Through the looking glass of fame

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Photo courtesy of USC Photo/Gus Ruelas The University of Southern California recently bought a letter at a London auction, penned in 1891 by C.L. Dodgson. The only reason that anyone cares about a really old letter from C.L Dodgson is because he wrote books under a pen name -  Lewis Carroll. It's a three page letter, on sepia-toned paper with perfectly old-timey slanted script. The letter seems to have the sole purpose of explaining to his friend, Mrs. Symonds, why Carroll hates being famous. He says:

“All of that sort of publicity leads to strangers hearing of my real name in connection with the books, and to my being pointed out to, and stared at by, strangers, and being treated as a ‘lion.’ And I hate all of that so intensely that sometimes I almost wish I had never written any books at all."

It's fairly shocking to learn that Lewis Carroll was so appalled by fame that he had some regrets about writing Alice in Wonderland. (It's also surprising to learn that he was such a fan of underlining.) But clearly, he really didn't like that whole celebrity thing.

What did it even mean to be famous in 1891? What was it like to be a celebrity in the days before TMZ and paparazzi and Twitter fights? Were people hiding in the bushes at Thomas Edison's house? Did W.E.B. Du Bois get hounded for autographs while getting his mustache groomed at the barber shop? Could it really have been all that bad?

Yes, clearly for Carroll it could, because some people are just not cut out to be famous.

I am also one of those people. Now, let me state this clearly, before anonymous internet commenters beat me to it: I am not claiming any major type of fame here. I had a taste of that celebrity lifestyle when I acted in movies that did well at the box office. I had that mobbed-in-malls, autograph requesting, red-carpet walking lifestyle for a few years -- until I was 22 and realized, like Carroll: I hated it. I found the rejection, the lack of privacy and acting as a puppet for someone else's writing to be increasingly harsh and unsatisfying. It threatened to completely overwhelm me. Panic attacks struck and I found myself gasping for breath in dark corners, clutching my chest in an attempt to keep my heart from ricocheting off my ribs and busting through the skin.

So, I quit.

But sometimes when people find out that I used to be an actor, they often ask, with this wide-eyed expression, why I would ever leave Hollywood. I try to explain that it's just a job, with all its pros and cons, and sometimes you get tired of a job and want to try something new. Some people give me this look that apparently people have been giving for 124 years, because Carroll references it in his letter:

"Of course there are plenty of people who like being looked at as a notoriety and there are plenty who can't understand why I don't share that feeling. And they probably would not understand how it can be that human beings should have different tastes. But it is true, nevertheless."

Not everyone is cut out to be a doctor, likewise, not everyone is cut out to be famous. Yet, unlike being a doctor, most people think they would be pretty good at being famous.

But we see people who are bad at being famous all the time. Some celebrities crash their cars, go on bigoted rants and get dragged out of theaters in handcuffs. The problem comes when we fail to remember that these are people simply doing a job. If someone is a bad bartender, they get fired, but unfortunately, it appears to be quite difficult to fire a celebrity. Poor job performance just seems to get them promoted up the celebrity hierarchy.

This disastrous behavior could be blamed on money or power or access to every indulgence imaginable, but I believe it's the result of being treated - as Carroll said - as a "lion." It sounds enviable, after all, who wouldn't want special treatment? But in reality, "special" inherently means "different." And it's hard to be different.

I've recently realized that in my desperate attempt to not be a lion, I became an ostrich. By pretending that 18 years of my life never happened, I was simply sticking my head in the sand. We all have a past that stomps its feet and demands to be dealt with. My past pops up during 90's movie marathons, regardless of whether I acknowledge it or not. While the past is not deserving of a staring role in the present moment, it can be worthy of a little thank you in the credits somewhere. Because where would any of us be without it?

I hope that Lewis Carroll got to a point where he could see that the work he did meant something to people and realized that he was not required to be a lion or an ostrich or even Lewis Carroll.

All he ever needed to be was C.L Dodgson.

