From: New York
Times
Learning the Value of Being Intimidated
By MARGY ROCHLIN
SANTA MONICA, Calif.
ALISON LOHMAN may be considered brand-new in Hollywood. But there are those in
the California retirement community Rancho Mirage who have long known her as the
daughter of the architect Gary Lohman and the bakery owner Diane Lohman and as
half of Sing-Sation!, a locally touring teenage duo.
In her faded jeans, striped T-shirt and flipflops, Ms. Lohman, who is tiny and
waiflike, would have no trouble passing for her high school self. Or even
younger.
"My friend and I, we'd get out of class and put on little performances
around the desert at country clubs, parties here and there," said Ms.
Lohman, now 22. Looking back, she's still proud of the highlight of her singing
career ? warbling a cover version of "The Trolley Song" for Frank
Sinatra ? though she would leave out the frenzied, Judy Garlandesque hand
gestures these days. "I thought I was a real Broadway belter," said
Ms. Lohman, her face reddening at the memory. Anything else? "I'll never
forget looking at Frank Sinatra. Just looking at his blue eyes. I think it's
probably the most petrified I've ever been onstage."
Acting in every scene of "White Oleander," the film based on Janet
Fitch's best-selling novel, may have provided Ms. Lohman with a new high-water
mark for performing under pressure. Michelle Pfeiffer plays Ingrid, a
charismatic mother who is sentenced to life in prison for murdering her
boyfriend. Ms. Lohman, as her only daughter, Astrid, is thrown into the Los
Angeles foster-care system. There she finds herself torn between her mother's
influence and a succession of surrogate parents, including a born-again former
topless dancer (Robin Wright Penn) and a needy, insecure actress (Ren*e
Zellweger). When asked what it was like carrying a Hollywood movie featuring
such stars, Ms. Lohman said, "I was almost numb with fear, right?"
Right. She'd made her screen debut in 1998 as a spandex-wearing space soldier
with psychic powers in the sci-fi film "Kraa! The Sea Monster," and
her best credit to date had been her turn as a rich, inquisitive teenager on the
short-lived television series "Pasadena." But Peter Kosminsky, who
directed "White Oleander," found an outlet for his star's churning
uncertainty.
"If you think about the part, Astrid had to be in a subservient mode in her
relationships with these women," said Mr. Kosminsky, a British
documentarian making his American feature debut with "White Oleander"
(opening Oct. 11). "She was always a chameleon, sort of saying: `How do you
want me to dress? How do you want me to be? Who do you want me to be?' So
Alison's feelings of intimidation were useful. I said to her, `Use your sense of
nervousness about holding your own with one of the world's great movie stars'
" ? Ms. Pfeiffer ? "and she did."
Over the course of the film, Ms. Lohman's Astrid ages from 14 to 18. Assisting
Ms. Lohman as her character made the laborious journey to late adolescence were
wigs, seven in all, ranging from a jagged punk bowl-cut to a dark Goth pageboy.
Judging from the story Ms. Lohman tells about her first "White
Oleander" audition, she needed all the wig experience she could get. Having
shaved her head to play a leukemia patient in Kevin Costner's supernatural
romance "Dragonfly," Ms. Lohman was self-conscious enough to wear a
cheap, long, brassy yellow hairpiece to meet the "White Oleander"
casting director, Ellen Lewis. By all accounts, Ms. Lohman had what it took for
the role, with the possible exception of one thing: a forehead.
The problem? "My wig was on wrong," Ms. Lohman said. "I'd put it
on too low. Embarrassing." She wrapped her bald head with a kerchief for
her callback and landed the part.
In her next film, Ridley Scott's "Matchstick Men," she will portray a
14-year-old who insinuates her way into the life of her father (Nicolas Cage),
an obsessive-compulsive con man who isn't even aware he has a daughter. For
someone who is extremely close to her mother and her father, Ms. Lohman seems to
be cornering the market on bad-parent movies.
"It's weird," said Ms. Lohman, almost apologetically. "Right now,
my process involves doing research, writing notes on my script and dreaming
about the character. Sure, some of it should come from experience. But for me,
it has to all be about the imagination."