Happy Accidents (22 page)

The day was great fun for me, as I was hooked up with a whole new bunch of fabulously funny actors I’d never worked with before, including Ryan Hansen (
Veronica Mars
), Ken Marino (
Wet Hot American Summer
), and Andrea Savage (
Dog Bites Man
). Paul had intended to play the part of Henry, a frustrated actor who quits the acting game and becomes a cater-waiter, but his movie career was suddenly on fire, with one project lined up after the other, so he had to replace himself. He brought in his extremely handsome and self-effacing friend Adam Scott. We were also very lucky to have the entire
Veronica Mars
crew working on our humble low-budget pilot, so the shoot went swimmingly and the pilot ended up looking great.

The guys in charge told me I could do anything I wanted with my character. Her name was Constance Carmell, she was a forty-nine-year-old actress whose ship had sailed and who had therefore become a cater-waiter. Rather than doing my stock-in-trade of smirking arrogantly and waxing superior, I made Constance into a sweet and passive soul who lived in a delusion of grandeur about her acting days gone by.
Remembering Harrison Ford’s warning that leaving your mouth open made you look stupid, I let Constance’s mouth hang open a fair bit of the time.
It was such a relief to play someone who wasn’t trying to dominate or impress. I loved everything about this project, and unlike many other projects I had done, I let myself want this one to succeed.

But after more than a year with no word of a deal, I woefully assumed
Party Down
was dead. I chalked it up to a very good time had with a bunch of fun people.

Paul Rudd came through again a couple of months later, when I saw him at the premiere of
Superbad
and he asked me what I was doing in the next few months. I said, “If I you want me to do your movie, then I will be doing your movie in the next few months.”

Little Big Men
, as it was known at that point, was the story of two screwup sales reps for an energy drink called Minotaur. After they destroy the company’s Minotaur SUV (a van adorned with bull horns) and some public property, the guys are given the choice of serving hard jail time or doing community service through a Big Brother–type program called Sturdy Wings. Of course they choose community service (who wouldn’t?). This choice puts them at the mercy of my character, Gail Sweeny, who runs the program. Paul wrote the script with his friends and collaborators, David Wain (who would be directing) and Ken Marino, who had slayed me on
Party Down
with his character Ron Donald.

Four members of the unofficial comedy ensemble community: Kerri Kenney, Ken Marino, A. D. Miles, and me in
Role Models.

Photo courtesy of Universal Studios Licensing LLC

The movie would come to be called
Role Models
, and the two main guys were played to perfection by Paul Rudd and Seann William Scott. I played another version of my completely deluded, cocky characters, with Gail Sweeny boasting of heroically conquering addictions to booze, drugs, pills, and “bad thoughts.” Gail claimed she used to have cocaine for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, but now she was “addicted to helping.” As a survivor, she believed that this descent into hell and subsequent return uniquely qualified her to mentor children.

Warning them of my aversion to B.S.: Seann William Scott, Paul Rudd, and me.

Photo courtesy of Universal Studios Licensing LLC

Playing this part, I was lucky to get to perform some of the most deliciously ridiculous lines ever written. Taking an instant dislike to Seann’s Wheeler and Paul’s Danny, Gail pointedly informs them, “I’m not here to service you, I’m here to service these young boys.”

To this day, at least once a month a fella somewhere between adolescence and early manhood will sidle up to me and ask, “What did you have for breakfast?” It took me a while to realize they just wanted to hear me sneer “cocaine.”

We started filming in Venice Beach in September of
2007
. As evidence of the power of “it’s who you know” in getting asked to be in comedy ensemble movies
,
this movie was peopled with actors from David’s movie
Wet Hot American Summer
,
his improv group The State, and folks from Judd Apatow films that Paul had been in. The cast included an incredible lineup of funny people: Elizabeth Banks, A. D. Miles, Joe Lo Truglio, Kerri Kenney, Ken Marino, Bobb’e J. Thompson, Christopher Mintz-Plasse, Ken Jeong, and Joe Walsh. I knew some of them from before but was meeting many others for the first time. But because we were all part of this larger “ensemble comedy” community, we were almost immediately comfortable with one another. I love that, and it also helped that in ensemble comedy projects, selfishness just doesn’t fly. Whether you’re a big star (Paul, Seann) or a jobber like everybody else, everyone takes turns in the spotlight, supporting one another and understanding that the best joke always wins.