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Things change and nothing changes: Mrs. Doubtfire 2 debrief

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I have a pretty normal routine when I get up in the morning. The dog goes outside to sniff around the yard. I do my meditation and yoga. We both have some breakfast and I make tea. Then, just before I sit down to write, I quickly check email - which usually consist of friends sending me links to farm animals on Buzzfeed and an exciting opportunity to turn my computer into a money-making machine by working from home. But last Thursday, I woke up to an interview request from Brazil.

I figured it might be a weird day.

And it was. The Hollywood Reporter announced that Mrs. Doubtfire 2 was in development. This was the first I had heard of it. Suddenly, I was being swamped with questions about whether or not I would be involved.

But here's the thing:

No one has asked me to be involved.

It's kind of like going ring shopping at Tiffany's after your first date. Everyone just needed to take a deep breath for a minute.

I'm not sure even sure how I would feel about a sequel, let alone what my feelings are about being involved. I am retired from acting - it's not the life that I want for myself. But if my friends/former co-workers ask me to consider something, I'm going to listen to what they have to say.

And really, who knows if the film will actually make it to production, or if my character, Lydia, will actually be in it, or a zillion other things that could come up in the meantime. There is no need for decisions yet.

The most interesting thing I had planned for the week was staining our back deck, but suddenly I found myself the topic of internet chatter. On Wednesday, I was just saying stuff. On Thursday, I was "making statements."

It got a little overwhelming with emails and unanswerable questions and interview requests, especially because my answer to everything was a legitimate, yet wide-eyed, "I don't know." It felt like suddenly everything in my life was changing - it was totally out of my control. Chaos was swirling around and from where I stood, this Doubtfire thing seemed to be all everyone was talking about.

So, I did what I do when I feel stressed and ungrounded. I turned off my computer and went to my volunteer job at the animal shelter. I'm always more comfortable with animals and when I can stop thinking about my life and help someone else.

When I walked into the area where I usually work, there was a woman who I had never met before. When I opened the door she turned to me with a sudden look of joyful recognition.

"Are you the one that I've been hearing so much about?" She asked.

My face turned red. I really wanted to stop thinking about Doubtfire 2 for just a couple of hours. I wanted to just do my regular life stuff without hearing another opinion about what it means if I do it or don't do it. I stumbled around and said something eloquent like:

"Uhhh. Oh, I donno."

"Yes, you are! You are the one who has been working with Pumpernickel! What's your name?"

Pumpernickel is a cat that came into the shelter about a month ago. She weighs barely 5 pounds and had been run over by a car. The clinic saved her and she is now up for adoption. She is absolutely adorable, but she has been deeply traumatized and tends to lash out unexpectedly. Pumpernickel has been my project and I've been socializing her -- she recently transformed from attacking anyone that got near her, to being a snuggly lap-dweller and giver of tiny kitty kisses.

The vet heard she was doing well, and came to see Pumpernickel's caregiver and say thank you. She doesn't know anything about my life outside the shelter, and she doesn't give a damn about what HuffPost Live was saying.

It was one of the prouder moments of my life.

I suddenly realized - that's the shit I want to be famous for.

My priorities snapped back into line like a well-cracked knuckle. You know where else this "news" of Doubtfire 2 didn't matter? At my yoga studio. At the farmer's market. With my dearest friend who, after checking to see how I was doing with it all, mostly wanted to talk about the fact that she just learned she'd been buying the wrong bra size for years.

Sometimes, it's easy to get whipped into a frenzy over entertainment news - especially when it involves being misrepresented in an Us Weekly headline. But the truth is, it doesn't really change anything.

We all have those distractions that threaten to take over our lives. Those moments of drama where it appears that something is important just because everyone else is throwing their opinions around. That moment doesn't have to define you. It's can be interesting, sure. But it doesn't need to displace the real things. It doesn't need to become something bigger and better than the priorities you intentionally set for your life.

Whatever the outcome of this whole Doubtfire 2 thing - I'm still the same person who giggles at Buzzfeed lists, knows a lot about her friend's new bra and tries to convince Pumpernickel to not scratch someone's eyes out.

