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By Bill Ervolino In films, she has taken on loss, betrayal, abusive lovers and, perhaps most memorably, the Prince of Darkness. Somehow, she always came out on top. In her new memoir, "Lessons in Becoming Myself" (Riverhead Books, $25.95), Ellen Burstyn takes on Ellen Burstyn, and it's a page-turner -- not just for film buffs but for anyone who has survived personal trauma and struggled to make sense of it. Can every good, bad and ugly chapter in someone's life be considered a learning experience? Burstyn thinks so. "I've acted for 50 years, and I've acted everything," she said recently, over lunch at Manhattan's Hudson Hotel. Apparently, those "everythings" -- from profound heartbreak to mystical encounters to pivotal life choices -- have had hefty parallels in her personal life. Career-wise, one of those pressing life decisions occurred early on, when, in 1964, she was cast alongside Tony Curtis, Walter Matthau and Debbie Reynolds in the Vincente Minnelli romantic farce "Goodbye, Charlie." Burstyn had grown up dreaming of a movie career, and there she was, at last, in a major motion picture with a splashy role and offers for more. Instead, she fled and headed for New York to study with Lee Strasberg at the Actor's Studio. (After Strasberg's death in 1982, Burstyn became co-president of the studio, a post she still shares with fellow alumni Al Pacino and Harvey Keitel.) "I had what I wanted," she recalls. "I suppose I could have been the next Debbie Reynolds. But I heard that voice in my head say, 'I don't want this.' " When Burstyn did return to the big screen five years later, it was for meatier roles in "Tropic of Cancer" and "The Last Picture Show," for which she received her first Oscar nomination. Lessons in miseries Burstyn dedicates her book "to all my teachers," and that appears to include everyone between the book's covers, from Strasberg, her mentor and champion who (correctly) predicted great things for her; to Lou, the ill-tempered oaf of a stepfather who repeatedly moved the adolescent Ellen (then-Edna Rae Gilhooley) to tears by assuring her, "You'll never amount to anything but a ... whore." But Burstyn found lessons in her childhood miseries. Asked if she would have been as determined -- and, ultimately, successful -- in her career had she grown up in a nurturing home, she quickly says no. Aided by diaries, journals and a few other meticulously archived notes to self, Burstyn traces her steps from troubled childhood in Detroit to successful adulthood in New York and Hollywood, where she juggled a burgeoning acting career with a restless quest for identity, truth and inner peace. Most of the "Lessons" related in the book are of the uplifting variety. But many came with a price. Addictions? They're in here. Failed relationships: You betcha. Marriages: three ... and counting. (She ends the book by hinting there's a new man in her life but leaves it at that.) Assorted other mistakes and disappointments: plenty. The emotionally distant mother who repeatedly urged her to become a stenographer. The creepy dad she rediscovered at 18, who tried to get her into bed. The psychotic ex-husband who stalked her on the streets of New York for years, strangled her, raped her and, on one particularly terrifying evening, screamed her name from the balcony of a Broadway theater while she was onstage in the romantic comedy "Same Time, Next Year." Two days after their final encounter, during which Burstyn told her former husband that she forgave him for everything he had ever done to her -- and pleaded with him to forgive her for everything she had ever done to him -- Neil Burstyn opened the window of his ninth-floor Manhattan apartment and jumped. Days later came the numbing telegram from his parents: "Congratulations! You've won another Oscar. Neil killed himself." Beyond the tragedies, there's plenty of frothy "show-biz stuff" in "Lessons," too -- from Burstyn's Broadway debut (in the 1950s), to her days as one of the leggy beauties on "The Jackie Gleason Show," to the many terrific behind-the-scenes glimpses at the memorable films that would earn her six Academy Award nominations. (She won for 1974's "Alice Doesn't Live Here, Anymore.") Real-life drama Still, for sheer drama, hardly any of her onscreen predicaments -- except, perhaps, for the time that Satan heaved her across the room in "The Exorcist" -- could hold a candle to what was going on in Burstyn's private life. "When I started writing," she says over soup and salad, "I wasn't sure what I was going to include. I told my editor, 'There may be stories here that are embarrassing to tell. And my editor said, 'Write them, anyway. We can always take them out later.' After the second draft, I examined it carefully and asked myself 'Do I want to pull any punches?' " Apparently, the answer was no, although the book, now 450 pages, originally came in at more than 700, all of which was written by Burstyn -- in longhand. "I didn't take my mother's advice," Burstyn says, with a laugh. "She wanted me to take a secretarial course, so I would have something to fall back on. So, when I finally had to fall back on something, I fell back on my hand." In the process, Burstyn paints a portrait of herself that isn't always flattering. On relationships, she admits that if there's a Mr. Wrong in the room, she'll find him. Blindfolded. On drugs: "Cigarettes were the hardest to kick. I smoked grass socially, but I didn't want it in my life anymore. I'm addiction-free." Questionable business decisions: "I turned down an executive producer credit on 'Alice Doesn't Live Here, Anymore.' Had I taken it, I would have gotten profits from the television show 'Alice.' " And that mistake was worth ... ? "It was big, but I don't allow regret," Burstyn replies. "And I learned something there, too. I mean, I grew up thinking that it wasn't feminine to be the boss. But I now know that's not true. Serving brandy to the men after dinner? I like that. I also like to wrap a blanket around my granddaughter when she's cold. I like to nurture. I like to give comfort. But that doesn't mean I can't be an executive producer." Then, referring back to the question, she adds, in mock-horror, "Millions! Mega-millions!" Spiritual growth So much of "Lessons in Becoming Myself" is about Burstyn's spiritual growth and her study of world religions -- Catholicism, Buddhism, Hinduism and Islam -- that she could have easily written a book just about that. Instead, she weaves these experiences in with her personal and professional reminiscences, incorporating her search for spiritual fulfillment into a compelling journey for self that continues to this day. It's a journey that embraces challenges and facing one's fears, as well as the notion that changing course, even when things appear be going well, may be for the best. Burstyn says she's been at that point many times, going back to that first decision to leave Hollywood when it seemed as if everything in her life was finally going according to plan. "At times like that," she says, "I'm reminded of something the poet David Whyte once said: 'If you can see your path before you, it's not your path.' " |
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