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boys don't cry
edged it," she admits. Though she and
Swank were the only two to get a nod
for the film, Sevigny counts their nomi­
nations as recognition for director­
cowriter Kimberly Peirce: "Us getting
nominated is Kimberly getting nominat­
ed because she's speaking through us."
Like everyone else connected with
Boys Don't Cry, Sevigny has seen how
powerfully and personally people re­
spond to !he movie. "So many people,
it's unbelievable," she says when asked
if people come up to her to talk about
it. "Especially in Hollywood-I think lives. "I've experienced that with Kids,
too," she says. "The first time anybody
ever approached me was a young gay
boy who'd been infected with HIV, and
he was crying and hugging me on the
street. I was so overwhelmed by that. '
Since then she's delivered strong
performances in Trees Lounge, The
Last Days of Disco, and A Map of the
World, among other films. And from
the very start of her career she's been
following the attempts to tell Brandon
Teena's story. "I lmew if anybody ever
made it into a movie, it would be
fOX SEARCHLIGHT PICTURES . C> TWENTIETH CENTURY fOX fiLM CORP. ILL RISHTS RESERVEO
"Her love for him was so strong. It was
unconditional, once she got over her
denial. I think it was the first time she
was in love, and it didn't matter to her
whether he was a boyar girl"
people are more apt to approach ac­
tors there. And here in Germany too
because the movie was just released
here. Everywhere I turn, people come
up and say what a beautiful story they
thought it was and how happy they are
it was made."
It's also a sweet reward for Sevigny,
who has emphatically not been chasing
success in the Hollywood mode. She
chose to make her film debut in 1995's
tough, controversial Kids. Playing an
HIV-positive teen searching for the boy
who infected her, she established her­
self right away as an actor with a talent
for conveying hard realities. And long
before Boys Don't Cry, she learned how
deeply film performances can affect real something very special," she says.
During the years it took Peirce to
bring Boys Don't Cry to the screen, the
emergence of the documentary feature
The Brandon Teena Story [see page
49J-and of competing narrative pro­
jects, including a high-profile version
that was to star Drew Barrymore­
might have shaken Sevigny's faith that
Boys would succeed. But she stood by
the project the same way she feels Lana
stood by Brandon.
"Her love for him was so strong, ' says
Sevigny. "It was unconditional, once she
got over her denial. I think it was the
first time she was in love, and it didn't
matter to her whether he was a boy or
girl. He was just so inspiring to her. Brandon was the first person to encour­
age her to get out of town and say posi­
tive things about her."
Now everyone is saying positive
things about Sevigny. Doing nonstop
press for the European premiere of
American Psycho, in which she costars,
the 24-year-old actress hasn't even had a
chance to celebrate, much less contem­
plate the sudden leap forward her career
has taken. "No, it hasn't really sunk in
yet at all," Sevigny says of her Best Sup­
porting Actress nomination . I don't think
it will until I get to the red carpet on the
evening of"
Actually, the reality may sink in a lot
sooner. Getting a nomination means en­
during a constant barrage of press inter­
views, glad-handing, and pressure--just
the sort of thing the New York-based
Sevigny (who lives in Connecticut, just
outside the city) has always avoided.
"It's a little intense," she says, adding
in a whisper, "I have to be positive in
the press about it or else Kimberly will
get mad at me." She laughs, quickly
making it clear she's happy about the
hoopla around a movie and a character
she loves.
Still, it is intense. "They want you to
do this whole campaigning thing," Sevi­
gny says, "going on talk shows and
morning shows. I don't like to see actors
I admire on talk shows. It sort of ruins
the mystique for me. Sean Penn talking
about Bukowski on Charlie Rose makes
me kind of 'Uh-h-h .. .' Everybody says
you have to take advantage of this op­
portunity; it's the opportunity of a life­
time. So I'm going to have to swallow
my pride a little."
