In Chekhov, everything blends into its opposite, just fractionally, and this is sort of unsettling. And that's why you end up 100 years later asking, 'Is that moment tragic or comic?'
All your life, you live so close to truth, it becomes a permanent blur in the corner of your eye. And when something nudges it into outline, it is like being ambushed by a grotesque.
One feels that the past stays the way you left it, whereas the present is in constant movement; it's unstable all around you.
I was so thrilled being a reporter, because it gave you the kind of access to people that you wouldn't ever get to meet.
I think theater ought to be theatrical.
Schepisi is the sort of director who could, would, and frequently did phone me whenever he came across a textual problem.