In the great tradition of European actresses, Penélope Cruz has a mystique that is difficult to define. To her close friend and director Pedro Almodóvar, she’s ‘very adventurous. If she wasn’t an actor, I think she would be a mad woman.’ To Woody Allen, who helmed her Oscar-winning performance in Vicky Cristina Barcelona, she’s ‘beautiful in a way that you can’t quite understand.’ And to Stephen Frears, who cast Cruz in The Hi-Lo Country, her on-screen presence reminds him of ‘the whole history of European cinema – you know, all those great actresses such as [Sophia] Loren.’
She certainly channelled the spirit of Loren et al in Almodóvar’s Volver, with that famous prosthetic rear, which only contributed to her already slightly retro sex appeal. Meanwhile, her brilliant turn as highly-strung Maria Elena in Vicky Cristina Barcelona lends credit to the Spanish director’s appraisal of her mental state – and to her reputation as an artist rather than another screen beauty. Her lack of inhibition and the hint of genuinely unbridled passion in her nature are the keys to her intrigue, and to her appeal to both men and women.
The Spanish enchantress, as she’s been dubbed, is obviously beautiful, but it’s an off-centre beauty, enhanced by the force of her character and the sense of hidden depths she projects. She has several famous exes, including Tom Cruise and Matthew McConaughey, and has never spoken about any of them, or about her current relationship with fellow Spaniard and Oscar-winner Javier Bardem – she will only say, ‘He’s a wonderful man, a great actor.’ Her silence is not professional discretion, but a more intense need for personal privacy. She refuses to give the public what they want: her secret, inner self. For that, we have to sift through her carefully chosen words, study her more vivid body language, and follow the clues in her remarkable performances.
Now 35, Cruz has succeeded where others have failed thanks to a combination of hard graft (she didn’t learn English until she was 18), fearlessness (she has no qualms about on-screen nudity or ugliness) and emotional receptivity (she can move from fiery rage to inconsolable grief in a heartbeat). Says Almodóvar, who recently directed her in their fourth film together, Broken Embraces, ‘There are no limits to the heart that she puts into her work.’
It’s no surprise to learn, then, that the former dancer is a card-carrying perfectionist, well known for tormenting herself in the mirror of her mind. She’s travelled so far – from suburban Madrid, the daughter of a beautician and a mechanic, to the red carpets of Cannes and LA, wearing vintage couture and dripping in jewels. But all that success hasn’t made her immune to self-doubt or insecurity. ‘I’ve always been hard on myself,’ she says. ‘I have to fight against my natural impulses.’
You’ve worked with some of the great directors of our time and now you have an Oscar on your mantelpiece. Why so much fear and self-doubt in the face of all this success?
It’s in my nature. Every time I’m making a movie, I feel like it’s my first time. I’m not joking. Every movie, the first week, I always feel they could fire me.
There are certainly hidden costs to being a perfectionist.
In the past I’ve ruined my own happiness and created problems with my friends because of this tendency. It takes discipline for me to stop worrying in general.
An added obstacle for you has been that English isn’t your first language.
I learned English when I was 18, so it was kind of late. I’m starting to feel a little more relaxed with it, but it takes time. When I’m not performing in Spanish I feel tension. It’s like torture sometimes, trying to get rid of my accent.
I always think auditions must be a gruelling process. Are you past the stage of having to audition for roles now?
I’ve had to audition for most of the movies I’ve done. Lately, I’ve sometimes just been getting the script. But I had to audition four times for the musical Nine. You go into the room and fight with everybody else. That’s what [being] an actor is. You should never be afraid to have to prove yourself again and again.
Editor Louise Chunn asks is it time for feminism to be put back on the agenda.