Ellen Burstyn, 91, is an Oscar-, Tony- and Emmy-winning actress best known for her roles in “The Last Picture Show,” “Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore,” “The Exorcist” and “House of Cards.” Her latest film is the comedy-drama “Mother, Couch.” She spoke with Marc Myers.
My mother had four husbands, but I never had a father. My birth father, John, and my mom divorced just after I was born. My first stepfather, Don—the only one I called “Daddy”—left after they divorced when I was 6; my second stepfather, Lou, loathed me; and her last husband, Winsor, was a nice man, but I was already out of the house.
Though I missed out on a father who loved me, my mother had many wonderful qualities. She was beautiful, strong and knew how to get what she wanted. But she lived in a time when a woman had to have a husband. A lot of what she did to me was to get a husband or keep one.
This included an abusive temper, especially when I wouldn’t do what she asked. She was a “me-firster”—someone who viewed my pushbacks as attempts to sabotage her goals.
Just after her first divorce, we moved into a rental house in Detroit. That’s where we lived with Don. After he left, my mother sent my older brother, Jack, and me off to boarding school—St. Mary’s Academy, in Windsor, Ontario. A woman with two children wasn’t a good look for attracting a husband.
I felt rejected and lonely there. During a Christmas program, I was in “Little Miss Muffet,” my first time on stage. I heard a woman in the audience say, “Isn’t she cute?” I hoped my mother heard and would take me home.
Jack and I returned to Detroit two years later, in 1940, to live with my mother and her new husband, Lou. They had a baby boy, Steven. After we walked into their life, Lou and I battled constantly.
In junior high, my clashes with Lou escalated. One night, when I was 12, my mother was working and Lou chastised me in the kitchen. I said something back and he slapped my face and grabbed my hair and began banging my head against the wall.
Mid-struggle, I spotted a butcher knife within reach. I contemplated killing him, but I took a beat. I clawed Lou’s face instead, and he let go.
My mother wasn’t above delivering her own share of abuse. But to her credit, she provided me with piano, ballet, acrobatic and tap lessons, and she made my clothes. I was always prettily dressed.
I sought refuge in school drama productions. I loved hearing the audience’s reactions, and I could feel myself moving with their energy. I was president of the junior class and drama club, and captain of the cheerleaders.
Jack attended Cass Tech, a high school where you could focus on career-directed interests. He studied aeronautical engineering. I wanted to go, too, but my mom pushed back. Lou chimed in with “You’ll never amount to anything but a goddamn whore.”
I didn’t listen and went. Cass Tech didn’t have an acting program, so I studied fashion illustrating. I was modeling in Detroit then and loved the business. On my 18th birthday, I left home. A model suggested Dallas. She said, “They’d like your all-American type.” I was so glad to be a type. Off I went.
Within the year, I wanted to be in New York, but I had no money. After I was fired from my job as a fashion-show producer for not wearing a girdle, a former radio DJ I’d been dating put me up with one of his female fans near Houston. I felt trapped.
One day, I took a couple of empty bottles to the store to collect the deposit and used the change to call my Uncle Dave in Detroit. He sent $50 to the store. The next day, I left by train for New York.
I modeled and was determined to become an actress. An acquaintance knew a producer casting for a woman to play a model in a Broadway play, “Fair Game.” I auditioned in 1957 and landed the part.
I did a lot of TV during the 1960s, along with the movie “Goodbye Charlie” (1964). In 1967, I studied at Lee Strasberg’s Actors Studio. Lee focused on me, and for the first time in my life I felt seen. He helped me tap in to my strongest emotional experiences.
My break was Peter Bogdanovich’s film “The Last Picture Show.” I read for three roles and had my pick. Lois was the most compelling character.
Today, I live on Manhattan’s Upper West Side in a spacious apartment overlooking Central Park. I moved in 11 years ago.
I met my birth father in 1950, but he treated me like a pretty girl, not his daughter. It was so disgusting and disheartening.
My mother never apologized for the violence of my childhood. When I won the Oscar for “Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore” in 1975, I called her. She said, “Oh, honey, I turned cartwheels. I’m so proud of you.” I hung up and said to my empty kitchen, “Well, that didn’t take much, did it?”
“Mother, Couch”? It’s a surrealistic drama-comedy film. I play the mother of three adult children summoned because I won’t abandon a sofa in a used furniture store.
Your name? I was born Edna Rae Gillooly. My modeling name was Edna Rae, but for the stage, it became Ellen McRae. After I married Neil Burstyn in 1964, I took his last name.
New York arrival? I stepped off the train in 1956 with one phone number and a quarter. The guy I called put me together with a girl who had an apartment.
Favorite film you’re in? “Resurrection” (1980).
Comfort seat? I have two wicker chairs in the living room that look out on Central Park. I love watching the light change on the park.
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