‘I have been told,
“If you don’t go
out holding your
girlfriend’s hand
in public, you
might get a
Marvel movie”’
can be a little forced, a little on point. She names no names, obviously,
but describes, tantalisingly, ‘a couple of people who are like real
activists, really at the forefront of progress, and I’m like, “You
are a deplorable fraud! And all you really care about is people look-
ing at you.”’ As I said, she’s unafraid.
But she’s grateful, too. It is partly thanks to the next generation,
their openness and bravery, that she has found her voice, and no
longer seems to care about the consequences of using it. ‘I used to sit
in interviews and go, “God, I wonder what they’re going to ask me,”
but now – literally – you can ask me anything!’ So I take her at her
word, and enquire what it feels like to constantly discuss her sexu-
ality, now that it seemed to have become a subject for open debate.
‘Well,’ she says, ‘I think I just wanted to enjoy my life. And that
took precedence over protecting my life, because in protecting it,
I was ruining it.’ In what way, I ask. ‘Like
what, you can’t go out side with who
you’re with? You can’t talk about it in an
interview? I was informed by an old-
school mentality, which is – you want to
preserve your career and your success
and your productivity, and there are
people in the world who don’t like you,
and they don’t like that you date girls, and
they don’t like that you don’t identify as
a quote unquote “lesbian”, but you also
don’t identify as a quote unquote “hetero-
s e x u a l ”. A nd p e ople l i ke to k now s t u f f , s o
what the fuck are you?’
Stewart’s realisation, which she
credits the younger generation with
giving her the confidence to stick to, was
that she was not required to answer that
question. She has no answer. She doesn’t identify as bisexual, she
doesn’t identify as a lesbian, she doesn’t like labels. She’s a different
person every day she wakes up and delighted by that. ‘I just think
we’re all kind of getting to a place where – I don’t know, evolution’s
a weird thing – we’re all becoming incredibly ambiguous,’ she
explains. ‘And it’s this really gorgeous thing.’
She accepts that she has become a sort of standard-bearer for
that ambiguity. But she doesn’t mind. If she can make the conversa-
tion about sexuality easier for anyone, she’s happy. She also couldn’t
care less about the impact any of this might have on her career. In
the past, she says, ‘I have fully been told, “If you just like do yourself
a favour, and don’t go out holding your girlfriend’s hand in public,
you might get a Marvel movie.”’ She looks almost amused at the
memory. ‘I don’t want to work with people like that.’ Now, by con-
trast, people approach her, drawn to that undefined sexuality,
wanting to make movies about it. Stewart shakes her head in mock
despair. ‘Literally, life is a huge popularity contest.’
For the next couple of years – whoever she happens to be dating- Stewart will be busier than ever. Back when she was a kid, on set
with her parents, she told her mother she was going to be the
youngest person ever to direct a feature film, and that she’d do it
before she was 18. ‘Thankfully I did not do that,’ she says now. But
it’s finally happening next year, as she approaches her 30th birthday.
Just 40 pages into reading the memoir, The Chronology of Water, about
a young swimmer dealing with addiction, she sent an email to its
author Lidia Yuknavitch. ‘I was like, I will read your book until the
day I die,’ recalls Stewart. She bought the rights, and has spent years
writing the script, which she recently read aloud to Yuknavitch. ‘It
was a really, really satisfying feast of an intimidating experience,’
says Stewa r t. ‘I li ke being intimidated, so t hat’s fine.’
The script isn’t finished – she wants to keep it fluid, open to inter-
pretation. She has a sense of how she wants to do it, but also
understands what a responsibility it is, being in charge of a cast
and crew. ‘I know how precious it is –
I’ve done it,’ she says. ‘I can’t wait to make
sure that I don’t mess up anyone’s chance
to be great.’
She can’t believe her luck: that she
gets to spend hours, years, thinking and
talking about her favourite book to make
it into something new. And this is just
the beginning, she hopes: there are half a
dozen other projects she’s keen to make.
In the meantime, she’s not going to stop
acting. If anything, directing is just a
natural extension of the process – one
that she hopes will make her a better
actor. But there’s also an attraction, inevi-
tably, for someone who has been the
subject of a collective gaze for so long, in
switching positions, going behind the
camera. In her new state, feeling free and compulsively honest,
perhaps it’s a more natural place to be.
As she puts it, just before she pads back to the ballroom on her
bare feet: ‘The thing that’s really igniting me is the idea of starting
the ball rolling – and not being the ball.’
‘Charlie’s Angels’ is released in cinemas on 29 November.