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"So, what is Robin Williams like?"

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Sometimes I try to estimate how many times I've been asked this question over the years. And if you replace Robin's name with Will Smith/Pierce Brosnan/Sally Field/Timothy Dalton....

Innumerable times.

I understand why. These people are beloved. Folks want to know if he was funny or she was nice or he was high. I get it.

But I'm curious, how do people expect me to answer? All of those actors were lovely and that's how I respond. But even if they weren't - I'm NEVER going to say that. Why would I slam anyone to you, a person who I just met at the grocery store? Would you say something other than "they're great" about your co-workers to a random person in the cereal aisle?

I guess people want a funny little tidbit about what that famous person was like, but here's the truth -- I am too preoccupied trying to look composed while chatting with a stranger and simultaneously attempting to hide the dandruff shampoo in my cart to come up with a pithy story at that moment. Plus the fact that it was like, 20 years ago, and many of those stories are not crystal clear anymore.

It also brings up another uncomfortable aspect of this whole thing. If that's the first/only thing you ask me - maybe you don't really care anything about me as a person. Maybe you are just using me to get a story about someone else. It's like having a super popular older brother and everyone just wants to know about him.

I'm interesting, too. Not because I might be able to tell you something funny about Robin Williams, but because I've danced in the baraat at an Indian wedding, once fed carrots to a wallaby and have undergone hypnosis. And I'll bet you're interesting, too, but I'll never know because I'm trying to come up with a cute story you can retweet.

But since I still get asked, I'll go on autopilot and say the thing I've said a bajillion times:

"Yeah, he/she was really great..."

And it will be true.

But I'll always wonder if there wasn't a more interesting conversation we could have had.

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Money. Part 2.

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Much to my surprise, people I've never met have opinions about me. Some are good, some are not so good, and I do my best to take both the positive and the negative with a grain of salt. But some comments I simply find fascinating. I am curious about the larger context and why the commenter might hold that belief. Someone referred to me as "privileged" recently.

I am privileged - I've had wonderful opportunities, I have a good support system and my health.

But judging by the rest of her comment, that's not how she meant it. She meant - She is Rich So She Can't Possibly Relate to My Regular Person Life.

I was kind of shocked by this. It's yet another indication of how much the whole Hollywood facade has fleeced the rest of the world.

Movie stars are rich. They pull in a millions per film and are booked on shoots back-to-back.

I was not a movie star.

I was a working actor.

Big difference.

I guess the assumption is that all actors cruise around in their Porsches without a care in the world. I drove my beloved Toyota for more than a decade and never knew when I was going to work again. For the vast majority of my acting career, I earned less per year than a telemarketer.

I never did it for the money, but I was grateful for it, because there is a significant investment involved in getting a job. Just like in any small business, you have to spend money to make money. There were flights from my home in Canada to Los Angeles and the bills associated with living at the Burbank Holiday Inn with my mother for three months so that I could audition for projects.

There were the rare times when I worked on a big film and for that year I got a financial upgrade. But even then, my dentist still out-earned me. And unlike normal jobs, where you can assume that your pay will be fairly steady, the year after a blockbuster, my income took a sharp downward turn. And if you think the residuals should be making up for that, read this. My residual income these days is below the poverty line, which makes me very grateful that my husband and I have other sources of income.

I'm not complaining, I was thankful that I had a job that paid me at all and it was a job that I enjoyed, for the most part. I have never worried if I could afford my next meal, and that is a significant luxury in this world.

But I think this is yet another way that the tabloid culture of celebrity separates people. It makes non-actors think that all actors must be on a different playing field, where there are no concerns about when the next paycheck is coming or how the mortgage is going to get paid. Yeah, that's not really a worry for Angelina Jolie, but most actors are not Angelina Jolie. They are working people. There are thousands of actors out there, many of whom you would recognize, who are just scraping by.

I didn't come from a family with money. We did fine, but to use the word "privileged" to describe us would be absurd. I was privileged in that I got a jump on a retirement fund and I had a passport full of international stamps. I suppose I was privileged in that I was invited to fancy parties (that gave me panic attacks) and sometimes got recognized on the street (which also gave me panic attacks.)

