Welcome back to the Deep Dive, where we crack
open your sources, turn them over, shake them
out, and hand you the synthesized knowledge you
need. Today we are undertaking a deep dive into
an artist whose career, well, it almost defies
simple categorization. It really thrives on contradiction.
The American acting titan, Glenn Close. It's
definitely an essential deep dive if you're interested
in the anatomy of a truly relentless career.
I mean, five decades long. And when we look at
the source material, the biography, the filmography,
all the awards, and maybe more importantly, the
near misses you see an actress whose work holds
records for both, well, monumental success and
maybe surprisingly institutional rejection sometimes.
That contradiction of success is really the absolute
core of our mission today, isn't it? If you just
look at the trophies, you know, the ones on our
shelf, you see a winner by pretty much any metric.
three Primetime Emmy Awards, three Tony Awards,
three Golden Globe Awards. She's essentially
achieved the acting triple crown on stage and
screen multiple times over. It's incredible.
It really is. And yet, if we pivot to the Academy
Awards, that's where you find the defining tension,
the thing people always talk about with her public
narrative. Glenn Close holds a truly staggering
eight acting nominations, four for leading actress,
four for supporting actress without a single
win. She currently shares the, let's call it
an unwanted record for most unsuccessful acting
nominations with the legendary Peter Atul. This
paradox, this relentless artistic striving without
that final. universally coveted validation, it's
something we really need to understand. Yeah,
absolutely. So our mission is to excavate the
source of that drive, that intensity. We want
to go beyond just the iconic roles like Alex
Forrest or Carola DeVille, amazing as they are.
We need to understand the foundational experiences
that fueled her from a privileged, yes, but deeply
complicated childhood marked by a controversial
religious movement she later called a cult. to
her legacy as this versatile, intensely immersive
performer who really pioneered the shift of high
caliber film talent to cable television and became
such a crucial voice for mental health advocacy.
It's a fascinating journey, really. It links
restriction with explosion almost, where personal
trauma seems to have been transmuted into professional
power. We'll trace the path from like Greenwich
society to the influence of a Congolese dictator,
the restrictive world of the moral rearmament,
and finally to her current status as one of time's
100 most influential people. Let's unpack this
foundational drive first. Okay, so we absolutely
have to start with her upbringing because it's
immediately clear that the person we see on screen,
with that immense gravity and intensity, she
was shaped by circumstances far removed from
the, let's say, typical Hollywood path. She was
born Glenda Veronica Close in 1947 in Greenwich,
Connecticut. Pretty affluent background. But
that wealth apparently carried a peculiar kind
of baggage for her. It did, yeah. What's immediately
telling about her character, I think, is her
active decision early on to downplay Right. And
her family life itself was anything but conventional,
even for upper -class standards at the time.
Her father... Dr. William Talley Farrow Close
was a renowned surgeon who spent years operating
a clinic in, where was it, the Belgian Congo.
That's right, what was then the Belgian Congo.
But the truly striking detail, the one that always
jumps out, is his connection to power there.
Dr. Close wasn't just, you know, practicing medicine.
He became the personal physician to the notorious
Congolese dictator Mobutu Sese Seko. Yeah, think
about that contrast. She's a child of privilege,
sure, but she's raised in this incredibly politicized,
globally focused environment, steeped in the
realities of post -colonial Africa, proximity
to profound power, both good and, well, bad.
That kind of experience gives you a worldview
that is anything but sheltered. Definitely not
sheltered. And while they were in Congo, the
Close family adopted a brother, Tambu Musoki.
So the family unit itself was already highly
unusual, dynamic, spanning cultures and political
spheres. But the most profound influence on her
formative years, the thing that really seemed
to have determined her personality and maybe
her professional drive, was internal. It was
this faith -based movement. The moral rearmament
or MRA. Yeah, this is huge. For 15 years, starting
when she was only seven years old, her parents
committed the entire family to this movement.