At the end of the shoot, the main characters dressed up as KISS and drove the Minotaur SUV they had destroyed earlier in the movie to fight the Battle Royal for LAIRE, a medieval war reenactment game played in a nature park. The entire cast came together to film these scenes, and the hundreds of extras partaking in the battle were actual medieval role-play enthusiasts playing their own characters, complete with costumes and weapons. The day shooting this was off-the-charts fun.

It’s usually pretty easy for me to end a project and just walk away, because I’m so used to doing it. But leaving behind the cast and crew of
Role Models
was very difficult; I really loved these people and had had the time of my life. I was so grateful to have been a part of such an awesome group.

A
s I was waiting to see if the universe would
answer my request for a steady meal ticket, I was not unappreciative of the short-term cherries I was being fed. A particularly juicy and delicious one came from Nora Ephron. I’d been a fan ever since I saw and loved her movie
Heartburn
in
1986
.

I first met Nora at a screening of
A Mighty Wind
at the Directors Guild in
2003
. This was not a formal introduction; rather, I was on my way into the ladies’ room as she was coming out. I was not only a huge fan of her movies, I’d become a fan of her blogging on The Huffington Post, so I almost lost my breath when, instead of passing me, she reached out to take my hand. I think I said, “I love you.” She said something about
A Mighty Wind
and my part, and I’m pretty sure it was positive because she left me with “Maybe we’ll work together someday.”

About three years later, when I was invited to a brunch in my Laurel Canyon neighborhood, I was thrilled to see Nora Ephron there. It was a lovely all-girl affair, and Nora was particularly sharp, witty, and interesting. I felt like I was holding my own until we started talking about the upcoming presidential election and I said something about Hillary Clinton having a “Pisces moon,” outing myself as an armchair astrologer. Even as it was coming out of my mouth, I regretted it. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Nora, the unsentimental pragmatic New Yorker, wince, and I felt like an idiot.

This obviously did not turn her completely off to me, because in late
2007
, when I was visiting Laura Coyle (who had moved to Connecticut to be with her parents), my agent Gabrielle called and said, “Can you get into Manhattan to have breakfast with Nora Ephron?”

The next morning, Laura and I hopped on the train into the city. Not even something as magnificent as my heading to brunch with Nora Ephron could keep us from our riotous silliness: the whole way down, we watched and rewatched a YouTube video in which Leslie Uggams completely forgets the words to “June Is Busting Out All Over.” We just killed it.

When we got off the train at Grand Central, we split up and I took the long walk uptown to Nora’s favorite breakfast place, a little deli joint called E.A.T. on Madison Avenue between
80
th and
81
st Streets. She raved about the food and then ate only a few bites of her eggs. (This must be how she can be a foodie and stay so thin.) Almost casually, she told me she was writing a movie about Julia Child. She told me the story of how Meryl Streep had launched into her imitation of Julia while they were both leaving the theater after a play, and Nora had insisted she play her in the movie.

Nora then started to describe the role of Julia Child’s sister, Dorothy. Though Dorothy would be in only a few scenes, she and Julia had a close and loving relationship, and depiction of this relationship was essential to an accurate portrayal of Julia. Then Nora said, “You’re the tallest actress I know,” and asked if I might be interested in playing this small but essential role. The question was presented as if I could possibly be insulted by being asked to play Meryl Streep’s sister in a Nora Ephron movie. To sweeten the pot, she added, “You’ll get a trip to Paris out of it.” (The fact that the scenes I was supposed to shoot in Paris ended up being shot in Hoboken, New Jersey, did not make me regret accepting her offer one bit.)