Having starred as a traditionally femi­
nine woman in Boys Don't Cry, Sevigny
crosses to the other side of the queer
spectrum this month in a segment of
HBO's If These Walls Could Talk 2, a
trilogy of shorts about lesbian lives. In a
white T-shirt with short hair slicked
back, Sevigny romances Michelle
Williams of Dawson's Creek. Always
critical of her own work and leery of
seeing the finished project, Sevigny
laughingly agonizes over her lesbian
fans' reactions. nOh, God," she says. "I
try to playa butch. I'm so scared they're
all going to turn on me and hate me for a
bad representation." She needn't worry.
Just as she did with Lana, Sevigny gets
the shyness-and the sexuality-just
right. -Michael Giltz
Oscar nominee
Hilary Swank,found that
she couldn't leave .' .
Brandon Teena behind
once Boys Don't Cry
was done. She's now an;
outspoken advocate for
transgendered youth
BY MICHAEL GILTZ
the ollyvvoo tss-
boys don't cry
aware, then we're probably not doing something right."
Swank's career has been set on fire by Boys Don't
Cry. The blaze of critical acclaim began in the fall, con­
tinued through a near-sweep of year-end critics' prizes,
and culminated in a Golden Globe win; now she's the
front-runner for the Best Actress Academy Award. But
it's the attention Swank has received from ordinary peo­
ple that means the most to her.
'This movie spoke
to [transgendered
youth] in a way that a
movie hadn't yet.
They finally fOlllld
someone they could
relate to, and that
feels so good To
think we as a society
treat them differently
or not as equals is one
of the most tenible
things about the
human experience." "When people stop me, they touch me on the shoulder,
they come up really close to me and look into my eyes
very intimately, and they feel like they know me," says
the 25-year-old, sitting in her New York City apartment
snuggling with her pet bunny, cat, and dog as her parrot
looks on. "They want to go into a deeper place and say,
'This movie moved me because of this or that' or 'I have
someone in my family who has the same situation' or
'You know what, I'm not gay and I'm not transgendered,
but I can totally relate to Brandon.' So I stand there and I
have a conversation with someone I don't know for half
an hour because we both shared the same experience. n
Swank also found a way to share experiences with
young people facing some of what Brandon went through.
When a representative of New York's Hetrick-Martin Insti­
tute called and explained the organization's programs­
such as the Harvey Milk School for gay, lesbian, bisexual,
and transgendered students, and outreach to other service
organizations to educate them about GLBT youth-Swank
quickly agreed to pay her own way to New York and
emcee the institute's annual awards dinner.
Naturally, she couldn't head to Los Angeles the next
day without meeting the youths. "They loved her," says
Vema Eggleston, the executive director of Hetrick-Mar­
tin, which is celebrating its 20th year. Eggleston vividly
remembers Swank's being moved by the story of one stu­
dent having a gender-identity crisis: Biologically a girl,
she was dressed and treated as a boy by parents for rea­
sons she never understood. In the boys' locker room,
other students even grabbed her and held a knife to her,
demanding to see her genitals-the same way Brandon
was attacked. Swank was so touched by talking to all the
youths that she changed her flight to stay longer.
"This movie spoke to them in a way that a movie hadn't
yet. They finally found someone they could relate to, and
that feels so good," Swank says. "To think we as a soci­
ety ... " She struggles to convey how strongly she feels. "To
treat [such young people) differently or not as equals is one
of the most terrible things about the human experience."
Wanting to do more, Swank returned to Hetrick-Mar­
tin, this time with MTV in tow, to let the rest of the coun­
try in on the work that the institute does. "They are so
fantastic, such amazing kids," she says. "Just to see them
and meet them and to see them growing and finding
themselves. It's hard enough to go through life as a
straight kid. I remember being a teenager, and they were
such hard years. To think of all the torment I got for not
wearing the right pants or whatever. Then to imagine
what they go through-it's so unfair."
It's all been an important lesson in hun1an differences,
Swank notes. "If we were all the same, dressing the
same, looking the same, thinking the same, the same reli­
gion, the same race-I know exactly what would happen:
It would be so boring, so dull, it would be so bland we'd
just pray for diversity." •
Giltz also contributes to Entertainment Weekly.
JaJ For more about New York's Hetrick·Martin Institute, Hilary Swank. and £/()ys Don't Cry,
-U go to www.adyocate.com
THE ADVOCATE 1381 MARCH 28. 2000