And she has unequivocally in later years described
it as a cult. This seems to be the foundational
trauma that you see echoes of, or maybe the energy
from, transmuted into her art later. I think
we need to linger on the details of that MRA
experience for just a moment because just saying
cult maybe doesn't capture the sheer extent of
the control involved. How pervasive was it in
her daily life? Oh, it was absolute. The material
details that the MRA demanded, complete, literal
commitment, it dictated every single aspect of
her existence, what she could wear, what she's
allowed to say, how she had to think about her
future, everything. The family lived in these
communal centers where the movement prioritized
group goals way above individual identity or
expression. So just imagine being a young, obviously
creative mind trapped in an environment where
genuine self -expression wasn't just discouraged,
it was actively forbidden. That is intensely
restrictive, especially during those crucial
developmental years from age 7 all the way to
22. It makes complete sense, when you put it
that way, that she would later gravitate towards
roles that are just. Volcanic, unpredictable,
demanding total emotional immersion. The act
of performing must have felt like a defiant act.
A reclaiming of self. That's the crucial insight,
I think. Her desire to act, her absolute need
for performance, it seems it became her survival
mechanism. She finally broke away from the MRA
at age 22, and she explicitly credited her lifelong
ambition to be an actress with giving her the
internal strength, the sort of permission she
needed to walk away and, in her words, save herself.
She spoke later about the terrible effects on
their kids, even while, interestingly, forgiving
her parents for their commitment to the cause
itself. It really sets up the narrative for her
entire career, doesn't it? That quest for emotional
freedom through intensity. Art became the antidote
to constraint. Exactly. And once she broke free,
she attacked her education with that same almost
ferocious intensity. She'd already traveled globally
with a nonprofit singing group up with people
in the mid to late 60s. She even founded a small
offshoot called the Green Glen Singers. But then
she pivoted sharply to academic rigor at the
College of William and Mary. Right, where she
double majored in theater and anthropology. And
she didn't just attend, she excelled, earned
election to the Honor Society Phi Beta Kappa.
The drive wasn't purely creative. It was intellectual,
too. And the serious professional focus really
gelled, apparently, during her senior year after
watching an interview with the legendary Katharine
Hepburn on The Dick Cavett Show. That was the
moment of crystallization for her when she realized
the potential and the seriousness of acting as
a craft. She trained under Howard Scammon there,
immersing herself completely in the theatrical
groundwork. And here's a really beautiful detail
showing that long -term loyalty. Despite all
her later Hollywood fame, she's kept incredibly
strong ties to William & Mary. She goes back
regularly to lecture, and just in 2023, she served
as the Grand Marshal for Homecoming. And even
more importantly, the main stage of the renovated
Phi Beta Kappa Memorial Hall was named the Glenn
Close Theater in her honor. That initial training
ground literally became her landmark. It really
demonstrates that the foundation, the hard work,
the academic pursuit of the craft, that's where
her heart truly lies, perhaps even more than
the, you know, the glitz of Hollywood. And that
foundation would serve her incredibly well when
her career finally exploded. Okay, so having
established that intense foundation, her professional
journey begins relatively late for a major screen
star. She was 27 in 1974. And she didn't jump
straight into movies. She started where she was
trained to stage. Correct. She made her professional
stage and Broadway debut that year in Love for
Love. The 1970s were really spent honing her
craft, doing works like the short -lived musical
Rex in 76, just accumulating the discipline and
versatility of a working stage actor. But the
performance that truly got Hollywood's attention
came right at the turn of the decade. That was
playing Cherry in the musical Barnum. Right.
From 1980 to 81. That earned her her first Tony
nomination. Exactly. That's where the world really
started to see her potential. And it was director
George Roy Hill who discovered her on Broadway
there and offer her an audition that led to her
first ever film role. And that first film role
wasn't some small part, was it? It was a starring
role that immediately catapulted her into like
the highest echelon of Hollywood recognition.
Playing Jenny Fields, the feminist nurturing
mother of Robin Williams' character in The World,
according to GARP, 1982. And the casting itself
tells you so much about her immediate gravitas.
She was only four years older than Robin Williams,
but completely believable as his mother. That
performance, rooted in kindness and this quiet
strength, earned her the first of her eight total
Oscar nominations. This one for Supporting Actress.
Wow. An incredible debut. But what's even more
shocking, maybe, is the streak that immediately
followed. It shows a pace and versatility that
few actors achieve over an entire lifetime, let
alone in their first three years of film work.
