“Someone asked me recently if they should be an actor, and I said if you have to ask, then the answer is no. The only reason to choose that life is because you feel passionate about it, because you have no other choice. I wanted to be an actress ever since I can remember. But I was very skinny. The only time I liked the way I looked was in the reflection of a hubcap. You remember those old round hubcaps? They made you look fatter! Like a camera, they added 10 pounds. Anyway, nowadays they have very strange hubcaps – have you noticed? You can’t see yourself in them. How are you supposed to check yourself out and stuff? Anyway, in high school (see I can tell how old you all are by the hubcaps) I was a misfit. I was an honor student and yet I had streaked hair, and I wore purple lipstick. And as a way of escaping reality, I hid out a lot at a nearby theater that showed these wonderful movies with subtitles. It was an art house, but at the time I didn’t know what that was. Now I know that those monochromatic frames, those black and white images that I later realized were made by Kurosawa and other great foreign directors would resonate for me many, many years later.
“At the time I was going to two different acting teachers. I didn’t want to miss anything. And what I observed in those classes was that people were much more interesting when they weren’t trying to act, when they were doing nothing but a simple relaxation exercise. Just the tiniest twitch of an eyebrow became fascinating. I guess just being human, ya know? It was the something in the doing nothing, the truth of the moment, that was so powerful to me.
“And now here I am several decades later receiving the Cecil B. DeMille Award. I never worked with Mr. DeMille, but I was fortunate to have another cinematic giant as my first director. William Wyler, whom I adored, was a brilliant, brilliant storyteller [applause for Wyler]. Willie knew the truth when he saw it. And his willingness to listen to...[holding the award at her hip] feels like a baby. Ya know how you hold a baby...his willingness to listen to this neophyte’s ideas made me want to please him even more. One of my prize possessions is a megaphone that Willie gave me at the end of shooting Funny Girl, which still sits on my desk. He wanted to encourage me to direct, at the time, someday. Anyway, when I was preparing to direct my first film, I couldn’t wait to speak to Willie. We planned to meet when I got back from a location scout. But unfortunately Willie passed away before I returned, and we never got to have that talk. But his wife Tallie wrote me a beautiful letter that said, ‘If you’re ever on the set and you don’t know what to do, be very still and you’ll hear Willie whispering in your ear.’ And, believe me, I heard him many times.
“What I love about directing is the learning process: the research, the details, the challenge of how to tell a story. How to serve the actors who have entrusted themselves to you. How to create an atmosphere where the actor is free to bear his soul and reveal his own truth. I’m drawn to subjects that celebrate life and the resilience of the human spirit. I love films that make us care about a little mouse in The Green Mile, that we just saw recently, or Ruben Carter’s unjust prison sentence. The beauty of art is that it can show humanity to itself. I know this has been said many times, but it is a privilege to be able to work at something you feel passionate about. And I’m deeply grateful to the members of the Hollywood Foreign Press Association who’ve been so generous in acknowledging my work from the very beginning of my career. Thank you for your continued support and this most wonderful tribute.
“I’m also very grateful to the many people who’ve shared my passion for the details. Joe Layton, who did my first, my earliest TV specials; Harry Stradling who photographed my first four pictures; Sidney Pollack (I don’t know where you are) who directed The Way We Were, (ah, there you are honey, hi!) [applause]. And so many other wonderful record producers, songwriters: Harold Arlen, Jule Styne, Steven Sondheim, Marilyn and Alan Bergman, Marvin Hamlisch. Screenwriters, costume, and production people, hairdressers, orchestrators. And my husband, Jim, who keeps my passion alive and who doesn’t mind that I’m not so skinny anymore, right?
“My last thought of the evening: awards. In researching some of the songs that I just sang on New Year's Eve, I was surprised to find out that some of our greatest standards never won an Academy Award. As a matter of fact, they were never even nominated. Like A Foggy Day, I’m in the Mood For Love, Someday My Prince Will Come. And there were many movies that were never nominated like The African Queen, Singing In The Rain, 2001, Close Encounters, which we actually just showed Jim’s little daughter last night. I thought to myself, it doesn’t matter really how many awards something received. What matters is: did it stand the test of time? Did it touch people’s lives? Can you remember where you were when you first heard that song or saw that movie. Who were you with? Did you laugh or cry? What was going on in your life at the time? Was it at the end of a love affair or the beginning of a marriage? Does it bring back memories when you hear or see it today? The truth is, when it comes to awards, I’m not certain anyone remembers from year to year who won or didn’t win. They remember the work, not the validation of the work. So, if by next year you‘ve all forgotten that I received this award, I promise you I’ll understand. And I’ll always have this to remind me of this very special honor. Thank you.”
