GLENN CLOSE ON LEAVING A CULT AND WHAT KATHARINE HEPBURN WROTE TO HER

Glenn Close, 77, is an Emmy- and Tony-winning actress best known for her roles in the films “Fatal Attraction,” “Dangerous Liaisons” and “The Wife.” She co-stars in the Netflix film “Back in Action,” due Jan. 17. She spoke with Marc Myers.

As a child, I loved fairy tales, especially dark ones. As my mother read them to me, I had my ear on her chest and could feel the vibration of her voice and the words. The stories became visceral.

My imagination was always off the charts, even back then. Stories about children looking into darkness weren’t too far from my own experiences until I was 23.

We first lived in a fairy-tale stone cottage on the estate of my mother’s father in Greenwich, Conn. It was covered in ivy and had a white picket fence.

Living there was the happiest time of my childhood. It was in the middle of hayfields, and there was a barn where we played. I also spent hours in the woods and at home playing with hand puppets. My imagination sprang to life.

My father, William, was a doctor. He flew in the Army Air Forces in France during World War II. When he returned, he went to medical school on the GI Bill. My mother, Bettine, was a homemaker.

There were four of us—three girls and a boy. Tina is the oldest. I’m second. My parents lost a boy after me, and then had Sandy followed by Jessie, our baby sister.

When I was 7, in 1954, my world changed. My parents joined the Moral Re-Armament, a cult of sorts that believed people had to rearm themselves morally in the post-war world.

Soon we lived communally at Dellwood, a 277-acre farm in Mount Kisco, N.Y. It had been owned by Emily Vanderbilt Sloane, who donated the property to MRA in 1949.

Once there, my parents started leaving us for long periods as they went on worldwide MRA missions. I felt unmoored. We were looked after by young women who seemed to be tasked with our care as punishment for something.

In 1960, my father joined an MRA mission to witness the independence of the former Belgian Congo. We all moved to MRA headquarters in Switzerland, where Tina and I attended St. George’s School. It was a tough time.

When we returned to Greenwich, I attended Rosemary Hall, an all-girls private prep school. I was in the drama club, and every year we did an all-girls Shakespeare play. In my senior year, I was Romeo.

All through school and after graduating in 1965, I remained in the MRA. While my parents were away, I joined a singing group that was an extension of the MRA and toured to recruit followers. I had nothing in my toolbox to resist.

In 1969, a talented guitarist with our singing group asked me to marry him. I said yes, forcing me to stay in MRA longer. At college campuses, the singing group would set up in the student union and sing MRA songs.

At William & Mary, in 1970, students looked at us as if we were crazy. I said to myself, “This is where I want to go to college.” At 23, I enrolled, broke from MRA and divorced the lovely guitarist the following year.

Howard Scammon, who headed the drama department, was my first true mentor. He understood the seriousness of my intent.

Releasing my emotional side wasn’t difficult. Interpreting a character is 95% imagination. I had plenty of that. Technique is basically common sense. And any art worth something is based on a sense of outrage. No shortage there.

In college, I watched Dick Cavett’s two-part TV interview with Katharine Hepburn in 1973. Hepburn came across as strong and confident, and her sense of self lit a fire in me. I said to myself, “If that’s what you want to do, do it.”

In the fall of 1974, after I graduated, I was hired by New York’s New Phoenix Repertory Company for “Love for Love” as Mary Ure’s understudy. Mary was a beautiful and accomplished actress. She had a hard time remembering her lines in Philadelphia days before we were to move the production to New York.

During our Broadway previews, I arrived at the old Helen Hayes Theatre and director Hal Prince asked me to go on for her. In the dressing room, I received a note from Mary.

It said: “In the English Theater, it is a tradition for one leading lady to welcome the next. I welcome you. Be brave and strong.” I’m starting to cry now just talking about it.

That night, I was good enough to keep the show going. From that moment on, I was determined to prove that my performance wasn’t a fluke.

Today, my home is in Bozeman, Mont. All of my siblings live here. My modest, 1892 brick house has a porch where I can see the mountains and say hi to neighbors.

I’m building a larger house about a half-hour outside of town. It’s going to be my Zen farmhouse and our family sanctuary. In back will be a stone cottage, reminding me of the best years of my childhood.

Glenn’s Closure

“Back in Action”? In the action comedy, I play a former British MI6 agent and the mother of Cameron Diaz’s character, a former CIA agent.

Hepburn letter on wall? She sent it after I helped honor her at the Kennedy Center in 1990: “A great big hug for your sweet contribution. I’m glad I persuaded you when you were a mere child to join this terrible profession, this terrifying profession, and let’s face it, this delicious way to spend your life.”

At home? I love reading. As a child, I was always in a corner with a book.

Running lines? I blackout all stage directions in a script. My brain takes a mental picture of the page, and a line that isn’t dialogue causes my brain to blip.

Fatal Attraction” memento? The prop cardboard knife, framed on my wall. It looks real, doesn’t it?

2025-01-14T16:11:35Z