Totally. Her immediate follow up was The Big
Chill in 1983, where she played Sarah Cooper.
And that was a role Lawrence Kasdan specifically
wrote for her. That earned her a second consecutive
Oscar nomination, again, for supporting actress.
But the really impressive recognition came after
The Big Chill wrapped. What was that? She became
only the third actor in history. I mean, the
list is longer now, but it was incredibly exclusive
back then to receive a Tony, an Emmy and an Oscar
nomination all in the same calendar year. Yeah.
All three in one year. All three. That is just
a breathtaking feat of cross -platform dominance.
It confirmed that her intensity, her skill, it
translated perfectly across every medium. And
the streak just kept going. She earned a third
consecutive supporting actress nomination for
a relatively small but deeply memorable role
in Robert Redford's baseball drama The Natural
in 1984. How do you even explain that, that rapid
back -to -back -to -back success, especially
for roles that were often supporting? speaks
to her meticulous approach to the craft, even
in smaller parts. She has this fantastic anecdote
about the natural that shows she understood cinema,
not just acting, right from the start. She actually
credits that nomination largely to the cinematographer
Caleb Deschanel. She said the nomination was
really earned by the lighting and the lens work.
Really? How so? That's fascinating. Yeah, she
explained that the iconic moment, you know, the
one where she's watching Robert Redford's character
from the stands. It was meticulously planned.
Her hat was specifically designed so the sunlight
would filter through it. They waited for the
perfect time of day with the sun shining through
the back of the stadium. And Deschanel used a
specific lens that deliberately muted the people
around her, making sure she stood out as the
absolute focal point. She summarized it like,
it was an incredibly well thought out shot. And
I honestly think that's the reason I got nominated.
That demonstrates such an awareness of the visual
architecture of cinema. It elevates her beyond
just being a stage actor who happened to cross
over. She got it. That's incredible insight.
And beyond the screen nominations, 1984 also
mucked a crucial win for her. She took home her
first Tony Award for the play The Real Thing,
directed by the great Mike Nichols. So she was
validating her career success on the stage while
simultaneously setting nomination records in
Hollywood. Busy year. Extremely busy. And if
we connect this back to her drive, this accumulation
of accolades for playing these fundamentally
kind, nurturing, sympathetic women, Jenny Fields
in Garp, Sarah Cooper in The Big Chillwell, it
was starting to feel like a trap to her. She
realized she was at risk of being typecast as
the perpetually supportive wife or mother figure.
Our sources indicate this is the exact moment
she actively began seeking roles that were different.
Roles that were darker, more complex, sometimes
outright villainous, specifically to avoid getting
stuck in that comfortable box. And thank goodness
she did, because that intentional pivot led directly
to the era that would define her global stardom.
Yeah, the shift didn't happen overnight, though,
and it required some real professional grit on
her part. She first took a step in this new direction
with the legal thriller Jagged Edge in 1985.
She actually replaced Jane Fonda in that role.
And she had to overcome some... Pretty stunning
resistance from the production side, didn't she?
I read the producer, Martin Ransohoff, was famously
resistant to casting her. He reportedly called
her too ugly for the part. That's the story,
yeah. Horrendous. But it's a powerful moment
in her early film career, how she handled it.
Close used her burgeoning industry clout. She
refused to allow that producer on set during
her scenes, insisted on the necessary creative
space. And the director, Richard Marquand, stood
firm behind her. The studio ultimately realized
the power of her performance and backed her up.
That refusal to yield to superficial judgment.
It feels like the same tenacity that let her
walk away from the MRA years earlier. She just
wasn't going to be told who she was allowed to
be. Absolutely. And that grit, that standing
her ground, it paved the way for the role that
would permanently etch her image into cinematic
history. alex forrest in the psychological thriller
fatal attraction 1987. fatal attraction i mean
it wasn't just a hit it was a massive cultural
nerve strike it became the highest grossing film
worldwide that year it generated immense public
discussion about fidelity revenge obsession everything
this film launched close into the absolute stratosphere
of international stardom And her portrayal of
Alex Forrest is just one of the all -time great
villain performances. It was so potent, so pervasive,
that the phrase bunny boiler, derived from that
particularly disturbing scene, it was actually
added to the dictionary as a descriptor for a
vengeful or psychotic woman. That's cultural
impact right there. That's huge impact. And the
sheer depth of preparation she brought to the
role is remarkable, especially considering her
background. She later said she did more prep
for Fatal Attraction than any prior role because
it was the first time she was truly allowed to
embody something that contradicted her previously
perceived screen persona. The intensity required
was absolute. And here's where the high stakes
drama of the performance literally connected
to her personal life in a pretty shocking way.
