‘Do it’: Funny girl Julia Louis-Dreyfus on the serious step she took with her mum

This story is part of the July 6 edition of Good Weekend.See all 13 stories.

At some point in almost every performance she gives, Julia Louis-Dreyfus has this look. If you’ve watched Seinfeld, The New Adventures of Old Christine or Veep, you know it – the perfect mix of irritation and defiance. As if she were saying, “Try me”.

Louis-Dreyfus’s performances in those shows – from the eccentrically self-actualised Elaine Benes in Seinfeld to the completely un-self-aware Selina Meyer in Veep – were comedic master classes. But in recent years, she has been moving toward more introspective and ­serious work. Still, that “try me” vibe remains. She hosts a wonderful hit podcast called Wiser Than Me, in which she interviews older, ­famous, often (necessarily) sharp-elbowed women – Billie Jean King, Sally Field, Carol Burnett and Debbie Allen, to name a few – about their lives and careers and the crap they’ve all navigated. Last year, she starred as a frustrated novelist and wife in writer-director Nicole Holofcener’s You Hurt My Feelings, the second collaboration between the two women about the struggles of middle age. In her latest movie, Tuesday, Louis-Dreyfus plays a mother whose teenage daughter has a terminal illness. It’s a surreal, dark fairy tale that she was nervous about taking on. (She’s also got a recurring role in the Marvel Cinematic Universe: She was shooting Thunderbolts when we talked.)

At 63, Louis-Dreyfus says she’s still trying to prove herself (“always”), and that Tuesday is part of that process. “I’m certain nobody would have considered me for that role 20 years ago, and that’s probably because they just thought of me only as a ‘ha-ha’ funny person.” She’s still interested in TV comedy, she told me, but she’s ­loving this stage of her career, and getting to do more. “I just want to try it all,” she says. “It’s good for my brain.”

Louis-Dreyfus as Elaine Benes with Jerry Seinfeld in the TV series Seinfeld.Credit: Alamy Stock Photo

You’re in a new Marvel film at the moment. It must be a very different kind of set to be on. What’s it like?
It’s very well organised. Very methodical. And I don’t mean that in a negative way. Particularly on this film, they’re very much focused on the human story, believe it or not. They’re trying to sort of go back to their roots, as it were. And so there’s a lot of focus on that. They’re trying to stay away from as much CGI [computer-generated imagery] or whatever as possible, so that the stunts are, like, everywhere. And in fact, I had to do a couple.

What stunts have you done?
Well, I’m making this out to sound like I’m flying through the air like Captain America or whatever, but I’m not. It’s just a very, very, very, very brief stunt.

Do you have complicated feelings about what the superhero franchises have done to films in general? Because when you’ve chosen to do films lately, they’ve been smaller, more intimate films, and then you have these massive franchises that have taken over in so many ways. I’m just wondering how you look at that.
I look at it gratefully. Look, there’s no guarantee that just because a movie is in a franchise, it’s going to work. There’s scores of examples of exactly that. And even in the Marvel universe, they’ve had some clunkers. So I’m not sure that the size of a franchise is the problem with the entertainment business. Corporations eating up corporations eating up corporations may be more of the problem, but not the franchise itself, if that makes any sense.

You mean the consolidation in the industry with less competition?
And lots of cooks and lots of people with opinions. And so a new idea or an independent idea or an outside-the-box idea is harder to sell, to make, it seems.

Well, let’s talk about Tuesday, your new film, because that is exactly the opposite. It’s a small film. You play the mother of a terminally ill teenager. But this is also a fantasy film, in that death is portrayed by a talking parrot. Why did you want to do this film?
I was immediately intrigued by it because it was so unusual. And the themes of the film captivated my ­imagination: loss and grief and motherhood and denial and death and dying.

You said that you were interested in exploring these ideas. Can you tell me why?
Well, they’re fundamental. It’s funny how we’re all going to die, and everyone we know is going to die, and yet we do not waste any time really thinking about that. And I probably shouldn’t use the word “waste”, but we don’t think about it a lot. And maybe it’s a good thing, but it is amazing because we all have that in common. And it’s not something you go through life considering a lot. I’ve lost people very close to me in my life. And those losses are hard to reconcile. Still are. I’ve given birth to two children, and I don’t want to be misunderstood, but there’s something about giving birth and the awesomeness of that, and then when my father died and I was with him when he died, there is a similar thing, the waiting. I was struck by how similar that was, in certain ways, to waiting for a baby to come. It has a mystery to it that is undeniable, as does the birth of a person. And, you know, I myself had cancer. The idea of that coming to knock on your door was alarming, which is the understatement of the century. So for all those reasons, I was intrigued by this film.

As mother to her terminally ill daughter – played by Lola Petticrew – in her latest movie, the fantasy drama Tuesday.

