ABBIE CORNISH A Thing of Beauty Is a Joy Forever

To say actress Abbie Cornish has been moved by the roles she’s played is an understatement. Among other parts, the Australian actress has played a ladyin- waiting to a Queen (Elizabeth: The Golden Age), the love interest of one of England’s most famous poets (Bright Star), and a heroin addict (Candy). Talking with the 27- year-old, it’s obvious within a few moments how impassioned and dedicated she is to her craft. Many an actor after finishing a role, leaves it forever, but not Cornish. Every film has left an indelible mark, in a good way; through these experiences, she has gleaned insight not only into her characters, but herself, thus making her not only a better actor, but also a better person.

Her most recent role in Bright Star is a perfect case in point. Directed by Jane Campion, Bright Star tells the passionate but ultimately tragic true story of the relationship between poet John Keats (Ben Whishaw) and Fanny Brawne (Cornish). The young and vibrant Brawne bares no resemblance to what we have come to know as the typical young ladies of the period: Jane Austen characters — some headstrong, some bumbling — all with the goal of wedded bliss. Ms. Brawne is a headstrong, articulate young woman filled with sass, whose great creative outlet is the clothing she makes for herself — frequently daring, but always unique. When she first meets the young Keats, she doesn’t really care for him, or his work; he doesn’t think much of her, either. But when she sees him rally to the bedside of his sick younger brother, they both experience a shift in their opinions. Soon she is memorizing his poetry, and he is accepting and appreciating her outspoken ways. Bright Star is thoroughly romantic, delivering a story that takes us from a love’s first blush, to its last breath.

Currently working on Zack Snyder’s Sucker Punch, Cornish stopped for a moment to talk about what 9/11 meant to her, working with Jane Campion, and which Keats poem will stay with her forever.

Venice: Your character of Fanny Brawne is very nontraditional for that time period. She’s overflowing with opinions as well as a lot of sass.

Abbie Cornish: That’s one of the things that made me drawn to her. She had a strong sense of integrity and independence. Even though she was living in that time where there wasn’t a lot of expectations and at the same time, a lot of restraints put on women of her age, that didn’t seem to hold her back from being who she was, particularly with her fashion design. There hasn’t been much documented about her so Jane really had to bring her to life.

When you see Bright Star you know immediately it’s a Jane Campion film. Visually, it is so stark and so beautiful at the same time. And in her character development she has such an interesting way of bringing characters to life.

She has a wonderful way of looking into a period piece like that and making it very real, and honest. She was all about introducing the characters and letting them be, rather than setting them up in their surroundings and making them a byproduct of their surroundings.

To me, this film is sort of the ultimate in unrequited love; they have moments together, but it was ultimately unfulfilled.

The lifetime of that love was unfulfilled as they didn’t have a chance to get married and have children, but I think there was something very deep and pure about their love, and even though they didn’t consummate their love, even that notion was beautiful. There’s a moment when Fanny offers herself to Keats and says, “I’ll do anything you want,” and he replies, “I have a conscience.” He wanted to preserve their relationship the way it was, and preserve her, almost, and not take that part away from her as he was going to his deathbed. The time they had together was over two years, but even though it was short, I think it was probably one of the biggest things that happened in both of their lives. After he died, she was in mourning for a very long time, but she eventually married and eventually showed her children the letters that Keats had written to her and told them all about her love for him. It was after she passed away that her children brought those letters out into the public and told their story. She didn’t talk about Keats to her husband though, which I find very interesting.

It sounds in your description of the film that it really affected you.

It certainly did. I hadn’t worked for about a year and a half and I had thought about that film for a long time, even before we shot it. And when we went to London, it was a very intense process, and we put our whole selves into the film. When you’re playing a real character it has a gravity to it, especially when you read his poetry, and the poems he wrote in relation to her. Fanny Brawne’s journey — for a young girl to fall in love for the first time, to want to marry and have a whole life with this person, but also to deal with sickness and death is huge.

