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everything. It was an acting lesson, really: If you want to
be loved by the camera, you have to love the camera.
You forget that there’s a man or woman behind it. It was
so much fun once I discovered that.
The director Peter Bogdanovich saw that cover in a
grocery store, probably in 1970, around the time he
was working on the script for The Last Picture Show.
He saw my face and thought, That’s Jacy—the character
I ended up playing. Until that point, I had no interest
whatsoever in acting, which was a great blessing because
it meant that I didn’t get the
wrong kind of input. When I
went to meet with Peter in New
York, I didn’t dress up. I wore
cutoff jeans and sat on the
floor and might have picked a
rose apart or something. Peter
never read actors for parts.
We just talked, and he figured
I could do it. On set, I would
stay up all night, just sitting
and watching the crew: guys
holding up these very large
arc lights, the steam rising off
the top. I think I fell in love
more with making movies than
I did with acting, per se. I kept
modeling, though, because I
didn’t take any of it for granted.
Once you’re known as a
“beauty,” you can sometimes be
dismissed: “She’s not really
acting—she’s just being herself.”
I was actually already doing
the show Moonlighting with
Bruce Willis when I started
working for L’Oréal. That was
really thrilling. Saying the words “I’m worth it,” “You’re
worth it,” and “We’re worth it” always felt like a great
honor. It’s a feminist statement, the self-validation that
you’re showing to other women. It’s empowering to
know what you’re worth, and there were times when
this sense of self-worth became a kind of protection.
For one of my first movie meetings, my modeling agent,
who was terrific, took me up to this fancy suite at the
Plaza Hotel and left me there with this guy who said,
“Let’s rehearse the love scene.” I said, “I don’t think so.”
When my agent got back up there, I told him, “Don’t
you ever leave me alone like that again.” From then on
I had a chaperone travel with me. It was a part of
working in the industry then. She was always there, the
same way that there was always a hair person, or a
makeup artist. I never did my own hair and makeup.
When I wasn’t working, I would just not wear any
makeup at all on the street, because that was one way
not to get recognized. I feel completely different about
that now: I’m dying to be recognized everywhere.
That’s what happens when you’re 70! But I do feel
like I’m still worth it, more than ever before, because
of all of the things that I’ve been through.
My face still shows all of these experiences, like the
time I ran into a barbed-wire fence at six or seven—it
must have been covered in
vines—and had to have 200
stitches on my lip. I went from
beauty to monster overnight in a
way that was really interesting.
I still have the scar on my lip—it
goes straight down from my
left nostril and kind of splits out
into a little triangle. As you grow
older, I think that if you can
enhance the way you naturally
look and let your face show
your history, you’re bringing
something real to the surface.
That’s the way I look at it. I have
had my eyes done—both my
mother and I had these heavy
upper lids, which can look so
sexy when you’re younger, but
they can actually affect your
sight when you get older—and
for the most part, I’ve learned
that less makeup is usually
better, although I would never
go in front of a professional
camera without hair and
makeup these days. But I still
feel great and am so incredibly grateful to be alive.
I’ve learned that strolling is just as good as walking, which
is actually a relief. I used to go all the way down to the
bottom of the mountain. But you can go halfway
down—and that’s fine. And I’m still working, at my own
pace. Last year I filmed Eleanor Coppola’s Late Lunch,
and coming up I’m going to be doing a new one-woman
show. It’s thrilling to see so many of my peers still
very much in the game. Robert De Niro, who I was in
Taxi Driver with, just received the Life Achievement
Award from the Screen Actors Guild, and I also saw Jeff
Bridges, my costar in The Last Picture Show, win
the Cecil B. DeMille Award at the Golden Globes. But
I can’t help but think, Wait a minute! Where’s mine?
It ain’t over yet.—as told to zoe ruffner