Were you at all fazed by working with legends such as Martin Scorsese, Leonardo DiCaprio and Robert De Niro?
I don’t know that I was fazed, but I was definitely intimidated at first. With a role as big as Molly, you’ve just got to get through that quickly. But my hands were shaking the first day with Leo, and the same with Robert.
Is there anything you did to break the ice with DiCaprio, your on-screen husband?
He invited me over to dinner. We were sitting outside at his place with a fire going, and just talking. He pulled out a packet of cigarettes, and I hadn’t brought mine with me. So I was like: “Oh, I’m sorry. Can I bum one?” So it was the two of us sharing a few cigarettes over the fire and just getting to know each other that really broke the ice. And then he said: “This feels good. We need to put this in the film somehow. I think Ernest and Molly should smoke together.” I was like: “Yeah, that sounds great.” A lot of ladies would have their little pipes – tobacco was very much a thing. So we enjoyed that. It’s funny, as since then both of us have quit.
Your character is so central to the movie, I wanted to see more of her, and yet the emphasis is still on the white men. Is that just the reality of the movie industry?
You’re definitely not alone in thinking that. And I think it’s great that there’s been so much call to see more of a Native perspective and more of Native characters. Marty understood that it wasn’t his place to be that film-maker. While there’s definitely a need for more Native stories to be out there, it’s paramount they be told by indigenous film-makers. It doesn’t mean that there’s not a very important place that films like this hold, to make general audiences care about these stories and characters more.
Your character Molly spends quite a bit of time suffering, grieving and being ill. Was that harrowing to play?
Yeah, and sometimes I did need to have time to myself, just in my trailer. But ultimately, there was such a strong Native presence on that set – the cast, the crew, the extras. And when you get a lot of Natives together in any one space, it’s just laughter all the time. So I felt like that was one way I was able to sustain a sense of self and take myself away from this traumatic story for a time.
It must feel good to be getting this recognition, but this story also stirs up painful memories for Native Americans. Is that a contradictory feeling?
The way that we deal with it is by celebrating; counteracting it with humour – they’ve always kind of gone in tandem for me. I think that’s one thing that people really note about our style of storytelling. Just to reference Reservation Dogs, Sterling Harjo’s show, people are always remarking how in one episode, you’re crying and laughing – those two things together. So I don’t know if “contradict” is the right word; it feels more like balance.
Were you at all fazed by working with legends such as Martin Scorsese, Leonardo DiCaprio and Robert De Niro?
I don’t know that I was fazed, but I was definitely intimidated at first. With a role as big as Molly, you’ve just got to get through that quickly. But my hands were shaking the first day with Leo, and the same with Robert.
Is there anything you did to break the ice with DiCaprio, your on-screen husband?
He invited me over to dinner. We were sitting outside at his place with a fire going, and just talking. He pulled out a packet of cigarettes, and I hadn’t brought mine with me. So I was like: “Oh, I’m sorry. Can I bum one?” So it was the two of us sharing a few cigarettes over the fire and just getting to know each other that really broke the ice. And then he said: “This feels good. We need to put this in the film somehow. I think Ernest and Molly should smoke together.” I was like: “Yeah, that sounds great.” A lot of ladies would have their little pipes – tobacco was very much a thing. So we enjoyed that. It’s funny, as since then both of us have quit.
Your character is so central to the movie, I wanted to see more of her, and yet the emphasis is still on the white men. Is that just the reality of the movie industry?
You’re definitely not alone in thinking that. And I think it’s great that there’s been so much call to see more of a Native perspective and more of Native characters. Marty understood that it wasn’t his place to be that film-maker. While there’s definitely a need for more Native stories to be out there, it’s paramount they be told by indigenous film-makers. It doesn’t mean that there’s not a very important place that films like this hold, to make general audiences care about these stories and characters more.
Your character Molly spends quite a bit of time suffering, grieving and being ill. Was that harrowing to play?
Yeah, and sometimes I did need to have time to myself, just in my trailer. But ultimately, there was such a strong Native presence on that set – the cast, the crew, the extras. And when you get a lot of Natives together in any one space, it’s just laughter all the time. So I felt like that was one way I was able to sustain a sense of self and take myself away from this traumatic story for a time.
It must feel good to be getting this recognition, but this story also stirs up painful memories for Native Americans. Is that a contradictory feeling?
The way that we deal with it is by celebrating; counteracting it with humour – they’ve always kind of gone in tandem for me. I think that’s one thing that people really note about our style of storytelling. Just to reference Reservation Dogs, Sterling Harjo’s show, people are always remarking how in one episode, you’re crying and laughing – those two things together. So I don’t know if “contradict” is the right word; it feels more like balance.