act a third time for Netflix in 2019). We had both seen the earlier PBS miniseries and loved it. In the mid-Aughts we'd attempt to see the Broadway revival of "Steep Magnolias" but left at intermission. The movie performances were too seared into our brains and it felt like the stage cast knew that. It was like watching a karaoke version or, if that's too harsh, a Disney stage show where you feel you're watching a reenactment rather than a unique piece of art.
He regularly pulled my DVD of Steel Magnolias from the shelf to rewatch despite hundreds of choices. Though I'd defended the film for years (and female-focused films are always in need of that -sigh) I eventually grew to dread it from the constant rewatches! I vowed to take a long break from the movie after we broke up but someday I'll be ready to go back because the cast was always bliss. Dukakis and Shirley Maclaine in particular were having fun. They were basically playing their own very raucous mini-comedy within the deep fried, hmmm, what do we call it, "melodramedy?"
Dukakis' "Clairee" was as impishly delightful as her "Rose" had been melancholy-funny and as "Anna" had been theatrically wise. The utterly human and relatable through-line of her three most famous characters was Olympia's considerable talent. Her earthy comic bite, inspired line readings, and no-nonsense unforced way of selling an arc were things of beauty. The audience was always too busy giggling or nodding or relating to notice the heavier lifting of the acting to create these lively miracles just to the side of the central plot.
My last vivid Dukakis memory came ten years ago at a Norman Jewison retrospective at the Film Society of Lincoln Center. Moonstruck, of course, had pride of placement. I was just there to revisit and reassess Moonstruck ("yup, still perfect!") but knew that Norman Jewison would be speaking. I can't remember if I knew that Dukakis was also attending and used it to coerce The Boyfriend into coming with me or if it was a happy surprise. But either way the evening was almost as fun as the movie.
He'd gone to awards shows with me. He'd met celebrities both in his line of work and as my plus one at events. He even took smoke breaks with a few very famous movie stars (remember when people used to smoke?). And yet I'd never before seen him even half as starstruck.
Certain actors just hit us differently, you know. Certain losses, too.