The original ending of the film was reshot, right?
And during one of the takes where Alex Forrest
is struggling violently, Close actually suffered
a concussion from smashing her head against a
mirror. That's right. And when she was rushed
to the hospital for treatment, they discovered
she was a few weeks pregnant with her daughter,
Annie Stark. Wow. Talk about life imitating art.
or maybe art impacting life. It's a truly visceral
anecdote. It links the emotional violence required
for the role with the very beginning of her life
as a mother. That deeply committed, almost physically
sacrificial performance earned her her fourth
Oscar nomination and significantly her first
in the leading actress category. It confirmed
the audience and the industry were absolutely
willing to follow her to the dark side. And she
didn't slow down at all. The very next year,
1988, she returned to high class villainy as
the supremely intelligent and scheming aristocrat,
the Marquise de Merteuil in Dangerous Liaisons.
Yes. And this performance was a masterclass in
controlled intellectual malice, a completely
different year from the explosive rage of Alex
Forrest. She garnered stellar reviews, earned
her fifth Oscar nomination and her first BAFTA
nomination, too. She had successfully transitioned
from playing the good woman to mastering the
magnificent antagonist. Speaking of magnificent
antagonists, she fully embraced the camp high
-fashion menace of Cruella de Vil in the live
-action 101 Dalmatians in 96 and then the sequel
in 2000. This was pure blockbuster stardom. Proving
her intensity could also be fun and flamboyant.
Totally. And that role earned her a Golden Globe
nomination for Best Actress in a Comedy or Musical.
And here's one of my favorite details about her
dedication to the artistic process and its preservation.
She has this unique contract clause. It allowed
her to keep all of her costumes from her films.
All of them. And not copies either, right? The
sources say when producers suggested using copies
for Cruella because the materials were so expensive
and elaborate, she rejected the idea. She insisted
on keeping the originals. That's right, originals
only. And this wasn't just about personal hoarding.
In 2017, she donated that entire vast collection.
It's like a veritable archive of her career expressed
through fabric and design to Indiana University
Bloomington. It just speaks volumes about her
profound respect for costuming as an integral
part of the character, a memory keeper for the
performance itself. That's amazing. And while
her film work was soaring, she maintained her
undeniable dominance on the stage. In 1995, she
took on the role that many consider her crowning
theatrical achievement. Norma Desmond in Andrew
Lloyd Webber's Sunset Boulevard. Oh, absolutely.
She won her third Tony Award for that performance,
Best Actress in a Musical. And the critical reaction
was just unanimous praise. David Richards of
The New York Times called it one of those legendary
performances people will be talking about years
from now. It cemented her not just as a film
star, but as a living legend of the stage, period.
And she proved the enduring nature of that legend
by reprising the role decades later. first on
the West End in 2016 and then back on Broadway
in 2017. That return run was apparently spectacular,
featuring a full 40 -piece orchestra, which was
the largest orchestra in Broadway history at
the time. That return was such a profound artistic
statement. It demonstrated that she could still
command the largest theatrical platform available,
blending that intensity of her film stardom with
the discipline of her theatrical roots decades
later. And she continued to balance this gravity
with mainstream success, too. Famously playing
the trustworthy vice president in Air Force One
in 1997. That's another fascinating casting story,
isn't it? Harrison Ford personally chose Close
for the role, which was originally written for
a man. They met at a birthday party for President
Bill Clinton, apparently. That level of personal
recommendation from a star like Ford, it just
speaks volumes about the respect she commanded
across the entire industry. OK, so as we move
into the 2000s. Close makes a pivot that, looking
back now, was truly industry defining. At a time
when major film stars rarely, if ever, kind of
downgraded to the small screen, she moved deliberately
to cable television. Yeah, this move was genuinely
seismic at the time. In 2005, she joined the
FX crime series The Shield as Captain Monica
Rowling. It sounds almost commonplace now, but
we have to understand the timing. This was before
streaming giants dominated everything, before
the phrase peak TV was even a thing, film actors
going to cable, especially of her stature. It
was a rare and significant statement. Right.