But this idea that my income has ever drowned out my ability to relate to "regular people?"

That's about as laughable as the cover of the National Enquirer.

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Why would we want Mrs. Doubtfire 2?

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premiere November 24th, 2013 marked the 20th anniversary of the release of Mrs. Doubtfire. It's astounding that people see me, a 34-year-old writer who lives in Virginia, and still recognize Lydia Hillard.

Ever since the movie came out, people have been wanting a sequel. Maybe Mrs. Doubtfire could be working as an undercover cop? Masquerading as an international spy? Blowing the lid off injustices in the beauty pageant industry? There is no end to the possibilities of contrived silliness.

While I'm grateful to have been part of a movie that touched so many people, I can't help but wonder why that isn't enough. It doesn't make any sense that there would be a follow-up to the story, but that doesn't seem to matter. Mrs. Doubtfire 2 doesn't have to be good - sequels almost never compare to the original - but people seem to want more anyway.

As we dive into the holidays and this Season of Wanting, epitomized by commercials suggesting that a Lexus with giant bow would be a great gift, I'm reminded that this is just how we tend to do things. We want more of everything. We are a nation of consumers, ready to trample each other to death for a cheap blender or stab someone over a parking spot at Wal-mart. We make long lists of things we don't need, but we suddenly feel empty without them.

We can easily mistake the endless wanting for ambition, but in reality it looks a lot like self-imposed suffering based on our own fears of not being good enough.

Because for that one flickering moment, we get more of __________ and then we feel like we've accomplished something meaningful. It seems like a tangible indication that we have a place in the world. For one second, we can take a deep breath...until we see that Williams Sonoma is having a sale on simmer sauces and we begin the wanting all over again.

And then you throw in a little nostalgia. I get it - there was something wonderful about the 90s. It was a simpler time. I, too, long for those days when you could walk someone right to the airplane gate and everybody could eat gluten. When "Whoa!" could be a catchphrase. When The Real World presented reality television as a groundbreaking social experiment, instead of a way to get famous for being rich and idle.

But, as countless people discover at this time of year, it's really hard to go home again. The world is a constantly changing place. And sometimes, in trying to recapture the past, you can ruin the memory of what you had. It's kind of like wearing a mini-skirt when that's no longer a good idea.

Maybe Mrs. Doubtfire had its time. In 1993. It seems greedy to try to squeeze more out of it. It's flattering that people want more, but maybe we can just be grateful for what already exists. Maybe we can take that deep breath and just be content with what is.

I don't know if there will be a sequel. Maybe there is a way to do it well. But I come back to the original question: why do we want it? Why do we want more of something that is just fine as it is?

My life has moved on since 1993. After I retired from acting, I spent a long time pretending that movies never happened, because when I talked about my childhood, people looked at me funny or accused me of not getting over it. So, I didn't talk about it for 10 years, and then I was accused of running from my past. I realized that I needed to stop caring about those outside opinions and do what felt right.

There will really never be total dissociation from Doubtfire. When you are part of a movie that is on TV almost every Sunday afternoon - a movie that people quote to you in line at the grocery store, a movie that has become a part of the culture of the 90s - it's just not really possible.

So, I embrace it.

Finally.

And then I let it go.

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You're either in or you're out

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I admit it. I have a girl-crush on Mary Louise Parker. I've never met her, but my adoration is long-standing. It all started with Fried Green Tomatoes, when she was so sweet. Then there was The West Wing, when she was so cool. And then there was Weeds, when she was just so...hot. I love her in everything.

Last week, my crush became full-blown when she said she is pretty much done with acting because she is too "thin-skinned." She talked about the intrusive culture of negativity and criticism that actors are exposed to. She thinks it's ugly. It is.

Parker wants to spend her time writing, being with her family and taking care of her goats. (Reminder to self: look into getting some goats.) You gotta love a chick who has her priorities in line.