Did your brush with cancer give you a different relationship with your own mortality?
I don’t have an arrogant sense of my immortality ­any more, the way you do when you’re 20 – I don’t feel like that any more. I feel a little more present and a little more grateful.

I recently heard an episode of Wiser Than Me in which you interviewed Patti Smith, and you talked about the different ways that you’ve processed the death of people in your own life. Have the conversations you’ve been having on your podcast helped you process the many ways people deal with the hard things in their life?
Yeah, it’s really one of the many impetuses to making this podcast, because all of these women I’m talking to have lived very full, long lives. And that of course means they’ve experienced loss. And I’m interested to talk to them about how they move beyond it or with it or into it. I’m loving those conversations, to hear from these women who have experienced an enormous amount of life.

I find what’s comforting about them, and sometimes a little depressing, is how many of the same themes – sexism, prejudice, self-doubt – they have experienced themselves. What is your takeaway from hearing these women having gone through so many of the things that we’re still going through?
There’s a sense with most of them, not everybody, but there’s a sense of, OK, I’m done with that [expletive]. I don’t know if we can swear.

You can swear.
But anyway, I’m done with that. I’m done with self-doubt. I’m done with shame. I’m done with feeling weird about being ambitious. You know, the list is long. We all know what it is. I think for me, the takeaway is: Oh, we can be done with that sooner than we thought. We don’t have to take 60, 70 [expletive] years to come to that conclusion.

What are you done with?
I’m done with [pause] – I’m working on being done with self-doubt. I’m working on being done with shame. And I’m working really hard on finding joy.

I like the way you paused and really thought about your wording, because you said, “I’m done with”, and then you said, “I’m working on being done with …”
Well, I haven’t accomplished all of this yet! Old habits die hard.

Your mum appears on the podcast. And you’ve talked about going to therapy with her when you were 60 and she was 87. Talk me through why she agreed to this, because I’ve laid my differences with my mum, who’s 85, aside. I figure she’s that age now and she isn’t going to change, but maybe I’m thinking about this wrong.
I went to therapy with my mother because she said something to me. It might have been my dad’s birthday – my dad who had passed, and she was remembering that it was his birthday – and she said: “I’m sure you’re thinking about your dad. And I know there was stuff there that I wish we’d been able to deal with or talk about when you were younger.” Because my parents were divorced. “I wish we’d had a chance to do that.” And I said: “Oh, well, Mom, what’s keeping us? Why don’t we do it?” And so off we went. And it was very, very helpful. It’s not like everything becomes perfect, but that’s not possible under any circumstances. But it was an opportunity to communicate in maybe a more honest way, and in a safe way that was helpful to both of us. And I have no regrets about it. So if you’re ­thinking about it with your mom, and if you think your mother would be into it, I encourage you to do it, ­because you might not have the opportunity in 10 years, and you might think, “Oh, if only.”

In the 1970s with her mum Judith and half-sister Lauren.Credit: @officialjld/Instagram

Did it heal things? Unresolved things? Did you see her differently after that?
Yes.

I know I’m asking you a lot of personal questions.
I assume you’re going to charge me after this.

I am. But it’s because you’ve been very open on your podcast.
I know. Huge mistake.

Do you feel that?
It’s weird. I don’t know. I’ve never done anything like this. It sort of surprises me a little bit. I’m incredibly private – I really am. So it is sort of a strange thing. But I also don’t have any regrets about what I’ve shared on the podcast. It is new territory for me, but it’s also good. I think it engenders a way of thinking about ­communication that might be good. I don’t know.

All right, let’s get out of the heavy stuff. Would you do another long-running TV series, something funny? Are you open to that now?
Yes, I am. Maybe a limited ­series might be a little more ­doable right now, because to get locked into an eight-year run on something might be a little daunting. But people aren’t doing that any more anyway. You know, everything is much shorter-lived, it seems, entertainment wise.

Could Seinfeld be made now?
Probably not. I mean, what the hell is happening in network television any more? When Seinfeld was made, it was really unlike anything that was on at the time. It was just a bunch of losers hanging out. So I would say one main reason it wouldn’t be made now is because it’s hard to get anything different recognised. Particularly nowadays, everyone’s sort of running scared.

Looking at your characters on these long-running series – Selina Meyer on Veep, Elaine on Seinfeld, even Zora, the character in Tuesday – they’re often not very likeable people. Is it fun to play people who act in unsympathetic ways?
It is – it’s so interesting! I like an antihero. And also, nobody’s pure. Everyone makes horrible mistakes and fails. And I think that’s more interesting. Con­flict is more interesting, and it’s funnier.

As Selina Meyer with Gary Cole (Kent Davison) in Veep;Credit: Alamy Stock Photo

Is there an unlikeable part of you that you bring?
Wouldn’t it be funny if, as you said that, horns came up out of my head and my tongue rolled out, and it was, like, a spiked tongue? Um, yes, I am unlikeable.