In May of
2008
, I started shooting
Julie & Julia.
Nora had written a screenplay based on two memoirs—one by Julie Powell and one written by Julia Child and her nephew Alex Prud’homme—and would be directing. The story intertwined two stories: that of Julia Child’s journey to writing and publishing her cookbook
Mastering the Art of French Cooking
and that of Julie Powell (played by Amy Adams) in her attempt, decades later, to whip up the tome’s
524
recipes in
365
days. By the time I arrived in New York City to begin work on the movie, the story of Powell’s time in Queens in the early
2000
s was in the can, and the filming of Julia Child’s story in Paris during the
1950
s was commencing.

I was excited and nervous. I would be working with the upper echelon of New York’s dramatic art world, including the woman everyone, including me, calls the “best actress alive.” I checked into the Empire Hotel near Lincoln Center and immediately had a wardrobe fitting for my authentic
1950
s garb with Ann Roth, the Oscar-winning designer. She, like almost everyone I would meet henceforth on this project, was brusque and to the point. Not exactly cold, but definitely of New York. The LA small talk and superficial yet comforting intimacy were nowhere to be found, and I had to be a big girl and soothe myself.

I went to the set on my second day because Nora wanted me to see Meryl Streep at work and look at some dailies so I could tailor my performance to hers. The sister relationship depicted in the film was very important to Nora; she was very close to her own three sisters and wanted to do justice to Julia and Dorothy’s bond.

When I arrived on the set at Silvercup Studios, they were shooting the scene in which Julia’s husband, Paul Child (Stanley Tucci), is forced to leave the apartment because he is overwhelmed by the fumes caused by his wife’s chopping of dozens of onions. Meryl’s embodiment of Julia Child was uncanny and uncompromising. The voice was dead-on, and the open heart and charm of Julia Child were alive again in her performance. I had expected nothing less of Meryl and was hoping that the strong choices I had made for the vocal and physical aspects of Dorothy would ring as true. But I had no way to know until I started shooting; I would either be fabulous or ridiculously over-the-top. I knew that staying rooted in the exuberance of Dorothy McWilliams, in spite of my fears, would be key.

Julia and Dorothy were said to be peas in a pod when it came to their lively, eccentric natures. Six foot two and six foot four inches, respectively, they would have been very tall women by today’s standards. In
1950
s Paris, they would have been enormous. One can only imagine how the reserved and relatively petite Parisians would have responded to such huge, foreign, emotive women. Julia was said to have won them over with her charm, genuine curiosity, and love of Parisian culture.

Nora introduced me to Meryl Streep and Stanley Tucci in between camera setups. Though a quick meeting, they were both lovely and polite. Meryl was wearing specially made platform shoes to make her tower over Stanley, but even with the special shoes, I was still much taller than her. We had a laugh about how I’d probably have to shoot barefoot in our scenes to get our heights right. Just as when I had first sat down with Nora, I struggled internally to convince myself that I belonged in this company. In any other cohort, on any other set, I’m pretty confident of my abilities and my value to a project. But this time, I was nervous. The caliber of the group had me reeling a bit, yet it also invigorated me. I relished the challenge ahead.

I was indeed barefoot when I shot my first scene as Dorothy to Meryl Streep’s Julia. It was the scene in which we were helping each other get ready for the big party Julia was throwing to introduce Dorothy to her Paris friends. We primped a bit in front of a full-length mirror and then stepped back, scrutinizing our reflections until Julia declared, “Good enough,” and the sisters laughed. We would reshoot this scene later on, with me in a different dress and the moment more quiet, with less chatting. Nora wanted to get this scene just right; it was important to her that the audience understand the deep affection these sisters had and the comfort they gave each other, as well as their shared sense of humor. Having my own Julie for a sister with whom I shared a family sense of humor, I had something to draw on.