I totally get it - had a tiny fraction of the publicity that Parker deals with, and it was too much for me. I realized that the more I worked at my "dream job" - the more vulnerable and unpleasant the rest of my life became. The trade-offs were simply not worth it anymore. It seems that she feels the same way, and I love that Parker is setting her limits and refusing to participate.

It's a good reminder that there are consequences to trashy and harmful practices like rewarding snark and buying gossip magazines. Maybe it just seems like benign fun, but it's not, and one of the consequences is no more Mary Louise Parker.

We can't fix everything that is wrong with the world, but I have hope that if enough people starting calling this out as unacceptable, the direction of media can change. Maybe we can return to a time of accountability in reporting and a basic notion of privacy and decency.

But then my Kumbaya-We-Can-Change-The-World optimism comes crashing down around me when I hear that Oprah is paying Lindsay Lohan 2 million dollars to give her an exclusive post-rehab interview, then star in an eight-part documentary series on OWN.

Because clearly, that girl needs more money and exposure. That ought to help the situation. (Damnit, why is there no such thing as sarcasm font??)

I LOVE Oprah, but this is a major misstep. This is a blatant grab for ratings. This is putting an ant under a magnifying glass and watching it burn. Because even if Oprah attempts to produce this show in the most Oprah-like, soul-inspiring way, people will inevitably tune in to submit to humanity's most base desires -  watching someone suffer so that we don't have to think about our own purpose in the world.

I'm so grateful that I was never famous enough that Oprah wanted to do a show with me when I was young and stupid. I'm thankful that there is no reality show detailing my attempts to sabotage my own life while recklessly falling in love with anyone who would make eye contact. I'm thrilled that there was never a comment section that kept track of exactly how many poor decisions I made in any given week. But that's seems to be what sells now.

So, I sigh and go back to wondering - a la The Truman Show -  "How will it end?"

I really don't know how it ends, but regardless, I officially want Mary Louise Parker to be my new best friend.

I'd totally help her with the goats.

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Independence Day 2

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Screen Shot 2017-10-10 at 10.52.18 AMSo, Roland Emmerich recently announced that Independence Day 2 is in the works. Even though I was only in the movie for, like, 5 minutes, I've been inundated with questions about this. But honestly, I found out when everyone else did.

The real answer is - No, no one has called me about it and I'm really not sure what I would say if they did.

But that is such a boring response.

So, I've come up with some alternatives.

  • I'm not sure if I can do the movie because I can't find my high-wasted short-shorts.
  • Didn't I die in Independence Day? A lot of people died, wasn't I one of them? I really have to watch it again.
  • Can I play an alien?
  • I'm not sure I remember how to act anymore. Is it still just pretending?
  • Why? Is Zooey Deschanel not available?
  • I'll do it if it's specified in my contract that I get to make out with Andrew Keegan again and/or I can keep the winnebago.

I think I'll stick to being a writer.

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The Post-Huff Po post post

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Life got a little strange last week. I received an email from a reader informing me that the Huffington Post wrote this. I'm grateful for the Huff Po piece because it connected me to all of you new readers. You have told me your stories and said unbelievably nice things and seem like a thoroughly lovely bunch people. I'm happy to know you.

But, it seemed ridiculous to me that they titled it "Lisa Jakub's Post-'Mrs. Doubtfire' Life: Former Child Star Blogs To Inform Us Of Her Whereabouts"

They made it sound like I was playing Hide-and-seek for the past 12 years. Like I've been crouching in the hall closet under a pile of shoes and I just jumped out and yelled "I WIN!"

I don't really think you have been sitting around wondering where I am and what I've been doing with myself. That is not the impetus of my writing. So, that brings me to an important question: what is my intent?

I'm a writer and I have to write. It's a compulsion. I want to write about all kinds of things. I want to write about how I love Mara and about how movie money works. But I also want to write about how it's okay to change your mind. It's okay to choose a life that is not what everyone else expected of you. It's okay to decide that being happy is worth more than money or a law degree or marrying your high school sweetheart just because they were nice enough.