In playing a real person you feel a responsibility to portray them accurately. In a way, it’s a burden as much as a responsibility. I didn’t know half the stuff I learned in Bright Star about Keats; and I was fascinated to the point of going and doing some research on him afterward.

Telling the story — in regard to Bright Star — we’re telling the story 190 years after the fact, and I think that Jane wrote the script based purely on fact. I don’t think she ever felt she needed to manipulate the story because it was already there for her. I think Ben and I really appreciated stepping into that environment with Jane, because we felt, as actors, as long as we were living inside those characters and had a sense of that time, and who they were as a couple, we could play that story from our hearts, not from our minds, and I think that makes a big difference when you’re on set and filming a scene, when you can have that freedom of just being in the moment and beautiful things come from that.

When you’re doing something like this, particularly a true story, and you’re immersed in it hour after hour, day after day, how can that not have an affect on you? For instance, in Elizabeth: The Golden Age, just having to get into those heavy and restricting gowns everyday. Those garments were really the perfect analogy of a woman’s lifestyle at that place in time.

Sometimes you find keys into your characters, in different ways. I remember on Elizabeth: The Golden Age, the first week on set  in those garments it was hard to breathe properly, and hard to eat. And also because the costumes were so elaborate and beautiful, and we were working in rainy London, so the chances of their getting soiled were high. There was extra care put into their staying true to the period, so much so that I couldn’t lay down for fear of creasing them. There were moments where I was miserable about having to be so careful and so confined, and then I realized I could transpose that into my character. At the end of the day when I put on my own clothes, they felt like pajamas.

I can only imagine. They must weigh like 30 pounds.

On Bright Star there was a lot more going on though. It took 45 minutes for me to get dressed! There was layer after layer — I’ve never experienced anything like it, even on Elizabeth. Petticoat, blouse, stockings, gloves and hats and jackets.

From doing this film, do you have a favorite Keats poem?

My favorite poem is “Bright Star,” and that is because I had to explore it so much during the film. I turned it over so many times in my mind. And then to have that experience at the end of the film, where Fanny recites “Bright Star” was such a beautiful experience for me. I think that stayed with me as well. [Also] Keats’ poem “An Ode to the Nightingale,” the idea of his being half in love with death, toying with it and the idea of passing over, and still making it not this dark, daunting thing — that he was finding some sort of peace within that, I guess that exploration of that idea really struck a chord with me.

Is there a film that has had an affect on you more than any other, particularly in recent years?

Somersault was a wonderful experience for me, as was Candy. Playing two heroin addicts in love over seven years and what happens to them because of this drug, that was a deep journey to go on and one that required a lot of exploration of relationships and drugs, and that place where there is no way back.

I also wanted to talk about Stop:Loss, because there seems to be a lack of interest by the general public to go to see a film about the war in Iraq. Films like this are a way to educate an audience as well as to provide entertainment, and though we hear a lot on the news, I think people are still curious to find out what it’s really like for the individuals who have their boots on the ground, so to speak. Learning what you did in the process of making this film, did it make you angry?

That’s an interesting question…because when I read that script I felt really compelled to tell that story. I remember calling my agent after reading the script and telling him I had to do it, because of how much it meant to me, and my generation, even being an Aussie. As kids you talk to your parents and grandparents, who will tell you about the World Wars and what it was like. I remember when September 11th happened it was shocking, and I had this feeling of “What does this mean?” You could just feel it, that this was a war we were going to be a part of, and know that there would be people going into it, soldiers who would not come back. As I learned more about stop:lossing and met with soldiers and talked to military wives and heard what it meant to them, there was this constant feeling of ‘what if,’ and will these men come back, and what are they fighting for? That journey was an interesting one, and it was a difficult one for all of us. I myself didn’t know about stop:lossing until I read the script, and that there are so many soldiers who have gone AWOL. But despite the fact that they may be able to get away from combat, the really sad thing is, no matter what, they can never erase it from their minds, and to me, that’s the most horrible part of all. ▼