Meryl Streep is a superstar. And she is one because there’s a thread which binds her individual onscreen turns and elevates her filmography into something bigger than an accumulation of some good or bad performances. Unlike “traditional” superstars, from Cagney to Cruise, from Crawford to Roberts, this thread is not about a distinctive persona and looks, a collection of mannerisms and schticks (unless, as some may say, Streep’s versatility is a schtick in itself). With Streep it’s about an undercurrent theme which turns the overall onscreen outturn of her into a kind of dissertation on issues that happened to be of interest. But in her case, there are two different themes which correlate with the different stages of her career – and in between, when it seemed there was no such thread, it also seemed she lost her mojo.
Streep appeared on the scene in the late ‘70s and became a full-blown star in the early ‘80s. She was the first female dramatic star to emerge after the feminist uprise. Her predecessor, Jane Fonda, in the way her persona and the roles she played evolved, was its incarnation, in real time. Streep took a different path. Practically all the women she portrayed in the first decade or so of her career were in a social position a woman in the 19th century could occupy – wife, mother, governess, illustrator, writer, factory worker. No lawyer, scientist, magazine editor, state person in site. But this study of traditional womanhood turned out to be a very fractured, distressed portrayal. It says a lot when the only well-adjusted wife and mother one is playing is Lindy Chamberlain. And, unsurprisingly, while it earned her an overwhelming respect and admiration, the disturbing nature of her body of work alienated a lot of people. She didn’t offer sex, sensuality, likeability. She wasn’t fun.
So, she broadened her horizons. And the next decade and a half saw her going all over the place. Drama, comedy, action – you name it. At times it paid off – Bridges was one of her best and most successful takes on adultery (a very common theme in her films). House of Spirits was her (as well as Close’s) Nadir. Overall, the momentum seemed to have gone. And then, in 2004, she became the youngest female recipient of the AFI Life Achievement Award. She was officially crowned the best actress – EVER, IN THE UNIVERSE, NO - IN ALL GALAXIES, and so on. She was no mere thespian anymore. From now on, she was not an actress interpreting a role. She was La Streep, The Acting Goddess nobly applying HER GIFT on the screen. There was no way for her to disappear into a role anymore, it seemed. And then came Prada.
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