So what was the significance of her presence
on The Shield specifically? Why was it such a
watershed moment? Well, the CEO of FX, John Landgraf,
actually provided the clearest answer later on.
He publicly stated that Close's presence was
pivotal. He credited FX with being the first
to bring a female movie star of Glenn Close's
stature to television. Her move immediately signaled
that complex, high -quality drama was migrating
to cable. It helped promote better roles for
women in the process, and it definitely encouraged
other film actors to follow suit. She essentially
gave commission, in a way, for the entire golden
era of cable and prestige television to really
take over. Wow. So she wasn't just a participant.
She was a pioneer who actively elevated the entire
medium's reputation. But her most famous and
probably defining TV role came next. The ruthless,
brilliant, morally ambiguous lawyer. Patty Hughes.
On Damages, which ran from 2007 to 2012, Close
herself called this the role of her life. And
she just captured the icy calculation of Hughes
perfectly, balancing vulnerability with the sheer
terrifying strategic brilliance. This role earned
her back -to -back Emmy Awards for Outstanding
Lead Actress in a Drama Series, proving her dominance
in this new medium, too. And her market value
reflected that dominance. She became one of the
highest paid actresses on cable at the time,
reportedly earning something like $200 ,000 per
episode. That's the figure, yeah. $200 ,000 an
episode. She proved that the quality and complexity
of her work commanded top dollar, regardless
of whether it's on the big screen or the small
screen. But despite this massive television success,
her passion for challenging big screen projects
clearly never waned. The ultimate example of
her resilience and commitment as a producer slash
star has to be Albert Knobs, right? From 2011.
Oh, absolutely. Albert Nobbs. This wasn't just
another film role for her. This was a personal
crusade, something she nurtured for two decades.
20 years. She co -wrote it, she produced it,
and she starred in it, playing a woman in 19th
century Ireland who lives and works as a man.
That level of dedication, two decades of effort
to get a story told? It's truly extraordinary.
It really speaks directly to her artistic purpose,
doesn't it? She stated that the film was deeply
important to her to stimulate discussion on transgender
issues. And this was long before these discussions
were as mainstream as they are now. And the performance
itself was lauded precisely for its subtlety,
its introversion, such a stark contrast to the
explosive nature of an Alex Forrest or a Cruella.
It really demonstrated her immense range yet
again. And this passion project resulted in her
sixth Oscar nomination, this time for Best Actress.
Which brings us right back to that central tension
of her career. During the awards campaign for
Albert Nobbs, she was inevitably asked about
her lack of an Oscar win. And her response is
really illuminating about her whole philosophy.
What did she say? She said she was astounded
that people fixated on the winning part. She
framed the nomination itself as the victory.
She said, basically, if you just do the simple
math. the amount of movies made every year, and
then you're one of five nominees, how could you
possibly think of yourself as a loser? For her,
the validation is clearly in the work itself
and the recognition of that work by her peers,
not necessarily the final ballot result. That's
a powerful perspective. That internal philosophy
must have been tested again with the massive
critical success of The Wife in 2018. Oh, for
sure. The Wife brought her just widespread critical
acclaim for her incredibly nuanced portrayal
of Joan Castleman, a woman forced to reckon with
decades spent supporting her famous Nobel Prize
winning husband. This was another subtle, deeply
felt performance, one that really seemed destined
finally to break that Oscar drought. Everyone
thought this was it. This role earned her her
seventh Academy Award nomination. And we see
that generational artistic connection again.
