Jovial Ann Dowd’s darkness saved for her cold characters
When Ann Dowd is walking toward you, the impulse is not to make eye contact.
The veteran actress has played, with chilling effect, some of television’s most recent fearsome, scene-stealing archvillains: cult leader Patti Levin in HBO’s The Leftovers and, currently, the domineering oppressor Aunt Lydia in Hulu’s The Handmaid’s Tale.
But Dowd is far more friendly than intimidating during a recent sit-down. Unlike her alter egos, she’s not stingy with a laugh.
Q: Aunt Lydia is a very complicated character. What has it been like getting to know her?
A: It’s like a friendship or a relationship: She tells me about her, I tell her about me. I think that whatever happens to her, whoever hurt her, did it very successfully. And I think it was early and consistent. So at some point, the doors closed and what remains is this. She has managed to, from her perspective, live a redeemed and meaningful life.
The world is trashed. I think she had a very religious upbringing. She’s a loner, very repressive. And maybe she had a baby early, had sex, or something and was shamed — shamed into submission and begging God for just one more chance. So I think she’s a purist in the sense that she said, “This has got to change.”
Q: You’re coming into this role after playing Patti in The
Leftovers. They’re both such chilling characters. Where do you go, what do you channel, when bringing them to life?
A: I must be a twisted soul deep down, but I loved Patti from minute one. And I never looked at her as the enemy, ever. Here’s another woman trashed all her life, never had a minute of anything. And then she’s validated, and for the first time in her life, comes into her strength. She’s a born leader who is like, “It’s over, baby. It’s done. Let’s let go of attachment. Let’s stop this.” She makes so much sense to me.
And Lydia, I get it. I was educated by Catholic nuns. They were not cruel. I never went through any of that. My two aunts were Catholic sisters. I know that world and what I got from it. Being educated by Catholic sisters was a sense of work ethic — the whole, “You’re not special, hon. You have a job to do, and when it is completed, then you may go about your next thing.” So that sense of commitment, discipline, work ethic, respect for your elders, deferring to authority. That was all firmly implanted.
Q: You won my heart when you revealed that you didn’t understand The Leftovers when you first read the script.
A: Not only did I not understand, I said on the phone to my manager and agent, “What is with this departure business?” [They] were quiet, like we have an idiot client. But they didn’t go there. They said, “Well, it’s an HBO show shooting in New York. Why don’t you give it another read?” I thought, “Eh.”
Then, I went in the room and something happened. I said, “Oh, wait. She’s interesting.” But she doesn’t say anything. And I thought, “Oh, great. She’s not gonna talk?” Oh, how I was wrong. Not talking is the most powerful position you can have in a room.
Q: What has it been like to receive this kind of acclaim at this stage in your career? How are you able to process it or enjoy it in ways you couldn’t had it come sooner?
A: It would have been a very hard thing. I would say the first two-thirds of my career were about letting go of fear and letting go of control. I hope this doesn’t sound like bragging — I don’t mean it that way, but I played a character that I loved deeply, and it was one of the first things I did out of school — her name was Sarah in a play called A Different
Moon by Ara Watson. I didn’t read reviews, I don’t read them now. But I was told about one that said, “Who is Ann Dowd and where will she go from here?” And I almost collapsed with pressure. And so that this would happen now, when I could focus on the work — these women that made sense to me, to be able to play loners who just follow a different path — it has been a blessing.