My first speaking scene was shot in a Brooklyn restaurant posing as the Parisian café where Dorothy has her first delicious taste of Brie cheese. After the first take, in which I was able to successfully transform my own nervous energy into Dorothy’s exuberance for the Brie, Nora leaned over to me, pleased as punch, and whispered, “I’m just delighted with what you’re doing, Jane!” I was relieved and thrilled.

It’s difficult not to use clichés when talking about Meryl Streep’s talent. I had been absolutely captivated by the depth, passion, and masterful restraint of her work back in the early part of her career, and I continue to watch with delight as she writes her own script for her post-middle-age life and work. Sitting close to her, I had to try not to stare; her features are so arrestingly beautiful, and in spite of myself, I could not take my eyes off her. Her presence, even while sitting and waiting, is alive and bright. That’s genuine star quality. I understood what Mike Nichols meant when he famously said in a
Vanity Fair
article that she looked like someone who “just swallowed a lightbulb.”

It’s also very interesting (and very odd) to meet someone in one moment and then in the next launch into portraying an intimate relationship with her, one where the two characters adore each other and are free with their physical affection. In each of the few scenes I had with Meryl, this is what we did. As we shot, we were sisters, but I did not really know Meryl, and in between takes she was rather reserved. I didn’t take this personally, but instead saw it as her shielding herself so she could focus on the job at hand and not be distracted. I respected what I perceived as her need for space, and kept my raves about
Sophie’s Choice
and all the stupid small talk that ran through my head to myself.

Then one day, after we had finished shooting a scene and were headed back to our trailers, we were waiting for the traffic light to change so we could cross the street. As we started to move forward, Meryl took a half step closer to me and slipped her arm in mine, and we crossed the street together, arm in arm. I smiled inside and out and was so glad I hadn’t pushed myself on her and instead had allowed her to come to me. I also wished that someone had a camera.

At the Los Angeles premiere of
Julie & Julia
in July of
2009
, my mother, my sister, Julie, and my nineteen-year-old niece (and aspiring actress) Ellen came out from La Grange, Illinois, to be my dates. While I was on the red carpet doing an interview with
Access Hollywood
, I heard a loud cheer go up from the fans behind the barricades. Meryl Streep had arrived. In the time it took me to look her way, my late-to-the-punchline, slow-synapse-firing eighty-one-year-old mother made a beeline straight toward her, moving faster than I had ever seen her move in my life. She grabbed both hands of a shocked Meryl Streep and croaked loudly, “I’m Jane Lynch’s mother!” By the time I got there to peel my mom away, Meryl was graciously complimenting her on “having such a lovely daughter.” The photographers started snapping pictures of Meryl and me together, and if you look closely you can see my mother, star-struck and agape, in the background. You can also see her mad dash to Meryl online, right behind me as I’m giving an interview to
Access Hollywood
.

Mom (top left), Meryl Streep, and me.

Photo courtesy of Reuters/Fred Prouser/Landov

When I returned from New York in the spring
of
2008
after shooting
Julie & Julia
,
Gabrielle sent me the script for a TV pilot audition. It was a sitcom about a man who was recently sober and trying to adapt to his new life. I was going to read for the woman who was his AA sponsor. I didn’t laugh once reading the script and barely finished it, so I passed on auditioning. When they came and asked that we just meet, no audition, I thought,
Well, that’s flattering!
I went to the meeting, and they were all very nice and, most important, seemed to really want me, so I quickly accepted the role when they offered it. I signed on, and my agreement meant that if this project was green-lighted, I was obligated to be in it for up to five seasons.

On the drive home from the meeting, trying to rationalize what I’d just impulsively done, I reasoned thus: although I wasn’t thrilled with the show, I didn’t hate it. There were good people behind it. If it was picked up, I would have the steady employment I was looking for. At the very least, it was a good paycheck. And did I mention they really wanted me? I had made snap decisions based on less (see
Lovespring International
) and nothing horrible had happened.