Her own daughter, Annie Stark, played the younger
version of her character, Joan, which must have
added a beautiful parallel between their lives
and the art. But of course, despite being the
critical frontrunner, she lost again to Olivia
Colman for the favorite. Seven nominations, no
wins. But if you want the single most perfect
symbol of her career contradictions, the ability
to be both lauded and criticized for the exact
same choice, you absolutely have to look at her
eighth nomination in 2020. Ah, Hillbilly Elegy,
where she played Mama, the matriarch, a role
that demanded extreme character transformation
and that raw, high -intensity acting she's known
for. Right. That performance received her eighth
career Academy Award nomination for Supporting
Actress. And this is the wild part. She simultaneously
received a Razzie Award nomination for Worst
Supporting Actress for the Exact Same Role. Wait,
really? An Oscar nom and a Razzie nom for the
same performance? For the exact same performance,
making her only the third performer in history
to achieve that bizarre, polarizing dual recognition,
the highest praise and the lowest scorn, literally,
for the same work. What does that even tell us
about her late career choices? I think it tells
us she remains a profound, utterly fearless risk
taker. Her job, as she sees it, is to inhabit
the character fully, often leaning into the kind
of dramatic intensity that naturally divides
critics. The fact that the same role can be seen
as brilliant by one voting body and, well, awful
by another just shows she's prioritizing the
complexity of the character over playing it safe
or aiming for consensus. She refuses to just
fade into polite, non -controversial roles. That
persistence. Definitely continues into her current
work. Yeah. Hasn't retreated to easy paychecks
at all. For season two of the Apple TV plus thriller
Tehran, she took on a pretty formidable challenge.
She actually learned to speak Persian for the
role. Farsi. Yeah. That is the ultimate sign
of her immersive dedication, isn't it? She's
an actress with five decades of experience, and
she's still dedicating herself to mastering an
entirely new language for a cable television
role. And her upcoming projects reflect this
variety and commitment, too. Starring in the
WWII drama The New Look, joining the super high
-profile third Knives Out sequel, Wake Up Deadman.
And we saw the intensity of her professional
life recently collide with her health, unfortunately.
She had to delay production on the Knives Out
sequel after contracting both COVID -19 and RSV
simultaneously. Yet she's still scheduled for
the film adaptation of The Hunger Games, Sunrise
on the Reaping. Her commitment to performance
seems absolutely unflagging. So now that we've
traced the trajectory of her career, let's try
to maybe nail down the Glenn Close signature.
She is consistently described as extraordinarily
versatile with an immersive style. What defines
that approach for her? Is it like method acting
or something more personal? Well, while she's
obviously academically trained and does extensive
research, she's actually cautious about relying
purely on technicality. She argues that good
acting is fundamentally like being a magician.
She said her aim is to make people believe. because
it's only when they believe that they are moved.
She feels if she leans too heavily on the technical
process, the audience might be left cold, intellectually
understanding, but not emotionally connected.
Her ultimate goal is emotional transport for
the viewer. And yet, Christopher Hampton. who
worked with her on both Dangerous Liaisons and
Sunset Boulevard, praised her ability to convey
this immense sense of strength and intelligence
in her roles. Even when she's playing someone
vulnerable, you feel that profound internal control
underneath. That control is absolutely crucial
because it makes the eventual breakdown or the
eventual malice so much more terrifying when
it comes. She has achieved legendary status largely
by turning toward the dark side. by mastering
the antagonist. Her Alex Forrest is ranked number
seven on the AFI's 100 Heroes and Villains list.
And there is that stunning observation from the
New York Times which captured the essence of
her screen power perfectly. Which one was that?
Oh, yeah. There is no actor dead or alive as
scary as a smiling Glenn Close. Exactly. That
quote just encapsulates the tension, the perceived
warmth or control that hides the profound, often
carefully managed violence or intensity beneath.
