By virtue of her
acting chops and star power, Jennifer Beals unshakably
anchors the L Word ensemble as lipstick lesbian
dynamo Bette Porter, who aspires to run the world and
never break a sweat. Born in Chicago, her mother Irish
and her father African-American, Beals was 19 years
old when she ripped the neck out of a sweatshirt and
aerobicized herself into film history with
1983's Flashdance. Directed by Adrian
Lyne and cowritten by Joe Eszterhas, this was just one of a
crop of would-be imitators of Saturday Night
Fever. With her model's stature and wounded
eyes, Beals turned it into something else again.
The
"wounded eyes" thing shows up in every story
ever written on Beals, and no wonder. Those liquid
brown eyes are a gift of nature, and Beals--an
agile intellect who majored in American literature at
Yale--deploys them to stunning advantage. In
The L Word, Beals has put The Eyes in the
service of lesbian fans everywhere, using that smoldering
gaze to create some of the most erotic woman-to-woman
love scenes in memory. Even Chaiken can't
explain how Beals works her magic. "I've never
met anybody else," says L Word creator
Ilene Chaiken simply, "who can do it like she
can."
Do people still assume that you have to be a lesbian to
play one on TV?
No, not at all. At least they don't say
that to me. I heard a rumor that somebody--a
studio executive in L.A. who saw some of the
show--assumed I was bisexual. Which was a huge
compliment to me, because oftentimes I will go Leisha
or Kate or Ilene or Rose Troche most often and ask,
"OK, is this the right thing to do? Is this not
the right thing to do? Am I going to seem like a total
chump if I do this?" And so I feel really
proud, actually, that somebody would think that I was
bisexual--I was pleased with myself. And I
don't care, frankly. But I think mostly people
will ask the question to get a titillating lead for their
article. My older brother is a journalist, so I know
how the game works.
Some in the lesbian community have said,
"Everyone's too pretty, too
rich"--all of that. But on this season
there's going to be a more explicit look at
butch and femme roles.
Yeah, I think Ilene's explored that so
far. But, you know, it is TV. I don't know any
group of people in New York who look like the characters
on Friends either. But I take their point. It excites
me that if people don't like something, they
voice their opinion about it. Because this, by and
large, is a group that's never been represented. And
instead of just saying, "Oh, we're so
thrilled to be represented and we'll take
whatever we can get," there are very specific
opinions of how people want to be represented.
Let's talk about season 3. Your character, Bette,
is at a crossroads. The job's gone. Her
father has died. Her relationship with Tina has to be
rekindled. And then there's a new life that
requires more commitment than she's ever
given anybody.
Yes, it's true. It's the
curveballs that come, one after the other. The second
season was definitely the trials of Job in a way, and then
this season has its own trials that aren't as
necessarily evident but are profound nonetheless.
In what direction does Bette most need to grow at this point?
[Sighs] I don't know. It's hard for
me to presume to say how someone needs to grow. Then
I'm standing back and judging her, which is a
tricky thing to do as an actor. I think she needs a really
good attorney at this point. [Anne laughs]
Having seen the first couple of episodes, I can only say
that baby Angelica is a gorgeous, beautiful baby.
Oh, that kid is just--her name is Olivia,
and she's just such a delight. She makes me
laugh so hard, and she's been so patient with all of
us. Oftentimes, working with children can be very
hard. They don't know where they are, they
don't know why they're there, and they
don't enjoy it. But she clearly enjoys being
around.