When Natasha Lyonne really opens up to you, with that smoky pulse-and-throb of New York City in her voice and that unmistakable āIāve worked with Woody Allen AND Pee Wee Herman, Iāve partied like Amy Winehouse, Iāve done five movies this year, and Iām not quite sure where I am right now,ā air about her, you just kind of have to stop and think, Jesus. This woman read my diary. She is the dark and blossoming star I secretly am in my head.
Who is Natasha Lyonne? When I think of Natasha Lyonne, I think of these things: Woody Allen (she played his daughter in the musical Everyone Says I Love You when she was a but wee lass), āBrookeā (the porky chick with dreadlocks from Party Monster), and American Pie (sassy Jessica), smoking too much, drinking too much, and peculiar scenes of alleged dog molestation. None of her roles were huge in these things, but I remember her in them all. But when I really think of her, I really think of Big Apples, and that singular type of New York City famous that is really quite so very different from LA/Hollywood/Anywhere Else-types of famousāthe type of famous that has cab rides and saxophones and pizza-at-3am in it and you better not give-it-any-bullshitāa type of famous that scares me a little and fascinates me a lot. It's a vibe that comes off of her in waves.
So weāre sitting in the W Hotel, and itās just a little awkward. She is in town for just twenty hours to attend a SIFF screening of The Immaculate Conception of Little Dizzle, a Seattle-filmed movie that also has Sean Nelson in it for a minute. I am here to talk to her about it...
I am of course far too seasoned in the whole famous-person-meeting thing to be star-struck (because, like, Iāve met almost all of them), and never by anyone with star-wattage less than a Jolie-Pitt. And God knows, she's no Oscar Winner or anything. But I am completely enraptured by her anyway, I refuse to justify myself. Her mere presence is very magnetic, in the way only a natural-born celebrityās mere presence can be. Sheās kind of distracted, she seems a little nervous (which is quite surprising), and sheās finishing up a text message on her not-an-I Phone. I resist the impulse to to jump up and lick the back of her neckālike a psychoactive toadājust, you know, to see what would happen. She finishes texting and looks at me.
āYo, Adrian.ā She looks at my socks. āCan I tell you something?ā Um, no. Donāt be absurd. āI always said that all I wanted was a man with Argyle socks and a sense of humor.ā
Oh, Jesus.
She looks lovelyājust-off-the-plane harried, indeed, but totally together. Her handbag and her sunglasses are enormous. Sheās so completely her. We talk about my socks for a minute. She wants to know why mine donāt match. (It always comes up.) I explain my whole philosophy: if one has the time, interest, or inclination to bother matching up oneās socks, one should reevaluate oneās priorities. She agrees with me in principal. āIāve always been a big fan of people who brush their teeth in the dark.ā
I adore her.
We talk about a lot of things. She mentions at least four books sheās recently read, and a list of old movies. She wants to know if Iāve ever seen Ladies and Gentlemen, the Fabulous Stains with young Dianne Keaton (or maybe Dianne Lane) and Laura Dern. I havenāt. She tells me about it: Young Laura Dern and Dianne Keaton (or maybe Lane) form and all-girl punk band, madness ensues. Itās from 1981. I ask her about Little Dizzle. She doesnāt know much. She hasnāt seen it yet! āTonight will be my first time,ā she confesses, referring to the screening at the Egyptian. She says sheās a little anxious about it. (Negro, please. As if the city that spawned the Space Needle and Courtney Love could do anything but adore her.)
Natasha has had quite a decade, which has included a fair amount of time in the tabloids for various substance-addled manias and some serious life-threatening issues. But these days, "Life is all about NOT making a splash," she says. And she has had quite a professionally prolific year to prove how much of a splash she's not makingāsheās done five films, including Dizzle. āIāve done āem, yes, but letās see if they ever come out. Thatās another thing,ā she jokes. Plus, she really doesnāt like watching her own movies. āWho needs the suffering?ā But when I bring up one movieāthe Woody Allen movieāthen she really gets going.
āGrowing up Jewish in New York, Woody Allen was like a Godā¦I was 16, I was a nervous wreck, I was rebellious, and Woody Allen isnāt exactly a nurturerā¦ā
āI have pretty big self-esteem issues, Adrian, Iām not even going to try to hide it,ā she tells me. I confess myself that if I ever looked too closely in the mirror, Iād never leave the damn house. She says that she knows exactly what I mean. She confesses that sheās near-sighted, and that she goes out without her glasses sometimes, just so there is a nice buffer between her and the world, and she doesnāt have to focus on the details. I do the exact same thing! If she werenāt Jewish as a box of lox, Iād begin to wonder if we werenāt separated at birth...
She worries that she is getting herself into trouble when the conversation meanders into sordid, gossipy territory like Lindsay Lohan (I ask her if she thinks Lindsay is a real lesbian or if sheās faking itāshe says she doesnāt care), or living in Alphabet City with āher peopleā (ie, addled street freaks), and/or being āA child star clichĆ©,ā and she keeps peeking over at her manager to make sure sheās not in trouble. The less gossip, the better. She talks about professionalism, and learning to be a professional, and about her love for making movies, and Barbara Stanwyck. āYes, Iām a child-star clichĆ©,ā she says. āItās widely documented.ā
āBut Iām a happy clichĆ©.ā
Our hour together rushes by. We ride the elevator out together. She finally puts her big sunglasses back on, clutches her huge handbag, and makes for the exit, taking New York-vibes and delicious scandal with herāand leaving a glittery, apple-shaped hole in my smokeless heart.
And the rest is silence.