Not that you’re unlikeable! I think you’re lovely. What I’m saying is, for example, I think that – and I am quite proud of this – I’m a pretty prickly person. So I guess that’s what I’m asking: Is it because you’re too nice in real life that you’re drawn to these characters, or that you’re maybe a difficult person and you are drawn to them because that exemplifies something about yourself?
Well, I don’t think I’m a difficult person. I wonder what other people would say. I am an opinionated person. I have strong opinions and strong instincts. And, um, I think you’re awful, Lulu! [Laughs]

Thank you, Julia!
You’re a prickly [expletive], is what you are. [Laughs] But anyway, I am not like these people I play, but I am interested in some aspect of myself – for example, with Selina Meyer, she was essentially two years old and thought that the world revolved around her and any mistake she made was simply not her own. And that’s a fun ego thing to tap into, to not consider anyone else around you other than yourself. And what does that mean when somebody does that? It means, obviously, they haven’t been well nurtured. That goes without saying. But it’s also an incredibly funny place to start with a character.

You know, talking about Veep, it makes me wonder about political satire, and how hard it is nowadays to be funny about politics. Your former co-star Jerry Seinfeld recently made news for talking about political correctness in comedy. I’m wondering, as a famous comedian yourself, what you think about that.
If you look back on both comedy and drama, let’s say 30 years ago, through the lens of today, you might find bits and pieces that don’t age well. And I think to have an antenna about sensitivities is not a bad thing. It doesn’t mean that all comedy goes out the window as a result. When I hear people starting to complain about political correctness – and I understand why people might push back on it – but to me that’s a red flag, ­because it sometimes means something else. I believe being aware of certain sensitivities is not a bad thing. I don’t know how else to say it.

Are there things that no longer feel funny to you that once did, or things that are funny now that you didn’t notice before?
That’s a good question. We’re going to have to revisit that one, because I don’t quite know how to answer it.

Well, we are going to speak again.
In our next session, doctor, we’ll discuss it then.

On the set of You Hurt My Feelings with director Nicole Holofcener.Credit: Alamy Stock Photo

[Eleven days later, I called Julia back.]
I was wondering if you’ve been thinking about anything from our previous conversation.
I wanted to make sure that I answered this whole idea of political correctness correctly, and I can’t really remember what I said. So I wanted to go back to that and be very clear about where I stand. My feeling about all of it is that political correctness, insofar as it equates to tolerance, is obviously fantastic. And of course I reserve the right to boo anyone who says anything that offends me, while also respecting their right to free speech, right? But the bigger problem – and I think the true threat to art and the creation of art – is the consolidation of money and power. All this siloing of studios and outlets and streamers and distributors – I don’t think it’s good for the creative voice. So that’s what I want to say in terms of the threat to art.

You said last time it wasn’t a bad thing to have sensitivity in comedy. Do you think it makes comedy better, that people are now more attuned to how some of their comments might be received?
I can’t judge if it’s better or not. I just know that the lens through which we create art today – and I’m not going to just specify it to comedy, it’s also drama – it’s a ­different lens. It really is. Even classically wonderful, indisputably great films from the past are riddled with attitudes that today would not be acceptable. So I think it’s just good to be vigilant. I mean, pretend this interview was being done 40 years ago. I would posit that diversity would not be something you would be considering in terms of the guests that you would invite. So that’s interesting, isn’t it? I mean, things have shifted. And in that case, I would say, things have shifted very much for the good. And also, actually, Lulu, probably you wouldn’t be the host.

I think, Julia, you’re probably right.
I think I’m probably right.

So what I was thinking about our previous conversation was a moment where I asked you about “unlikeability”. And I was thinking that I used the wrong word. What I was trying to get at was how I’ve always admired the sharp edges that you bring to your characters. Does that description ring a little bit more true to you?
Yeah. I don’t play good girls. I don’t play girls who ­behave in a way that a good girl should behave. If they do, they do it with bitterness and anxiety. I’ve played a lot of characters who push back on the position that they’re in, who are not content with their place in the world. And that’s real. Women are having their rights taken away. And women are not content, and I play women like that.

So have you had any thoughts about how your sense of humour has changed or not over the years?
Oh. Sorry, I forgot to think about it. [Laughs] I didn’t do my homework. Oh, my god, Lulu, I’m so sorry! Please, please let me pass. I think my working sense of ­humour, that is to say what I bring to my performance, I think that that’s probably gotten better. I’ve been in the presence of so many people from whom, through osmosis and watching them work, I have learned things about physical comedy, about the nuance of comedy, about the smallness of comedy. But there’s always room to learn more, and for me, that is an ­incredibly joyful adventure. So that’s my last-minute, procrastinating answer.

This is an edited version of an article that originally appeared in The New York Times Magazine. © 2024 The New York Times Company

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