Rolling Stone - June 24, 1993
by Peter Travers
At film festivals, Sally Potter looks overwhelmed by the standing ovations that invariably greet Orlando, her movie of the Virginia Woolf novel about a British nobleman who lives through four centuries and a sex transformation. But Potter, 43, is an unassuming Londoner with an outsized talent that also embraces dance, music, and theater. Her short films (notably Thriller, in 1979) and her one feature (The Gold Diggers, in 1981, with Julie Christie) tackled sexual politics and won her a cult following. If Orlando, already a hit abroad, ups her draw, it won't be because she's sold out. In conversation, Potter flashes defiant eyes, laughs deeply at your preconceptions and brings her sharp wit to bear on the art of making art.
How do you lure people to Orlando who associate the name with Disney World and Virginia Woolf with an old Elizabeth Taylor movie?
Look, you're not talking to an academic here. I left school at fifteen. Why should people know who Virginia Woolf is the day they're born? I read Orlando as a teenager with a sense of burning excitement because of the images in it and not because of some literary journey. Woolf was breaking all boundaries, turning sexuality on its head.
So you weren't afraid of Virginia Woolf?
I was not afraid, not afraid at all.
How about being afraid of your parents for dropping out of school?
My parents let me alone. They were busy doing their own thing. My father was designer, also a sometime poet. My mother wanted to be a singer, but her career was somewhat on hold while she brought up my younger brother and me.
Did you interpret this as neglect?
It was a chaotic, free-spirited and radical environment, but to me it seemed normal. I was told from a very early age that I was in charge of my own life. What my parents did give me was a sense of life's priorities. There was never any money in the house-- sometimes no food-- but there would always be music or a book.
How about a camera?
My uncle lent me an eight-millimeter camera, so I was directing two-minute films at age fourteen-- the films just got larger and longer. In the years when I was on the road as a choreographer or a musician, I had a sense of this other world being left out. Film is the only medium that allows me to synthesize other forms.
Did you have trouble supporting yourself?
[snickers] I laugh because since my early twenties I've lived off my work, which means often living in debt. I've learned to improvise around nothingness. Oh, there's sex, with all it's joys and pains. But what I've been part of all my life is a raggedy community of passionate individuals for whom work is their life.
Would you describe yourself as driven?
I've hesitated for years to use that word because it feeds into the myth of the neurotic artist. But I am driven.
Does this make you a monster on the set?
I'm prepared to be unpopular to serve the film. You don't have to be a monster; you do have to be in charge. There were a few occasions when I did shout, and loud. I don't give up until things are right.
With all that drive, why did it take four years to get Orlando financed?
Because I wanted a sense of scale, nothing itsy-bitsy. I wanted to go to Russia and shoot scenes of big, frozen wastes. Eventually a coproduction deal was arranged with Russia, Italy, France, Holland, and England. But for years nobody would touch it. The financiers were deeply afraid of the sexual transformation.
How do you get audiences to accept Tilda Swinton in the role of a man?
By taking them into our confidence in the first minutes of the film when Orlando talks to the camera. That establishes a state of suspended disbelief. Then in comes Quentin Crisp as Queen Elizabeth-- so we've got a double gender twist.
What made you decide to use Crisp?
Just a moment of divine inspiration. And once thought of, it was impossible to let go. He is the true queen of England.
How does the film differ from the book?
The language is very modern-- none of that "ye olde" stuff. The book stops in 1928, but the film is brought to the present day. Key crisis moments are clearly motivated. When Orlando changes from a man to a woman, there's a reason. The film has the pace and energy of now.
What should people take from the film?
A sense of largeness of their humanity-- that their invisible life has been made visible and recognized on the screen. I hope they'll leave the cinema feeling pleasured, moved, and empowered.
Have you been empowered?
Four years ago I was knocking on people's doors. They're now knocking on mine. If Orlando can be done without compromise and people are coming to it in droves, that's power. Not just for me but for anyone wanting to follow a dream. Cinema is the big dream, isn't it? It's the consciousness of the population up there on screen, and it's beautiful.
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