She owns the antagonist space like almost no
one else, precisely because she projects intelligence
and sometimes vulnerability first, making the
turn to villainy feel earned and terrifyingly
realistic. OK, moving beyond performance for
a moment. Her legacy is also fundamentally defined
by her fierce activism. especially in mental
health advocacy. This connects right back, doesn't
it, to the profound need she maybe had. coming
out of the MRA to control her own narrative and
champion others who are often stigmatized. This
is perhaps her most significant work offstage,
arguably. She is the founder and chairperson
of Bring Change to Mind, a major national campaign
dedicated to eradicating the stigma and discrimination
surrounding mental illness. And this movement
was deeply personal for her, inspired directly
by her younger sister, Jessie, who lives with
bipolar disorder, and also her nephew, who lives
with schizoaffective disorder. And she didn't
just, you know, donate money. or lend her name,
which some celebrities do, she became the public
face of the issue, even sharing highly personal
details to drive awareness. In 2010, she had
her own DNA sequenced publicly. Yes. To raise
awareness about her family's history of mental
illness, that demonstrated immense courage and
vulnerability, putting her own family's struggles
out there. And her advocacy efforts resulted
in massive, tangible legislative change. That's
the really impressive part. In 2013, she addressed
the White House and successfully lobbied for
the passage of the Excellence in Mental Health
Act. That's right. And this bill was eventually
signed into law by President Obama in 2014. And
it provided a substantial $1 .1 billion in funding
to strengthen the community mental health care
system in the U .S. That achievement really transforms
her status from just a celebrity philanthropist
to a major legislative force. She took the trauma,
perhaps, of her restrictive childhood, that feeling
of being controlled. and silenced and channeled
it into this powerful public platform dedicated
to helping others speak and be heard without
shame. Absolutely. And her political stance aligns
with this focus on rights and personal freedom.
She's a staunch advocate for women's rights and
same -sex marriage, receiving a GL Aid Media
Award back in 2002. Her political donations have
largely supported Democratic politicians like
Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama, and she has
been publicly critical of political figures who
she feels undermine those values. Just to round
out the picture a little, A few final personal
quirks. She's the president of her own production
company, Trillium Productions. She also indulged
her love for dogs by co -founding Fetch Dog,
a dog accessories catalog and website. Yeah,
Fetch Dog, which she eventually sold in 2012.
And she is a passionate, lifelong New York Mets
fan. Apparently, she sung the national anthem
at Shea Stadium in Citi Field numerous times
since way back in 1986. That sense of commitment
and loyalty just seems to define her relationships,
whether it's to a baseball team or her alma mater.
And finally, partly due to her campy, intense,
and often wonderfully over -the -top antagonist
roles on both stage and screen. Think Cruella.
Think Norma Desmond. She's also widely recognized.
as a gay icon, proving that embracing her full
intensity led to cultural acceptance and influence
far beyond traditional industry metrics. Which
Time magazine affirmed, really, by naming her
one of the 100 most influential people in the
world back in 2019. Hashtag tag outro. So as
we close this deep dive, what does Glenn Close's
remarkable and, yes, paradoxical career, when
you view it in its totality, what does it ultimately
teach us, do you think? Well, I think it shows
us that extreme artistic expression is often
forged in personal struggle. We trace that explosion
of professional intensity, that absolute drive
to conquer every medium, directly back to the
stifling, controlled environment of the MRA cult
she endured. And her subsequent conscious decision
to pivot away from safe roles into iconic villainy
fundamentally redefines cinematic antagonism
for a whole generation. And we really can't ignore
the tension created by the Oscars, can we? She's
achieved the Triple Crown nomination. She has
the Tonys, the Emmys, the Golden Globes. And
yet she still holds that unwanted record. But
because of her perspective that the work is the
reward, that paradox doesn't seem to define failure
for her. It defines persistence. That quote really
is the key, isn't it? How could you possibly
think of yourself as a loser? Exactly. And when
we examine her late career dedication, spending
two decades to bring Albert Knopf's to the screen
just to stimulate conversation, teaching herself
Persian for a supporting role in a TV thriller,
it demonstrates that for an actor of her stature,
the pursuit of complex artistic truth in the
performance itself profoundly outweighs the public
external validation of an award. The process
really is the victory for her. So the final provocative
thought we want to leave you with today is this.
What is Glenn Close's persistent and decades
-long push for roles that challenge audiences,
roles that stimulate discussion, even as she
continues to accumulate nominations without wins
for those same roles? What does that tell us
about the true definition of a successful artistic
life? Is success measured solely by the... gold
statue on the mantelpiece? Or is it measured
by the unflagging intensity required simply to
keep seeking and articulating the difficult complex
truths hidden within the material itself? Something
to definitely mull over until our next deep dive.
We'll see you next time.