Fantastic long article about Christine Ebersole and Grey Gardens in The New York Times Sunday Magazine.
This part made me cry.
My father started out as a riveter, but he had the soul of an artist, she said. He worshiped Shakespeare and had aspirations to be an actor. He claimed that from the first day he laid eyes on me, I was going to be this great dramatic actress.
And the part about … standing there, singing with tears streaming down her face at the same time … but not missing a note, not wavering … the sound does not suffer from that emotion … I loved how she talked about that.
I would give ANYTHING to see this. I swear.
The most moving thing about this is that fame – at least this level of fame came to her at 54. That, like, never happens. Just goes to show you that Chekhov was right …. it’s about endurance more than anything else. Being the last one standing. Not giving up.