Me "revealing" my early life in film was only done by way of introduction. That is part of who I am and I need to be honest about myself if I'm going to tell you a good story about anything. You'd never believe me, otherwise.

But that is not a very riveting headline, I suppose, so they make it sound like I am graciously giving you the answer to a riddle that's been keeping you up nights.

Some of the Huffington Post comments were mean - mostly of the "I don't care about her" variety - but the vast majority were kind and supportive and I'm thankful for that. I must admit that the mean ones did make me laugh. They made me want to go to a website about fishing and click on the article, read it, log in and tell them they should stop writing it because I don't happen to care about fishing.

But reading that you are irrelevant is not that fun, so I have a new rule: NEVER read Huff Po comments.

What I will do is write about movies and that crazy world of pop culture. But I'm also going to write about making the hard decisions and what happens when you're 34 and still don't have all the answers.

Oh, and I'm probably going to make a lot of spelling mistakes.

I hope you'll stick around for all of it.

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"Stars are just like us!"

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I hate getting my hair cut. I always have. That's why I had that down-to-my-waist hair until I was 15.

My hair is a little shorter now, but I still only get it cut twice a year.

I was at the hair salon waiting for my semi-annual appointment and the receptionist offered me some magazines while I waited. I expected her to bring O Magazine or something where I could compare the 14 different types of asymmetrical bob cuts I was never going to get.

She brought me People Magazine and Us Weekly.

I reacted as if she had handed me a dead fish.

It's been decades since I've touched those kinds of magazines. As an actor that used to dodge reporters and photographers, I know what it's like to be on the other side of that lens. I know how it feels to be a hunted animal. In fact, it's one of the main reasons that I left my career; I couldn't handle the fact that the better I was at my job, the less right I had to a normal life.

But since my cell battery had died and my hairdresser was up to his elbows in hair dye goop that he was still putting on his previous client, I set aside my moral compass and flipped through Us Weekly.

This page stood out to me.

Us

It caught my eye because this is clearly not something that they believe. These magazines are not really saying that famous people are just like everyone else. The entire magazine is based around the fact that they are inherently different from regular people.

If your dental hygienist went out to buy kale, would that be photo worthy? Would there be an article about how the teller from the bank likes a certain brand of lip gloss? Would that sell magazines?

Of course not. But why do we really care about those mundane details, just because those people happen to work in film? Actors are not better or smarter or more talented or even prettier (thank you, Photoshop) than anyone else in the world.

Tigerbeat used to want to know about my favorite foods and what music I liked. These days, that information is no longer of general public interest - and I'm quite grateful for that. But I'm not fundamentally any different than I was in the 90s, I just changed my job.

So, honestly. Why does this stuff matter?

I never figured out the answer to that question because I had to get my hair shampooed.

But it's still worth asking.

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Compassion

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During this year's Oscars, The Onion tweeted about Quvenzhané Wallis, the nine-year-old actress in Beasts of the Southern Wild. They jokingly called her a nasty name. A really nasty name. They then apologized and took it back and I have great respect for that. I love it when someone can admit that they made a mistake. (Maybe that’s because I feel like I need to do that so often.) But a surprising number of people thought that was not necessary. They felt that it was just a joke and that people were too sensitive about it.

I so strongly disagree with them that it makes my hands shake.

I started acting when I was four years old, and I remember feeling that because I was in movies, anything in my life was fair game. Since I got to be part of this revered world, things like compassion and general human decency went out the window.

When I was a few years older than Quvenzhané, I was in a pool at a hotel and got recognized. The man asked me to get out of the pool so that we could take a photo together. I wasn’t crazy about the idea of posing with a stranger in my bathing suit, but when I asked him to wait until I got dressed he got mad. He yelled at me and said, “You’re an actor. You owe it to me.”

It’s sad to me that some people feel that actors are rented humans, here for mere entertainment.

I get that The Onion tweet was a joke and it was supposed to be funny. I love funny. But all I can think about is Quvenzhané's family sitting around the dinner table, trying to explain to her what the "c-word" means.